#that some emotional thing or is that just I have been anxious my entire life and no one cared until I was literally trying to kill my sled

[none-tadashi-left-hiro]

can you guys all please actually actually be so kind to each other and I mean it tangibly like stop being a coward about what you’ll lose cause it doesn’t fucking matter more than being kind and you know it just fucking do what you can we’ve already lost so much what is the fucking cost of being kind to you anymore. people are so fucking desensitized to their own bullshit they’re dealing with like they’re so casual and blaise and ignorant about things that even harm them directly like why not at least be kind about it why not at least deal with the bullshit that comes from being kind instead i am so sad abt this why do people have to make it so hard. like I get capitalism and colonialism and whatever plays into people being raised to be unkind but are we that fucking fallible like that really fucking sucks bro

[rensylph]

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍 𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐆𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐒/𝐎

<< yandere genshin men with pregnant S/o >>

Characters : ayato, diluc, kaeya, alhaitham, neuvillete, wriostheley, zhongli , tartaglia

After some inconvenience you end up pregnant with your first child in the earliest part of your marriage, and this is their reaction

⚠️ Warning : baby trapping, non con intimacy, and other disturbing content ⚠️

( Based on the last poll I made, as promised this yandere genshin men Headcanon of pregnant S/o )

<< English is not my first language >>

Ayato

< How many kids he wants : 3 - 6 >

Oh what a joyous occasion, when you tell him you were expecting a child, he pauses and smiles saying what a miracle he was already expecting this would happen. Ayaka is also happy with this news she would visit you and press her ear to your baby bump and talk to the baby or basically rub your stomach.

Having a child with you is the only way you are tied to him forever, by having a child you finally have something to stay with him as well as having the next head of the clan, making sure his clans future is secured. He babyfied the entire house for you as well as babying you, saying these emotions are just your hormones and saying the baby is a blessing

He will not allow you to leave your bed, before you are pregnant you're still allowed to walk around the estate but now you're not allowed or step outside your bed. You were put under strict bed rest and if you need to get around you have him, his sister or thoma to help you as well having the shuutmasuban monitoring you 24/7

Diluc

< how many kids he wants : 2 - 4 >

When you tell him about this news he runs towards you carefully of course not wanting to hurt the baby, and hugs you tightly and kisses your forehead saying you both will be good parents and a thank you for giving him the best present he ever asked for. The entire staff was soon aware of this news and started the preparation for a new born. Adeline will monitor you attending your every need when diluc is busy.

The nursery is all set up, and everything is set. After Kaeya's departure from the mansion as well as his father dying, the mansion has been quite lonely before your arrival, the mansion has started to have more light and after your pregnancy announcement it grows more. It melts his heart knowing he will not be alone anymore. Your babies will be spoiled a lot by him.

You are not allowed to walk around without him or Adeline supervision or not you're not allowed to walk around because he will carry you everywhere thinking it will cause harm to the baby. He will help you with your daily routine and will prevent you from reading your favorite novels cause stress is bad for the baby.

Kaeya

< How many kids he wants : 1 - 2 >

To be honest, he never expected to be a father. He always thought he would be a bad father. But after you tell him you're pregnant he will embrace you and say thank you and you both will get through this together. This is unexpected for him but he was happy having a child

He was anxious and nervous at first, but he handled it like a pro. Soon he started to enjoy the process when days got rough he would put his head on your bump and talk to the baby as well trying to feel it kicking. These small moments that lead him to start enjoying fatherhood.

After the baby was born he started to want more kids because, he really loves this bundle of joy and you know what can make him more happy more bundles of joy he will try to convince you to have another kid. And on the bright side your relationship is more healthier as well giving the outside a perfect image of your relationship.

Alhaitham

< How many kids he wants 2 - 4 >

He came prepared for your pregnancy, he read tons of books about babies as well about parenting he is prepared for this, he would control every aspect of your life food, bed time and other things

He will monitor you every day, he will free his schedule to make sure you will attend as well following the schedule he gives you during pregnancy. He will be there with your every step buying maternal clothes as well as other baby stuff. He has a very good job and is large payment. has a large savings for this day for both of you and the kids to live a comfortable

He wants to have two kids but he does have a feeling of wanting more but it depends on you if you want to have more. Your body is your choice, you're the one that had to carry the baby he doesn't want to tire you and force you to have more.

Neuvillete

< How many kids he wants 4 - 6 >

He was so happy after hearing about your pregnancy, the melusine will help you with your pregnancy and watch over you. Neuvillete will prepare everything as well using some dragon mating rituals for the preparation.

By collecting large amounts of comfortable pillows and soft blankets to create a large nest for you. To make sure you're comfortable. He will help you around with everything normal chores and walking are restricted your only supposed to lay on your nest to relax.

The melusine called your babies as their siblings and will protect you from anything, the steam bird pushy to share your pregnancy they will ask them to back away. The steam bird has been quite annoying following you around when you want to buy baby clothes as well fontainians love for drama they will approach you and ask about everything it has become quite draining dealing with people approaching you for information on your pregnancy. So that's why neuvillete prevents you from leaving the "nest"

Wriostheley

< How many kids he wants 1 - 2 >

After you told him about your pregnancy, it was kept as a secret in the fortress due to how many convicts are willing to hurt you as revenge towards him. So you were mouth to the surface and sigewine will do once a week checks up on going to the surface.

You live in an isolated place in the surface world, very far from Fontaine as well wriostheley office is built secretly to have an elevator going thru to the surface to visit you and your new home, the fortress is not a safe place for children.

He just wanted one but was afraid that the child would grow up lonely, the duke of the fortress of meriopede being your father makes the child stand out afraid they will be isolated by this information. If there were signs that the child was lonely or wanting a sibling he would not hesitate to give them a sibling

Zhongli

< How many kids he wants 3 - 6 >

If this happens during ancient liyue when he's by far much younger than his current timeline, you would already have lots of kids. They would have been grown up when traveler visits teyvat as well them being full blown Adepti. Cloud retainers would love to baby sit your babies and will tell you to rest and let her baby sit.

If you're pregnant in the current game timeline, you would still have a lot of kids but not as much as the other timeline, you have to stay at mt. Aocang under the watchful eye of the Adepti due to the babies not being normal humans. They are half adepti if you're human. So when the babies come you will deliver a safe birth. There is a large chance of you not surviving the birthing process so he will make sure you survive the birth process with the aid of the other Adepti.

But if you're pregnant during the archon war, you will be forced into hiding as well the news of your pregnancy hidden since teyvat are being a battle growns for gods to dominate and control the thrones and he has many rival gods wanting to destroyed him so what can cause him great pain of attacking his beloved. Everyday he would visit you with blood on his clothes and comfort you even tho you tried your best to stay away from him.

Tartaglia

< How many kids he wants 4 - 8 >

The happiest out of all of these yandere , all his life he wanted a family and finally he was given one. He breaks the news to his family and they are ecstatic. He spins you around the room and laughs.

