#spaces for living and spaces for forgetting

[luveline]

Can you write where the reader walks into James room and he's crying and its the first time shes seen him cry so she comforts him pls xx

thank you for your request! fem, 1.2k

James’ house is a sanctuary to everyone he’s ever met. There are scratches on the wall by the door where Sirius has thrown it open, long deep welts of ruin under a drunken hand, two best friends laughing to the bedroom where they share a bed. You’re used to Sirius by now, an extension of James you love and make room for, but waking up to the heir of the most noble family in London sleeping off a hangover with his face buried in your boyfriend's shoulder still surprises you. His snores never change. 

Then there’s Remus, the sweetheart, tracking dirt into the living room because he so often forgets he’s wearing shoes, distracted by a book or a thought he shares in half smiles knowing James will listen. 

You’re everywhere. In photos like the rest of them, in your coat on the hook, your clean washing on the stairs, your shoes in the bedroom cupboard. There’s a red smudge of your lipstick on the wall at the top of the stairs where James wiped your bottom lip and then used the wall to hang over you, kissing. He keeps meaning to paint over it, you know. He says the same thing every time you bring it up, a laughing, “I’ll get to it, you thing!” 

You’re used to smiles and sounds here. You aren’t acquainted with this. Sniffles from the bedroom, long, stringing gulps of air and the answering sob. It makes your chest flip. James hasn’t cried in front of you in a year of dating and two years of knowing him. James doesn’t even get pissed off unless it’s for somebody else. Something awful must’ve happened. You rush to find out what. 

In the bedroom, James is just sitting there falling apart. Just, sat on the bed, his head in his hands and his shoulders shaking like an awful jagged up and down, like he’s hurting; the shock of it is in every inch of movement. James is beautiful in everything, skin and hands and dark, dark hair, but he’s hurting now as he drags fingers wet with tears through frizzing curls. He must have heard you coming up but he can’t stop, lifting his chin, an apology twisted in his mouth that he doesn’t say aloud. 

“Lovely, what happened?” you ask, sure you’re gonna fall through the floor. “What happened? What–”

You aren’t giving him time to answer. You need to know. 

“No, it’s alright–”

“It’s not alright,” you say, standing in front of him with stiff arms. “What happened, James?” 

“It’s okay.” He cries a little, sniffs, looking up at you with swimming eyes. “It’s alright, I’m just– it’s just– well, it’s just everything, I suppose, but it’s…” He looks down, his mouth twisting again in an apology you don’t want to take. He shakes himself. 

“James, what’s everything?” 

“Silly stuff.” James takes your hand. Telling, that a boy who’s spent his entire life looking after the people he loves would attempt to comfort you with tears still hot on his cheeks. 

You look down at his long fingers. 

James plays piano. He learned your favourite song for you before he’d ever asked you out, and when he’d played it for you, he’d played so beautifully you felt sick for days, felt sick every time you thought of him, but in the moment he’d laughed at your teary eyes and pressed a quick kiss to the top of your head. Lovely girl, he’d said, laughing, I won’t play it again if you’re gonna cry like that.

You figure he must want comfort as he gives it, wrapping your arms around him to steer him toward a soft kiss, his hair like strands of satin under your lips. “Nothing that upsets you like this could ever be silly.” 

He pushes you away. Not without love, but pushing away regardless. He stands in the space you leave and wipes his cheeks with the backs of his hands. It’s nearly like he’s dancing. Just the way his arms move. But then he drops them and turns away from you, your heart plummeting to your stomach. 

“James.” 

“It’s not like that. I was hoping I’d be done before you got home. Should we go out for dinner or something?” 

“James–”

“What?” he asks, smiling, at odds with his sad eyes. “Love, it’s really fine, I’m fine.” Love. You let out a long breath, chest a cold ache slowly warmed by his gaze. There’s care for you in every eyelash, but it still shocks you when he hugs you. “It’s okay. Sorry I scared you.” 

James. “Fucking hell, Jamie, I’m not scared, I want you to tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it for you.”

He chokes on breath. “I’m fine,” he says. He doesn’t believe it himself, a crack running straight through his words. “Sorry,” he says, sickly, kissing the top of your head as you’d kissed his. 

Clearly he’s not going to let you be the one domineering the situation, but that’s okay. He can kiss your head and hold you on the edge of too tight. You slip a hand under the edge of his T-shirt to stroke his back, until your hand is numb to it, and he’s sagging against you heavily. 

“You’re really not fine, I can see that much.” 

He’s quiet, but you can tell there’s something he wants to say. 

“But that’s okay,” you say, hand clasping his back . You pat a steady rhythm there as he sighs. “It really is. I don’t know why you think you have to be finished crying before I get home, but that’s not true. You can cry. You can cry buckets. Please don’t pretend you’re not upset because of me, I’d feel so bad.”

Something hot and wet touches your forehead. “M’sorry.” 

“Nothing to be sorry for.” You pull back to pat his cheek. 

James stares at you. Tears well in usually warm eyes and get caught in the wet hedge of his lashes. You try to wipe them away before they can fall —you don’t wanna see your sweetheart crying. 

“Don’t frown,” he says softly. 

“I’m trying not to. Here, let me,” —you wipe his cheeks with your sleeve, voice a muttering thing as his skin pinks beneath your touch— “just get that there for you. Your eyes are red, Jamie, I hope you haven’t been upset for too long.” 

“No, uh. No, not too long.” 

“Can you please tell me what’s wrong? I’d like to know.” 

James’ face presses to your neck in seconds. He pauses, and then he sobs. That’s more like it. You stand there in the bedroom until your legs are stiff, and then you only move to lay him down in bed to be your little spoon. “It's not fine,” you say, your arm around him, the other playing in the swirl of his parting, “but it will be. You’re really too handsome for all these tears.”

“You think I’m handsome?”

He sounds sweet when he’s trying to make you laugh. You reach over him to kiss his hot cheek.  

[raileurta]

Humans are scary friends

A great reason I saw why humanity is always attacked by aliens is that humans comparatively evolve technology thousands of times faster than other sentients. So in fear they try to get rid of us early.

I'm imagining a scenario where the autobots are being kept hostage in deep space and the humans who can't reach them yet try to advance their technology. 10 years pass and with lots of hard work with some help with transformers' tech this is essentially what happens.

Megatron: Haha admit it Optimus there's no one left to save you.

Optimus: We still have humanity.

Megatron: It's pathetic that you think those puny organics can save yo-

*stabbed through the chest*

Human: Get knifed bitch.

*disintegrates*

Autobots: (⁠‘⁠◉⁠⌓⁠◉⁠’⁠) ?????

Human: Hey guys we finally saved you! :3

Bumblebee: *questioning bot noises*

Human: Long story short we used plutonium plus a fuck ton of energon to blow our way through the universe, and this sword sword is filled with what is essentially black matter.

Human: Anyways let's get you out of here.

Human: Before I forget we made another all-spark by accident so you guys deserve to have the first one we originally remade.

Optimus: T-thank you... I never. What?

Ratchet: I never thought I would live to see the day Optimus broke.

[gdn019283]

Kilgharrah is a dragon that lost his entire species, watched his fellow companions get killed by Uther and by his genocidal reign, and got imprisoned and chained in a cave with no food or water for more than 20 years. He had nothing and no one, but lived through it all by sheer force and the will of revenge. He is a sentient being, with emotions, thoughts, a voice and the most powerful magic the world has ever known (even more powerful than Merlin’s, and we saw it).

Yet, I don’t understand why most people in the Merlin fandom find him the culprit of many of the choices on the show and even of the end.

His kind has been wiped off; he had revenge to think about while being imprisoned. He did not point at Arthur specifically or at Uther, just at the injustice of it all.

But still, he listened to Merlin and respected what he had ordered him to do, even after all he had endured.

People often tend to forget that Merlin is, as much as Gaius, a class traitor, and if we can explain why he is, then why can’t we explain Kilgharrah’s behaviour?

Most choices he told Merlin to make were part of his rational mind, one that had seen various parts of the future. He thought of the ones that made most sense to him and even then, Merlin defied him, so how can he be Kilgharrah’s fault that everything went to shit in the end? The dragon was tired, old, lost and maybe hopeless, but he persisted, he tried giving Merlin what he never had, what even Gaius couldn’t give him:

a space to be actually free; the joy of flying; a good friend who understood what being magic was like, because Kilgarrah is as ancient as the earth itself and magic flows through him too.

He helped Merlin so many times, told him about killing Morgana, because he knew that Merlin had already made a mistake. From then on, the future had changed shape and Kilgharrah saw it. He tried to prevent the worst, but it was Merlin who didn’t listen to him, it was him who said he didn’t want to kill a friend, it was Merlin who said that he couldn’t stand his friends’ grief, it was Merlin who commanded rather than asked Kilgharrah to gift him the power to heal Morgana, and it was actually Gaius who had told Merlin he had done the right thing by trying to kill Morgana (and this is only an example. Merlin did not kill other people when Kilgharrah told him to, so Merlin had something called free will. Every choice was made by him, and the Great Dragon has nothing to do with it).

All Merlin’s points were right, yet, for a dragon who didn’t have the tools to prevent Merlin’s mistakes and choices, he tried to warn him the best way he knew how. Most of the times it was with simple actions that went straight to the point.

If someone has to be at fault, then Merlin has to be at fault too.

I like Kilgharrah.

He is a great character, an example of what genocide can do to you, and he is so funny, so complicated and the fact that they were able to give such a good personality to a dragon warms my heart. He is a listener, he tried helping Merlin even when he couldn’t and was so happy when Aithusa was born.

He wasn’t alone anymore.

Merlin was his friend, because they were the same:

Lonely, and just that tad bit hopeful that a greater future was ahead of them.

Merlin did not fail because of Kilgharrah and to the dragon’s opinion, Merlin actually didn’t fail at all.

What I find unjust in the show isn’t really Arthur’s death. It’s the way we come to it and all the wrong things that happen in between, the non logical way Merlin’s magic worked, but what if Arthur had to die in order for Albion to have its Golden Age?

And perhaps, Kilgharrah knew, but didn’t know how to tell Merlin, much like Merlin couldn’t tell Gaius what he had seen in the Crystal Cave, because the future can take so many different shapes, and it was Merlin who ended up creating it, while he had tired to avoid it and change it, at the same time.

Kilgharrah is an amazing character and I love the shit out of him.

[sweet-villain]

Stumble Confessions ~ Steve Harrington

Summary : You confess to Steve how you feel and it doesn't go well.

The air crackled with the smell of burnt popcorn as the flickering light from the TV danced across the room. Laughter erupted from Steve, his head thrown back, as you gathered the courage to speak.

“Steve, I need to tell you something.”

He turned, puzzled.

“Is this about the movie? Because I thought we agreed it was terrible.”

“No, it’s about us.” Your voice trembled, the words stacking up behind a wall of doubt.

“Us?”

“Yeah. I like you.” A sigh escaped as the confession slipped free, a fragile thing in the chaos of his laughter.

“You’re joking.” Steve wiped tears from the corners of his eyes, still chuckling. “You’re serious?”

“Do you think I’d joke about this?” His laughter stung, tiny nails scraping against your heart.

“C’mon,” he said, trying to catch his breath. “You’re like, my best friend. This is…” His words faded into a breathy chuckle, the comedy of it thrumming between you.

You glanced away, the room suddenly drowning in silence. The TV buzzed on, oblivious to the shift.

“Forget it,” you said, barely above a whisper.

As he turned back to the screen, the weight of unsaid things hung heavy in the air, cracking like static.

Steve mumbled something, still fixated on the flickering horror movie, but gave nothing more than a casual shrug. 

“Seriously?” You tightened your fists, your pulse pounding. “You can

“You can't just laugh it off, Steve. You’re not even trying to take me seriously.”

“Okay, okay.” He turned slightly, the humor fading from his eyes. “I just didn’t expect… Well, it kind of blindsided me. "

"Look, you’re like a sister to me,” he said, fidgeting with the popcorn bowl. “This isn’t exactly what I envisioned when I invited you over for movie night.”

“A sister?” The bitterness coated your words like oil, "Oh forgot, you're still hung on Nancy" His expression shifted, a flash of defensiveness replacing the amusement. “It’s not like that.” 

“Then what is it, Steve? You think we fit into pre-worn boxes? Can’t a friendship be something more?”

" You're being childish," Steve mutters. His shoulders squared, the flicker of irritation igniting in his eyes. 

“Childish?” You felt the heat rising to your face. “Having feelings isn’t childish. You just don’t get it, do you?”

" You have a silly crush on me, it will go away" His words clipped through the air, sharp and dismissive. You clenched your jaw, fighting the sting of rising anger mingled with hurt.

"That’s all you see? Just a crush?” The words spilled out, unable to hold back any longer.

“Let’s be real, you and I? We live in different worlds.” He waved his hands, gesturing around the cluttered room. “You’re endless daydreams while I’m just…me. And I’m still figuring it out. You think we could just click like that? It’s complicated.”

“Complicated?” You laughed, but it sounded hollow. “You think love needs a roadmap?”

" Love? Now your in over your head silly girl" Steve rolled his eyes, a defensive mask slipping over his features. “I’m just saying… what we have is solid. Why mess with it?”

“Because what we have isn’t enough for me.” You crossed your arms, feeling the walls close.

" It's always about you, huh?" Steve’s eyes narrowed. “You think I don’t care? You think I enjoy hurting you like this?”

“You’re not hurting me. You just don’t see.” You met his gaze, a fire flickering in the depth of your own.

The conversation stops there and you leave for the night.

The streetlights flickered as you stepped outside, the chill of the night air biting through your jacket. The laughter behind you felt like a ghost, haunting the space where your hope had just dissolved. Shadows danced along the pavement, twisting with your thoughts

You paused at the curb, the chill wrapping around you like a shroud. The moon hung high, casting silver beams onto the empty street. You caught your breath, each inhale heavy with the sharpness of rejection. 

The quiet thrum of the night enveloped you. You pulled your jacket tighter, fighting back the chill both outside and within. 

The night deepened as you paced along the deserted street, each footfall punctuating the silence. A distant echo of Steve’s laughter lingered in the back of your mind, a cruel reminder of what could never be. 

The wind whispered tales

You leaned against the lamppost, the harsh light flickering intermittently. A low rumble of an approaching car disturbed the stillness. The vehicle glided by, its headlights slicing through the darkness, offering a brief glimpse of a world untouched by your turmoil. You stared at its retreating tail lights, warmth fading as it disappeared into the distance.

From the shadows, voices drifted towards you—kids laughing, carefree in their twilight play. It felt like a distant echo. They chased each other down the street, their joy stark against the cold air enveloping you.

You shoved your hands deeper into your pockets, a cold reminder of Steve’s laughter wrapping around your heart like a vice. How could he not see? 

As the echoes of laughter faded, you turned toward home, the pavement underfoot feeling rough and unyielding. Each step drove the reality of your situation deeper into your chest. 

A haunting melody floated through the night air, the sound unfamiliar yet compelling. You paused, straining to pinpoint its origin. It rang in crystalline fragments, echoing off the walls of nearby houses and blending into the wind’s whispers. 

Blood pours down your nose and in confusion you wipe it away. You stared at the crimson smear on your fingers, disbelief mixing with a sudden rush of adrenaline. 

The door creaked as you pushed it open, the familiar scent of stained wood and fading lavender filling the entryway. You stepped inside, the warmth cocooning you, yet the chill of rejection still lingered at the edges. 

"Are you alright?" Grandma’s voice broke through the haze of your thoughts, her figure framed in the soft glow of the hallway. She hovered there, worry etched across her brow.

You nodded, not trusting your voice. The blood turned your fingertipsa dark maroon, a stark contrast to the pale wood of the entryway. 

“Your nose looks bad.” Grandma stepped closer, her concern mounting. 

“Just a little bump,” you said, forcing a smile, but it faltered,as your mind flickered back to the laughter that echoed in the air, sharp as shards of glass. Grandma's hand brushed against your cheek, the warmth of her palm a stark contrast to the chill settling deep in your bones.

“You know, I remembers those days when you used to tell me everything.” Grandma's voice softened, nostalgia dancing in her eyes. “You can talk to me, dear.”

The warmth of her concern mixed with the cold ache in your chest. You wanted to spill everything, but the words caught in your throat, entangled in a web of hurt and confusion. 

“I just… I told Steve how I feel,” you finally managed, your gaze dropping to the floor, avoiding the tender scrutiny of her eyes.

"Did he make fun of you?” Grandma’s voice clipped through the air, sharp with protective instinct.

You swallowed hard, the taste of humiliation bitter on your tongue. “He laughed. Said it was ridiculous. Just a silly crush.”

“Kids can be cruel, especially when they don’t understand,” Grandma said, her voice steadier than you felt.

“Cruel?” You shook your head, your hands curling into fists. “He’s not a kid. He’s just… Steve. And he doesn’t get it. Maybe he never will.”

“People are often blind to what’s right in front of them.” Grandma brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, her gaze softened by years of wisdom. “But that doesn’t diminish your feelings. It takes courage to be honest about what you want.”

“I just wish…” The words hung suspended, heavy with unresolved longing. “I wish he could see me.”

Grandma studied you for a moment, her eyes reflecting a depth of understanding that cut through the pain.

“What do you need him to see?” she asked, her tone gentle but probing.

“He needs to see me as something more. Not just his best friend,” you said, frustration leaking into your voice. “I’m not just a backup plan or someone to laugh at.” 

" Get some rest, dear" your grandma kissed your head. The warmth of your grandmother’s kiss lingered, but the comfort faded with every heartbeat. You turned away, the urge to fight bubbling beneath the surface. 

Heading up the stairs, you walked into your room feeling it cold as you glance at the picture of your mother. " I miss you mom" The photograph stared back, capturing her smile in a moment of sun-drenched joy. You traced your fingertip over its glossy surface, the warmth of memory clashing with the chill in your heart. The room felt suffocating, the walls closing in as shadows crept along the edges of your vision. You tossed your jacket onto the bed, frustration igniting a spark in your chest.

You paced back and forth, the wooden floor creaking under your steps. Memories flooded your mind—the laughter you shared, the late-night conversations where secrets spilled like candy wrappers scattered on the floor, the moments when it felt like you were the only two souls in the universe. Yet tonight, it felt tainted by the echo of rejection, the sour taste of his laughter still curling in your ears. 

" You won't be good enough for him" the voice spoke to you. But you don't know who it is as you turned around in your room in fright. The air thickened, heavy with silence, as if the very walls held their breath. You glanced over your shoulder, your pulse quickening. Shadows twisted, melding into each other, forming shapes that felt simultaneously familiar and threatening.

A knot formed inyour stomach, twisting tighter with each fleeting shadow. 

You pressed your back against the door, bracing for something—anything—to leap from the darkness. Your breath quickened as the soft echoes of the night filtered through the window.

Then, likea sudden gust of wind, the shadows receded into drapes of darkness, leaving only stillness in their wake. You dared to breathe, the air thick with the scent of old wood and mothballs, tinged with something unsettling.

