#solo mission ending

[the-kr8tor]

Alone

Ending two

Solo Mission<<<

You chose the panic room.

The conversation back at the medic bay flickers in your mind, there's a high chance that none of the escape pods would work especially in the ship's condition. So with quick thinking, you and Hobie head towards the other hallway.

Your legs threaten to give out from under you. Breathing staggered, the grotesque being’s pained groans fade behind you. But you and Hobie aren't taking any chances as you both run towards the left where the executive panic room sits waiting for you both.

Hobie's arms aches as he carries the large hand in his grasp. Its fingers are still wiggling, some even poke his chest like It's trying to get his attention.

Boots thump loudly against the floors while you close each shutter on the hallway which were designed to keep explosions away. But based on the sound of metal breaking under an intense force, he guesses that it's only a matter of time before the creature makes its way towards you. The image of you being devoured by the alien has him checking on you with every breath you let out. He has endured much, suffered more, but he won't survive if you don't. You need to live through his, even if it means his end.

You two turn a sharp corner, boots skidding before you both fix your balance without falling. He sees the large circular door with the name that he desperately wanted to see.

“Almost there, love! Keep runnin’!”

The animalistic trilling gets closer, a call that it's near. “Yuri!” It screams in its distorted ghostly voice. “Run!”

“Fuck!” The kaleidoscope of light flits back in his eyes, obscuring his vision for a moment before he slams into the metal door. Groaning, you help him back up on his feet, only to turn back around to aim at the on coming creature.

“Hobie, the scanner!” You yell while a headache blooms in between his eyes. Despite this, he makes his way towards the scanner.

Quickly working through each fingerprint, the thudding footsteps and metal creaking gets closer and closer with every error that pops up.

“Wanker!”

“You can do it, Hobie. You'll find it.” Your reassuring words fires him up even with his sweat dripping off his brow. Your eyes narrow at the empty hallway, trigger finger itching.

The panel beeps, green light flashing on the screen. As the doors open, the alien breaks through the last shutter, appearing behind it despite its skin all shredded up from its numerous injuries. “Run!” Its hands with hundreds of fingers point at you accusingly through the hole it broke through.

Before you could empty out a whole mag at its body. Hobie pulls you inside by your collar, immediately closing the door behind before the creature could get close to you.

As the vault-like door locks in place, Hobie embraces you on the cold floor, quickly taking off his helmet to hide his face in the crook of your neck. After a few seconds of catching up, you hug him back tightly. Warm hands enveloping him as he fiddles with your helmet, clicking it off your head.

The second your helmet falls on the ground, he peppers kisses on your face. His lips don't leave a single space of skin unkissed until you're laughing from under him.

Hobie leans away slightly, only to move back in for a kiss that leaves you more breathless than running from a homicidal monster. “You're alright.” He sighs against your lips, eyes tightly closed as he places his warm forehead against yours. His thumbs caress the corner of your eyes, all the while pecking each side of your cheeks. “We made it out, love.”

You kiss him just under his eyes, gathering the tears stuck in his lashes. “We made it. But we're not out yet, Hobie.”

He moves away, hands still on your face. Scanning the room, he finds rows upon rows of beds in one corner. And in the other sits a communal area of sorts with a couch, a full bookshelf, and a control panel that could reach out to potential rescue outside the ship with limited coverage around the ship. The vents are separated from the rest of the ship's ventilation, hence the creature couldn't come in without getting ripped to shreds by the numerous blades it has to pass through. Just as he thought, there's enough food and water that could keep the two of you alive for at least two years. But since it's just the two of you, it could last five years.

You stand up, eyes forlorn at the whole place. Your vision still warbles in the same kaleidoscope of light, as if the creature is right outside just lying in waiting. His hand holds your own, fingers weaving through yours, as he opens his arm for you to fall into.

“Someone will come through, I know it.” He whispers against the top of your head, pecking it once before sighing, hand rubbing up and down your arm as he holds you.

“I know, we made it this far. We'll get out.” Someday.