He wanted to have a lot of kids he came from a big family and he has many siblings so expect to have more than four kids. He will buy you many luxurious gifts as well as many toys he can buy heck he buys an entire toy store for his babies. Will love any gender as long as it is his.

Fatui guards are there to guard you no matter, he will not let you get close to the other harbingers only ones he trusts the most who is pulcinella or arlechinno to watch over you when he's out in work, he move you to a more secluded mansion with a lot of servants during your pregnancy and his family will visit you to check up on you. You are not allowed to do any chores only rest in your bed.

[tavina-writes]

I have been pondering the recent rash of "post canon NHS and LXC would never ever reconcile bc even if NHS wanted to have Er-ge back, LXC would never ever forgive him for [insert reason of choice here]" type of posts + the "do you think NHS thinks very hard about how much Da-ge would hate him for becoming [the way that he is now] by choosing to seek vengeance" type of posts, and I think fundamentally the reason these posts do not jive with me is that we have no indication, in the show or in the book that uh, NHS gives a shit about either of these things very much anymore?

The first type of post is predicated on the assumption that LXC's forgiveness or lack thereof some some sort of either extension of mercy (which NHS obviously does not deserve <- or so assumes the post) or some form of punishment (which is obviously the correct answer) but the last scene we get with NHS both in the book and the show make no indication that this is a thing he wants? Or cares about? Book NHS has *sauntered off* with his little hat trophy and Show NHS walks off screen after saying something along the lines of "What is my responsibility I won't shirk, what isn't my responsibility I won't care about." Now, arguably, show NHS is having a worse go of it emotionally, but shows no real inclination or interest in either apologies or making up and being friends again with LWJ, LXC, WWX, or other people. Book NHS seems pretty pleased with the outcome of the events as a whole?

The second type of post is predicated on the fact that NHS finds Da-ge's judgement a horrible burden to bear at this stage in the game, which! He might! But again especially in the book we get no indication that he has any fucks left to give about what Da-ge may or may not have wanted since Da-ge is dead. In both the show and the book, NHS went about revenge taking very specific and complicated actions with the desired result of JGY dying, but he certainly took the scenic route getting there, which, he didn't need to? As I've written about before, JGY didn't see him as a threat. If he wanted JGY dead he could've arranged to poison JGY's tea like, 10 years ago and had done with it instead of his complicated Rube Goldberg life ruining scheme. If he is still sickly anxious about how Da-ge might feel about the scheming and the trouble causing and the whole everything, that's certainly possible, but he must've decided it was worth it anyway regardless of that, and I don't know that it necessarily would've changed just because he got what he wanted at the end.

Overall, I think as a fandom we think a lot about like "will and should this relationship ever be repaired or similar to how it used to be?" and "does this character deserve/not deserve the forgiveness of people they've hurt or abandoned?" which can be interesting questions! I do feel like these are often taken as "is a character morally good (deserves to be forgiven) or morally bad (deserves to rot in hell forever never forgiven ever ever)" and based entirely on if Character is the meta writer's blorbo. Under this paradigm the concept of "Character did bad things to get exactly what they wanted and were happy about that and no relationships were ever repaired and the emotional detachment of people they used to care about no longer matters to them!" is uncomfortable.

It's just that for NHS I've increasingly come to the conclusion that canonically, I don't think NHS thinks he has anything to apologize for, nor is he super interested in being forgiven! He got what he wanted the way he wanted it to happen. Which is potentially supremely unsatisfying but I think is very sexy as a narrative concept.

[rey-jake-therapist]

"I have never been more anxious in my life than in the weeks leading up to the series' launch. Up until that point, The Rings of Power was entirely mine. Once it was posted online, it became the property of the fans. I love their imagination. I don't go online. But my sister scours the forums and picks out theories that I might like. Some of them are extraordinary and defy belief. Others are spot on. But I can't tell you more than that.

I didn't expect the relationships between Galadriel, Elrond and Halbrand to be dissected to this extent, even if I imagine that the slightest hint of the forbidden - and I'm still afraid of saying something I shouldn't with this word - can only stir up passions.

Halbrand's influence on Galadriel was less implied in the scripts. It was Charlie Vickers who plays Halbrand who had the idea of ​​making it ambiguous. Assuming that these quasi-divine beings can feel human emotions. Was it a relationship of seduction or power? It's up to the viewer to decide. Extremely kind, Charlie was the best partner."

It is from a roughly translated French interview she did in 2023.

And @principessapeach gave me the link to the interview (thank you again !) :

Lmao Morfydd spilled some tea here. I wonder how it would have played out, if they had gone by the script. Charlie had no idea what monster he just created then lol

Anyway, that's why I can't take Charlie seriously when he claims with the look of the most innocent man on the planet, "uh no, we didn't play it that way, I don't get it...", and keeps insisting that this relationship is not romantic while describing it in the most romantic way.

I mean...

"(...) Vickers continues, adding that Sauron feels "taunted" and "pissed off" that Galadriel rejected him. That makes her ring back personal, but Vickers insists that "he's past ruling with her" (yeah we all saw that, he totally moved on). That won't stop him from showing her "what could have been, what you could have had", Vickers teases. "What they share is "greater than romance", Vickers explains. "Their connection runs far deeper than anything surface level." "His getting rejected definitely leaves him with this sour taste in his mouth, and he goes away thinking, "I can make this right." Whatever that means to him. That's one of his throughlines in terms of his motivation or goals for this second is how much he's driven and how much this relationship gives him a sense of purpose." "It can't be underestimated the impact she has on him. He's drawn to her in the same way that someone who has been through a lot is drawn to someone who's been through someone similar. I would always think of them as having this cosmic connection, in that their connection by some people, and on the surface, could have been interpreted as romantic because of the way it came off. That wasn't something we were intentionally doing (liar liar), but through their shared history, through different ways, they were able to connect more so than they would have connected with other people. It meant that it obviously culminated in this proposal, for want of a better word — not a proposal of marriage, although kind of." "They are not together in this journey. But because of the way things ended, they still have a strong influence on each other. They represent the forces of good and evil in the story, and I think they will always be linked because of what was told in the first season. You see them thinking of each other, and they are motivated by each other. The rejection of that proposal weighs on Sauron, as does the humiliation on Galadriel."

[pseudowho]

Pre-menstrual dysphoric disorder

So, while I normally don't post hypersensitive things about me on here, I'm going to share an important thing I'm going through.

Since I've had children, and my menstrual cycles have become more regular (as they often do once you've had children), it's become apparent that patches of anxiety and depression that I've had since my teens, are actually cyclical, and related entirely to the progesterone spike that women experience post-ovulation.

This progesterone spike makes most women a bit hornier, a bit more emotional with some mood swings, bloated with sore boobs, a bit hungrier. This is what's called PMS.

For me, this progesterone spike ties me up and throws me into the back seat of a car. Someone else is driving and all I can do is watch on in mute horror as they drive. I become irrational, hyper-anxious, suicidal, aggressive, unable to cope with even the most basic daily demands, my hips hurt badly, I'm exhausted but can't sleep, and I cannot see a way out of the dark.