Darkness settled over the days like a heavy blanket, smothering thoughts, and breath. Nights blurred together, each one winding tighter around you, a relentless grip that threatened to suffocate all logic. Your mind raced between thoughts of Steve and the eerie whispers that danced around the edges of sleep. Each time you closed your eyes, shadows creeped closer, wrapping themselves around you like tendrils of smoke. You lay wide awake, the memory of Steve’s laughter echoing relentlessly while the air felt thick with something unspoken.

The thin slip of paper landed softly on your desk, its edges curling slightly as it slid into place. You looked at Nancy, her brow furrowed, the concern in her eyes cutting through the fog of confusion.

You unfolded the note, the paper crinkling quietly in your hands.

*Hey, are you okay? I saw your nose…*

It felt like a lifeline thrown into a sea of chaos. You glanced around the classroom, the mundane chatter fading into a muffled backdrop as you focused on Nancy’s note. *I’m fine,* you scribbled back, each stroke of the pen wishing the weight in your heart away. But even as you scrawled the words, you felt he truth press against your ribs, heavy and unyielding. 

Your name was called in a whisper distance. “Hey, you okay?” Nancy leaned closer, her voice a concerned whisper. “You’ve been out of it.” 

You forced a smile, though it felt more like a mask slipping awkwardly in place. 

“I’m fine.” 

Nancy leaned in, her eyes narrowing with determination. “This isn’t like you. The nosebleeds, the days off… Something's off, isn’t it? You can talk to me.”

You shook your head, feeling the pressure build in your chest. 

“It’s just… everything’s fine. Really.” A forced laugh escaped your lips, brittle and unnatural.

“Don’t do that.” Nancy’s gaze drilled into you, unwavering. “You can’t brush this off. I can sense there’s more. You’re not fine, and I know it.” 

“Fine, you want the truth?” You leaned closer, the classroom buzzing around you fading into the background. “I’m just… a little stressed. That’s all of it.” 

Nancy crossed her arms, unwavering. “Stressed? What, over school? That doesn’t explain your nose. You look like you haven’t slept in days.”

Nancy decides to ask you, " Have you been hearing clock chimes?" The question hung in the air like a whispered secret. You stared at her, blinking against the flood of memories and strange sounds that invaded your nights.

“Clock chimes?” Confusion twisted in your gut. “What do you mean?”

In your head, like your seeing things too?" The world around you faded, leaving only Nancy's voice echoing against the backdrop of your swirling thoughts. You leaned closer, aware of the weight of the moment pressing down. 

“I think…I think I’ve heard them,” you admitted, the admission.

Nancy face paled as she understood what was happening. " We have to tell the others, your in danger." The words hit you like a punch to the gut, the gravity of the situation pooling in your stomach. “Danger? What do you mean by that?” 

“We know what’s been happening in Hawkins,” Nancy said, her voice dropping to a near whisper, urgency threading through her words. “The disappearances, the strange occurrences. They’ve all been linked to Vecna. If he’s after you…” 

Your heart raced, the weight of those words pressing down like a leaden blanket.

Vecna is… well, he’s not just a myth anymore,” Nancy murmured, glancing over her shoulder, as if the name itself might summon shadows. “He’s connected to the disappearances. The kids… They’re victims."

"Am I a victim?" Nancy’s eyes widened, the gravity of your question hanging in the space between you. “I don’t know, but if you’re hearing things... If things are happening to you… It could be a sign.”

" I keep hearing my name called and clock chimes. I heard talking in my head too" Nancy’s gaze sharpened, piecing together the fragments of your fragmented account. “This isn’t good. We need to figure out what's happening and quickly."

“Figure out what?” Panic clawed at your throat. “What do we do?”

We have to tell the others" she closed her books and stood up. " come on, let's go. We don't have much time." With a single glance back at the classroom, you followed Nancy’s lead, your heart pounding against your ribcage. The hustle of students faded as you hurried out into the sun-drenched hallway, where the fluorescent lights flickered above, mir

roring the chaos within you. Each step felt heavier as you navigated through the sea of students, their laughter and chatter blurring into noise that masked your racing thoughts.

“Stay close,” Nancy urged, her tone urgent as she cut through the crowd of students. The halls seemed to stretch endlessly, lockers slamming and feet pounding against the linoleum floor. The buzz of youthful chaos faded into white noise, but your heart drummed relentlessly in your chest.

“Where are we going?” you asked. " Steve's house, everyone will meet us there" Nancy navigated the throng of students, her determination cutting a path through the chaos. You ducked under the fluorescent light fixtures, their flickering reflections dancing in your periphery. The tightening in your chest pushed you forward, though doubt clung.

The lights began to flicker causing you to stop in your tracks, fearing the worst. “Nancy!” Panic strummed through your voice, slicing through the din. “What’s happening?” 

She turned to face you, her brow knotted. “Just keep moving. Don’t stop.” 

They both get into the car as Nancy drives off fearing the worst is to come, looking at you seeing how lost you are in all of this. The car’s engine roared to life, a rumbling counterpoint to the chaos building in your chest. Nancy’s hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, knuckles white against the black leather. As she turned the corner, you stole glances at the passing buildings, their familiar shapes blurring into streaks of color. The world outside felt unmoored, each street a stranger as the gravity of your situation sank deeper.

“Do you really think Vecna is after me?” Fear curled in the pit of your stomach, biting and relentless.

“I don’t know for sure, but we can't take any chances,” Nancy said, her voice steady despite the tension in the air. The car accelerated, tires screeching against the asphalt as Nancy navigated the streets with a focus that bordered on frantic, her eyes darting between the road and the rearview mirror, as if expecting something sinister to loom just out of sight.

“I can feel it, Nancy.” The words slipped out before you could stop them, a raw confession tearing from your chest.

The car comes to a stop at Steve's house as she races with you hot on her tail inside where she throws the door open, " Vecna is after Y/N" she steps aside as your eyes land on Steve, Mike, Eddie, Lucas, Max, Steve and the others. The air in the room hung heavy, the ticking of a clock marking your racing heartbeat as you entered. Conversations faded into silence, eyes turning toward you and Nancy, the weight of the moment suffocating. Eddie leaned against the wall, arms crossed as he surveyed the scene, his usually playful demeanor replaced with a sharp attention that cut through the tension.

“What’s going on?” Lucas leaned forward, eyes glinting with concern. 

“We think Vecna might be targeting Y/N,” Nancy leaned back slightly, her voice steady despite the storm brewing around you. “It’s serious. She’s been hearing things, and—”

“Things?” Eddie interrupted, dark eyebrows knit together inquisitively. “What kind of things?”

“I’ve been hearing chimes,” you said, the words spilling out as if they'd been locked away for too long. “And voices. Sometimes my name. It’s like—” You hesitated, the shadows of uncertainty creeping back in, but you forced yourself to continue. “It’s like someone’s calling me. And it happens in the quiet moments, especially at night.”

Steve crossed his arms, a guarded expression settling on his face.

He exchanged a glance with Nancy, tension popping in the air. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice rang flat, eyes locked onto yours, but the weight of his words felt charged, electric.

"Because… I thought it was just stress. I didn’t want to freak anyone out,” you admitted, the confession tasting bitter against your tongue. Every face in the room stared back, a sea of concern and disbelief washing over you.

“Plus it's my parent's death anniversary tomorrow.." The room fell into a heavy silence, each word landing like a stone. Steve’s expression shifted, the lines of amusement from earlier giving way to an unsettling concern. 

“Shit.” Mike’s voice cut through the quiet.

" Language!" Nancy shouts. “Sorry,” Mike muttered, his eyes darting between you and the others as the mood thickened.

“Maybe we should've figured this out earlier,” Lucas said, shifting nervously. “What if it’s already started?”

“It has started,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, the truth settling heavily in the room. “I feel it. Every day gets worse.” 

Eddie pushed off the wall, stepping closer, his presence a small comfort against the weight of fear that constricted your chest. “We need to figure out how to stop it,” he said, determination glinting in his eyes. “No way are we letting Vecna get to you.”

“Exactly.” Nancy nodded, her gaze unwavering.

The lights were flickering earlier in school today" you tell them. “Flickering?” Steve’s brows furrowed, tension tightening the lines around his eyes. “Like, just like that night?”

“Exactly,” you replied, the weight of his earlier laughter hanging heavy in the air. “It’s almost as if he's coming." 

Steve ran a hand through his hair, the familiar gesture grounded in confusion and worry. “Look, we can’t wait around for something bad to happen. We need to take control of this.”

You were out of trance as you heard your name being called louder, this time closer and more evil. It was him. Vecna. The shadows thickened, wrapping around you like a shroud, your heart hammering against your ribcage. 

“Y/N!” The call slithered through the air, dripping with malice. 

Guys!" Dustin shouted. " Her eyes!" Your heart lurched, an icy grip tightening around your throat. You blinked, instinctively rubbing your eyes, but that only deepened the horror. A dark haze encroached on your vision, twisting the air around you into something suffocating and oppressive. 

“Y/N!” The voice grew louder, more insistent, invading your mind like an unwelcome guest. The shadows writhed, and with them, dread surged, pulling you deeper and deeper into an abyss. 

Steve began to panic seeing you eyes and you weren't replying back to him as he shook you over and over. “Y/N! Talk to me!” Steve’s grip tightened, shaking you as if trying to rattle sense back into you. His voice cut through the haze, but the darkness coiled tighter, a vice around your thoughts.

Eddie took your one side and yelled in your ear to help. “Y/N! Snap out of it!” Eddie’s voice broke through the haze, frantic and sharp. His hands gripped your shoulders, shaking you slightly, as if trying to jar your consciousness back from the darkness.

" You can't do this, not now. Not ever!" Steve shouted.The room blurred, a whirlpool of colors and shapes narrowing into a single point of darkness. You tried to grasp onto the voices, the echoes wrapping around you like tendrils, pulling you deeper into the abyss.

“Y/N!” 

You snapped back out it but crowed in fear as you saw him in your head. He was close. Your heart raced as the figure loomed in the shadows of your mind, ethereal yet tangible—a grotesque silhouette with hollow eyes boring into you, a void staring back, endlessly deep. You felt cold sweat trickle down your spine, panic pooling.

" I'm going to die.." you mumbled, snapping out of it. "You’re not going to die!" Steve’s voice sliced through the ambient noise, desperation creeping into the edges of his tone. He pulled you closer, his eyes fierce with resolve.

“I swear, I can see him! He’s coming! Vecna is trying to take me!” Your voice trembled, a raw edge of panic seeping through the cracks of your composure.

“Not on my watch!” Steve’s grip tightened. The urgency in his voice cut through the chaos as the gathered friends.

“Y/N, we’re not going to let that happen,” Eddie said, his tone steady but laced with urgency. “We’re a team, remember?” 

" Friends till the end" Eddie bumps your head with his playfully. You cracked a weak smile, the warmth of his jest breaking through the fog, if only for a moment. 

Steve’s intensity didn’t waver. “Alright, we need a plan. Has anyone found something related to Vecna’s pattern?”

All eyes turned to Mike, who fumbled with his notes, the pages crinkling in his anxious grip. “I have some stuff on the disappearances. It’s like he’s targeting people with… unresolved grief or trauma. It’s a-" he stops.

" He wants you to relive how your parents died. That's your truama. You were in the car? " You recoiled, disbelief rushing through you like ice water. “No. No, that can’t be right.” A wave of nausea crashed over you, each heartbeat echoing memories you wished to bury. 

“Y/N…” Steve began, his voice steady yet filled with an urgency that sent shivers down your spine. “It’s not just about them. It’s about you. Vecna is powerful; he feeds on your fears. We can’t let him exploit that.”

" I was only six years old when my parents died. It was horrible. I was found with my leg broken in my mother's hands.. it was in the papers.." you tell them. The silence that enveloped the room pressed down like a heavy blanket, each word echoing in the charged air. You could feel the pity in their stares, the concern etched on their faces, and it only deepened the ache in your chest.

He's going to use my mother isn't he?" The question hung heavily in the air, its weight palpable. Silence filled the room, thick and suffocating, as if the shadows themselves were listening, poised to ensnare you in memory. 

“Y/N…” Nancy stepped forward, eyes wide with compassion. “We can’t let him get into your head. We need you to fight this.”

“Fight what?” The bitterness in your voice surprised you, but the edges of fear curled at your spine. “How am I supposed to, Fight what? How am I supposed to fight something that’s already in my head?”

Nancy stepped closer, her expression fierce, determination shining through her gaze. “You aren’t alone. We’ll help you face him. We’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe.”

“We’ll find something to counter him,” Lucas said, a hint of bravado tinging his voice. “We’ve faced down monsters before. We’ll do it again.”

“Together,” Max chimed in, her voice steady, a fierce light sparking in her eyes. You looked around the room, at the faces of your friends—each one a pillar of strength against the rising tide of dread.

“Together,” you repeated, though the tremor in your

oice betrayed the fear clawing at your insides.

“Alright, let’s get to work.” Steve’s gaze settled on a large whiteboard propped against the wall.

He strode over, markers in hand, determination emanating from him likea blazing fire. He scribbled down notes, brainstorming ideas, while your breaths came in short bursts, the weight of the moment pressing down on your shoulders. 

“Okay, we’ll need to review everything we know about Vecna,” Steve declared his voice steady as he turned back to the group. “We have to figure out his weaknesses and what he feeds on. If he’s targeting unresolved grief and trauma, we can’t let him use that against you.”

You stepped forward, heart thundering in your chest, desperate to contribute despite the hollow feeling that gnawed at your insides. 

“I can think of moments…experiences,” you started, your voice shaky. “Things that might give him power. Memories that I can't run from.” 

The room shuddered with silence, a heavy weight settling upon everyone. Each face turned toward yours, expressions ranging from concern to resolve, a mixture reflecting back all you feared and all you hoped.

“Tell us,” Nancy urged, her voice a steady anchor amidst the storm of emotions that threatened to overwhelm you.

You took a deep breath, grounding yourself in the unyielding presence of your friends. With each word, the memories clawed their way to the surface like long-buried secrets clawing through the soil. 

“I remember that night. The sound of glass shattering, the way the car felt like it was spinning, the feel of my leg snapping like a twig,” you murmured, voice faltering as the memory cascaded through you. Each fragment felt sharp, cutting into the present with ruthless clarity.

“The smell of burning rubber, the sinking realization that my parents were…” You choked on the words, fighting back the surge of

that had pierced the confines of your memory for so long. “...were gone.”

The room fell quiet, the weight of your confession hanging in the air like a heavy fog.

" Oh god, he's going to really kill me.." The words fell from your lips in a whispered tremor, the truth unfurling like an ancient script long buried in your mind. Panic washed over you, a tidal wave crashing against the fortress of your resolve. Steve’s gaze sharpened, slicing through the tension, his determination coiling tighter around you.

“Y/N, focus,” he commanded, voice steady and unyielding. “We’re going to figure this out. You’re not alone in this.”

You heard his chuckle, " Guys... he's in my head.." The laughter rippled through the room, but it felt empty, reverberating off the walls as if all humor had been sucked from the air. A chill crept up your spine, reminding you of the darkness lurking just beyond the door.

Your memories are powerful,” Eddie said softly, his voice breaking the suffocating silence that held you captive. “But they don't have to dictate what happens next. You can control this.”

“He's talking..." you tell them. “Who’s talking?” Steve’s voice rose, tension tightening the air between you.

“Vecna,” you murmured, both terrified and mesmerized by the sensation that enveloped you. “He’s whispering. He wants to take me.

“Take you? Where?” Steve shot back, urgency lacing his words. Panic thrummed in the air, stretching thin as you wrestled with the grip of their concern.

“To… to that dark place. I can feel him pulling me.”

Panic surged through the room, each heartbeat reverberating against the walls like the thrum of impending dread.

"Listen to me," Steve's voice cut through the chaos, grounding you, though his urgency matched the frantic rhythm of your pulse.

“Y/N, listen to me.” Steve stepped closer, the intensity in his eyes igniting a flicker of determination within you. “You need to fight back. He thrives on fear. Remember that.”

Shadows twisted in the corners of your vision, and the oppressive darkness loomed larger, pulsating like a heartbeat against the chill in the air. You felt Steve's gaze bore into you, a tie to the reality that anchored you amid the encroaching madness. Panic rose in your chest, but Steve’s presence felt like a shield, holding back the waves of shadow that threatened to overwhelm you. 

“Y/N, listen,” he urged, his voice low and steady. “We’re going to come up with a plan.

but you need to stay with us. We can’t afford to lose you to him.”

“I—I’m trying,” you gasped, the weight of the memories threatening to pull you under. Each recollection felt like a hand gripping your throat.

" What if we sleep here, in the same room watching over Y/N and taking turns?" Dustin suggests.

"Sleep here?” Max frowned, crossing her arms. “You think that’ll keep Vecna away?”

“We have to do something,” Dustin insisted. “If he gets into her head while we’re not around… we can’t let that happen.”

The room fell silent again, every face reflecting the urgency of the situation. You could practically feel the undercurrent of dread winding through the air, tightening like a noose around your throat. 

“That might be the best idea we have right now.” Steve nodded, his eyes flicking between you and the group, weighing the impact of his next words. 

“Okay, let’s do it. All of us stay here tonight.” He turned to you, urgency lacing his tone. “We will make sure nothing gets to you.”

Your heart sank at the gravity of the promise resonating in his voice. Doubt nibbled at your resolve. This wasn’t just another movie night; it felt like walking a tightrope over an abyss.

he clock above the mantel ticked ominously, each second a reminder that time was slipping away. Tomorrow marked the day when shadows took everything from you, and it felt like Vecna anticipated your grief like a predator lying in wait.

“Alright"

The kitchen felt like a different world. Dim light filtered through the curtains, casting long shadows across the tile floor. You scuffed your sneakers against the linoleum, the sound punctuating the heavy silence that settled around you.

“Y/N,” Steve called softly, his voice breaking the stillness like a whisper in an empty room. 

You turned to face him, the weight of everything pooling at the corners of your eyes. The anger and confusion still roiled inside, battling with the empowerment of his unwavering presence. 

“Steve,” you started, but the words caught in your throat, tangled with fear. The emotions churned, a storm brewing just beneath the surface.

“Hey.” He stepped closer, concern pooling in his gaze. “ I know tonight is going to be tough,” he said, his voice low and steady. “But you’re not alone. We have your back, okay? All of us. The memories, the darkness—they don’t have to win.”

You opened your mouth, but the lump in your throat hardened. The floodgates threatened to burst, memories crowding your mind’s eye, invading the sanctuary of your heart. 

“I’m scared,” you breathed, the admission breaking against the tension in the air like a fragile glass.

Steve stepped closer, the warmth of his presence anchoring you. “I get that. It’s okay to be scared. Hell, I’m terrified too, but you have to trust us. Together, we can keep Vecna away from you.” 