You try not to think about what lies outside the room, your friends bodies will continue to decay, the creature still lingering just outside. You're trapped.

Head laying on his shoulder, there's still embers of hope in you. That someone could find the ship and potentially rescue you, or with some luck, the creature's biological clock would run out before you and Hobie run out of food.

At least you're alive and together, right?

[bylertruther]

society if the duffers had gone through with their original plan to have mike go to the upside down in s1 to find will

[piratespencil]

Ep 134 is a strong contender for funniest Aeor ep. We’ve got the polyamorous sex beasts (Aeor is for lovers!), we’ve got Veth and Beau coming back covered in blood and Beau saying “yeah I beat her up, I just couldn’t take it anymore” and Fjord asking “how did it feel?”, we’ve got smooth Fjord… quality stuff.

[tropiyas]

kind of hate how everything you do is implied to be with someone else, one of the first things someone asks after i mention any activity is usually "who did you go with?"

[oh-meow-swirls]

glad i never really cared about completing the medallium tbh. yo-kai watch got so fucking screwed over by online shutting down tbh, i think getting pandanoko and starry noko will still be possible due to netpass existing if you have cfw but that still leaves everyone with only one version's exclusives in 2 and 3 (unless they have another 3ds and physical copies) until pretendo 1) releases and 2) gets yo-kai watch compatibility. also it's impossible to 100% 2 and 3 now even beyond that because of online battling not being a thing anymore. i mean it was already impossible to 100% psychic specters cuz of the music app being broken but still-

[primitiveside]

They didn't bother to take off his goggles when they strung him up on chains. They were too eager to punish and divide the duo dismantling little pieces of Umbrella's operations. Beatings blotted his skin like storm clouds. The tips of his boots dangling a hair's width from touching the floor.

"Too bad I couldn't have you like this in better circumstances. We could have both enjoyed this." @umbrellamedic says as Riddick's bindings go loose.

He comes down on his boots with all that mass. Chains clanging hard on the floor. A deep, furrow-stricken brow has been set since her appearance. Riddick looks up from his shackles with it. No witty rejoinder, no dry comeback. His perpetual pouty frown quiet in its uncertainty.

The disembodied voice darkened in irritation: Who do you think you are?

"This guy talks too much," Riddick rumbled. The scoundrel, revived by his sense of getting even, looking worthy of all the trouble as a dribble of red pooled into his cupid's bow while he but smiled. A dastardly, subtle promise of revenge to come.

"Let's change that."

The arriving reinforcements are another obstacle to be bested. Simply in the way of shipping ledgers they are after. Priority number two, newly added: find that chatterbox fucker and kill him.

The pointmen, entering first, have their orders to preserve the specimen if possible. Riddick has his own code to abide by, to their misfortune, which preserves the self above all else. The medic could handle herself, she's proven it in bloodshed and staying alive. And if ever she couldn't keep up, Riddick had promised to leave her behind to her fate. This fight, this time, he checks in to see that she's not getting overwhelmed. He owes her, and she is paid in the silent shifted phase of their tentative partnership; in this modicum of attentiveness to her safety.

[opaleyedprince]

thinking abt the horrors of immortality btw. if u even care

[wandringaesthetic]

I have several times considered writing a "Christmas Episode" Animorphs fic but run into the fact that Jake and Rachel are Probably Jewish and I realize I am not qualified

[liu-yu-xin]

Just found out today that the cpop boy groups boyhood and boystory are two different groups lmao. There are only like 5 maybe 5.5 active cpop boy groups total (wayv is the 0.5) how hard is it to come up with a name without the word boy in it

[lgcbk]

⸻ GAME OVER.

"So... We're really done with all this?"

After filming their educational video ( and while in the midst of toppling over a wooden jar with his foot ), Byeongkwan's pulled to give his thoughts on the trainee activities he's participated in for the past few weeks. "Oh, it was alright, I guess..." he answers with a shrug, scratching at his temple with one of the rubber arrows confiscated while the staff were preoccupied with camera equipment. "I was never into this kind of stuff growing up. I didn't come from a family that held many... 'traditional values.' I think my grandfather was really into Yutnori back in the day but I never really got it as a kid."