Having been diagnosed now as severe and at risk, there is a light at the end of the tunnel, with a wonderful doctor who is an ex-colleague of mine, placing me on a new treatment of continuous oestrogen patches (almost like nicotine patches), to stop ovulation and stop that deadly progesterone peak.

It means I will no longer have periods and no longer go through the monthly hormonal changes that cause me so much misery, and turn me into someone that I know I'm not.

While it will likely take some dose titration to get the dose perfect for me, I actually cried with happiness when she handed me the prescription which may actually save my life.

And all for free, on our wonderful NHS.

Just a small snippet of my life behind the writing. Like I said, I don't normally share much about things like this. Just fancied it this evening.

As always, the wonderful @mrhaitch is my safe haven.

If you're interested and have read this far, thank you! Writing continues to be my chiefest method of relaxation, and I love coming to play.

All my love, as always,

☝️ @mrhaitch when I'm finally better, probably.

-- Haitch xxx

[auspicious-manner]

welcome back! just some simple domestic fluff with mike faist and famous reader! get to this whenever you feel like it! lots of love<3

thank you for the kindness! <3

i’ve missed writing for mike! also have you guys seen the new challengers trailer AHHHHH IM SO EXCITED IT LOOKS SO GOOD!!! i have a few challengers themed mike stories in my inbox/drafts, so expect those somewhat soon ;)

also it’s been a long time since i’ve written a fluff fic, so sorry if this sucks lol

fem reader x mike faist

warnings: anxiety and mentions of depression

Worthy

•

you loved nearly everything about your life. being an actress, singer, and now a writer has given you more confidence than anything else.

you started as an actress. ever since you were little, you would put on shows for your entire family with costumes and scripts. they weren’t simple either; you would perform full dramatic monologues, emotional scenes, and romantic moments with your stuffed animals. your mom didn’t have to hesitate putting you into acting classes.

into your teen years, you booked commercials and small roles in children’s shows. then, right when you turned eighteen, you got your big break when you gained a major role in a movie alongside some of hollywood’s biggest stars, directed by none other than steven spielberg.

from there, business offers and acting gigs flew in. everything seemed to be happening all at once. it was all so overwhelming. but fame is what you wanted, right?

that’s what you thought, at least. as a child, you glamorized the picturesque hollywood starlight life. you wanted everything from the glitz to the glam. you didn’t realize that being famous came with this sense of dread that one wrong move could end your entire career. you felt unworthy of being in the spotlight all the time. so, in order to keep those intrusive thoughts from rearing their ugly heads, you kept so busy that not even a single thought could even cross your mind.

you knew you could sing, and you began writing songs and releasing music. you even went on a north american tour. then, when the tour slowed down, you wrote a novel. you kept so busy that you lost track of who you really were. what you felt you were meant to do.

sure, you had success and had more connections and fans than anyone could dream of. but what did it matter when you felt so alone?

you began closing yourself off. the limelight was making you anxious, and you couldn’t bring yourself to be seen in public in the state you were in. it all felt so hopeless. you considered living of the grid and going incognito in order to escape the expectations placed on you. for months, you stayed as hidden as possible, and it only made things worse.

being a long time friend of steven spielberg at this point, he sent you a personal invite to the premiere his new film west side story. you almost threw the invite in the trash. the thought of going out on a red carpet again and seeing all of these faces with bright, flashing cameras was out of the equation for you. yet, you missed the feeling of being dolled up. you missed feeling pretty.

when the big night came, seeing yourself in the dress that you had picked out didn’t feel real. you felt like you and not you all at the same time. your mind was conflicted; you knew the glam of hollywood was what made you happy, but since it had been so long since you have felt that way, you felt oddly out of body.

it was a long, off white dress with a leg slit and a completely open back. the dress had sleeves that stopped just below your shoulders, and it hugged your body tightly but not uncomfortably. your wavy hair fell onto your shoulders neatly in a half up half down, your curtain bangs framing your face. for the makeup, you tried to keep it relatively natural, and you didn’t want to draw too many eyes. you paired the look with some heels and a purse.

looking in the mirror, you tried your hardest to feel positive. you looked beautiful, you felt beautiful, yet something still felt wrong. maybe it was because you had no one by your side if you got anxious. as far as you knew, you would know one person there.

the car sent to pick you up took you on a ride through new york as your heart rate quickened. when you arrived at the scene, the bright lights and red carpet gave you chills.

after walking into the crowd, it didn’t take long to find steven. he pulled you aside into a fatherly hug. it felt good to be near someone as familiar as him.

“Y/N, long time no see!” he said excitedly as you hugged him.

“it’s been a while, hasn’t it?” you replied, pulling away.

“what have you been up to? knowing you, i’m sure it’s something great!”

you smiled, trying to create a facade. “oh, you know, a little bit of this and a little bit of that,” you said while nervously laughing. you couldn’t tell steven spielberg that you’ve been in a slump and that the most productive part of your day is waking up and making something to eat.

“i’m excited to see whatever you have up your sleeve,” he said, going to your side and taking your arm. “now, there’s someone i’d like you to meet.”

he guided you through the crowds, and you kept close to him. everything was becoming overwhelming.

you approached a man with his back turned to you. “Y/N, meet mike faist. you two could have a lot to talk about.”

the man turned around, and the first thing you noticed about him was that his eyes seemed to be glowing. they were brighter and bluer than anything you’d ever seen. they were absolutely stunning. upon further inspection, you realized that you recognized him from the posters for the movie, and knew he was playing riff.

he smiled at you, almost as enthralled with you as you were with him. he held out a hand, and you took it gently to shake it. you hoped he didn’t feel the sweat building on your palms. “Y/N L/N, it’s lovely to meet you.”

you grew flustered. “how’d you know my last name?”

mike looked taken aback. “doesn’t everyone?” your smile fell slightly, and mike noticed. “i’m a big fan of your work. your songs, your movies, and i recently started reading your book too. you’re amazing at everything you do.”

steven patted your shoulder before walking away, leaving you with mike. mike had a presence about him that made you feel welcomed and seen. it’s been a while since you felt that way.

“so, mike, what else have you been in?” you asked, wanting to know more about his work. he knew so much about yours, and you felt a little embarrassed that you didn’t know more about him.

he smiled and looked down. “i was a newsie in newsies on broadway, and i covered jack kelly. i played connor murphy in dear evan hansen on broadway, i was in a tv show called panic, and a lot of other stage and film work.”

you nodded, squinting your eyes slightly. “you know, i’ve seen both of those shows on broadway, and i didn’t realize until just now that that was you.”

he laughed. “am i not memorable?”

you giggled in return. “i don’t think it’s that. i just think i’m missing a little part of my brain.”

you and mike continued to talk about your respective careers. you noticed that he was so easy to talk to, and that he listened to and hung onto every word that you would say. it gave you butterflies, and you wondered what was wrong with you.

sadly, you remembered you’re at mike’s movie premiere and he had to do interviews and talk to other people besides you. you could tell he wanted to stay with you, but knew he had other obligations. before he left, he said, “we’ll see each other again before the night is through.”

you’ve had plenty of men try and charm you, with the efforts always falling flat. you’re no stranger to keeping your feelings under control and learning to not date in hollywood. it was too easy to be played by the wrong guys. but, your heart was telling you something different about mike. he made you more nervous and giddy than anyone else ever had and you barely knew him. you started to forget about the fact that you’ve been a hermit battling with your mental health for the last few months.

you caught up with a few old friends from the industry that you had recognized in the crows before it was time to go to a private screening of the film.

you watched as everyone funneled into seats in the theater next to their plus ones and friends. you stood back, scoping the area for empty seats. you felt frozen as all the seats seemed to fill.