The weight of his words wrapped around you, squeezing tight as the truth settled in your chest. You searched his eyes, looking for the assurance you so desperately craved. The flickering kitchen light cast shadows that danced ominously on the walls, echoing the turmoil within. You felt the warmth of his presence, yet beneath it swirled a tempest of insecurity and fear, pulling at the seams of your resolve.

The moon bathed the room in a pale glow, illuminating the familiar chaos of Steve’s living room—crumpled popcorn bags, scattered board games, and remnants of holiday decorations. A circle of sleeping bags hugged the edges, each one a fortress of comfort and safety crafted by your friends. Yet the shadows beyond the window pressed against the glass, encroaching like a tide that threatened to pull you under.

“Hey.” Steve’s voice broke the quiet, gentle but firm. He stood just inside the doorway, framed by the soft glow of the kitchen light behind him. 

“You okay?” He ventured closer, his brows knitted with concern. The shadows danced in the corners of the room, reflections of your unspoken fears.

“I… glanced at the moon, its cold light filtering through the window like a silver blade. “I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “What if he comes for me tonight? What if I can’t fight him ?” The tremor in your voice resonated through the stillness, a raw thread of fear tugging at the edges of your composure.

Steve stepped closer, the warmth of his presence wrapping around you like a familiar blanket. “You’re not alone in this,” he said, drawing nearer until he occupied the space beside you on the couch. The shadows stretched, swallowing the edges of the room, but your heart steadied a fraction, anchored by his proximity.

“I just…” You stopped, your voice faltering as the weight of your thoughts crashed down like a tidal wave. “I don’t want to lose anyone else. I can’t go through that again.” 

Steve’s gaze softened, mirroring the swell of sympathy in your chest. “You won’t. I promise we’re going to make it through this. We’ll find a way to defeat him.” 

His confidence wrapped around you, a fragile shield against the darkness clawing at your thoughts. The swell of emotions cracked the surface, threatening to spill over. You turned to face him, searching his eyes for the reassurance you so desperately craved.

“Promise?” The word came out as a whisper, laced with vulnerability. 

“Promise.” He met your gaze with unwavering intensity, the warmth in his eyes igniting something within you—a flicker of hope pushing against the shadows that threatened to suffocate you. 

Just then, a resonating chime echoed through the tranquil hum of the night, slicing through the fragile air like glass shattering. It lingered in the corners of the room, twisting the familiar into something malevolent and dark, a music box tune gone awry. The sound slithered through the air, curling around your senses like smoke as dread tightened its grip on your throat.

“Did you hear that?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper as the chill of apprehension crept in. 

No" Steve says.“Are you sure?” You leaned closer, straining to listen. The silence that followed felt like a heavy blanket, pressing down, making the air thick and suffocating. 

“ Take a deep breathe" Steve's voice broke through the thickening silence, firm yet soothing. Your heart raced, panic clawing at your throat, but you focused on his words, drawing in a shaky breath.

“Breathe with me,” he instructed, his tone steady.

As he inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with air, the rhythm grounding in the tension-laden room. You mimicked him, the air rushing in and out, pushing away the chilling echoes that threatened to consume you. 

As Steve holds you, he falls asleep and silence fills the room. The clock is after midnight. The silence wrapped around you like a shroud, thick with unspoken fears and lingering echoes, but it felt different now. The shadows still danced ominously in the corners, but they seemed more distant, as if tethered by the warmth radiatingfrom where Steve sat beside you. The slow rise and fall of his breathing became a steady anchor against the chaos swirling in your heart and mind. 

You dared to close your eyes, but the weight of the shadows loomed just beneath your eyelids whispering promises of despair. The darkness pulsed, curling around you like a predator poised to strike.

Then, it was like a nightmare coming alive. You weren't in Steve house but on the gravel seeing flashing light of the car turned over on the road. There is pleading for help coming from a woman who's crawling. Your heart speeds up hearing the familiar voice of your mother.The gravel crunched beneath your feet as you stepped into the nightmarish scene, the acrid scent of smoke clawing at your throat. The world around you warped with familiarity, every detail sharp and vivid—the twisted metal, the shattered glass intensifying the colors surrounding you. Voices echoed, twisted cries slicing through the fog of memory, warping time and space. The world cast in shades of gray suddenly flickered, revealing a gory tapestry of your past.

“Help! Someone, please!” 

A familiar cry twisted through the air, piercing through the haze of confusion. Your heart dropped into your stomach as recognition cut through the nightmare. The sight before you felt almost too surreal, each detail as sharp and unforgiving as the glass shards scattered across the gravel. The memory flooded back—every agonizing second replaying in vivid clarity. You stood frozen, your feet anchored to the ground, awash in the horror of it all.

“Mom?”

As you approached, the flickering lights from the crumpled car illuminated her face—a ghost of your childhood, a visage you had memories etched into the deepest corners of your mind. But this was different; the memory twisted and distorted, trapped in the grip of Vecna's dark influence.

“Mom!” Panic surged through you as you reached the broken silhouette struggling against the wreckage.

"Help me" she pleads seeign you.You faltered, a surge of terror pulsing through you. “Mom, I’m here!” Each word felt shrill, shattering the quiet night as your heart raced. 

But the figure only stared, eyes wide with desperation, the horror of recognition etching itself deeper into your bones. The scene warped around you, shadows weaving through the air like ominous wisps, thickening as they curled against the world you once knew.

You took another hesitant step forward. “Mom!” The word slipped from your lips like a prayer, a plea that echoed through the night. With each step, the ground shifted beneath you, the gravel crunching like brittle bones underfoot, amplifying the chaos around you.

“Help me!” Her voice pierced the darkness, reverberating in your chest like a drumroll of dread. The shadows thickened, swirling around the crumpled wreckage, and you felt the very air constricting, heavy with sorrow and anguish. 

“Mom!” You stumbled forward, desperation clawing at your throat, each step echoing the panic crescendoing in your heart. The shadows wrapped tighter around you like coils of smoke, whispering doubts that gnawed at your sanity.

The twisted wreck of the car creaked in protest, each sound a reminder of the horror that echoed within the confines of memory. You reached out, fingertips brushing against the cool, jagged metal of the vehicle, trying to ground yourself as reality warped around you.

Dustin rubbed his eyes, squinting against the dim light of the room. He shuffled toward the kitchen, but noticed you standing still, your eyes wide and unblinking. 

“Y/N?” he called softly, but you didn’t answer him, the echoes of your mother’s cries drowning out the present. The shadowy figures danced at the edge of your vision, each whisper tightening their grip around your heart. 

“Y/N?” Dustin’s voice trembled, concern lacing through every syllable. He stepped closer, his feet shuffling across the floor as he tried to pierce through the haze enveloping you. 

You stood frozen, heart racing as the familiar figure of your mother began to fade in and out, both a balm and a blade to your heart. 

“Y/N?” Dustin's voice grew urgent, but the world around you twisted and distorted, each pulse of your fear echoing. Eddie’s footsteps thundered across the floor as he darted into the living room, urgency radiating from him like heat. “Y/N! What’s wrong?” His voice broke through the haze, a lifeline thrown amidst the rising tide ofchaos engulfing your senses. The shadows continued to writhe, clawing at the edges of your mind while your mother's cries echoed in your head, a chilling symphony of despair that drowned out.

" Her eyes! Vecna is trying to get her!" Max says in panic. Startled, Steve’s eyes shot open, his breath catching as he took in the scene unfolding before him. 

“Y/N!” He surged to his feet, the urgency in his voice cutting through the chilling fog that wrapped around you.

The figure transformed, twisting grotesquely, every memory tethered to your mother merging into something dark and sinister. The face morphed, features sliding like liquid shadows. What once wore the visage of your childhood hero now stretched into an eerily.

" Vecna?" you called his name out. The name tasted bitter on your tongue, a summons both desperate and defiant. 

“Yes, Y/N. Welcome ,” the figure crooned, its voice rippling with mock affection. The semblance of your mother twisted, her features bending and warping into something grotesquely familiar. “Help me,” it whispered, a twisted echo that sent chills racing down your spine.

“No!” Panic surged through you, raw and unrelenting. You felt the shadows wrapping tighter around your limbs, " your not my mother! She died!" The figure's laughter reverberated through the air, a cruel mockery that echoed in the darkness. "Did she?" The word dripped with malice, a twisted taunt that slithered past the barricades of your mind. " What do you want from me?!" “Feed on your despair,” Vecna hissed, the words curling around you like poisonous vines. “Let your grief awaken the darkness within.” The shadows shifted, swirling around you, blurring the lines between memory and nightmare.

“Get away from me!” You screamed, the raw force of your terror splintering the darkness, pushing back against the echoes of your mother’s voice. “You’re not real!” 

His hand wrapped around your throat pulling you up. A gasp escaped your lips as Vecna’s grip tightened, the pressure squeezing the breath from your chest. The room spun, reality warping around you like a malignant shadow. His face loomed closer, the once-familiar features twisting into a grotes que mask of malice and pain. Every heartbeat felt like a drum echoing the horror circling around you. The chilling emptiness behind his gaze reflected all your fears, the darkness pooling like poison in your veins.

You carry the weight of your pain with you, and I shall feast on it," Vecna whispered, the malignancy lacing his words echoing in your ears. It was an intimate threat, one that drew on the depths of your worst moments and twisted them into a weapon against your very soul. The shadows danced around you, a suffocating cocoon tightening around your chest, making each breath feel like a futile struggle.

“Y/N! Stay with us! Fight him!” Steve’s voice pierced through the chaos, a beacon of clarity amidst the suffocating darkness. 

Eddie and Dustin rummaged through the cluttered mess—old vinyl records, crumpled posters, and forgotten cassette tapes littering the floor like remnants of battles fought in better times.

“Where is it?” Dustin's voice grew frantic as he flipped through the mess, desperation creeping into his tone. “It has to be here! The one album that could break his hold!”

“Keep looking!” Eddie shouted, his fingers dancing across the clutter as he scrambled to find something—anything—that could tether you back.

" Harrington has bad taste in music" Eddie mumbles.

" Did you find it?" Robin asks joining them on the floor. “Not yet!” Dustin’s voice carried urgency, anxiety weaving through his words like a fraying thread. “It has to be here. We’re running out of time!”

" you're taking too much time, bozos" Eric says as she pushes Dustin away and looks herself. “Get back!” Dustin protested, but Eric shrugged off his frustration, her focus fixed on the task at hand. 

“I’ll find it! Just move!” The urgency in her voice sent a jolt through the cluttered room. As she dove headfirst into the heap, tossing aside albums and posters with wild abandon, her determination electrified the air. 

“Come on, come on!” Dustin grunted, shoving a stack of records aside, his fingers skimming over the familiar labels.

“Wait!” Eddie’s eyes widened, realization hitting him like a lightning bolt. “I think I left one in the van!” The words tumbled from his lips, an eruption of hope breaking through the haze of despair. 

"Go! We need it now!” Dustin barked, urgency threading through his tone.

“Right—stay here! I’ll be back!” Eddie bolted out the front door before anyone could protest, the sound of his footsteps fading down the walkway. 

Inside, Vecna talked about how pathetic your life is and mocking how Steve was a waste of time. “It’s amusing, really,” Vecna’s voice coiled through your mind, laced with a sinister glee that sent a shiver down your spine. “Here you are, surrounded by friends, yet so utterly alone. They cannot save you from the darkness that cradles your heart.”

“Shut up!” You felt the bile rising as you summoned every ounce of willpower, squaring your shoulders against the suffocating grip of dread. “You're not real—you’re nothing but a twisted figment of my past!”

“Ah, but your past is a mirror I wield,” Vecna hissed, his voice dripping with mockery as he leaned closer, his malevolent gaze boring into yours. “Every pain you’ve buried with mockery as he leaned closer, his malevolent gaze boring into yours. “Every pain you’ve buried is the key to your downfall. Feed me your memories, and I’ll show you how insignificant you truly are.” 

Steve's voice cut through the oppressive darkness, a luminous thread woven through shadows thick with despair. "Y/N!" he shouted, desperation lacing each syllable, piercing the veil of your panic. The contrast was stark—his voice a beacon, a lifeline anchored in the storm of dread that threatened to pull you under.

“Y/N! I love you!" The words erupted from his mouth with an urgency that stemmed from fear, shooting straight to the core of your despair. "I love you! I always have! I was too stupid to see it before, but I know now! You're not alone in this, I swear!"

The laughter echoed in your mind, a cruel symphony that warped Steve’s desperate confession into mockery. The shadows thickened around you, drowning out the light of his proclamation, shaping it into something dark and cruel. 

“Hear that?” Vecna sneered, his breath cold against your ear. “Even his love won’t save you. It only deepens your despair. All that remains is eventual loss—his love, your hope, and your very life.”

You could feel the darkness tightening its grip, the suffocating shadows wrapping around you like a vice. Each word Vecna uttered echoed through your mind, puncturing the feeble shield of hope that had begun to light the edges of your despair. The shadows skittered closer, chilling tendrils coaxing doubt into your heart like poison spreading through your veins. 

" Where is that album, Munson???! " Max shouts. Eddies comes in putting the cassette and putting headphones over your head while he steps back nibbling on his nails. The moment the headphones nestled around your ears, the world around you shifted. The pulsating shadows flickered for a brief second, the whisper of music lacing through your mind like sunlight breaking through clouds. Eddie's fingers trembled as he described the sound, coaxing a defiance from the depths of your being. “Just listen, Y/N! Breathe with it. Let the music wash over you!”

As the melody swept through the headphones, it felt like a lifeline thrown into turbulent waters, each note reaching deep into the recesses of your heart. The music surged through you like the first breath of fresh air after a long dive underwater, illuminating the shadows that loomed in the corners of your mind.

"Fight back!” Eddie shouts and starts to sing your favorite song joined by Dustin as he knows he words as everyone shouts the lyrics in hope to save you. The familiar chords thrummed through the headphones, a pulse that resonated in your core, cutting through the darkness strangling you. The voices of your friends rose, the lyrics woven with urgency and raw emotion. They flooded the space, the harmonies intertwining like threads of light piercing through the heavy gloom. Each note carried the weight of their support, reverberating against the warping shadows that threatened to consume you whole.

“Feel it, Y/N!” Dustin shouted, his voice a fierce." Feel it, Y/N!” Dustin shouted, determination etching every syllable with unwavering strength. “You’re not alone! We’re right here!”

The portal opens as you see your friends singing their hearts out. Vecna growls as he sees it and turns to you, just as you kick him hard as his grip loosens. You fall to the ground in fear as he stands up. The shadows surged and stretched, flickering with an unholy light as you scrambled backward, heart racing. Your hands dug into the gravel, frantic against the rough surface as you pushed yourself away from Vecna, the weight of dread still pressing down like a heavy stone. Each frantic beat of your heart echoed through the night, matching the relentless tempo of the music flooding your ears. 

You throw whatever you could at him, sliding in between his legs making your escape. 

"Please Y/N" your friends beg. Shadows lunged, tendrils reaching out like claws grasping for your ankles, but the pulsating rhythm of the music propelled you forward. 

“Keep running!” Steve’s voice broke through.

Each step felt harder, the shadows curling around your legs like creeping vines, but the power of your friends’ voices surged around you, wrapping you in warmth and determination.

as you charged forward, a wave of desperation fueling your every movement. Panic clawed at your insides, but the melody resonated through you, sparking the fire of resistance in your chest. 

“Y/N, keep going!” Dustin shouted.

From somewhere within the maelstrom, his voice a beacon in the dark. The rhythm of the music pulsed around you, each note forging an invisible path through the encroaching shadows. 

You pushed harder, your legs pumping as the darkness.

" Come back to me" Steve pleads. wove tighter around the edges of your vision, an oppressive fog that threatened to snuff out your spirit. The music surged within you, the familiar melody pushing back against the encroaching shadows as you fought for clarity, for freedom. 

Your body slowly goes down as your back to your friends, arm engulf you tight. An overwhelming flood of warmth wrapped around you, a cocoon of safety from the chaos that roiled just beyond the edges of consciousness. Your friends' voices resonated in the air, their harmonies intertwining to drown out the whispers of darkness that clung stubbornly to your thoughts. The weight of Vecna’s presence loomed, but the warmth of your friends reached out, pulling you back toward the light.

" Did I really hear Harrington confess his love too?" Eddie asks all of sudden. Laughter erupted, shattering the oppressive weight of fear for a moment, and you found strength within the absurdity of it all.

Was it true?" you asked Steve looking up at him. Steve’s eyes widened, a mixture of surprise and vulnerability etched across his face. The shadows that had engulfed you flickered, their grip momentarily loosened by the absurdity of your questions amidst the chaos.

“Yes,” he breathed, voice thick with emotion. “It’s true. I love you, Y/N. I always have.” 

You blinked, disbelief blending with a torrent of emotions. The shadows around you pulsed, the darkness wavering for a brief moment as if caught in the storm of your shared confessions.

" So it took me to get captured for you to tell me how you feel. Alright understood" The words hung in the air, laced with a mixture of irony and incredulity, but as your eyes locked with Steve's, everything felt charged with urgency.

" Well! Are you going to kiss her?" Robin asked,her voice breaking through the tension like a call to arms. Laughter rippled through the room, a buoy of levity amid the darkness that pressed in on all sides.

“Shut up, Robin!” Steve snapped, his cheeks flushing, eyes wide with embarrassment but glinting with amusement.

“Seriously? You’re on the verge of losing her to Vecna, and *that’s* what you focus on?” Eddie interjected, laughter lighting his features, injecting energy into the somber atmosphere. The absurdity hung between you like a thread, pulling the heaviness of the moment upward.

" Do I smell bad that your not going to kiss me?" you asked. A wry smile tugged at your lips, defiance mingling with the lingering dread swirling in the shadows. Steve blinked, his gaze locking onto yours as a flush of embarrassment raced across his cheeks.

"What?” he stammered, his cheeks flushing deeper, the vulnerability in his eyes opening a small chasm of warmth against the encroaching darkness. 

“Do you really think I’m just going to let Vecna win?” you shot back "I really want that kiss, I needed to win". you winked at him.Steve’s eyes widened as the tension shifted, color flooding his cheeks. The corners of his mouth twitched like they might form a smile, fighting against the shadows that still loomed. 

“Are you serious right now?” he asked, half-playful, half-breathless. But the light in your eyes sparked something within him—a determination melded with hope that pushed back against the tide of darkness. 

“I’ve never been more serious in my life,” you insisted, a flicker f defiance igniting in your chest. The shadows continued to dance at the edges of your vision, but the power of laughter filled the room, wrapping around you like a protective shield.

" If you won't kiss her, then I will " Eddie chimed in. The laughter erupted, breaking the oppressive weight of fear that filled the air. 

“Eddie, you’re not helping!” Steve shot him an incredulous look, but beneath it lay deep embarrassment mingled with something softer—understanding, perhaps.

" So Harrington, your going to leave me hanging or do I have to do it myself?" you asked. The atmosphere in the room shifted, thickening with tension as laughter blended into something electric. Steve's eyes widened, disbelief painting his features, grappling with the absurdity of the situation even amidst the swirling chaos that threatened to engulf you. 