"This was fun, though," he adds, putting on somewhat of an enthusiastic smile. "Got to take a break from our usual schedules, so... I think it's good to do something different. Probably won't list any of these as my 'special skills' for variety shows if I'm being honest... Although, top-spinning might be my thing with a bit more practice and I'm pretty proud of myself for not totally destroying our kite. Kite flying might actually be a fun hobby to take up too once the weather's nicer," he snorts.

"Oh, but before you round up more trainees to do this kind of thing again, you guys should probably make sure all of the game pieces are in tip top shape. For instance, look at this arrow! It's practically falling apart! How am I supposed to play with th - " He tugs at arrow's nock, securely fastened at one end. "I mean, it's - " he struggles with it for a moment before it finally gives, popping off into his hands. "You see that?! No wonder I couldn't score any points in Tuho. Maybe I don't really hate the game, but I hate the equipment, you know? We should be a lot more mindful of this kind of thing in the future, yeah?"

[the-kr8tor]

Oblivion

Ending one

Solo Mission<<<

You chose the escape pods.

“We need to get the fuck out of here!” With a push on Hobie's shoulder, you sprint towards the right where the escape pods are.

Running away with all your might while Hobie shoots back at the creature, whose thudding footsteps reverberate through your bones, your fear encapsulates you. Your fear of him dying, seeing him get devoured by the very thing that killed your friends.

With your console on your wrist, you close each hallway shutters that were built to withstand great explosions but to the grotesque being, it's nothing but a wall of hay as it continues to run through it with barely any resistance.

There's no turning back now.

Its groans of pain, and flesh still burning, it runs towards you with such ferocity that you think it has a spark of humanity left in its distorted body. You could feel your heart pumping in your chest, lungs desperately heaving in more air as with every banging sound from behind, metal breaking and cracking with every shutters closing.

Hobie checks on you with arms lugging around the dismembered hand. Its hundred fingers are still wiggling and bleeding in his grasp.

“Love!” He yells as he sees the end of the hallway with the large circular doors with the written words that you've been waiting for.

“I know!” With one final push, you kneel down, using the momentum to slide on the grimy floors, rifle immediately pointing towards the creature. “Hobie, the finger prints!”

“On it!” As you shoot, Hobie brings the gigantic hand on the scanner next to the door. He checks every finger but none of them have the admin clearance you need. “Fuck!” There's still dozens to go through but the creature is still gunning after you, albeit slower this time as your concoction makes its way into its veins.

“Hurry! I'm running out of—” just as you say it, the creature falls on the ground, sliding its bloodied body on the floors, stopping just a few feet away from you. Panting, you look over your shoulder to meet with Hobie's eyes.

“Holy shit.” His eyes glint with hope. With one remaining finger to scan, it beeps then a green light illuminates his helmet. “Lucky.” He almost chuckles out.

Your eyes glimmer under the red lights, as he helps you up, the creature huffs, reminding you that you don't have much time left.

“Let's go before it wakes.” Hand in hand, Hobie leads you inside the room with its rows upon rows of escape pods at the ready. As you predicted based on the ship's age, one pod could only house one person. Something that has been fixed ten years ago after an incident.

The doors hiss close behind you, granting you one last look at the sleeping monster.

You place the now empty rifle next to the door, running towards the closest pod to check if it's all clear only to find the unmistakable red error code on the panel. “Fuck, this might've been damaged from before. Any luck?”

Hobie checks every single pod, desperation crawling on his neck with every error he sees on each escape pod. “Not yet.”

A deep rumble from outside freezes the blood in your veins. “There's gotta be one that's working!” You scream in frustration, hands trembling as you skim every single one of them. Your hope fades away when you see the very last pod at the end of the line with the same red flashing on its screen.