“follow me,” a voice said close to your ear before taking your hand and walking with you down the rows of seats. you noticed it was mike and you smiled to yourself.

he took you close to the screen, but not too close, and sat down with you. you sighed. “thanks for saving me back there, i was getting stressed.”

mike tilted his head. “you’re from around here. you’re used to red carpets and screenings, aren’t you? i didn’t think this would stress out someone as experienced as you.”

he was right, it shouldn’t have stressed you out. you were so used to hiding away for so long that this all felt new to you again like it did when you were eighteen.

mike noticed your expression change, and he turned to you. “i’m sorry, i shouldn’t have said anything. but you’re worrying me a bit, is everything okay?”

you tried to brush it off. “i’m fine now, really. crowds just get me anxious-”

“i’m not just talking about tonight,” mike said, leaning in towards you. “the world has caught onto your unprecedented disappearance from the public eye. that can never mean anything good. are you sure you’re okay?”

you bit your lip, holding back tears. it was one thing to keep everything to yourself and pack it away and never confront what you’re actually going through, but to hear someone else say it put it into perspective for you. you had completely lost track of your vision and goal in life. you had lost track of you.

mike put his hand on your leg comfortingly, taking the silence and the glossy tears hidden in your eyes as a sign that you weren’t okay. the silent support he sent was exactly what you needed in that moment. a stranger was the person you least expected to comfort you.

before you could both think to say anything else, steven appeared at the front of the crowd and gave a speech, followed by the showing of the movie. every time mike appeared on the screen, you got chills. he was amazing. his performance made you hate riff yet feel some kind of empathy for him. that was due to mike’s spellbinding performance.

occasionally, you would feel mike’s eyes glance at you when important scenes came up. it’s almost as if he wanted to see your reaction. he wanted your approval.

then, after two and a half short hours, the movie ended, and the theater erupted in applause. everyone stood on their feet and you did the same, small tears running down your cheeks. you looked at mike, and his smile dropped when he saw you.

“why are you crying?” he asked.

you sniffled. “it was so amazing. you were so amazing.”

mike turned red, and he reached down to envelope you in probably the best hug you’ve ever had. he had the widest grin, and it wasn’t just from the movie.

you and mike traded numbers, and from that night on, you became inseparable.

*

mike awoke something in you that hadn’t been seen in a long time. he made you feel inspired at motivated and comfortable. you hid yourself away from the world in fear that the public would turn on you, twist your words into something far from the truth. mike dispelled those feelings for you; you felt like yourself again around him.

after the night at the premiere, mike made the first move in wanting to talk to you. you face timed each other for hours each night, staying awake into the early hours of the morning just talking about anything and everything.

you went out for a coffee date a week after the premiere, and it seemed clear to both of you that there was more to be discovered than just a friendship.

as you were walking through central park with mike, keeping your head slightly down as to not attract any unwanted eyes, you boldly brushed your hand against his, letting it linger for a moment. his hand moved away, but creeped back into place when he realized what you were doing. he slowly grazed his finger tips against yours as he walked, and he reached his fingers out and your hand fit neatly into his. you continued to hold hands for the rest of your walk.

when you arrived back at your apartment, you both sat down on the couch, your bodies turned inwards to face each other.

“i feel like i’ve know you my whole life, but its only been a week,” you said quietly, looking into his eyes.

mike smiled lightly. “i’ve never clicked this fast with anyone.”

you both paused, and mike hesitated before he spoke again. “can i ask you a question?”

you nodded, and he went on.

“there’s always been so much speculation about your love life in the media, and dating rumors and whatnot. i don’t like believing anything the media says, but i want to hear it straight from you.”

you smiled to yourself. the media liked to pull things that weren’t actually there and make up stories for fun. you’ve never actually had a real date since you’ve been in the business, let alone a relationship.

“i haven’t found anyone worthy yet.”

mike nodded, scooting closer to you. you could tell he was aiming to put his arm around you, but hesitated to see your reaction. you leaned in, telling him without words that it was okay, and he rested his arm around your shoulder as you laid close to each other. you immediately felt comfortable under his arm.

“i admire you, Y/N. i always have. i like that you know what you want, and that you know yourself. that’s a really great quality to have.”

you blushed, but your happiness faltered. you leaned your head back on his arm. “yeah, i guess. too bad i haven’t felt that way recently.”

mike looked at you, frowning. “why? if you don’t mind me asking.”

you weren’t typically the one to open up quickly to strangers. but mike felt different. he wasn’t going to judge, or make you feel bad about yourself. he was comforting.

“i’ve hid myself away from the world because i’m scared. i’m so insanely scared of messing up and having the whole world turn on me. so, i did the only thing i could think to do. i locked myself away in hopes that it would help,” you giggled nervously. “it didn’t do shit.”

you were smiling at your own misfortune, but mike stayed somber. “i’m sorry, Y/N, that’s awful.”

you shrugged. “yeah, but i did it to myself.”

mike sat up, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. you froze under his touch. “the world needs your brilliance. don’t be afraid, there’s so many people ready to guide you and protect you from anyone trying to take you down. i’m here for you, i promise.”

you bit your lip, unable to say words. mike was so incredibly kind. all you could do was whisper a thank you.

mike put his arm back around you, and you leaned into the couch together. “if there’s anything i can do to help, let me know,” he said quietly.

you leaned your head on his shoulder, looking up at him. “you already have.”

mike smiled, turning red. “you’re cute.”

you felt complete. you hadn’t known mike for that long, but he filled a part of your soul that had been gone for a while. he made you feel liked again when you couldn’t like yourself.

you sat up and looked at him. your faces were only a few inches apart. at the same time, you leaned in, and your lips grazed each other before interlocking. it felt euphoric.

you pulled away, remaining close, and you smiled at each other. “you’re the most talented person i’ve ever met,” you whispered to him.

mike lightly placed his hand under your chin. “that means a lot coming from you. i love everything you do.”

you leaned in again, feeling your old self coming back again. you felt renewed. mike made you feel like the star you are again.

you rested your forehead on his. “thank you.”

mike tilted his head slightly. “for what?”