“Wait, are you serious?” Steve stammered, stepping closer, his gaze locked onto yours with a mixture of urgency and disbelief. 

" You talk too much, Steve" Laughter rippled through the room, an unexpected balm against the weight of fear. Steve’s eyes brightened despite the chaos, and that flicker of hope ignited something deep within you.

“Alright, alright.” He raised his hands in amock surrender, but determination sparked in his eyes. “Just hold on for a sec, okay? I’m not letting you go. Not now, not ever.” He stepped closer, each heartbeat resonating with the gravity of his words. The shadows clung to the edges of your vision, but they felt less suffocating in this moment, swallowed by the brightness in his gaze.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice steady yet thick with uncertainty, “if we make it out of this…” His determination wavered, but the sincerity in his eyes shone through, illuminating the shadows that threatened to suffocate you. " I want you to know I’ve admired you for so long. You’re… you’re everything incredible.”

Eddie grew tired of this from Steve as he pushed him into you and Steve lips were inches from yours.The world around you seemed to suspend, time stretching taut as the distance closed between you. Steve’s eyes flickered with uncertainty, a silent question hanging in the air, heavy with hope and trepidation.

The world around you seemed to suspend, time stretching taut as the distance closed between you. 

With his lips merely inches from yours, everything faded into insignificance—the shadows, the darkness of Vecna’s taunts, even the pulsating fear that had gripped your heart just moments before. The world shrank to a single point where nothing mattered but the whispered promise contained in that fleeting moment. 

“Y/N,” Steve breathed softly, his voice barely above the thrum of the music, each syllable laced with vulnerability and an urgency that felt electric. The shadows receded slightly, as if honoring the connection between you. 

You stepped closer, feeling the warmth radiating from him, a lifeline amidst the chaos swirling around you.

"Oh get on with it, already " Erica threw her hands up in the air. As the laughter bubbled through the room like a lifeline, an unexpected surge of courage washed over you. You locked eyes with Steve, a fierce determination igniting within you. 

As you leaned toward him, your heart raced, a pulse of adrenaline mixing with the tender resolve that anchored you. Steve’s arms immediately encircled you, grounding you in the moment, even as the chaos threatened to consume it. 

"finally,” you breathed into the space between you, the weight of laughter and shadows falling away. 

His lips brushed against yours, tentative at first, but then the urgency of the moment ignited a fire between you. The kiss deepened, hearts racing in tandem as the world around you faded into a distant murmur.

" Finally he had some balls to do it" Erica says. The kiss consumed you, an electric jolt of warmth igniting the shadows that surrounded you. Each heartbeat echoed like a drum in your chest, threading through the chaos in a whirlwind of emotion.

As the kiss deepened, time warped and twisted, dissolving the barriers of the moment.

This was far from over. Vecna will be back but he can wait, as this moment was everything between the two of you.

Vecna had another thing coming.

[princess-of-the-corner]

https://www.tumblr.com/princess-of-the-corner/762387533769408512/reminder-that-one-of-the-main-differences-between?source=share

A recent discussion I had with @maestro04yayyy on this topic was pretty interesting. We didn't touch on Mr Lee, assuming he is like, in the picture at all.

Instead we went with Audrey's negligence and disinterest being like still bad, but also comparatively survivable; while Andre's interest is like a subtle poison.

Basically, Audrey is a careless monster, she'll hurt her kids if they happen to cross her vision and by forgetting about them, but that's where it begins and ends as she is otherwise disinterested.

Andre is a monster who cares very much, just about what he wants. & will try to shape, guide & manipulate his child into being that while still seeing him as doting & loving.

He's a lot more like Gabriel than is obvious, but where Gabriel's more of a deluded "I know what's best and what's best just happens to be what I want", with a strong undercurrent of "Respect my authority!"

Andre's actually got the people skills to make people do what he wants and is less interested in even a deluded version of "What's best for my child" and more into what he gets out of the relationship.

Status symbol, substitute for Audrey, an ego boost, or amusing dress up doll, ETC. One that when he's not in the mood to play with or utilize he shoves in a glass box.

When that's happening he only engages with said child when she makes a sufficient racket. Though whether said racket gets her anything is entirely down to his whims.

In this regard, Zoe was shaped mostly by neglect and the boarding school. The former of which is obviously bad, and the latter of which is not really a substitute for a loving family, but did in this case provide a degree of community, structure, support & guidance.

It still led to Zoe being a social chameleon who seeks to blend in with whoever seems to be at the top of the food chain, but she does have limits on how much she can take. Hence the break with mean girls.

Chloe was shaped by Andre to be a mini Audrey, a symbol of his status as a family man, & emotional crutch for him & his ego.

None of which led to a healthy head-space or good understanding of societal norms, morals, empathy, emotions, or healthy boundaries & relationships.

& when not being shaped Chloe just left in an isolating suite she lives in by herself which she's done since she was seemingly like, 3, with only Adrien, the staff & Mr Cuddly for company & later Sabrina.

Sorry I know we've gone over this before, but yeah that's my take on why Zoe is generally more deft socially and less prone to destructive behaviors. There's definitely a huge void where familial love should be; she just wasn't guided into trying to fill it with false victories & lashing out like Chloe was. They could easily have swapped places.

exactly!

[cezqstar]

haven’t been active in the rykter fandom in awhile, but i’ve seen quite a lot of opinions floating around on here & twt that i had quite a lot of thoughts about!

someone said the show is queerbaiting… and i genuinely cannot believe how anyone can see a character figuring out his queer identity and only see the matherik ship & dumb it down to queerbaiting.

edit: i want to clarify this part i said on queerbaiting because i didn’t articulate my thoughts in depth. at the end of season 2, mathias initiated a kiss with erik ultimately implying his queer identity. and his season 3 storyline has confirmed him as a queer character, who is crushing on erik & struggling with acceptance whilst getting bullied by his ex-best friend. however, erik’s pov is open to interpretation, which leaves a lot of space for fan theories (that i eat tf up) but at the moment, that’s all they are. fan theories. erik’s actions can be interpreted as both platonic & non-platonic, and i don’t see the show dangling matherik in the audiences faces. since they’re very focused on mathias’ story and his perspective rather than erik’s. whose own story seems to focus on him hanging around the wrong crowd and his questionable behaviour. it leaves the storyline open to go down two very different routes: erik could have his own queer realisation and the two of them eventually end up together. or mathias’ has unrequited feelings for his straight (or aro 👀) friend but those feelings helped him with his own queer journey to acceptance. and i think with how they’ve set erik up, it could genuinely go either way and make sense.

^^ that’s why i believe the queerbaiting claims are a stretch.

it’s become very clear why people began watching rykter: matherik. but people NEED to remember that the show is not solely about them. it never has been. this show is about the chaotic lives of ‘sheltered’ (i can’t think of the word i’m after) teenagers who all have the capability to be stupid, immature and selfish. which yes, includes felix as one of those characters and yes, includes erik as a teenager capable of being a bad person at times.

these teenagers are also all (well almost all) capable of redemption. mathias has proved his own ability to be redeemed after his s1 antics, erik will surely have his own redemption path regarding his current s3 antics and thea is currently having her redemption this season. just because erik has been generally good in the first two seasons, doesn’t mean he isn’t prone to poor decision making & shitty actions. remember: they’re all 15-16 years old.

i’ve seen a few people suggest that the rykter writers are ‘getting off’ on or ‘enjoying’ the homophobic abuse that mathias has been subjected to, but i think that’s a massive stretch. and an extremely poor outlook on the shows writing in my opinion. many people forget that even though norway is a progressive country that homophobic shitheads still exist. and the way mathias is being treated by someone as horrible as felix & no one saying anything due to being ‘sheltered’ followers is quite real.

and when someone as jealous, hateful & spiteful as felix who clearly puts up with his own share of prejudice gets to put someone else down (someone who he also feels ‘betrayed’ by), he’ll jump at that opportunity in an attempt to make himself better and stronger. from victim -> perpetrator. i understand the frustration around this season focusing on felix quite a lot but people need to stop seeing his storyline as ways to ‘excuse’ his actions and moreso to explain them & simply SHOW his life. they seem pretty hellbent on showing you that he’s a shitty person regardless of his home life & personal issues.

anyways rant over! time to disappear again lol. feel free to disagree with anything i said. always happy to have a discussion!

[iamnotoriginalphil]

Middle of the Night Conversations (Lydia Deetz x Reader)

Synopsis: After the wedding that wasn't, Lydia finds you in the kitchen, unable to sleep.

Words: 3.4k

Warnings: Praise kink if you squint real hard, mentions of toxic relationships

“You’re awake.”

You glanced up from your cold mug of tea. Perched on a stool in the kitchen, you’d been staring down into the mug in the darkened house. Everything had gone quiet a few hours ago, but left to your own devices you hadn’t been able to fall asleep. So you’d gotten up to make yourself some chamomile tea, your mother’s voice echoing in your mind from your childhood. The trouble was, you’d lost yourself in thought before you’d had even a sip of the calming drink.

Lydia stepped through the shadows, into the moonlight streaming through the window. Your thundering heart calmed, the regular level of anxiety returning just from seeing her. Something about being in the original ghost house was making you jumpy, especially after everything that had already happened.

“So are you,” you said.

“I’m always awake in the middle of the night,” she said.

“I know.”

You shared a small smile with her, her night time habits intimate to you. You’d been her assistant for a while now, hired by Rory when he decided she was a big enough star to not be bogged down with the minutiae of human life. When you’d been hired, you’d expected something more in line with your previous jobs. Demanding and egotistical, and yet what you���d been met with was a woman who seemed as unsure about your presence as you were. Rory, at least, had managed to fulfil your expectations, at times seemingly forgetting you weren’t his assistant.

Over many long hours and middle of the night conversations, it had become clear that both of you were more alike than different, letting you settle more comfortably in as her assistant. A slow friendship was built over insomnia filled nights. She’d call you to talk, or she’d keep you in the studio late. Sharing take out on the floor of her living room had become one of your favourite things to do, usually because Rory would be off schmoozing in fancy restaurants while she was left alone. You were her go to when she couldn’t sleep.

“Do you want me to make you some tea?” you asked, already rising to stool to put the kettle back on the stove. At the very least, you could do with actually drinking some of the tea yourself.

“You don’t have to do that,” she said, unapologetically taking your stool.

“It’s quite literally my job,” you said.

You lit the stove and placed the kettle on the hob. Turning, you rested against the counter, leaning on it with your arms curled around your waist. She was looking down at her own hands, wringing together where they rested on the bench in front of her.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you asked.

It had been slow going, getting her to open up to you. Over many hours, you’d wandered towards one another on shaky legs, both unsure of what the other would do in the face of vulnerability. And while she had such a presence about her when the lights were on and the cameras were rolling, it was so different from the anxious woman you’d come to know behind the scenes. The one who spoke to people who weren’t there and at times seemed as if she’d be engulfed with a greif you couldn’t place. The woman who curled into herself and grew quiet, staring into space.

But once the floodgates had opened, they hadn’t closed. You always wondered if it was because you wanted to listen to her talk about ghosts without demanding for anything more from her. Just an enthusiastic ear who liked the stories for what they were. You thought she liked talking without anyone pushing in with their opinion or listening in with judgement.

“I didn’t realise what it would be like seeing him again,” she said, “I thought I’d moved past it.”

“The ghost?” you asked.

“I can still feel him.” She shivered, “I know he’s not actually here but it’s like he’s watching me.”

“He’s fixated on you,” you said.

She looked up at you with those wide eyes that had grown familiar over the many days and hours and months you’d spent with her. You swallowed past the lump in your throat. You’d seen her when it had all grown too much but this was something different. It was like she was haunted. Ironic, given her job, and yet…

“Maybe he is,” you said, “you saw him before he was here, didn’t you?”

You could still remember the fear on her face during the taping. It wasn’t something you ever wanted to see again.

“What will it take for him to leave me alone?” she asked.

“Dying?” you suggested, “moving on like the Maitlands did?”

“He’ll just follow me then too,” she groaned.

“Maybe all you can do is ignore him and live your life the way you want to,” you said, “who cares if he’s watching? There’s only one way to bring him here and you’re not about to do that again. So don’t give him this power over you.”

The way she was looking at you was like you were too naive to understand properly. It made your skin itch in ways that had grown familiar to you. Hugging yourself tighter, you tried not to fidget under her scrutiny.

The kettle began to whistle and you jumped, having forgotten you were in the middle of making her a cup of chamomile tea. You turned away from her, pouring the boiling water into a clean mug for her. Her fingers were cold where they brushed against yours as you passed her the mug. You drew back again, pushing up onto the counter you’d been leaning against, bare feet swinging, not wanting to think about that touch.

“I’m not saying it will be easy, but do you want to be beholden to him for the rest of your life?” you asked, pouring your own cup.

“I want him to leave me alone,” she said.

“We could summon him. Demand he get out of your life and your head,” you said.

“NO!”

You offered her a small smile over the rim of your mug. She stared back at you, eyes wide, almost wild, cheeks flushing.

“Alright, then if you won’t summon him, what can you do?” you asked.

It took a moment before her shoulders slumped. Her hands curled around the mug in front of her, as if seeking out warmth she couldn’t generate herself. Taking a sip of your own tea, you waited for her to say it.

“Ignore him,” she said, so tired.

“There ya go,” you said, keeping your voice gentle.

“I can feel his presence,” she said, looking up at you, “he’s still here.”

“And you’re going to…?” you prompted him.

“Ignore him,” she replied.

“Good girl.”

She took a long drink from her mug, not quite meeting your eye. You followed suit, looking away to look out the window on the moonlight drenched night. Sometimes, when you were talking to her in the middle of the night, words slipped out that you wouldn’t say in the light of day. The thoughts in your brain didn’t go through the usual filter before they made it to your mouth. This was one of those times.

“Why are you awake?” she asked, breaking the silence you’d caused.

“It’s been a weird few days,” you said, still staring out the window.

You hadn’t expected her to bring you with her when her father died. You knew she didn’t have many people around her, Rory the only one that had been propping her up as far as you could tell, but you weren’t part of her family. There hadn’t been a reason for you to be there. It made no sense.

But she’d asked and you couldn’t say no to her.

“I suppose that’s one way to describe it,” she said.

“I guess I’m just processing,” you said, looking back at her.

She was watching you, a carefully neutral expression on her face. You shrugged, taking another sip of tea, not feeling the need to say more than that. It was obvious enough what you’d be processing.

“Did you believe me?” she asked, her eyes skittering away from you.

“About what?” you asked, but you thought you knew.

“About the ghosts,” she said.

“Well, I didn’t think you were lying, and I didn’t think you were hallucinating, so yeah. I believed you,” you said, “if I hadn’t I would have told you straight to your face.”

“Would you?” she asked.

“Just because Rory didn’t that doesn’t mean everyone he hired is awful. I would have told you and then accepted whatever decision you made about my future as your assistant. I wasn’t trying to make money off you. I just wanted to help you,” you said, “if you hadn’t wanted me around I would have been sad but I would have moved on without my life being ruined. It was about what you wanted and what would make you most comfortable.”

“Why didn’t I see it in him?” she asked.

“He lied. You saw what you needed to see to survive. It happens,” you said.

She looked sharply at you before her shoulders relaxed when she saw you watching her with an open expression.

“There’s nothing wrong with you for believing it when someone told you they loved you. That’s being human,” you said.

“I should have noticed it,” she said, rather than agreeing with you.

“Did you even like him?”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“Did you like him? Did you respect him? If the answer is no, then his opinion isn’t worth anything,” you said, “Astrid’s opinion matters. Your opinion matters. His doesn’t.”

She stared at you a moment. You shifted on the counter, fingers tightening on your cooling mug, looking away into the shadows of the house. You might always want her attention on you, but any time you got it, there was always a sense of self consciousness from you. Like you were worried about her seeing too much.

“Your opinion matters too.”

Your eyes found hers again. There was such an intense expression on her face, fierce in a way you only saw occasionally, usually when she was fighting for Astrid. You’d seen it plenty over the last few days. This was the first time you’d found it directed in your direction.

“You don’t have to say that to spare my feelings,” you said.

“I’m not.” Her voice had hardened.

She stood, the stool screeching against the kitchen floor. You winced, a shiver going down your spine. Her bare feet were silent as she approached you but still, it was like a tremor went through the building as she drew closer.

“I’m not saying it to make you feel better about yourself. I’m saying it because it’s true,” she said, “your opinion matters to me.”

“Well, that’s just… that’s… thank you,” you said, not having the words for what it meant to you.

“Did you like him?” she asked.

“Who?”

“Rory.” The eye roll was implied.

“He disrespected you. Of course I didn’t like him,” you said.

“I don’t know what you mean,” she said, shaking her head.

“He dressed you up like a knock off Elvira when it’s clear that’s not how you want to present yourself,” you said, eyes gliding over her body before meeting her eyes, “he made everything about himself. Just look at how he acted the entire time he was here. It was all about him, and not you or Astrid or Delia when it was your father who died. He was sleazy and self serving, and you can do so much better than him.”

“Can I?” You hated the undercurrent of vulnerability in her question.

“Lydia.” You reached out, grasping her hands in both of yours, bridging the gap she’d first breached, “if you wanted the world you could have it. Whatever else happens, please believe that.”

Her fingers tangled with yours, tightening as she stepped closer. The silk of her pyjamas brushed your bare knees, sending electricity over your skin. Your breath caught and any words you might have had left died on your lips.

“Sometimes it feels like you are the only one I feel like my old self around,” she said, a whispered confession that rocketed through your body.

She came closer, her body now pressed against your legs, hands holding yours, dark eyes searching your face for something you’d gladly give her if she’d only ask. You held your breath, waiting to see what she would do.

“You’d give me the world if I asked for it, wouldn’t you?” she asked, whisper soft and broken open, wonder painting every syllable.

“I would,” you breathed out.

Her gaze slid over your face before slipping down to your lips. Your tongue darted out, dragging over them, watching as her eyes followed it. Her own tongue followed suit, an unconscious mirroring as she focused on you. Your knees fell open and you tugged on her hands, pulling her closer until she was nestled between your thighs.

“Lydia,” you groaned, almost pained, feeling as if you’d ended up in a dream.

“I don’t need the world,” she said, her fingers untangling from yours before resting her palms against your legs, “you can keep the world.”

“Okay,” you said.

“But I do need you,” she said.

You didn’t have an answer for her. You didn’t know how you’d gotten from talking about the demon that had been haunting her since a teenager to this but you didn’t want to ruin it. It felt fragile, a moment made from spun glass that could shatter if you mishandled it even slightly.

“Oh,” you finally managed to get out.

“I need you,” she said, her grip on your thighs tightening, almost painfully.

“Okay,” you said.

“I need you,” she said again, head tipping forward until her forehead came to rest against your chest.

You were hesitant as you curled your arms around her. She pressed closer, hands sliding from your legs to your hips to wrap her arms around your waist. You lent forward, pressing your face to the top of her head.