Hobie’s rapid footsteps recede, “love! Over ‘ere!” You follow him quickly, running towards him with a soft smile. Finding that he's waiting at the last pod, which only means one thing. “You need to take your helmet off or you won't fit in it.” He's already twisting your helmet off before you could protest. “We— you need to get inside, love.”

“No,” his hands grip your arms, pulling you gently towards the now opened pod. “No, not without you damn it!” You push him away, his body almost landing inside the pod as he looks at you with his tear filled eyes. “I'm not leaving without you.” The trilling sounds get louder, and your vision warbles into the same rainbow light. “I can't, Hobie.”

He sniffs, lips slowly curling into a gentle smile, a reassuring one. Calling your name like it's the last time he'll ever say it, he reaches for you again. “You have to go.” His palms rests on your cheeks, catching your tears in his gloves. “I'll find my own way out, yeah? And we'll get that house with the readin’ nook you always wanted.”

“But it won't be a home without you!” You stomp your foot down like a child throwing a tantrum. “I don't have to go, okay? W–we can keep running from it until it starves! Please, don't make me leave you behind.” You wrap your arms around his neck, embracing him fully while you slowly inch towards the pod while his back is turned from it. “Please.”

“‘m sorry, lovie.” He thumps his helmet atop your forehead gently, trying to feel your warmth through the glass. “I'll see you again, in this life or the next.”

Leaning away, your forehead presses gently on his helmet, eyes closed as you savour his warmth. Sliding your palms on his chest, your thumbs caresses the patch you two designed years ago. “No, I'm sorry.” With one strong push, he falls backwards into the hull. You take advantage of his shock, closing and locking the door over him. “You're gonna be okay.”

“No, Please!” Hobie hears the muffled thudding from behind the glass, and your quiet sobbing as you punch in coordinates on the control panel. He tries to push the glass, then punches it to no avail. It doesn't crack or hiss open, despite him pulling the lever to open it. “You should be ‘ere, not me! Love! Open the fuckin’ door!” He keeps punching the glass, heart wretched out of his heart as he watches you sacrifice yourself. He calls your name again, soft and broken in his throat. “Don't leave me.”

The flashing ‘launch’ button appears as you finish putting in the coordinates of earth or any closest space station, whichever it finds first. You could only hope that he gets back there safely, he needs to survive. For his sake and yours.

Your finger hovers over the button as you hear a crashing sound. “I love you, I'm so sorry.” The doors rip open, and the creature's thundering footsteps fade away in your ears while you could only hear Hobie's anguished muted screaming. “I hope I get to meet you again, captain.”

With a press of the button, the last thing he ever saw was your shining smile, and the monster looming behind you.

As the dark space encapsulates him, and the pod propelling him back to earth, he could only see your last smile behind his eyelids and the kaleidoscope of light fading in his vision.

You didn't make it.

[fatummortem]

I’m gunna jump into drafts & see if I can push anything else into my queue. Though. I can confirm, Wanda’s a mutant in the game midnight suns. \o/ 

Happy Holidays peeps~!

So I’ve been tempted to make either Hunter or Nico. Tho dang the Hunter is beefy if ya play the male. Somewhere between Logan & Cap. Though Logan always throws me off, he’s taller than Carol & I just side eye him whenever i can gage him as tall or like he’s standing at the pull up bar & he’s almost as tall as it is. whut. But yes i am tempted to make the broken vessel of Chthon & linked to the darkhold. probs should wait until i can actually write reguarly again.

[danny-chase]

@batgirlandthebirds re your tags: about this being because Dick "failed and neglected" Jason

You hit one of my biggest pet peeves on how fandom interprets Dick and Jason's relationship, and his subsequent relationship with Tim which I've commented on here and cleared up misconceptions here. Obviously you don't have to care about the old comic canon, but please don't reblog my posts with "Dick failed or neglected Jason", because i find the take annoying, especially considering Dick had little to no responsibility for someone who wasn't his kid, lived in a different city, and who he (in post crisis) quite literally didn't know about for months after Bruce took in