“for making me feel worthy again.”

mike smiled lightly, then gave you a short but sweet kiss. “never forget that you’re beautiful and wanted.”

a small tear escaped your eye. mike was everything you needed. you almost felt in denial that someone like him could be making you feel this way because you were so used to men not valuing you. you were moving fast with mike, but it felt right. you were never one to believe in love at first sight, but this was pretty damn close.

you leaned into his side again, and his hand rested on the back of your head. you could get used to this.

[vesora]

is it a real problem or are you trapped in your mind?

this one goes to my anxious girlies

the past few weeks I've been extremely trapped in my mind, ruminating whether someone would backstab me or whether a friend would leave me and of course there is no evidence of that in real life, it's all in mind. that being said, deep down i know that nothing would happen and im sure deep down you all know as well that nothing would happen. but the what ifs are so strong that you can't handle yourself practising the law.

this doesn't mean you can't manifest during this time, we always manifest, just now you can consciously manifest things you want. e.g. I wanted a psychic message from someone and I received it; I got money when I needed it; I never wait for public transport even if the app shows that it is coming in like 30 minutes (because we don't pay attention to 3d). I've noticed my anxious and extremely intrusive thoughts never manifest, especially after learning the law so I don't want you to be scared of your own mind. You, as the supreme being and consciousness ARE your mind but your mind is not you. In the grand scheme of things, the mind is unreal so what would the "3d" listen to? Some jumble of anxious fearful thoughts that do not exist except from when you aware of it or the command of God themselves?

all in your (unreal) mind:

don't punish yourself, stop harming yourself by trapping yourselves in your mind. simply drop the thought. if you find that hard, you can work on it by eliminating the possibilities but from experience, that still never makes the fear go away. the fear is so primal, so noticeable that the only way it feels it can go away for me is if I end everything and thats not good right? why would God be a victim to her character's thoughts? Why wouldn't God just change the garment?

The hardest thing is to just ACCEPT. "Just accept you have it" was the hardest thing for me to apply because soras entire life was just finding every possible solution for the worst case scenario in case people hurt her or I am seen in a way that doesn't represent her (aka being misunderstood). See how i am using her and sora to describe things I experienced? It's because I have the POWER to completely eradicate any trauma or any pain by just choosing to adorn myself in another state. I am not sora but sora is me, therefore I have control over soras experiences. You are not a victim to your circumstance, when you find the law you have the power to create your own life, you create new circumstances by adopting a new version of yourself. You are in control no matter what the unreal mind says.

breathe in, breathe out:

Excuse my language but honestly fuck the mind???? It only knows what it has learned from its surroundings and you are above the surroundings so why would you listen to such a limited thing?

Do you think if you dismiss the thoughts you won't be prepared for what you think is about to come? Do you feel you constantly have to be on defense mode protecting yourself either from physical or emotional harm?

I understand, I was the same way and sometimes I still revert back to it. However the thing is, who is creating whats about to come? YOU ARE! Don't you get it? Nothing can happen without your consent (once you accept your power of course). You are not a victim to circumstances. You are never the receiver, you are always the creator. Bask yourself in lovely states with lovely thoughts. It is okay if you do not believe it or if your body is resisting it, just please persevere. We can't let anxiety win. What is anxiety to a God?

our negative beliefs falling after we disown them:

Read this by Edward Art

[popatochisssp]

I have a question!!! What would it take to get the more stoic boys (like Ell, Merc, Nemo, Vi and King—and anyone else you want to add) to crack a smile?

So you want to make the stony faces crack a smile, huh? An admirable goal!

I went ahead and picked out the most stoic skeletons I could think of, and the best way to get them to break and laugh for you—or at least grin…

King (Horrorfell Papyrus)  – He’s a tough nut to crack, but if you don’t happen to have a clever wit to banter back and forth with him, using your sharpest ripostes and most stinging barbs, physical comedy is actually your best bet. He’s a bit of a sadist and has just enough of a mean streak to always find it funny when someone falls, or walks into a pole, or really any other form of slapstick as a result of someone’s clumsiness or inattention. He generally has enough grace to rein his visible amusement in, but if you ever see some sort of petty accident waiting to happen, do point it out—or be the clumsy fool yourself, you just might see an undignified snicker.

Merc (Horrorswap Sans) – He actually has a great sense of humor and joy, so he does already smile quite a bit! Just…because of his condition, he has to keep in control of his emotions, so those smiles are small and slow and restrained, lest he feel too much and lose his handle on himself. That said, the element of surprise is crucial to winning the big and real reactions from him, catching him off-guard so he doesn’t see it coming and can’t mount an internal defense against it. Non sequiturs and unexpected punchlines work great for this, but are best used sparingly—both to keep the element of surprise at play, and to keep his discomfort from getting a little melty to a minimum.

Ell (Horrorswap Papyrus) – In spite of his often surly or sour mood, he’s not especially difficult to amuse. Probably his favorite thing, though, is anything that happens to be unintentionally funny—as in, something that was not meant to be comedic but, by circumstance or execution or some other factor, has just completely missed the mark and has worked its way around to funny. Really badly outdated special effects or especially hokey dialogue in shows and movies tend to work well in getting him to smile, but he’s liable to bark out a laugh for signs and billboards and such that should not have been placed next to each other, or if you share with him something stupid and out of touch that a celebrity or politician may have said.

Nemo (Horrorswapfell Papyrus) – He’s only deceptively hard to get a smile out of. He’s often anxious, or in guard-dog mode, thinking about things that could happen, and what he’d have to do in the event of X, Y, or Z, which has the Resting Bitch Face out in full force…but he’s far from a heart of stone. When he’s relaxed and comfortable, he’ll smile about pretty much anything, even just for it being a kind of nice day outside. …But if you want to see him smile even when he's not entirely chill, all it really takes is some kids, or maybe a funny animal. Seeing kids goofing around doing kid things, or a puppy dog up to some puppy type antics, he has a hard time not smiling for that.

Spectr (Transcendtale Sans) – He’s a very, very tough one, almost the poster skeleton for ‘nothing to smile about in my life.’ He’s definitely lost in his own existentialism a lot, or the opposite and trying not to think about more than what’s directly in front of him, which does make it pretty difficult to get a laugh out of him. Still, he can’t quite help himself when it comes to skeleton-based jokes and puns—it’s tired, old material, sure, but very comforting and familiar, and he likes to hear it. It’s not a guaranteed laugh if you hit him with some humerus wordplay, but he’s pretty likely to be smiling behind his mask, and even likelier to throw you a bone and respond in kind.

Tank (Underfell Fruition Papyrus) – With him, it’s a little bit like getting one of those palace guards to crack a smile—it’s not so much that he’s humorless, just that he’s (until recently) not been allowed to show a response…and as a related issue, he’s not at all familiar with social cues and doesn’t always realize a certain response is expected of him. Because of that, one of the best ways to get him to smile is to explain a joke for him, or just let him know that what was said was a joke. It’s easier for him to feel comfortable expressing his amusement if he knows for sure that he was meant to be amused, but as for a specific preference of humor… Well, he actually really likes skeleton-related puns and jokes, too! His brother used to tell them all the time when they were younger and since he wasn’t around long enough to use them to death those are very fond memories!