“You have me,” you whispered.

She drew back just far enough to look up into your face. Your lips parted and her eyes slipped down to them. You fell forward, sure she would draw back, but not able to stop yourself. The first brush of lips was so soft, tentative, as if waiting to be pushed away and told off. She made a small noise, practically a whimper.

Your hands cupped her cheeks, kissing her again and again and again, each time just a little deeper. You were trying to be so careful but then her teeth nipped at your lower lip and you groaned into her mouth. Her hands were pushing up your shirt, bare skin on bare skin, making you haul her even closer.

“Sorry,” you said, panting, when you drew back, reminding yourself that you’d both just gone through something intense and she’d just lost her fiancee and her father and her step mother in the last three days, “I’m so sorry.”

“No, don’t,” she said.

She pushed up onto her toes, kissing you again. There was nothing you could do but kiss her back. You were so utterly smitten with her you’d do anything she asked.

“Don’t apologise,” she demanded, her lips still brushing yours, “not for this.”

“Are you…” You gently pushed her back, still caught between your legs but giving you the space to think again, “what are we doing?”

“Something I’ve wanted for a while now,” she said, “do you not…?”

“Lydia, I’ve been half in love with you since the moment I began working for you,” you said, “but is now really the time? You’ve just lost so many people. You can’t be thinking clearly.”

“Don’t tell me what I’m thinking,” she said, pushing away from you.

“Sorry,” you said again.

You pressed your knees together again, curling your arms around your waist, suddenly ice cold. You watched her pace the kitchen, that feeling of being in a dream shifting into a nightmare. You’d shattered the moment, shards of glass stuck in your skin.

“Do you think this is easy for me? That I go around doing this with everyone? That I trust people the way I trust you?” she asked, no, demanded, from you.

“Of course not,” you said, growing smaller.

“Then don’t tell me what I’m fucking thinking. I’m more me with you than I ever was with Rory. So don’t tell me I’m not thinking clearly right after telling me you have feelings for me,” she said.

“I just meant-“

“I know what you meant,” she snapped, “you were the one just telling me to live my life the way I want to and that I can do better and have the world. I don’t want the world. What I want is you.”

“You have me. You’ll always have me,” you said.

“Then why are we arguing about this?” she asked.

“Maybe because I’m worried this is all because of everything you’ve just gone through and in a few weeks you’ll realise this isn’t what you want and I’ll be left heartbroken,” you said, “maybe getting something I’ve wanted for so long is scary because I’m not sure I’ll survive if it’s taken from me. Maybe I’m scared.”

That seemed to give her pause for thought. Freezing, she stared at you with wide eyes. Admitting it, spilling out your feelings for her to see, was also scary. To be vulnerable would never sit comfortably to you.

“I don’t want you to be scared of me,” she said.

“It’s not you I’m scared of. You’re wonderful. But if I let myself have this, I’m giving you the means to seriously hurt me and it worries me because this is coming out of nowhere from my perspective,” you said, looking down at the fingers twisting together in your lap.

“It’s not coming from nowhere,” she said, stepping towards you again, looking grim, “it’s easy to pretend something is one thing when it’s actually something else because you think you have that thing in someone else.”

“What?”

She sighed, stepping forward until she was brushing against your knees again. Her hands hovered over yours before they landed, skin against skin, cool fingers almost icy against your warmth. You shivered but flipped your hand, intertwining your fingers with hers again, looking at the sight of them wound together.

“I could pretend my feelings for you were platonic because I thought I was in love with Rory. But I wasn’t. Not really. He never made me feel the way you did. Why do you think you were the one I always spoke to when I couldn’t sleep?” she said, her grip on you tightening, “you’re the person I feel safest with.”

“Oh,” you said, not sure what to say, putting those words into the context of everything else that you’d experienced with her.

“You understand what I’m saying, right?” she asked.

“I think so,” you replied.

“After everything we’ve just been through, I can’t lose you too,” she said.

You tugged on her hands, drawing her closer until you could trap her between your thighs, pinning her in place. Something in her seemed to relax as your fingertips brushed over the apple of her cheek.

“You won’t,” you said, “but I can’t lose you either.”

“You’ll never lose me,” she said.

Her lips landed on yours again, sighing into your mouth as she sunk into you. Her arms were back around your waist and your fingers were under her chin, tilting it upwards to kiss her like she was something precious, soft and sweet and lingering. Proof you were going to stay, that she meant something to you, that this was the first moment of many more.

Sleep was overrated and Lydia Deetz was worth being awake in the middle of the night for. Especially when she was kissing you like you were the only thing that mattered in that moment. That you meant something to her. That you were more than just her assistant.

That you mattered to her.

[seafullofpeace]

Hiiii I saw you wanted a req so your wish is my command💕 possibly some headcanons of ADHD reader x Matt?

matt sturniolo x ADHD!reader

(headcanons) <3

yeah!! omg thank you for a request I got very excited about it <3

I tried my best but pretty please keep in mind that I'm a beginner and it's my second work 🤍 also english is not my first language so be ready for a lot of mistakes!

- functioning with adhd and keeping with things might be hard so he helps you with keeping your routine (at least a little bit) so you can keep track of time and be more organized

- if you're understimulated- he lets you play with his rings or a fidget toy which he always have in his bag in case you need some extra stimulation

- when you yap away about your hyperfixations- he always listen to you patiently, he adores when you talk <3

- he know you have a tendency to forget about things so he stick little notes in visible places for you or gently reminds you of them (but not rushing you)

- stim with you sometimes!

- if you go to school/college etc. he always remember about reminding you of packing your books, making lunch, homeworks, etc

- if you live with him, he would create a sensory friendly space to study for you so you don't get too distracted by everything and can study at least a little easier

- if you tell him about something and you lost track where you finished- he reminds you because he listen and remember everything you say

- helps you a lot and understand your struggles

- buys you a lot of fidget toys

- if he don't know something about your ADHD, he makes a research so he can understand you better and help you the best he can

[jeanystillbeany]

BillFord Fic 3

yippee no pacing.

 “What do you mean the portal is destroyed?!”  The triangle sat atop a large throne made from the majority of Gravity Fall’s residents.  The lacky ticked nervously at Bill’s clear annoyance.  In fact, the whole Fearamid was silent in response to the demon’s rage.  

  “It-it was smashed-“ the green monster explained with a shudder.  His eyeballs were blackened with eight-balls as his pupils.  

  “Well thanks!  That’s exactly what I was- NOT asking for!  Details eight-ball.  Details.”  Bill Cipher seethed.  Eight-ball shook as he tried to explain without suffering from his ring-leader’s unhinged mood.  

  “We- m-me an-and Pyronica- we- we were g-going to move t-the portal here- like you said- but- but it- something smashed it.  N-nothing useful.  We-we haven’t found the creature-“

  “Get out.” Bill Cipher’s face darkened.  

  “Boss- look we-“

  “GET OUT.”  Eight-Ball was quick to rush out of the room as Bill’s typically yellow form turned a fiery red and twice its already exaggerated size.  

  After his henchman scampered out of the room, Bill let out a heavy sigh and laxed into his chair.  If he had temples he’d be rubbing them, but for now the space above his single haunting eyeball would do.  

  “Thirty years… thirty fucking years Stanford…”  Bill began talking amongst himself, “I waited.  I actually thought you weren’t dead!”  Bill’s voice breaks off into a cluster of unstable laughter.  The worst part of all this is that he knew it was his fault.  He pushed Ford.  He pushed him away.  He might as well have been the one to push him into that damn portal.  Ford was gone.  He always was.  That was it.  He has no one holding him back now.  Bill believed that the lack of anyone would push him forward.  He thought he’d be free… but if that were the case, then why does he feel so restrained?    He thought that if all connection to that nuisance was lost- he’d rather have the world than him.  Why is it the other way around?

  “FUCK!”  Bill yelled abruptly in frustration.  The world around him morphing with his emotions.  

  “Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck- you stupid dumb- IDIOT!”  The demon groaned as he slumped back into his chair defeated.  Stanford was gone.  There was no denying that.  Cipher decided that it was time to stop throwing his little temper tantrum and cut himself off with a stubborn sigh.  

“I have living Pines to worry about. But first…”

  Bill snapped his fingers and two of his ‘friends’ popped into the room.  One of them looked like a pair of dentures with legs while the other was a pink woman with flaming clothes.  

  “Teeth, Pyronica.  I have a job for you two.  Go find the dumbass that destroyed the portal.  And make it pay.  Have fun!  -and I don’t want to hear that it’s even twitching!  Or I’ll be the one ‘having fun’.  Buy gold!  Bye!”  Bill didn’t give them a chance to respond as he teleported them to the remains of Ford’s lab with a maniacal laugh.  As soon as they were gone he ripped off his mask and groaned back into his chair again.  Or was that a sob?  He couldn’t tell anymore.  It’s not like it mattered anyway.  

  Sixer was gone.  

  And he was going to make everyone pay for it.  

~

�� Sixer and Dipper conversed excitedly in the TV room.  It was as though they were two old friends reconnecting, even though they haven’t had much conversation until now.  The interaction began with Ford approaching Dipper about the modifications he made to the shield to keep Bill out.  Dipper explained that he found gnome hair to have a sort of repellency to unicorn hair- this caused the shield to nonchalantly cause the target to forget the shack was there. 

  “It actually ended up being surprisingly useful this far in!”  Dipper chirped, “it keeps us from getting any sort of Eye-Bat’s attention from up to 100 feet of the mystery shack.”  Ford nodded and began writing the new discoveries down in his journal while mumbling other theories.  Eventually the pair trailed off to talking about other topics and somehow got caught up on their favorite nerd game ‘Dungeons, Dungeons and more Dungeons’.  

  “Hey- if you’re up for it- I wouldn’t mind playing with you sometime.”  Ford grinned at his nephew.  

  “Yeah… after all this is hopefully over…” Dipper sighed.  

  “We must indulge in playing immediately!”  Ford claimed rising from his chair in enthusiasm.  Dipper was a little startled at the sudden attitude- yet appreciated the change from everyone else’s hopeless expressions.  While Dipper did seem to find some condolences in the gesture, fate planned on getting Ford back for his little scare anyway.  

  As Ford began to help Dipper search the shelves for their game, the door to the Mystery Shack suddenly slammed shut  rather clumsily.  Ford jumped in response and glared at the direction the door was in with a raised eyebrow.  

  The man took his curious expression with him for a moment as he paused his task and traveled to a nearby window.  Outside, he could easily distinguish where the barrier ended.  A trail of some of the survivors living inside the shack followed a certain Stanley pines out of the barrier.  

  “Stanley…” Ford muttered under his breath in warning as if the other could hear him.  

  “What is it?” Dipper asked curiously and followed Ford to the window.

   “Oh…” Dipper observed his Grunkle and his team leaving to get the supplies in the bunker.  

  “Does he even know where it is?  What if the shapeshifter is loose by now!”  Stanford sputtered.  Despite being much younger than the other twins, Dipper understood the feeling.  

  “You should go after him!  I can help too!”  Dipper said.  

  “No.  Absolutely not.  You are going to be staying in the shack where it’s safe.”  Ford commanded.  

  “C’mon!  Seriously?  I can do stuff too!  Why does Grenda get go then?!  She’s the same age!”  Dipper complained in response.  

  “I’m still your great-uncle Dipper.  We will play D, D and more D when I get back.”  Ford retreated from the window and began scouring around the shack for his coat- then realizing it was torn.  He grabbed all the items inside of it and placed them into his satchel.  In the meantime, Dipper followed him around like a lost puppy begging to come along on the adventure.  

  “Please Grunkle Ford!  I’ve been sitting around here for weeks!  Do you seriously expect me to just sit here?!”  Dipper pleaded.  

  “Yes.  Yes I do- now try and set our game up while I’m gone.”  And with that final sentence Ford left Dipper in the Mystery Shack.  

  Ford discreetly traveled behind the group set to the bunker.  He hid behind trees and trudged out of sight from his brother.  As the survivors and Stanford traveled, he noticed many familiar landmarks from the new Gravity Falls everyone was trapped in.  Weirdly enough, it seemed Stanley was leading everyone back to the lab.  Stanford supposed it wasn’t the dumbest idea.  The pure insanity of the state of the world has caused their usual surroundings to change immensely.  It was a decent idea to have a safe point in case someone got separated or they found the terrain has changed too greatly for them to find the bunker from memory.  It has only been a day and Ford found himself missing his now completely trashed lab.  After a few hours of walking, group finally made it to the lab.  The ghost of the mystery shack still stood atop of it.  The group decided to take a short break. 

  “I can’t believe boss did that?!  What’s up his ass today?”  

  “Yeah I know!  Seriously!  What’s so important about this dumb portal anyway?  We’re already out of that damned dimension.  I don’t see what’s so important about it.”  Everyone froze at the voices heard from the remains of the underground lab.  No one dared move a muscle as Wendy signed a few things to Stanley and everyone stayed silent.  For a moment all anyone could hear was sounds of Bill’s henchmen complaining while rummaging through debris.  Everyone began to slowly retreat away from the mystery shack silently- careful not to step on any sticks.  Ford observed with a clenched jaw, and he’d find five half-moons imprinted in his palm if he looked at his hands later.  One by one, each survivor made it out of the clearing and into the cover of the brambles.  The man still continued to stay in hiding until the final group member was out of sight.  

  Everyone was breathless as they silently waited for the monsters to leave the area.  It was quiet other than the loud clacking of metal from underground in the lab.  

  “Hey- where’d they go?”  A pre-teen boy emerged from the same direction the group and Ford had come from just minutes before.  He ignorantly stepped out into the clearing with a huff.  The entire group’s eyes swarmed the familiar voice.  Ford felt his hair stand on end at the tense atmosphere.  Ford began to sweat as Dipper carelessly walked away from all cover.  Wendy popped her head out from the bushes.  

  “Dipper!” Ford acknowledged the panicked look in her eyes as she frantically waved him over back towards the forest.  He also noticed Stan had poked his head out of the brush as well- attempting to aid Wendy in trying to get some sense of alarm into Dipper’s skull.  

  “Oh!  Hey Wendy!”  Dipper exclaimed- being too far away to accurately read her facial expressions.  Ford found himself among the two others that desperately tried to get Dipper to safety.  It was only about a minute when Ford realized the pace of Dipper’s understanding was much too slow for him to accurately comprehend the danger in time.  The boy’s newest uncle took note of the way his twin’s eyes widened in shock before scowling in disappointment as he revealed himself into the clearing.  

  “Hi Grunkle Ford!  Why are you all over there?”  The named Grunkle winced at his nephew’s volume as the noises in the bunker abruptly stopped followed by chattering.  

  “Did you hear something?”  

  “Yeah actually!  Almost sounded like one of those brats…” Ford grabbed Dipper’s arm and pulled him behind himself.  He carefully backed away in order to not make any noise.  He held his breath as he looked back at the distance between himself and the forest.  

  “Well, well well!  Look what we have here Pyronica!”  Ford’s attention darted to the voice that came from the teeth demon.  It then went to the named pink one who towered over him.    

  “Look, it’s the old man and his nephew!  Love the new look… didja… do something with your hair?”  The pink demon flicked the floof of his hair as he pushed himself further in front of Dipper.  

  “What do you say we do with ‘em?”  Teeth asked.  

  “I say, we feed it to the wretch that destroyed our best friend’s portal!”  Pyronica grinned- pinching Stanford’s cheek.  He glared as his hand slowly moved to his satchel.  

  “Aww… I wanted a few bites…”  Teeth said disappointed.  

  “Oh, I’m sure you can have your fair share-“ Pyronica cut herself off as she noticed Ford’s movements towards his bag, “oh!  That could’ve been bad now couldn’t it?” She gleamed as she tore Ford’s satchel off his shoulders and tossed it to the side.  Ford fell backwards- pushing Dipper aside and held his shoulder to lighten the impact.  

  “Hey!  You leave my Grunkle alone!”  Dipper exclaimed fiercely.  He sat up- but Ford held him back.  He gave his nephew’s shoulder a squeeze to signal to him to stop, but the fire in his relative raged on.  

  “Oh!  So we got ourselves a yapper!  How cute…” Pyronica said tipping Dipper’s hat as she leaned menacingly over the pair.  

  “I say we eat them now!”  Teeth jumped in.  

  “Oh- but Bill would be so much more pleased if we brought Stanley back… you know how much he despises him.”  Pyronica pointed out as she reached for Ford and Dipper.  

  “Hey!”  Everyone’s heads darted towards the new voice- shocked to be seeing double.  Stanley stood fiercely and moved in front of his brother and Dipper.  He had Ford’s bag draped over his shoulder and his brother’s gun pointed at the monsters.  

  “Is- is this just me?  Or am I a little crazy here?  I think I had too much Time Punch…” Teeth exclaimed.  He then got abruptly shot right on one of his front teeth.  

  “AHH A CAVITY!”  Teeth exclaimed taking shelter back in the lab.  

  “You stay away from my family.”  Stanley said sternly before pointing the gun at Pyronica who continued to look between the two.  She grumbled with her hands up and rolled her eyes.  

  “And what is that stupid little gun gonna do huh-“ Pyronica was caught off guard as a zap of an unknown blue energy zipped past her face- giving her a nasty burn on her cheek bone.  She hummed before snapping her fingers expecting the injury to heal immediately.  When she still noticed a burning sensation, she snapped again.  The pink demon began snapping repeatedly until realization finally got through her thick skull.  Pyronica huffed in defeat.  

  “Teeth!  We’re leaving these cowards.”  She growled before following teeth back into the abandoned lab.  A large force of pink energy shot out of the top.  Ford presumed this to be an indication of teleportation.  

  Stanley still stood there tense long after the demons retreated.  The gun was still pointed at the lab where the demons never reemerged.  Ford brushed himself off and helped Dipper up before placing a hand on his twin’s shoulder.  Stanley sighed before lowering the gun and standing there for a moment.  

  He slowly turned around and pulled Ford into a hug.  

  “See?  I told you!  I would’ve thought you remembered…”  Stanley mumbled.  Ford hugged his twin back- knowing exactly what he was referring to.  

  “What that you’re always right?”  Ford asked.  

  “Yeah,” Stanley pulled himself away, but firmly gripped Ford’s shoulders, “Now can someone tell explain to me what was going on inside of that stupid head of yours!  I told you to stay in the shack!  But then you not only go off but bring Dipper with you?!”  Stan glared at his brother. Ford opened his mouth to respond before Dipper cut in.  

  “…it’s my fault Grunkle Stan… Grunkle Ford told me to stay in the shack.  I followed him.”  He admitted with his eyes aimed at the floor.    Stanley let go of his brother’s shoulders and sighed.  

  “Hey Dipper… look at me…” Stan said in an earnest manner.  Dipper followed his instructions as his uncle put a hand on his shoulder.  

  “That was stupid,” his uncle said bluntly, “very, very, very, very stupid.”  Dipper awaited a second stanza to his Uncle’s statement but received none other than a sly ‘you too’ towards Ford.  Stanley gave Ford’s bag back to him and the gun (with slightly more hesitation and borderline begging to keep it).  The group emerged from the forest.  Wendy even came up and slapped her boss on the back in victory.  