Not to obsess over Dick and Tim's brotherly relationship again but the way Tim time and time again sees Dick at his lowest and still falls into the childlike hero worship makes me chew on cardboard. Tim was there on Dick's failed wedding day, he was there in the aftermath of Dick being passed over for the mantle in Batman: Prodigal, Dick told Tim about his percieved failure with Two-Face, Tim had to pull Dick off the Joker after he murdered him, watched him apparently quit the hero game after War Games, and after all of that still has complete faith in Dick. It's that moment as a toddler cemented in Tim's head, watching Dick perform as a Flying Grayson, but also all those small moments years later, when he needed someone to talk to and Dick picked up the phone when he called, the promises of never letting anything happen to him, and the gift of one of the original Robin costumes, the consistency and the certainty, the fooling around and goofing off, and Dick proclaiming Tim his brother years before Bruce adopted either of them as sons.

[forsworned]

Simon has an OnlyFans. It wasn't something he necessarily kept a secret, but it wasn't something he shouted out on the rooftops for all to hear. Just the primal need for being seen while he fisted at his cock in various poses, most of which were requested by you. You who were an avid fan of his.

You really didn't remember how you found him. Maybe you were just absentmindedly scouring the internet for anything to turn you on while you were in the middle of a solo sesh, but either way, you stumbled upon his page. You wasted no time subscribing to the skull-masked man who humbly accepted your request to use a cock ring with a little ghost charm hanging at the end of it.

And his moans—don't even get me started. They're deep, guttural, sexy, and caveman-like and you're creaming at just the mere sound of it.

Truthfully, Simon doesn't even need the money. His price range only goes as high as $5, and for his VIPs, you get exclusive access to all his behind-the-scenes features, one of which includes all the times he mistakenly shoots his cum at his chin.

But it comes off as a shocker to you when its' one of those nights where no matter how many times you make yourself cum, it's not enough. You crave him. Crave to see the way those half-lidded onyx eyes stare down at the camera as he gets off between missions for a quickie.

It's enticing. He's fully clad in his uniform, but his hard, girthy horse cock is out for display. Green veins pulsate against his porcelain skin at his touch and you're squirming at the vibrating wand you place on your clit.

Ping!

Your in-app message notification pop up and you notice the small badge on the messages icon. Thinking it was merely something promotional, you ignore it, but a second ping disrupts your solo love-making session that has you squinting down at your phone.

Curiously, you tapped on the little envelope, tilting your head at the message before tapping on it again.

TacticalHeat: Hey, lovie. How are you doing? I see you've been enjoying my content for some time now. Would you be interested in a private call?xx

Your heart thrums against your chest as your jaw drops to the floor. There was no fuckin' way this was real. It had to be some chatbot or some sort of impersonator, but sure enough you click on the icon and it leads you straight back to the page you were just rubbin one out to.

"Fuck!" You breathe out, throwing your head back as your orgasm spills out of you. You hadn't even noticed the wand still buzzing against your sopping wet pussy, but it leaves you heaving and ready for the next round.

Your fingers hover over your keyboard and you search your mind to say something. It's not like you had a picture on your profile, nor your name, or even a real description on your bio. It was merely a clipart of Snoopy with headphones on bumping to music, a practical choice.

You: I'm good! I can do maybe tomorrow night?"

For some Godforsaken reason, you didn't want to seem to eager, but for what? You literally were messaging on fucking OnlyFans.

Ping!

Your heart drops to your ass at swiftness and the contents of the message.

TacticalHeat: How about now instead?

Part two is here!! 😜

masterlist

[bi-writes]

MOB who has to stay with Johnny at his house while Simon is away on a solo mission? Like as a preventive measure, Simon has them both together in case soemthing happens to him while he’s away?

mail-order bride

"i...simon, i just don't--"

"just do it," simon murmurs. you quiet immediately, a little caught off-guard. simon has never interrupted you; even when you're a babbling mess, simon lets you finish your garbled sentences. he waits until your voice quiets, until your mouth closes, before he ever speaks to you, but this time, his tone is firm, and there is no room for interpretation. when you meet his eyes, simon is more than serious. "i don't ask ya for anythin', swee'eart. but this..." he reaches out for you, and you step closer instinctively, and when he cups your face in both hands, you can't help but melt. he leans his forehead against yours, and you close your eyes when you see the very subtle tremble of his lips. "do this fer me. only thing i'll ever ask of ya. i swear it."

you take a deep breath to center yourself. one of his hands wraps around the back of your neck, pulling you just that much closer, and you wait until your lips brush against his before you answer him.