Vi (Swapfell Fruition Sans) – Now he’s the poster skeleton for ‘nothing to smile about in my life,’  and consequently, not very easy at all to coax a smile from. He’s too into the habit of keeping his most important and genuine feelings off his face to be fully comfortable smiling over just anything. If someone knows that something makes him happy, it can be taken away from him, after all. …But if whatever he’s smiling about is something vague, deprived of its context and mysterious to anyone who isn’t in the know… His fastest and easiest smiles are the ones that come from inside jokes, funny moments that maybe he didn’t laugh about at the time, but will freely grin and reference later with just a ‘YOU HAD TO BE THERE’ to anyone else prying for more context. He likes secrets, and the ones he can share with you are the most fun.

[ellecdc]

QUESTION

whats everyone’s comfort style? like after an argument or maybe R has conflict with a class— how’re they soothing their partner?

oooooooooh my gosh this makes me wanna cryyyyy

I think I'm gonna do this if it was an argument???

James:

I think he'd be just as close to tears as his partner

anxious and fidgety as he tries to figure out how to approach this now that tempers have settled

I think a mixture of cuddling and encouragements

tries to get you excited about something else [bribery? but in the good way lol "we'll have fun at Hogsmeade next weekend, yeah? we'll get Butterbeer - you like butterbeer"]

I think he'd be good at communicating and very emotionally intelligent (that's what having healthy and loving parents does to a person - can't relate)

Remus:

broody at first - I think he'd have a tendency to shut down after a fight because he'd feel like an arse for upsetting you

I feel like he might try to back track? like he'd start thinking "was what I was so worked up about really worth upsetting them like this?"

pet names, cuddles, asks if you wanna just go to bed early with him and stay in each others arms the rest of the night - he'd need physical contact with you

lots of apologies - feels like a monster for upsetting you, maybe worried you'll leave :(

Sirius:

I feel like he'd panic at first when he realizes he's upset you - like face drops and all the colour leaves his face as he sees your eyes well with tears

I think this would put him into a momentary state of fight or flight - negative emotions were dangerous growing up

cautious - gentleness, complete 180 from how heated the conversation had been because he's worried; he knows he can go too far and that his words cut deep...he is a Black after all

cuddles, kisses, tries to crack some jokes as he holds you

and then apologies

Regulus:

panics at first just like Sirius above

momentary state of fight or flight like Sirius above & for the same reasons

think he'd start feeling like a failure, like he can't get any aspect of his life right

caution - I think he'd be afraid how you'd react when upset (again, negative emotions = danger to Black's)

lots of eye contact, hand holding, praise, bribery (I'll buy you this, I'll buy you that)

he may not actually buy you that (okay he will, but) he said it mostly to crack a smile out of you

Barty:

panic, "nononono, whoa, hang on, wait, hang on, what's with the tears? what? hang on"

immediately "okay wait stop, no, don't cry. You're right, I'm sorry. You were right. Fuck I'm such a wanker."

gathers you up in his arms and straight up will not let you go for the rest of the day/night - basically barks at anyone who tries to approach the two of you during this time

gets anything you need: thirsty? you stay put, he'll get you water. Hungry? he'll take a quick jaunt to the kitchens (i.e., acts of service)

I think he might cry about it later because he feels guilty.....and the roles will need to be reversed.

Lily:

tbh I see her being stubborn about it - she's rarely wrong and she's not going to start now

except....except you look so hurt and dejected; was that really right? and was it worth being right when you looked like that?

it would feel fundamentally wrong

she'd want to talk it out - have a full blown conversation about what happened, why it happened, how it could have gone differently and how you two will navigate things going further

throughout the entire conversation though she'd be holding your hand and rubbing soothing circles on it and forcing you to make eye contact with her so you know she's being sincere

she might suggest getting ice cream or something after as a treat lol

[mister-tom-a-dildo-lover]

Just a random thought I had.

I've been spending a lot of time recently going over what I know about myself and my behaviors and the way I have existed my entire life, and have been slowly coming to terms with the fact that I probably have undiagnosed Autism(and ADHD) and I will never have the money to get a proper diagnosis for this because being able to get to just a regular doctor is a luxury that I do not have.

As such, I have been putting all of my interests into perspective and thinking more clearly about the characters I like in the pieces of fiction I like and trying to draw similarities between them and how they behave, compared to me and how I behave.

This brought me to Tom Riddle, clearly. I've always been big into HP and it's influenced my fandom journey heavily. I've gotten into fandoms just because someone wrote a crossover with Harry Potter in their ship.

So, with that in mind, what is similar between me and Tom Riddle?

The special interests.

The obsession with collecting unique items.

The intense hyperfixation on his interests that causes him to monologue for ages about them in relation to himself.

Being exceptional at hiding how he really feels behind a mask to trick people into thinking he's normal like them.

Learning the right words to say to get by even if he thinks they're foolish or nonsensical.

Struggling with understanding emotions either from himself or others, and misconstruing what others are feeling based on his limited understanding.

Making his whole personality revolve around the Thing he's good at(Dark Magic).

Having no tolerance for other people because they cannot keep up with him.

Now that I am forced to come to terms with these things about myself, and even more things, thanks to a lot of help from others, I can't not review everything I'd ever shown interest in. Like, all of my favorite characters end up falling along the lines of depressed character, anxious character, or Autism-coded character. Or all 3 in a character. And I have all these issues and technically should be medicated for some but can't afford it.

And the thing is, I have considered similar characters to Tom, wondering if I'm projecting onto his type of character.

I like Hannibal, the TV show. My favorite character is Will Graham. And would you happen to know that he is depressed, anxious, and very Autism-coded? But the character in Hannibal, that Tom is most like, is actually Hannibal himself. And the ship for Hannigram feels very similar at times to the Harrymort ship, which is why a lot of people ship both.

But if I was to line Tom up beside Hannibal and consider what I know about both of them in relation to my undiagnosed Autism, Tom is the one who feels like he could be Autistic. Hannibal does not. Even with his special interests and masking and monologuing, and all their similarities on the Potentially Autistic List, Hannibal doesn't give me the same vibe. Will does, but not Hannibal.

So, I don't think this is me forcing the 'misunderstood Autistic villain trope' onto Tom. I think it's just that I've gained a new perspective on myself, and it has forced me to reevaluate everything I know about who I am and what I like and what draws me to those things in the first place.

It's kind of like how I liked Severus Snape as a character, long before I realized that I was depressed and that he was also depressed(I was 10 when I started the HP books). Like, the day I finally realized that I had depression(I was 17) and that wanting to kill myself and trying to are actually suicidal issues that I need help for, I thought of Snape. And a lot of things clicked.

Gaining a new perspective on yourself gives you new perspectives on everything else.

I am interested in pursuing these new thoughts in fanfic form in the future, ngl. And my reads of Tom going forward are going to be a lot more nuanced.

[hoiststowline]

state i'm in

hound x female!reader x cliffjumper originally posted on my ao3 here!