  After that fiasco the resource retrieval team decided they needed a proper break.  They all sat down in a group and quietly chatted amongst each other, sipping water, and savoring rations.  Ford took to savoring the peace.  He leaned his back up against a tree as he began writing the recent events into his journal.  His knees propped the journal open sufficiently, tucked about a foot from his chest.  Dipper was huddled closely beside him, anxiously asking questions with the excitement of Mabel.  Eventually Ford caved in and stretched out his legs- putting the journal at a better angle for Dipper to see.  The boy quaffed the words  written as soon as he was given a chance.  As Dipper read, Ford ruffled through his bag.  

  “What are you looking for Grunkle Ford?”  Dipper peaked from the book for only a second.  

  “One moment Dipper… ah.  Here we are!”  Ford’s six fingered hand removed itself from the bag, holding out a second pen to Dipper.  The boy looked at it questioningly.  

  “Well, I wanted to write about our encounter just now.  I thought that maybe you could help.”  Stanford shrugged, still having the pen held out to Dipper.  The 13-year-old took it eagerly, looking up to Ford in admiration.  The Grunkle put the book between themselves- giving each other about a paragraph.  The first few sentences were messy trying to figure out some sort of system in journaling with twice as many people.  Though, they both figured it out just fine in the end.  

  Stanley sat by a tree across from them- nonchalantly eating a can of brown meat.  Ford couldn’t help but notice the occasional longing glances his brother stole from them.  Ford sighed with a fond smile before motioning for Dipper to pause when they got to retelling the events that just occurred.  

  “Is something wrong Grunkle Ford?”  Dipper asked stopping mid sentence.  

  “No, no Dipper.  In fact- everything is great.  Though… I thought that maybe the man of the hour should write his own part.”  Ford shrugged.  

  “Really?”  Dipper looked skeptical before shrugging, “Fine.” 

  Ford nodded satisfied before calling his brother, “Hey!  Stanley!”  He waved his brother over.  

  Stan perked up as soon as he heard his brother call him, but then immediately slouched again.  It was as though he wanted to suppress the smile that came from a feeling he thought he lost with his brother 31 years ago.  Stanley lazily sauntered over.  Though Ford could see the gleam in his eye whenever he chatted with his family.  

  “So what’d you nerds need?”  Stan sat down in front of them.  

  “Oh!  Grunkle Ford wants you to help us write an entry in his journal.”  Dipper exclaimed- sliding the book over to his other great-uncle.  

  Stanley’s eyes widened at the gesture and gave Ford a questioning look.  He never let him touch his work.  Stanley always thought it was because he believed that he’d mess it up somehow.  Ford only nodded in responds and handed Stanley a pen.  He grinned and began jotting where the other two left off.  

[traumaboyexo]

CIRCLES UPON CIRCLES: DOWNHILL

[[[Hey look more fanfic writing for the au called Circles Upon Circles by @ivipl1. This time about my fav character in this au, the lovable intern Ted Italics! Ted I love you please answer my calls]]]

You lie awake, staring up at the shining stars. Watching each of them chatter, scream, shout, swoon. Every single one, almost more insufferable than the last. Every single one, a cluster of disorderly madness driving you insane.

At least you're not doing it in a pool of your own blood.

At least you aren't suffering. Ripped apart again and again. Crushed by weights or bitten by beasts. No pain. Not a one. Your body free of scars and your mind released of agony.

It could be so much worse.

You could be them. The ones who are torn apart. The ones forced to be wise. The ones forced to be amongst the fools. The director who sees the script while dancing with the actors. A burning bloody violent world for each and every single one of them.

How lucky you are. To watch as the people are thrown to the wolves, to watch from above, so safe, so far away, so alone. It's so fantastic that you have this job. Don't you feel grateful? Don't you feel so utterly filled with joy? To know your life shall never become like that? To never have to feel the horrid sensation of death?

To be rid of the nightmares. The wishing. The falling. The failing. The guilt. The time. The walk. The run. The fight. Rid of it all.

You're practically living in a pleasant dream.

A dream that will never end.

Why do you cry? Why do you yearn? Why do you crave?

You don't truly wish to be amongst those riff-raff, do you? The scum, the unfortunate. You used to be one of them. You know the madness. You've seen it firsthand, you've felt it firsthand. And you've said you'd give anything to forget it. To get a new pair of eyes, to replace your broken nerves.

You don't really believe that these happy endings mean anything, do you? That they matter? That these lives or actions or events hold any weight?

The routine is all the same.

To be crushed. To wake. To cycle through and discover. To go forward and backwards. To be annoyed and to be frustrated. To befriend and to bond. To lie and scream. And then, to be together.

All of it nonsense. All of it seen again and again and again. Like an awful cliché.

Just a blip. A blip in your eternity. A blip in your part to play. All of them end the same. All of them are nearly identical. All of them suffer. All of them burn. All of them die. And live. And fall. And smile.

...are you not happy that your life is worth more than theirs?

And then you realise why you cry.

Because you're alone. Not a single friend is with you. Not a single companion to share your burden.

Because there's nobody with you. Because there's no one to smile with. Or laugh with. Or cry with.

It's just you. Alone. With the distant employer you call the Universe.

Not a drop of blood. Not a person in sight.

How long as it been since you'd had a bit of company? That you had someone to talk to that wasn't the insanity of the stars? Someone you could even relate to?

...you can barely remember.

...

Would anyone even hear you?

If you screamed aloud, at the top of your pitiful lungs, into the abyss of space and time, would anyone's ears catch even the slightest of a whisper of it?

If they did, would they care?

...

...perhaps it wouldn't be so bad to try.

...YOU HATE IT ALL. YOU HATE THIS PITIFUL EXISTENCE THAT'S CLAIMED TO BE A LIFE, A GIFT. TO COMPENSATE AS THE "FIRST".

A WRETCHED JOB THAT COMES WITH NOTHING BUT REGRET, JEALOUSY AND SOLITUDE.

YOU ARE BUT AN INTERN. FORCED TO DO THE TASKS NOBODY ELSE WISHES TO PERFORM. UNPAID, UNAPPRECIATED. NOT EVEN A "THANK YOU" TO BE GIVEN OR GIFTED. WITH NO BENEFITS, BUT THE CURSE OF ETERNAL EXISTENCE.

AND EVERYDAY IT BECOMES HARDER TO FIGHT OFF THE ENROACHING MADNESS. TO STOP YOURSELF FROM CURLING INTO A BALL AND GIVING UP. TO STOP YOURSELF FROM TRYING TO RIP INTO YOUR OWN SKULL. YOUR OWN AUGMENTATION FOR SKIN AND FLESH AND BONES. HOPING FOR ANYWAY OUT. HOPING FOR THE DAY IT ALL ENDS.

MAY EVERY WORLD BURN TO NOTHING BUT ASHES AND CINDER. MAY EVERY WORLD CRUMBLE AND CRACK AND DIE. MAY EVERY HAPPY ENDING YOU'VE BLESSED GROW SOUR, BITTER AND COLD. MAY EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU BE DEVOURED WHOLE, MAY EVERY SINGLE FAMILY FREEZE AND LEFT TO ROT. MAY ALL THE VOICES FADE INTO SILENCE AND BURN UP LIKE THE STARS THEY WERE MEANT TO BE.

MAYBE THEN THEY'LL KNOW. YOUR WRATH, YOUR ANGER, THE UNJUST NATURE OF YOUR VERY BEING. TO START AT THE BOTTOM OF THE HILL, FORCED TO WATCH EVERYONE ELSE CLIMB AND REACH THE PEAK AND PLANT THEIR FLAG OF VICTORY.

MAY ALL UNIVERSES CEASE TO BE! MAY ALL ENDINGS BE CURSED! AND MAY ALL SUFFERING LAST ETERNAL! MAY ALL DIRECTORS LOSE THEIR EYES AND BE BLIND FOREVER!

MAY IT ALL BE FOR NOTHING FOR IT TO MEAN SOMETHING TO ME!

...well, that's probably what you'd shout anyways.

You wouldn't know for certain.

You've never been one for long boring monologues.

Back to work.

[hedonistpoet06]

What If The Storm Ends? - Part 2 Five Hargreeves x Female OC

'What if Five's time during that first apocalypse was slightly different, what if he wasn't alone for all those years?'

Chapter synopsis: Still slightly stunned by the presence of another human being in the apocalypse, Octavia decides to mediate the tension by offering Five food back at her base. Despite both obtaining superhuman abilities, Five couldn't be more different from this bubbly stranger he happened to stumble across. Five finds himself in a complicated predicament as he naturally gravitates towards Octavia's warmth but he cannot forget his most important priority, getting back to his family. The two decide to strike up a deal beneficial for their survival, after all, strength is in numbers, right?

Authors Note: I don't know if this work is showing up on any of the tags i've listed it under. Is this a common problem for anyone else? I've never posted on tumblr before so I'm still trying to figure out the ropes ;w;. Let me know if this is appearing under any tags for you guys.

Nevertheless, enjoy this chapter!

Word Count: 7197

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°☆

ii. 𝐀𝐧 𝐀𝐩𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐲𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐒𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫

After almost an hour of walking, Octavia had guided Five to where she had been staying for the past two years. The walk was pleasant but mostly silent. Octavia would try to ignite some form of small talk whilst Five kicked a rock along the ground to keep himself entertained.

In reality, Five was still processing the fact that he was no longer the last man on earth after the destruction of the apocalypse, a notion which he believed to be true for almost two entire years. Yet here Octavia was, another superhuman survivor. She wasn't just an apparition of his malnourished delirium, she was real and warm to the touch as Five had evidently felt earlier that day when he took her hand in his.

The pair had finally reached what Five had presumed was her dwelling. It was located amongst the outskirts of the city and consisted of the remains of a decent sized concrete building with the roof intact, it had to have been no larger than a small street front store.

"Welcome to my humble abode. It's not much but it does the job." Octavia pulled back a large sheet of metal which acted as her front door. Five followed her inside and was met with the insides of her shelter.

It wasn't gloriously spacious by any means but it was just big enough to fit a mattress, a few milk crates where she kept her belongings in and a small wooden desk, like those you'd find in a classroom.

"This is where you've been living this whole time?" Five noticed the scarcity of her settlement and although his own was far from luxurious, he felt somewhat uneasy at the bareness of her space.

Five couldn't find it in himself to judge however, especially if it had helped her survive against the past two bitter winters.

"Yeah. I think it used to be some storage shed for a high school. It survived the impact well enough... it gets kinda cold during the winter but it gets the job done." Octavia explained and Five agreed, it had most of its four walls and a roof which was rare considering the demolished state of the city.

"It's practical. I like it." Five complimented and Octavia smiled proudly before walking over to one of the plastic milk crates. She knelt in front of it and began to rummage for the tinned goodness she had promised Five.

"Why thank you." Five regretted inflating her pride any further but remembered that she was the one who offered him food so he bit his tongue.

"Here, catch." Octavia retrieved a small metal tin of baked beans from the crate before standing up again and tossing the can to Five.

Octavia was secretly impressed by his abnormally sharp reflexes as he retracted a gloved hand from one of his pockets and caught the can without fumbling.

"Thanks." He said curtly but the boy couldn't ignore the intense rumbling that erupted in his stomach as he saw the dusty label that read "Original Baked Beans In Rich Tomato".

Five hadn't eaten anything since the previous morning when he mistakenly decided to test the myth of Twinkies lasting forever, turns out it was just in fact a myth and they too have an expiry date like most edible things.

"I only have one fork and a mildly bent spoon so take your pick." Octavia walked over to where Five was standing in the middle of the room and gestured to the two utensils she had clasped in her hand.

"I'll take the spoon." Five said although he really could not find it in himself to care as his hunger started to overwhelm him.

Five watched as Octavia made herself comfy on her bed, which was really just two old mattresses put together with a pile of some tattered blankets on top. She pressed her back up against the concrete wall and began to open the metal tab on the can.

She then looked up at Five, who was staring back at her awkwardly with a can of beans in one hand and a disfigured spoon in the other.

"You can sit down, you know? I don't bite." Octavia chuckled and patted a spot on her makeshift bed.

"I'll take your word for it." Five decided that he would rather sit comfortably then make a spectacle of himself eating whilst standing up. He sunk down on the old mattress but ensured that he still kept some distance between him and Octavia, who was still a stranger to him.

"Bon appetit, Five." She said as Five opened his own can eagerly. His mouth salivated at the sight of the beans drenched in sauce and immediately began to shovel the food into his mouth.

Five was never a fan of baked beans, his mother often prepared it as a side dish at breakfast time but he always refused it. Now, Five was going on more than 24 hours without food and he did not care about his usual disdain towards the food.

He was forced to put that picky part of himself to bed a long time ago when survival became his top priority.

"Damn. Someone's hungry." Octavia stifled a smile that began to grow on her face as she watched the boy next to her chow down on the canned food in an almost feral way.

"And you're not?" Five replied, he then brought the sleeve of his jacket up to his lips and wiped the leftover residue away.

"Oh, I am. I just haven't lost my table manners two years into the apocalypse, that's all." Octavia let out a small giggle at her own remark. Five paused his eating to glance over at the girl next to him, he noticed the calm and poised manner in which she held her fork. Now Five just felt embarrassed.

He cursed himself for growing flustered so quickly, after all why should he find it in himself to care? It was the apocalypse and the table manners which his adoptive father incessantly drilled into him had completely left his mind.

"How are you so... perky?" Five asked, he was genuinely intrigued how someone who had survived as long as he had managed to be so giggly. It was borderline infuriating and slightly unexpected for Five.

He always was a cynical person, even before the apocalypse. Five knew he was smarter than his own siblings and often gloated about it. He had a natural inclination towards mathematics and physics thanks to the nature of his powers but his intellect only heightened his ego.

"What do you mean?" Octavia lowered her fork, taken aback by his question. She knew that her lively attitude did not correlate to their situation; however she found it completely futile to adopt a pessimistic mindset when everything else outside was crumbling.

"I mean you. You're so bubbly for someone in our predicament." Five explained and watched as Octavia's brows furrowed at his words. He felt his cheeks turn warm, he hated how he sounded like one of his siblings who would often imbue humour with their respective powers. "That pun wasn't intentional." He insisted and Octavia gave him an unconvincing look.

"Well, I guess I kind of always have been. Don't get me wrong, I certainly wasn't jumping for joy when the whole world ended but I guess I quickly realised that there was no good just wallowing in my own despair. I just had to keep going..." Octavia explained as she picked away at the remains of the cans label.

Five watched her nimble fingers scratch away the adhesive sticker and started to dwell on what she had said. Despite the morbid context, Five secretly admired how her bright attitude had remained continuous.

"Just had to keep going, huh?" He asked. The ambiguity of her words had reminded him too much of himself.

"Yeah, I always did kind of hold out hope that I'd see something or someone and that would reassure me that I wasn't completely alone out here." Octavia looked over to where Five was situated on the other end of the mattress.

"And yet when you did you thought it would be a good idea to trap me in your bubble?" Five teased.

"You had a gun! And besides, stranger danger still applies in the apocalypse." Octavia exclaimed and threw her hand towards the direct of Five's rifle which he had propped up against the wall.

"I mean, I'm technically still a stranger to you." He stated truthfully.

Although Five had only met Octavia that day he concluded that they gravitated towards each other so comfortably because of their mutual connection through their powers.

"As am I." Octavia retorted confidently and Five softly rolled his eyes, a smirk tugged on the corner of his lips as he continued to eat his beans less feverishly now.

"How old were you when your powers first manifested?" Five spoke up.

The surrealness of the day had begun to catch up on him and the boy had to remind himself that he was in the company of not only just another living person, but a person with superhuman abilities much like himself. Only Octavia wasn't like himself or his adoptive siblings or even the other mysterious children who he shared a birthday with, she was an entirely different entity. She existed outside of his world and time and Five found himself increasingly fascinated.

"I was four." She admitted.

"And how did it happen?" Five pried further.

"You're asking a lot of questions." Octavia smirked, giving the boy a taste of his own medicine.

"You're the first person I've seen in two whole years and you expect me to not ask questions?" Five declared and this caused Octavia to chuckle softly again.

"No, you're allowed to be curious. But does this mean I get to interrogate you next?" She abandoned her now empty can of beans to the floor. She then crossed her legs in an attempt to get comfortable and shifted to face Five.

"Depends on if I'm feeling nice enough." Five said vaguely, keeping the aloofness present in his voice. The truth was he didn't know what to tell her, his situation wasn't exactly the easiest to explain.

Five was positive that Octavia would recognize his affiliation with the academy if they both lived in the same city despite the years between them.

"Well if you must know, I made my first forcefield because I didn't want to take a bath." Octavia revealed.

"Pardon?" Five had choked on the last bite of food which he had mistakenly put in his mouth.

He was caught off guard by the unserious nature of Octavia's statement. He was not expecting that. Five watched out of the corner of his eye as Octavia tried to hold back a smile from forming at his simultaneous struggle of choking and chuckling. She thought the humorous sight before her was almost endearing.

"Let me elaborate, when I was younger I used to run circles around the living room hiding from my Mom because she would chase me to take my nightly bath. I wasn't a dirty or unhygienic child, believe me." She started and Five found himself grinning at her words.

"Sure." He quipped back, eyeing the state of her dirtied jacket. In all fairness, he was not exactly the pinnacle of hygiene at the moment.

"Watch it." Octavia said menacingly before she continued to speak, "I just didn't like bath time because I knew that bedtime would be straight after and I didn't want the day to be over yet. One night, my Mom was chasing me and I turned my head to look back at her. I could see the horror on her face as I ran straight towards the dining table. I should have split my head open on the corner of the table but I didn't. I braced for the impact but I never felt any pain. And when I was brave enough to finally open my eyes, I was surrounded by a soft purple sphere of light." Octavia's eyes softened as she narrated the memory, a mixture of both nostalgia and melancholy lacd her voice.

Five listened attentively to the recollection of her memory as he compared it to his own and that of his siblings.

"So it sounds like they first materialised as a natural consequence of self defence." Five assumed based on the information she had provided.

"I mean, I guess? That's a very fancy way to put it." Octavia tilted her head, shrugging her shoulders as she looked at him. She had never really thought about it in that regard. Her powers were always a part of her, like her cells and DNA, her power was hardwired into her very being and she knew it was what made her different.

"What did your parents do, when they found out that is?" Five asked.

"Panic probably. But after they got over the initial shock that they had a super human baby, they tried their hardest to keep everything discreet and give me a somewhat normal childhood. My mom was an elementary school teacher so she left her job to homeschool me during those years when I couldn't quite keep my power under control. They were always scared that I'd accidentally slip up and show my power off at school and then the government would hunt me down and do research on me like some kind of lab rat." Octavia explained and she felt a complicated smile grace her face as she remembered her youth.