"i...i have to go?"

"few days. tha's it."

"well, i...well, okay."

it's quiet up north. the weather dampens the entire coastline, what you can see of it, and the air tastes like salt. it was in your mouth as soon as you stepped off the train, and it only got stronger the closer you got to the cottage.

as soon as you step out of the car, you're greeted by the most quaint little house on a hill. there's vines climbing up the sides of it, wrapping around wooden structures and carving out a perfectly quaint home tucked amongst scottish greenery. it's breathtaking here; it's so quiet, and the way that you're allowed to breathe up here is unlike anywhere else you've ever been.

the meows coming from your backpack are the only thing that bring you back to earth.

"just inside, lass," a low voice calls behind you. "supper's 'bout ready now."

when johnny closes the door behind you, you're mesmerized by the coziness inside. his house is filled with warmth. there's plaid curtains pulled back from a stained-glass window, allowing in soft colors of light. the couches in his living room have throw pillows and blankets of mismatched linen and velvet, and his walls are filled with pictures and hanging green plants. there's candles burning, and the television is still playing some reruns of old rugby games.

the wood detail is exquisite. the staircase has little carvings of scottish motifs and flowers, winding up another wall of photos. the pictures are old and new, all of laughing people with johnny's big smile or his bright blue eyes or wearing the same plaid pattern as the fabric that you saw hanging in the closet.

a green kettle. a cross above the mantle with a psalm printed on it. a sketch on the coffee table (a skull, with a stub of a charcoal pencil still laying over it). rosaries hanging over a wedding photo with johnny in the background, holding up bunny ears. a wooden bowl of oranges (and oranges only).

"said ye'd be 'ere fer some time, tha' ye like ta bake. got some things fer ye at the shops."

you set your backpack down, opening the clear window of it, and two little cats hop out immediately. johnny raises a brow as he makes eye contact immediately with the orange tabby, a wicked grin coming over his face.

"i remember ye, ye little shite."

"what?" you laugh, and johnny shakes his head.

"nothin'."

it's late when he notices you looking out the window. the cats are curled up on opposite ends of the couch, in deep sleep after johnny gave them each a salmon dinner (and you pretended not to notice seeing the extensive recipe sheet that only your husband could have made on his phone). your eyes are on the sky; you can see so much of it here, twinkly stars and all.

"'m sorry ye have ta be here," johnny says lowly, soft enough that you aren't startled. you don't look away from the window, leaning your chin on the edge of the couch as you wonder if simon is looking at the same star you can't seem to lose. it's brighter than the rest, and it flickers to a rhythm that feels oddly comforting.

"it's not your fault, johnny," you assure him softly, and you turn away from the window finally to find him seated on the carpet, scratching the orange cat behind the ears. "he wouldn't...he wouldn't take no for an answer. not...not this time."

you frown a little, smoothing your right hand over your left, and your heart drops a little in your chest when the sparkle of your wedding ring matches the sparkle of your star.

"i've been staying home alone all this time," you continue, shaking your head. "and all of the sudden...a-all of the sudden he doesn't trust me?"

"oh, love..." johnny sighs, clicking his tongue. "tha' is...'s nae wot it is, i swear it."

"i...it's not...it's not me, right?" you ask in a whisper, meeting his eyes finally. "simon and i...w-we're doing so well..."

the expression that passes over his face is a sad one. it unnerves you to see it; johnny is someone that just isn't meant to be sad. his house is filled with so much love and so much life, and you swear you don't even recognize him anymore because he's void of a smile altogether.