Though disappointment would translate easily through body language, a round of unspoken words tangle together in a tight-lipped mouth. The receiver beeps, prompting a message to be left, but all feels wrong other than a simple question, asking to return the call whenever time was best. 

Hound would be lying if he said he wasn't troubled by the... now four unanswered calls, but he's in no business to question the absence. It's a Friday evening, you had mentioned prematurely in the week how you had taken the night off from work, planning, and waiting to do something to take your mind off the monotony and exhaustion. You had your own life to live, as did he, but that nagging feeling that you always stuck to your schedule, fear rising that not all was well as you did not pick up your calls. 

He was a worrier, that he'd surrender willingly. Cerulean optics bounce between his communication device and the door to the hallway, temptation seeping deep into his wires. He could drive past your place to see if your vehicle was there or if a light was on. Perhaps you were resting in anticipation of a long night or left your phone on the counter while getting ready. 

All seemed rational, but he just had to be sure. 

With a heavy sigh, he stands from his desk, digits brushing data-pads and stacks of work he should be preoccupied with. He can't pry his processor away from the image of you hurt, upset by something he does not know of yet wishes to resolve. You're a ray of sunshine within a dark war, a guilty plea that he can't seem to shake his shoulders of, soaking in every moment he is so graciously allocated. 

Swiping the device off the desk surface, he crosses the room simply with a perplexed and distracted mind, dentas digging uncomfortably into his bottom lip. Just as he reaches for the door, a fist begins pounding on the other side, and in a struggle to open it before the visitor rouses the entire Ark. 

The panel slides across the floor cleanly, the light from his room slipping into the hallway as it illuminates the offender. "That was fast," Cliffjumper mumbles, squinting curiously up at him, surprised. "What, were you like standing at the door or something?" 

"I was 'bout to go for a drive," He tries to keep his composure, but that familiar anxious feeling arises in his chassis once more. "Somethin' you need?" 

"Yeah." The red mech still eyes him carefully as if he's vying to spot the lie. "Got a klik, before you go?"

The couch sinks comfortably under your weight, and the dull hum of the television envelops the room rapidly. It all seemed fine from this angle, convincing yourself this is what you wanted, a quiet night in and nothing more than your own company. You could argue the events of the past few hours could have gone a little better, the universe could have cut you a little more slack than what was granted-

But better this than ending on a sour note. Well, more sour than an hour ago. 

A throw pillow compresses under your hold, arms wound tight around it as you hug it close to your chest. Things were allowed to go wrong, the world didn't revolve around your plans, however, it didn't mean that your emotions could understand that as wisely as your mind would.

Just as you bundled deeper underneath a blanket, the realization passes that you left your phone in your bag, which now hangs sadly on the back of the kitchen chair. You suppose it can remain there, you don't need it, but then again, you promised Hound a call before you crashed for the night. 

You're nonplused that he hasn't tried you at least once, shrugging the blanket off and then gathering yourself off the sofa with an exhausted sigh. Your feet feel heavy as you shuffle into the kitchen scooping your bag into one hand as you rummage through it using the second. 

In an instant, you pale, finding the sound had been switched off at some point, your screen illuminating several missed calls and messages. Cliffjumper had tried you at some point as well, though his attempts were not as scattered as Hounds. 

"Shit," You curse, fumbling to send a text as quickly as possible, when someone presses your doorbell, then several loud, intimidating knocks follow. Blanching, you gather yourself as quickly as you can, scrambling across the linoleum to make it to the foyer. Not quite fast enough, as another round of aggravated thumping follows, to which someone hisses a sentence, muffled by the wooden door. 

"If she ain't here, I'm gonna tear that slaghead to-" He doesn't get to finish the likely nasty sentence as you tug the door open, satiated as the voice you only knew belonged to one mech.

"Cliff-" You start, but are met with a bit of shock and unable to finish your thought as your tongue glues to the roof of your mouth. Amusement wrestles forth first, then a bit of worry, a query rising as to why the two of them were here unannounced. 

"I jus' wanted to drive by and make sure ya were okay-" Hound raises two hands, holding them between the two of you as if to offer his condolences. "He made me give up yer house number," His shoulders slump forward, defeated as the rowdier of the two crosses his arms over his chest. 

Hound's holoform you've met twice before, so he was not the direction of your immediate reaction. The first time he used it, your cheeks hurt from how hard you began to grin, wondering how he could get it to look so much like himself without a sliver of doubt. Still tall, broad-shouldered with a short dirty-blonde mullet and a pair of jeans that pillowed over plain brown cowboy boots. With a green t-shirt tucked neatly into a brown belt, he radiated his friendly bearing with a wary smile. 

However, Cliffjumper's was a blatant surprise. Their vast difference in size would display an opposite effect, yet Hound is much more docile and compassionate, Cliff more ill-tempered and laconic. 

"Not a word," Cliff grumbles, standing just shorter than Hound's shoulder, his holoform more suited for him than you would have originally thought. Looking past the two of them you find an army-green jeep and red two-door idling at the end of your driveway, headlights dimmed out. "I only did it because you went AWOL." 

Your head tilts to the left, leaning your weight into the doorframe before you continue. "AWOL? I'm sorry, but I did tell you both I had plans tonight,"

"Yes, yes ya did-" Hound begins but is interrupted as Cliffjumper shoulders past you into your foyer, scoping the place out without an ounce of permission. "Trust me, I wanted to do this in the least invasive way possible," 

A small smile finds its way to your face, looking up at him with a bout of laughter stuck in the back of your throat. "It's okay," Stepping to the side, you sweep your arm backward as if to gesture to him inside. "I'm sure you can tell it didn't work out." 

You close the door as he enters, the two of you walking a couple of paces in sync to find the scout ferreting around the small space. "M'sorry." Hound pats your back gently, his touch is eerily warm as his large palm rests against the top of your spine. "And 'm very sorry 'bout all this. I was jus' worried." 

"It's alright. Maybe I can salvage a crummy night," Humming in acknowledgment, your understanding demeanor changes as you observe a blur of red headed straight for your bedroom. "No, you're fucking not, Cliff," 

"Where is the bastard?" His short brunette curls move with him as he spins to face you, icy blue eyes narrowed into slits. 

"Where is who?" You straightforwardly reply, confusion apparent.

He recoils in anger at your words, temper flaring as he answers you gruffly. "Hound said-" His gaze moves behind you, to which you turn slightly to find Hound making a cut-it-out motion with one hand. "Nevermind," 

"Oh," You realize their assumption, a brittle laugh escaping before you continue. "That was supposed to be four days ago, the date never happened." 

"Do you ever know when to shut the frag up?" Hound sulks, coming to stand beside you once more. "C'mon, lessgo." 

He sends an apology your way, beckoning Cliffjumper towards the door when an idea passes you by. "Hey, wait a second. I…are you guys busy tonight?”

Immediately, the stack of work atop his desk crosses his processor, taunting him as it needed to be completed painfully soon. But you looked so despondent, troubled by something he had no clue of, and that stridently tops most things on his list.