Octavia knew that her powers had to be kept a secret, but she was never kept a secret herself. She knew that her parents loved her an immense amount and they proved that through their actions.

"Seems like they made quite the sacrifice to keep you safe." Five replied, his voice slightly solemn which surprised Octavia.

Five couldn't deny the familiar feeling of jealousy that washed over him at Octavia's description. It was the same bitterness he felt when he'd walk past a park and see children playing or when his siblings and himself would go on missions and reunite hostages with their families. He was resentful of the way the parents would weep and hold their child as if they were never going to feel them in their embrace ever again.

"They did. I'm eternally grateful for how much they gave up for my benefit. But don't get me wrong, they didn't deprive me of a normal childhood. I wasn't on house arrest my whole life because of what I could do, my parents were just cautious. Cautious of who came to the house, cautious of how my temperament affected my powers and such. But other than that I had a pretty normal childhood." Five tried to subdue the envy that coursed through his being as Octavia spoke.

"Is that so?" Five asked, curious by what she meant exactly. He knew that being home schooled wasn't a part of the typical American nuclear family checklist, Five wondered to himself if Octavia had also felt the same isolation which he had.

"Well, every summer when dad could take time off work we'd drive out of the city to my grandparents farm up north. We'd spend every summer there with my cousins and I could just let loose and be a kid." Octavia watched as Five nodded softly at her response, he was absorbing every detail that she gave him and tried to picture it in his mind.

Five tried his hardest to imagine what her childhood would have looked like in stark contrast to his own, the rural nature of the farm and the company of her family sounded almost heavenly to him.

Although Octavia felt slightly embarrassed at her mindless rambling at this point, she was also appreciative of how he let her speak so freely, how he listened so diligently. His snarky demeanour that she had gotten well acquainted with since they met only hours ago was gone and was replaced by something almost curious.

"Sounds like you had a good life before all this." Five forced himself to bury his jealousy deep within some dark cavern of his chest and tried to conjure a genuine response.

"I really did," She said, her voice mellow as she began to reminisce on the nostalgic details of her youth,"My cousins were all older than me and they knew about my powers. It was our big family secret. Although, there was only one strict rule enforced which was absolutely no force fields allowed on the farm." Octavia chuckled at her recollection of her grandmother's authoritative voice.

"I don't blame them, they're not exactly pleasant to be trapped in." Five huffed in amusement and Octavia shot him a playful glare before continuing.

"My family used to have this joke that I'm our great-something-grandma reincarnated from the Salem witch trials and I'm here to enact my revenge." Five chuckled as she tried her hardest to sound wicked.

"A witch reincarnated, huh?" Five had to admit he found the inside joke slightly comical.

"I wish. As cool as it would be to be related to a witch, I think I'm just the anomaly in the family." Octavia sighed and Five was painfully reminded again of how different their separate lives were before the apocalypse started.

"I wish I could relate to that sentiment." His voice was barely above a whisper but Octavia managed to hear it clearly.

"What part, being the witch or the anomaly in the family?" She asked and Five instantly regretted opening his mouth to respond.

"The latter." He silently prayed that his dry tone would encourage Octavia to not poke any further, unfortunately it had the opposite effect.

"You have a big family?" She questioned, eager to know what the boy meant.

"We aren't talking about me here." Five dismissed her quickly.

"You said you'd tell me about yourself once I opened up." Octavia recalled their agreement they had made only moments ago.

"If I was feeling nice enough." Five replied quickly, making a heavy vocal emphasis on the 'if' at the start of his sentence.

"And are you?" She queried.

"I'll decide once I finish eating, bubbles." Five smiled at himself for the genius nickname he endowed on her and grinned even harder when he saw her jaw clench in annoyance.

"Hey! Don't call me that!" The blonde girl exclaimed, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Well don't call me Cinco!" Octavia let out a melodramatic groan and rolled her head back against the wall in defeat. Five let out a small huff of irritation at her childish behaviour however his smirk was still plastered on his face and didn't seem to be going anywhere.

"You are vexing, you know that?" Her head was still resting against the wall however she tilted it slightly to look over at Five.

"I'm surprised you know what that word means." Five hurled back.

"Dickhead." Octavia mumbled but Five didn't take her profanity to heart, "You know when you're homeschooled it only takes about two to three hours maximum to complete the assigned work." She stated and Five tried not to scoff again at the irony of her words. He was no stranger to the concept of homeschooling.

"I'm aware." Five for once was being truthful. Although the academies teaching regions were mostly tailored towards their superpowers he also had to complete traditional academics.

"Well then you should know that with that abundance of spare time that I had the opportunity to indulge in literature, meaning I have developed an extensive lexicon." Octavia proclaimed and Five chuckled at her confidence.

"And you called me the nerd?" He mocked Octavia's earlier sentiment when he was attempting to explain his power in a sophisticated way.

Octavia's face flushed at Five's remark, however she quickly mumbled some curse word under her breath before changing the subject.

"What about you?" She asked, obviously deflecting Five's previous taunting.

"Hm?" He pressed his lips into a thin line, not exactly sure of what she meant by her question.

"How old were you when you found out you had powers?" Octavia elaborated and Five shrugged his shoulders in a casual manner.

"Not entirely sure, our powers have been ingrained into me and my siblings' lives since before I could even remember-" Five began to speak but he was quickly interrupted by Octavia's exclamation.

"Ah hah! So you do have siblings!" Five let out an irritated sigh and rubbed his eyes.

"Shit." How had he let that slip so easily? Especially after all his effort trying to shift their earlier conversation away from his past.

"I knew I could make you crack." Octavia laughed and Five was absolutely furious with himself. His hands tensed around the empty can of beans in an attempt to conceal his annoyance at both himself and at her.

He wasn't directly annoyed at Octavia exactly. He was enraged rather by the fact that she had so subtly maneuvered the conversation to make him open up which he so desperately tried not to do.

"Damn it! Fine! I have a family, six other siblings if you're dying for specifics." Five said, the defeat evident in his voice.

"Wow, that's a whole village. And you all have powers too?" Octavia asked, attempting to put some of the pieces of information together herself.

"The majority of us do, I guess you could say it runs in the family." He answered.

"What are they?" Octavia knew her chances at prying any more information out of the boy was slim but she still wished to try.

"That's all you're getting." Five had pulled the plug in this conversation.

"Five, please!" Octavia insisted and Five noticed how she shuffled her body to face him. In doing so, she had effectively moved a few inches closer to Five, something which he was now incredibly aware of.

"No." Eventually, after half an hour of annoying Five she finally gave up.

Their empty cans of beans were long forgotten on the floor. The rigid yet fresh tension that surrounded the pair since they first met had started to melt away as they talked. It was a bizarre predicament that neither of them expected to happen when the day started. Both Octavia and Five had woken that morning believing that they were each most likely the last person on earth, only now to find themselves amongst each other's company.

Octavia was still bewildered by the fact that she had met this boy only a few hours prior and here she was in her own base, sharing a meal with him and letting him sit on her bed and talk to her.

Of course she didn't want to believe the terrifying prospect that she really was alone, but the possibility of someone else being out there felt inconceivable.

The pair talked about a myriad of things, mostly apocalypse related but some not.

Five told her the story of how he was forced to eat cockroaches for a week during the winter because he was so short on food. Octavia gagged at his vivid narration of the memory but she had to admit that she had also done her fair share of disgusting acts in the name of survival. Octavia relaxed as Five spoke, resting her head against her hand as she laid across against the worn mattress. Five was still stiff and alert however, sitting upright on the mattress with his back up against the wall, but his arms were loosely crossed over his chest which Octavia had interpreted as being his attempt at relaxing.

Their conversations were still filled with some witty remarks but their topics of discussion flowed very naturally. Octavia didn't expect it to be so alleviating to talk to another person after two years of solitude, it was like a boulder-sized weight had been lifted off her shoulders.

A small girlish part of Octavia had forgotten about the current obliterated state of the world outside. For a slight fraction of a moment, she had discarded the reality of the apocalypse. She imagined what this conversation between us would have been like if the two of them didn't meet this way. Octavia couldn't help but wonder what it would be like if they had met at school, maybe they two of them would be be academic rivals turned unlikely friends, and she would invite Five over to her place to work on a project, only that the pair would find themselves on Octavia's bedroom floor, talking rather intimately, much like how they are now.

However, Octavia was brought back to their unfortunate reality by Five asking what time it was. She quickly stood up and walked over to the sheet of metal that substituted a front door.

"Oh shit. I lost track of time, it's completely dark out." She cursed as she was met with the lack of light outside.

"Damn it. You're right." Five stood up and walked over to where she stood, examining the dark landscape from over her shoulder. He let out a small sigh at the sight.

Five should have known better than to lose track of time and Octavia felt incredibly guilty for forgetting the desolate wasteland outside.

"You can't just teleport back home?" She asked and although it was a valid question, Five's abilities didn't exactly work like that.

"I told you I don't teleport! Besides, my powers are more effective when jumping smaller distances." It was true, the reliability of Five's spatial jumps began to dwindle when he tried to cross farther distances.

Then there was an awkward silence between the two of them and Octavia's mind began to race as she tried to find an appropriate way to articulate her solution.

"Five." She spoke up.

"Yes?" He looked at the girl who was only a few feet in front of him. He admired the way some of her hair had become loose from their braids as they spoke, it made her look like a little kid who was ready to succumb to the comfort of sleep.

"Do you wanna maybe spend the night? I don't want you walking back to your base in the dark. I have enough bedding and I can set it up if you'd like?" She proposed her idea and Five felt his brain effectively shut off in that very moment.

Did she mean what he thought she meant?

"Uh..." Five had been rendered speechless for the first time in the whole six or so hours that Octavia has known him.

"We're not sharing a bed you weirdo! I've got a spare mattress you can take and even a blanket. " Octavia exclaimed and rubbed her temple in dismay.

"I wasn't insinuating that!" Five's face reddened for what was probably the tenth time that day.

"Get your mind out of the gutter." She replied with a small smirk as she walked past him, bumping his shoulder,"Or do you want to risk getting killed by god knows what while walking home in the dark?"

Five's stomach tightened as he felt her shoulder brush his with enough pressure to be forceful but also playful.

"Oh shut up," Five muttered, his tone unfortunately betrayed him and revealed his slight embarrassment and frustration. He grumbled for another moment before he spoke again. "Fine. I'll stay the night."

"See, you didn't have to make it weird." Octavia called out teasingly as she began to look for the spare bedding that she kept in one the milk crates. Five huffed again, and even though Octavia wasn't looking at him she could feel the agitation emanating from his body. She then dragged the secondary mattress she used to elevate her bed across the floor and to the opposite side of the room.

"There you go, now you won't get cooties." She said jokingly as she looked back at Five. His hands were shoved into his pockets and his face was softly illuminated by the oil lamp she kept on the nearby milk crate.

Octavia felt her snarky remark fall back into her throat as she admired his sharp yet ethereal features for the millionth time that day. She just had to remind herself that this was probably just a combination of her isolation and the start of her pubescent hormones. He was just a boy. A boy who was sleeping in her home, only a few meters away. But he was also the only boy Octavia had seen in two entire years.

"Thanks." He said softly, "For this and dinner." Five gestured to the cans that were abandoned on the floor.

"No worries," She said and began to unlace her shoes in preparation for bed, "Goodnight Five. Thanks for not murdering me." She smiled and Five did as well.

"Anytime Octavia... 'night..." Five began to strip his shoes and jacket off and tried to make himself comfortable in the makeshift bed Octavia had provided for him.

It took Octavia a little longer than usual to fall asleep that night.

She was suddenly hyper aware of the boy's presence who was sleeping only a few feet away from herself. Perhaps it was just the fact that she wasn't used to coexisting with another living, breathing person in two whole years. Or maybe she had truly become accustomed to the silence after all her time in solitude.

She found that her ears were extra sensitive to the sound of his tossing and turning against the bedding, he was obviously struggling to sleep as well.

Octavia woke that morning to the sound of Five's feet pattering against the concrete floor of her base, as if he was pacing around softly.

"Good morning, sunshine." Octavia said sarcastically as she sat up. She reached her arms up in an attempt to stretch out yesterday's stiffness from her back.

"Morning," He responded, his voice slightly softer than normal, his voice still laced with the residue of sleep.

"How'd you sleep?" She asked as she got out of bed. She noticed Five was already dressed in his jacket and his boots were fully laced. Octavia began to question if he was just extremely eager to get out of there and away from herself.

"Fine, until you started snoring." Five teased. Octavia didn't actually snore at all that night, the sound of her breathing made it hard for Five to drift to sleep but he simply wanted to provoke her.

"I do not snore!" She exclaimed, sounded very offended and Five mentally celebrated his little victory.

"Oh really? And who has told you otherwise?" Five enjoyed how riled up Octavia was getting over this, it was extremely amusing to him.

"Who's to say that you don't snore?" Octavia began to gather some clothing that was folded in a nearby crate.

"Well, did I?" Five asked as he watched her turn her back to him.

"Take a guess." She called out and Five rolled his eyes at the aloofness of her words, "Now can you do me a favour and step out while I change. Or are you going to get weird about that too?" Five groaned at her successful shift in their banter.

"How are you so good at pissing me off?" Five asked, more so to himself than to her directly.

"You're very easy to piss off." She answered him anyway, "Besides, I grew up as the youngest of my cousins, my word is my best weapon." Five could somewhat relate to her explanation even though he would never verbally agree with her.

"Very amusing." He said dryly and stepped out to give Octavia some privacy to change into whatever spare pair of clothes she had the fortune of having.

When Octavia gave him the all clear to come back into the concrete shack, Five was surprised to see her packing a backpack.

"Are you gonna help me scavenge for breakfast or are you just gonna huff and puff in here all day?" She asked as she shoved a water bottle into the bag.

"Alright, fine. Let's get breakfast," He said firmly, his tone slightly reluctant as he tried to brush off her previous teasing.

— -- —

The pair had returned to Octavia's after a successful food run and Five immediately got to work taking out the cans of food and setting them on the dusty floor. He eyed each of them silently before he began to mutter about how much protein was approximately in each can and how the two of them could stretch them out to last them as long as possible.

"Rationing there, are we?" Octavia questioned as she removed her backpack, leaving it by the door.

"We have to, smartass," He said matter-of-factly, "Rationing is how we get the most out of the food we have, to make it last longer. Christ, how have you survived this long?" Octavia grimaced unpleasantly at the comment, feeling as if it was completely unnecessary.

"I know that, Five. I'm just pointing out the fact that I did only ask you to stay the night yesterday and now you're speaking as if you intend to stay for longer than I anticipated." She crossed her arms and looked down to where Five was situated on the floor.

Five's heart dropped at the gravity of her words. He couldn't believe that he had taken it upon himself and assumed that this wasn't just a temporary thing. It wasn't everyday that you meet a fellow survivor in the apocalypse, Five only thought it was a smart decision to stay together.

"That's not what I meant-" Five shot up quickly and started to defend himself.

"Hey, it's fine. I was gonna bring it up earlier anyway but you were in such a foul mood before breakfast." Five quickly forgot about his previous embarrassment and quickly became defensive at Octavia's accusation.

"I was not in a foul mood." He stated.

"Yeah and the sky is purple." Octavia taunted, crossing her arms.

"Oh shut up." He grumbled.

"What I was trying to say is that... what if we don't part ways, what if you don't go back to your base and I don't stay at mine. I mean strength in numbers right? We've gone these past two years alone and thinking that we were the only people left on the planet... it feels counterproductive to split up, no?" Octavia tried to formulate her words in a cohesive manner and Five was stunned that she too had the same idea as him.

Five didn't respond. He was consumed by his own thoughts which for the first time in his life, felt illogical.

"I mean if I really do annoy you so much that you would prefer to choose a life of isolation then be my guest. But I want you to know that I'm thinking about survival for both of us." Octavia insisted.

"No, no, it's not that-" He started but was quickly cut off.

"Then what is it?" Octavia asked. She didn't know whether to feel offended at the boy's hesitancy or dismiss it as his lone wolf ideology he had adopted after two years of solitude.

Five couldn't exactly label this unwelcome feeling that gnawed at his bones, and his lack of knowing only contributed to his irritation. His answer was so obviously yes, he didn't want to leave her, not when he had spent this long being alone. And yet he couldn't find the right words to say.

"If you don't want to, that's fine, after all its double the worry, double the supplies and double the effort, but I thought for both of our sakes and sanity, survival in numbers is always safer, you know like you see in those apocalypse movies." Octavia continued, substituting Five's silence with her rambling.

"That is a horrible and inaccurate comparison to make." He rubbed his temple at her passing mention of those cheesy apocalypse movies which were over sensationalised and not at all a reliable source of information.

"You know what I mean." She shrugged, obviously defeated.

"Fine, let's stay together." Five agreed, although he didn't actually need much convincing unlike what Octavia thought.

It's not that Five didn't want to stay with her, he was taken aback by how badly he did want to stay with her. But Five couldn't ignore what he had been working so tirelessly at ever since the apocalypse started, finding a way to get back to his family.

Five was scared that involving Octavia in this hypothetical equation would only further complicate things. However, the benefits of her company seemed to outweigh the minor hiccup which was that Five technically belonged to the past.

"Really?" Octavia was almost startled at how quickly the boy had agreed to her proposition.

"But we're not staying here." Five added as he looked at the small structure of the building Octavia had called home.

"Thanks." She said bluntly, offended at his choice of words.

"No offence. My place is a lot more developed, there's more space and resources. I think we'll both be a lot more comfortable there." Five justified.

"If you say so." Octavia saw no reason to argue.Her place wasn't exactly the pinnacle of comfort and she could only assume how the lack of space would be inconvenient and uncomfortable.

"So I guess we're going to have to lay some ground rules." Octavia declared and Five raised a brow, curiosity forming in response to her statement.

"Ground rules, what are we? Roommates?" Five was only teasing at first however the reality of the situation had just occurred to him, they would indeed be sharing the same space and living alongside each other.

"Well, kind of. It's just like you said earlier, we only ever had to think for ourselves until now. We have to learn to coexist with another person and keep enough supplies going to last between the two of us." Five watched and smirked as she spoke with her hands.

"Right, what were you thinking?" He stepped forward and brought himself closer to Octavia.

"Well, the first thing that comes to mind is food. Obviously we need to make it last. Do you want to scavenge for our own food or scavenge together and share what we have." She counted on her index finger before looking back up at Five.

"Share." He said swiftly, not thinking twice about it.

"That's surprisingly generous of you." Octavia was caught off guard by his response.

"I don't need any potential arguments to start because of a lack of food." There was the traditional survival logic that seemed to justify all of Five's decisions.

"Fair point." Octavia clicked her tongue, agreeing with him.

"So food will be a team effort. And as far as living at yours, do you have enough bedding? Or are you expecting me to carry my mattress across the city?" The question was a genuine concern but Five chuckled softly at the image he conjured in his mind of forcing the girl to drag her mattress across the miles of debris and rubble.

"I have more than enough at mine. You'll be fine." Five confirmed and he shoved his hands into his pockets.