"ye seen the pictures?"

you know immediately what johnny is talking about. you saw them the very first night you stayed in your shared home. across your house, there are a few picture frames covered with fabric or face-down on whichever surface they rest on. when you glimpsed at them, you peeked behind the curtain of a life that simon has that you don't know. even now, you have never felt strong enough to ask him about them.

it isn't because you think simon won't tell you; you're afraid to ask. you're afraid of who they are, what they are to him, and why he's never told you their names or introduced them to you. they exist in a separate place, and you don't know why, and when you saw him holding that baby--

you shake your head finally.

"i...i can't."

johnny hums low, looking down. he smooths his hands down his jeans.

"neither can he."

you close your eyes, but not fast enough. there's a few tears that fall down the curve of your cheek.

"when...when did--?"

"will be another year in a few days."

your lip shakes, and you take in a stuttered breath. you did not believe it possible to love simon any more than you already do, but it aches, that place in your chest that is reserved just for him. it hurts, in the worst and most incredible way, and you never want him to know another day without hearing you tell him how much you love him.

when simon comes to get you, just a week later, you're sitting under a sycamore tree at sunset. it's never been more quiet inside of your head, and when he takes a seat beside you, you say nothing for a few minutes.

simon thinks maybe you're angry for a moment, but then your hand reaches over to take his, and then you're scooting closer, until you drape yourself over his arm and bury your face into the side of his neck.

"i'm not going anywhere," you whisper, and simon turns his head slightly.

"wot's tha', love?"

"i'm not going anywhere, simon," you say again, and when he looks at you finally, you squeeze his hand. "wherever...wherever you want me to go...i'll go. wherever you want me to stay, i-i'll stay there."

when he kisses you, it's soft, and it's slow, and he feels faraway and so close all at once. you put your hands around his neck, along the back of his head, anything to get him closer, to feel more of him, but it isn't enough.

it won't be enough. not until simon devours you whole. not until you bite into him and never let go. not until beginning of you and the end of him are indistinguishable.

not until i make the time before us obsolete and the time after us endless.

when you are home, simon watches from the hallway as you pick up a picture frame on the dresser. it's been facedown there since he moved in, and touching it has always felt like it burns him. he's frozen as you flip it face-up, standing it back up. when he sees himself, many years younger, smiling, happy, holding a chubby baby with bright eyes and blonde hair, he's surprised his insides don't burst immediately.

he never thought he would be able to look at them again. he never thought he'd be able to see their faces without seeing the warped versions of them, the mirrors of them that he never believed could be real. he always thought if he looked at them again, he'd go blind--that he'd carve out his own eyes just to forget what was left of them.

but nothing remains. they're memories, beautiful ones, and he'd forgotten that his nephew even had dimples.

the photos get lost amongst the rest. they blend in, like they were meant to be, tucked between the warm ones of your smile and the orange cat standing on simon's shoulders.

there is nothing more intoxicating than the woman that simon has chosen to love. you make the worst of his mind feel afraid; the thoughts that threaten to upend him, they are retreating, withering away from the things that he thinks about now that you remain. the tendrils of you are everywhere; you have latched onto him like nothing ever has, and he will never be rid of this feeling. of you.

simon will not fight reality any longer. he won't tell himself fate is nothing but proof that god is unforgiving. god isn't real, you are, and whatever came before you was the road he had to follow to get to you.

and simon didn't just follow; he fucking crawled. he dug his hands into the stone, bleeding fingernails and all, and he kept going even when his legs didn't work and his mind told him there was nothing there ahead of him. it was not resilience. it was not a man made of metal or steel or something heroic or a miracle.

simon is just a man, and he is weak, but as he comes up behind you and breathes you in, he realizes now that he has known you his entire life. you are tethered by something that he can't see. you are connected by something invisible.

when you tuck yourself into bed that night, the pictures are still upright, the ones on the wall still uncovered. you fall asleep before him, like always, and simon cradles your head to his chest as his eyes find the window.

a star sparkles. it's the last thing he sees before he falls asleep beside you.

[mira0000000-blog]