"Anything else you want to lay on the table?" Octavia asked.

"Yes actually. I'm curious about how we're going to coexist with each other." Five had been thinking an awful lot about their pleasant conversation from last night.

Although their conversation was mostly free from bickering and teasing, Five found that he could speak to Octavia in a way that he couldn't with anyone else, not even his siblings. He had strangely enjoyed talking to her for such an elongated period of time and seemingly forgot about the world outside.

"What do you mean?" Octavia wanted to know more about what Five had meant. She was worried for a moment that the boy believed her stranger danger paranoia might get the best of her when he least expected it.

"As appreciative as I am of human company during the end of the world, I still require some degree of privacy." Five thought about the old library which he now inhabited and the equations that were painted across the remaining walls.

Just because he knew he wasn't alone anymore didn't mean he was ready to give up. He needed to get back to his family.

"Come again?" She asked and Five had to think carefully about how he was going to phrase his next few words.

"To put it bluntly. I'm working on something to do with my powers. An equation of some sort." So far, so true.

"Why?" And there was the very response he had anticipated.

"I believe that not only do I have the ability to jump between tangible spaces... I can also jump through time." Now that was a blatant lie. Five knew for a fact that he could jump through time, it was the very reason he got stuck here in the first place.

Five had tried to tell himself that it wasn't a complete lie, he was simply obscuring the truth. After all, if Octavia was going to live with him she was bound to have questions about what he was doing and why. He was simply just feeding her a watered down version of the truth to keep her from asking anymore questions.

"It's a hypothesis. If I get the numbers right, I believe I could time travel back to before the apocalypse even started. Maybe change one small link in the fabric of time to prevent it from ever happening at all." This was probably the most truthful thing he had said yet.

"Are you fucking serious?" Octavia's jaw dropped slightly. She couldn't believe the words that had left his mouth.

Even though Octavia was no stranger to superhuman abilities the very concept of time travel seemed incredibly far fetched and next to impossible. Yet here this boy was, standing in front of her and insisting that it was possible. She didn't know the technicalities of how it all worked but the very prospect of being able to go back in time before any of this had happened lit a warmth within Octavia which she hadn't felt for a very long time.

"I haven't stopped trying since the moment the apocalypse started." Five said, averting his gaze from Octavia, who was very much still gawking in disbelief.

"So, what does this have to do with us? If you don't mind me asking." She fidgeted with her fingers as she spoke and looked at the boy in front of her.

"All I ask is that I require my privacy whilst I'm working on my equations." Five stated. The hard part for him was over.

"Sure, I've been alone for this long. I'm sure I'll fill in the time doing something." Octavia complied, not wishing to disrespect the boy's boundaries.

"You'll be pleased to know I've settled down in the remains of an old library. And surprisingly, plenty of books are still intact." Five remembered the piles of books which he had collected in his own dwelling and smiled when he saw Octavia's face light up instantly.

"I'm sold." She blurted.

"It doesn't mean I don't want you to talk to me. All I ask is that you understand my request, it's been a long time since either of us have had to live with anyone else." Five continued, he didn't want Octavia to think that her presence was going to be an inconvenience for him. There were just some things that were safer for her to not know.

"Well, how about this? During the day we can do our separate things but every night after dinner we have our designated 'us time'. Time when we can interact and socialise and not think about apocalypse or survival shit, like what we're going to eat tomorrow or if we're going to freeze to death. We can talk about anything or not even talk at all. We just need to keep our socialisation up without stepping on each other's toes. And also to help us from going completely insane of course." Octavia had come up with her second great proposition of the day.

Five didn't find it in himself to argue with her, he didn't want to. Her very idea sounded somewhat actually pleasant to him.

"I can work with that." Five said softly.

"Sounds like quite the beneficial agreement." Octavia concluded and he nodded his head in agreement.

all images above were sourced from pinterest!

[alientimes]

🀥 ᴀʟʟ ᴄᴜʀꜱᴇꜱ ɢᴏ ᴛᴏ… ᴇᴀʀᴛʜ?

➩ Who dyed this guy's hair? (1)

House hunting was not easy.

Sukuna had come to this sad, sad realization after plopping himself down at an internet café and discovering the wonder of web surfing. Unfortunately, he also learned that humans loved taxes and expensive prices just as much as they liked food. And although he certainly had a lot of money, it was nowhere near enough to get him a house. Or even an apartment. No, he came to the horrible conclusion that he had to room with someone. Honestly, the mere thought was the most disgusting thing in his life, after the brat. But if he were to complete his goal of world domination, it had to be done.

At that point, he was so worn out from all this hard work he just accepted the first offer he saw. His sole glance at it showed it didn’t seem that bad, and at least had two separate bedrooms (which some strangely didn’t offer). He didn’t even check who his roommate would be, and honestly, he didn’t even care. If they pissed him off, he could just kill them, and really, if they were so broke they had to room with someone else, no one would notice if they just disappeared one day. He had the quick thought to just kill them right away, but remembered soon after you had to continue paying rent. 

This whole situation was a shame, sure, but he had plenty of experience sharing space with someone. Although he was only in Itadori’s (the brat’s) body for a couple of months, it was more than enough time to teach him how annoying this was going to be. Even worse, he couldn’t just sit around now. While being bored for a thousand or so years was excruciatingly painful, every moment he had to watch that boy’s dumb decisions was a hundred times worse. Still, there was no way in heaven or earth that it could be as bad as sharing a body with someone. After all, you couldn’t get any more close-contact-yet-unable-to-kill with someone. If he tried hard enough (which he probably wouldn’t, a thousand years of laying around did that to you), he could probably avoid seeing them altogether. It wouldn’t be too much of a stretch to ask them to cook and clean, could it? Uraume did it easily, after all…

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Unsurprisingly, you don’t get a scholarship for life. While it would be nice if it did, your savings on money ended after college. Now you had to go back to exactly what you hated: rooming. Now, not all roommates were bad, of course, but you had a track record for having not just bad, but horrible ones. Unfortunately, you didn’t have enough money to rent by yourself, let alone buy your own house, even with all the (read: no) money you saved. And you certainly didn’t want to live with your parents. But on the lucky side, someone agreed to be your roomie fairly quickly, so you didn’t have to face any kind of disapproval, and you didn’t have to live in a caravan you somehow couldn’t afford. 

Your sure to be new best friend didn’t come with a photo, but they did have a name. Sebastian… Sebastian something. You didn’t bother to look at his last name. You thought he had a proper identity, but without the photo, your mind spun up scenarios of serial killers. But that was just you overthinking it. The chances of him being a horrible murderer were basically zero. Of course, basically zero wasn’t exactly zero, but the chances were so slim you managed to push it out of your mind. Well, more like forget about it within five minutes because you became so anxious about your first impression with this guy.

Speaking of first impressions, you were becoming more and more certain that this one would be horrible. Horrendous, in fact. Unspeakable, if you were being generous. You weren’t exactly known for your social adeptness, after all. You’d even call yourself a (anxious) yapper. What if you talked his ear off so much he pushed you out a window, or didn’t manage to sprout a single word, and made the entire situation awkward? What were Sebastians even like, anyways? You had never met a Sebastian before. Were they nice? Mean? Chill? Serial killers? Who knows? Only Sebastians, you presumed.

Most of all, you really, really hoped he didn’t judge you for your interests. Now, it was common decency to, at the very least, not show that you didn’t like something your roommate did, but clearly your anxiety didn’t know that. And it wasn’t like you liked anything too weird, either (or at least, you assumed)! Just a couple of mainstream things, Jujutsu Kaisen, Demon Slayer, Chainsaw Man… well, maybe your interests skewed a little more to the bloody side, but they weren’t all like that! You could settle for a few comedies, and you watched a good show on Netflix every so often (Would sharing your Netflix password make him like you more?). 

And now your anxiety was ramping up even more. Maybe this isn’t the right thing to do, but you’re not a therapist. You took a few deep breaths, trying to calm yourself, and buried all those frantic thoughts in the deepest, darkest corners of your mind, along with some other things that actually belonged there. At least you didn’t have to worry about mixing up stuff and unpacking at the same time, because you had already done that. Great, now you were wondering if you should help him unpack his stuff. Really, this shouldn’t be something to overthink about.

chat i don't know how house hunting (also roommate dealings) work pls don't come after me

also it's actually longer (by abt 300 words) yay!!! <3 actually did a goal i set for myself for once

sorry it's late tho lol, idk when next update will be but hopefully also in abt a week

[remembertheplunge]

We cannot unsee what we have already seen--the 1980's

April 28, 1988

It’s now a Thursday—

Some post scripts from somewhere in the “last” night and from yesterday by Judge David Vander Wall “The 1970’s don’t seem that long ago. The 80’s are just passing me by…” DA Mike  Stone replied “The 70’s weren’t worth anything anyway.”

I watched last evening “a A Walk Through the 20th Century with Bill Moyer. The 1920’s" :

Flappers and fun flanked by Fraud and Famine. Poo Poe Pee Do! The truth was that the poor (in the 20’s) didn’t realize they were poor until long after they weren’t!. They had a general feel of contentment despite their financial situation.

What about us in the 1980's? In the KPFA Radio Folio program guide,Life in 1968 is compared with life in 1988. The 80’s were condemned as the 1950’s relived. 1988 Yuppies are the men in charcoal grey suits. Ahhhh! But, what bridged the years is the depth of awareness setting in. We cannot unsee what has been seen. We close only to heal and tp grow internally. The individual reform we know is the only true change. Only true “life” takes place on an individual basis. More and more we learn "..oh..when I had the Mercedes and miserable marriage I was poor. Now, I am…,Me!" 

To me, 1980 or 1981 were just about like 1988 in terms of styles, attitudes, money, etc. Pretty much the same. Music hasn’t changed much. Nothing has really. And yet, imperceptibly, everything has irrevocably changed, improved. Come a bit more into its own. 

Only you, the future, may be able to give it perspective. What, if anything, do the 80’s mean to you? Don’t forget us. We are a part of your past and thus a part of you.

I offer up this diary entry to you as a revelation of one person- traveler’s time notes written during  his time-space journey.

End of entry

Notes: 9/21/2024

I love the fact taht I included the line “We cannot unsee what has been seen” in the above 1988 entry. 

That has been my fight song passing through these turbulent times where the Republican Right is attempting to cancel our collective progressive progress. They can ban and burn our books and the Supreme Court can strip us of our rights. But. We have seen. We know. We will continue to live our lives and assert our  values despite and because of their orders. We have seen. We will act. We have agency.

I also think that it’s interesting that I said in the above entry that there was not much difference between life in 1980 or 81 and life in 1988. In 1980, I was not yet a. Lawyer, I was way in the closet and Aids was not yet publicly known about. By 1988, HIV  had been  known about for 7 years in which time it decimated many lives. In 1986, I began working as a volunteer helping men with Aids through their illness and death. I had been a lawyer for 7 years by 1988 .I had been emersed in the heavens and hells of criminal law defense. I had married in 1982 a woman who I left in 1984 as I began to emerge as a gay man. By 1988, I was fully out. So, actually I was a much more evolved person in 1988 than I had been in 1980. But, maybe because the evolution took place slowly over  years, I wrote about the decade as if very little had happen.

Judge Van Der Wall was a judge in Modesto California. I spent my 40th birthday in a murder trial in his court. His clerk, Linda, gave me a happy birthday cup cake that birthday morning in court! They have both since died. I just thought Judge Van Der Wall and Mike Stone’s  take on the 70’s and 80’s was interesting. Time was  just passing them by. Have you noticed the no one now in the mid 2020’s ever talks about the 20’s? I mean the 2020’s. We are living it . We can’t see it This now has no name . It just  is. But, I imagine in 20 years, they will be screaming about “The Outrageous 20’s!"

Flappers were the early forerunners of the women’s empowerment movement. They wore shorter dresses than their predecessors had and advanced women’s rights through word and action. 

Bill Moyers was a Public TV host. He did stories on interesting people and events past and present.

Per Oxford Languages Dictionary, a Yuppie was "a young person with a well-paid job and a fashionable lifestyle."

[bylightofdawn]

Okay, I've actually made some really good progress tonight and Cody and Slick are....le gasp actually communicating and not being bastards to one another.

Slick is also dropping some MAD truthbombs on Cody which is wrecking his entire life. aka telling him about the biochips and Order 66 etc.

I'm kinda chuffed so I'm posting an extra snippet.

I have also decided that yes, I am going to put a little one-sided Codywan agenda into this fic and also a heavy implication of Waxer/Boil because yeah the more I exist in this fandom, the more I'm 1,000% on board with this pairing. And cloneshipping in general mainly because in an army of millions of men, not everyone is going to view the man by his side as a brother. Sure, there's the concept of brother but it's more bro level of brother and then prolly a small batch of say batchmates or people you trained with you might consider family. But otherwise? Yeah ya'll are nuts if you don't think in the heat of battle and post battle adrenaline when people are hot and bothered that they didn't find some company for some mutual winding down.

Also, accelerated puberty? Yikes, that must have been a spunk-fueled shitshow. I have a brother and had to witness his puberty and the honestly embarrassing amount of morning wood boners he had.. It was super awkward all around. So yeah, shenanigans happened, is all I"m saying. And if that offends people and they feel the need to clutch their pearls, just don't. I'm not going to engage with that bullshit or argue with random people on the internet over something that I just don't think is that serious.

Okay, posting this snippet under the cut.

Unfortunately for Cody, he found himself facing down the barrel of Slick’s blaster for a third time today.

“I would strongly advise you to rethink your actions. I don’t want to have to shoot you again. Surely that would cause some kind of lasting damage.”

“If you shoot me again, I am going to rip your karking throat out.” Cody snarled at him with a wrathful expression.

“I actually understand and sympathize with that sentiment. I cannot imagine you’re feeling too hot, so why don’t you drop the hydrospanner and take a seat so we can have a civilized conversation.”

“As if that is even a possibility.”

“It is if you would pull your head from your ass and stop dwelling on the past. I’m actually forbidding either of us from bringing up the past because this isn’t about the past. This is about the future, your future to not put too fine of a point on it.”

The quarrelous part of Cody wanted to immediately reject that out of hand but there was some wisdom in Slick’s words.

“I gave you plenty of time to cool off and had hoped maybe you struggling to escape the bindings for a few hours would distract you enough that you can stop being a shabuir about this and we can get some meaningful progress accomplished.”

“How could you even know I was trying to escape?” Cody asked skeptically.

“I have cameras all over the place.” Slick used his free hand to tap a monitor which clearly showed a picture of the now empty bed. “I was a little concerned you’d actually hurt yourself when I saw the blood staining the sheets so I came in to check on you and your pretty terrible sleeping act. I even pushed a little extra pain-meds in hopes it would help with the pain.”

“And you expect me to believe this osik? Why not just confront me like a man?”

“Because I tried that, and you lost your karking mind. You are so angry and willing to demonize me that you can’t even listen to what I’m saying. Much less see I genuinely have the best intentions in mind and am trying to help you. Because even if I hate you back, I’m going to free every brother I can find. Even shabuir like you. I also figured that letting you have your escape attempt it might make you more congenial to listening to what I’m saying since you would have some sense of agency and control over your actions. I know what it feels like to be made powerless and how hopeless that makes you feel.”

Cody felt a scowl tug at his brows, but he couldn’t find a good counterargument to Slick’s statements. Not without sounding like a petulant child, so he carefully moved to slide into the co-pilot’s seat. He also attempted to ignore the fission of guilt that ran through him at Slick’s next statement. He didn’t want to empathize with the bastard because he had no one to blame but himself! But the sad truth of the matter was, he ha become all too familiar with the emotions Slick was describing, and it felt truly miserable, so he couldn’t help but empathize, even if it were just a little bit. “Alright, I’m listening.”

Slick moved the blaster to his lap.

“Okay, so we are headed to a rendezvous point where we are going to meet up with Howzer or maybe one of his other compatriots. They will take you from here to the next course on your journey. We like to keep things segregated so that if one of us gets captured, we don’t endanger the entire operation. So good news, you only have to suffer my company for another day or so.”

Cody manfully bit back a snarky comment and just nodded. “I think one of my men may have defected and has gone to Ryloth. He and his…partner befriended a young Twi’lek and she made a huge impression on them. I got the feeling they were planning to return to Ryloth and and try to adopt her or something so if he’s gone anywhere, it would be there.”

A look of consideration flits across Slick’s face. “What’s his name? I can see if we have any record of us helping him?”

“Boil.”

“Doesn’t ring any bells but Howzer might know more. I can’t promise you’re going to be sent there but once they get your chip taken care of and issue you a new chaincode, you might be able to travel there to look for him if you’re very careful. Howzer spent a lot of time on Ryloth so he’d definitely be the man to talk to.”

“Wait. What chip?”

Slick looked at him, visibly taken aback. “Wait…you don’t know about the chip? Order 66?”

Cody felt uneasiness wash through him when Slick even uttered those words. It brought up a wave of unpleasant and blurry memories of that awful day on Utapau. How he and his men just blithely opened fire on Obi-Wan, utterly convinced the man was a traitor.

Which, in retrospect, was pure banthashit. It had taken him months to untangle the cognitive dissonance surrounding his actions that day.

“I know about Order 66 though as time has passed…I’m questioning if that was a just order. Especially after the 501st went through the Temple and massacred everyone in their path, even younglings who couldn’t possibly have been traitors.”

Some of the tension in Slick’s body language melted away as he breathed a sigh of relief. “I’m really happy to hear you say that, Cody. Those cloner sleemos placed some kind of biochip in every clone’s brain. They claim it was to tame our overly aggressive tendencies but in truth, it was to ensure every clone would comply with Order 66 without question. It was their backup plan to make sure clones didn’t refuse the order outright because of course they wouldn’t immediately assume the Jedi they’d been serving under for years were traitors. Much less innocent younglings.”

Cody felt the world spin around him as horror and bile rose within him in equal measure. He had difficulty even processing what Slick was saying because all he could think about was the fact they had murdered Obi-Wan Kenobi, one of the kindest and most good people Cody had met in his meager years.

There was a part of him that had even been a little bit in love with the man, how could he not when exposed to that level of kindness and inherent goodness? The differences in their rank and station had made him lock those feelings down deep and refuse to examine them because, at the end of the day, he was but a lonely clone. And Obi-Wan had been a Jedi who had his own vows and commitments that would have prevented him from being able to pursue anything else.

He was only distantly aware of the damp trail of tears making hot and salty tracks down his cheeks as they fell down his cheeks.

[everwalldigan]

Something about the Jason’s favourite spots being rooftops overlooking Gotham because of a combination of him being scared of confinement and small spaces and being in a body that feels too big and wrong for him (it would be to anyone who wakes up as a 6 foot+ shit brick house when they last thing they remember is being a gangly 15 year old who hasn’t had their growth spurt yet). Like almost every room feels suffocating but being on a rooftop overlooking Gotham will never fail to make him feel small and it’s one of the few things that remained constant in the roller coaster that is his life

[halorvic]