The fast decision of what harm could a couple more Earth hours do to his already side-tracked mind? They both exchange a look, Primus knows that the scout could name nothing more important, but he's waiting for him to have the final say. He would never disclose he'd love to stay but knows that Hound would have no hesitation in remaining, gladly. 

"No,' Hound starts, drawing out each syllable. "But we already are intrudin' on your evenin', y/n-we'll leave-" 

"Stay?" You ask, a glassy look in your eyes wordlessly pleading to not be left alone. " Please ?"

Cliffjumper wastes no time in scrolling through your streaming services, scanning endless movies and TV series with determined eyes. He settled on the floor, not before snatching a pillow from your sofa and resting his chin atop the cushion.

You had slipped into your bedroom to change into something a bit more comfortable, plaid pants and a cotton shirt. When you re-enter the room, Hound has nestled onto the right-most side of the couch, previously engrossed in whatever Cliff was fiddling with, likely the remote. At the sound of your door creaking shut, he turns, looking over at you with a soft smile. “Everythin’ okay?”

You nod, moving around the furniture to join him, his arm lifting easily as you all but slump into his side, a blanket tossed over your legs. Hound hardly budges, his appendage lowering as it contorts along your hip, his hand placed politely at the top of your thigh. “I appreciate you both checking on me,” Whispered, as to not disturb tonight’s episode of Dateline that Cliff had evidently selected. “The last thing I wanted was to be alone.”

“I can tell,” He mumbles into the crown of your head, lips musing your hair slightly. “Ah didn’t want to be a hindrance more than a help,”

“Never a hindrance," Answered firmly. "I should’ve had my ringer on, somehow it got turned off,” You explain, finding it increasingly difficult to not be lulled to sleep in his arms. “I wasn’t ignoring you, I promise.”

“Ah know.” Hound wants this, how effortless it all seems, but yearns more than anything to solve all your problems without a second thought. You deserve a lot more than he can offer or provide, but he understands you definitely don’t warrant the cards you’ve been dealt recently. “Wanna talk ‘bout it?”

At his question, Cliffjumper perks considerably, as if he was guiltlessly listening all along. “Something did happen?” He asks without turning, though he’s gone preternaturally still.

“No, don’t trouble yourself with it. Either of you.” Your eyes move between the two of them, trying to end the current conversation. “But I am so grateful you’re willing to hang out.”

He practically growls, now pivoting to address you, but Hound sends him a look over the top of your head that you cannot see. Instead, he tosses the pillow elsewhere, now opting to crawl into the space beside you and sprawl out, his head rests in your lap as his legs dangle over the armrest, a small scowl on his face.

“Cliff, you’re feral,” You laugh, at which Hound’s thumb runs happily against the cotton of your pants.

“I don’t know what that means, but remind me to kick your aft later when I look it up.” He murmurs, now facing the television as it returns from a commercial break.

“Thank you.” You hum, content. “And sure. I will.”

“If you touch her, yer losin’ a digit.” Hound is serious, but a little pinch of amusement rises in his words.

“You look ridiculous with that haircut,” He tiredly argues, stealing most of your blanket. “Shut up,”

“He is feral,” Hound agrees, losing his confidence immediately as your hand comes to cup his jaw, placing a kiss on his opposite cheek. In mild shock, he barely catches you bend to place one on Cliff’s forehead.

“But we love him,” You say, hand slipping downwards to settle atop his unoccupied one. “I love you too, H,”

He's so curious how you toss that word out so positively and patently, a natural response when in the comfort of your friends. It's a huge understatement to say your cultures were similar, so much collided and meshed in mutual understanding, yet, the topic of love was an unspoken one. You didn't mean it any less any time you did say it, yet, it came much more instinctively to you than he. 

Somehow, each time strikes him differently. You've said it to him in moments like these, quiet and reserved, and also in moments where you are giddy and a bright smile resides on your face. He does not doubt that you do love him, but perhaps the translation is a little lost to him. There's nothing more to want than your smile, and though you unknowingly have him wrapped around one of your tiny little fingers, you never take advantage of such a tremendous feat. 

It's impressive, to say the least. Hound's got a big spark, but he isn't so easily undone as many would perceive. 

At that, he descends a tad lower into the cushion, landing a single kiss atop your head. “Ah love ya too, y/n.”

[ryverbind]

Faceless Fixation (Sal Fisher): The Composer [28]

My favorite analogy to use in times of uncertainty comes from my dad. He once told me, "We're just two little frogs on a lone lily pad, floating down some hidden bayou in the swamps of New Orleans, Ducks. And that's okay, because at least we have each other."

It stuck with me throughout most of my life. When the depression was really rough, when the anxiety hit its peak, I'd scribble that line in notebooks. In pencil on my walls, erase the words when I felt whole again. Etch it onto my arm in pen, then scrub away at my skin for hours in the shower that same night.

For that reason, I feel like we can attach ourselves not only to people, but to words too. Which is why I find myself debating going and writing those words again and again and again in the emptiness of my apartment.

The week leading up to Ash's departure to Anaheim flew by. She and I unpacked, organized, and lazed about our home without seeing Sal, Larry, Todd, or Neil all that much.

That was fine, she and I preferred to figure things out on our own anyway.

The issue came with the moment Ash left in the early morning on Friday, after we'd had Sal and Larry over the night before.

I was left to my own devices, which meant all I could do was think about how much I've been drowning in myself. For months.

What's weighed on me most is Sal. I was never supposed to like him— it was never supposed to be more than simple attraction. I feel like I've failed myself and dragged Sal into something he wants nothing to do with. Feeling this way seems so cruel. He's his own person, he has his own shit to deal with. Why did I let it get this far?

For the entire day, I've sat here and told myself— scolded myself— that I need to calm things down and I need to get over this. Not just for me, but for him. Situationships, friends with benefits... those types of things do not end in relationships. They don't turn into happily ever afters. Me and Sal are nothing alike— I wouldn't even dare consider a relationship but if my feelings go far enough, I just might start to.

There needs to be some separation for myself. I need to put some distance, but I just don't want to. I genuinely like being around him.

Oh, this is such a clusterfuck.

I lay on me and Ash's couch, staring out of the huge windows that lead to the balcony as the sun goes down. It's evening. The silence is loud around me, messes with my senses. I keep thinking I see things out of the corner of my eye and every creak or crack of people moving around above or below me sets my heart racing.

Ash informed me that she'd be back by tomorrow morning, which is fine. I streamed for a few hours, ate dinner, then did some shopping to snuff out my Sal-centered thoughts, and then the unsettling quiet. I just didn't realize how anxious I'd get about being here alone once the moon took the sun's place in the sky. 

It's not my first time being alone. When I lived with dad, I was alone most of the time. But this apartment is still unfamiliar to me. Being in a new place that doesn't quite feel like a home yet is perturbing. 

The sky grows a little too dark for my liking, so I grab the remote and turn on the TV, flinching when the volume startles me. Anything to suffocate the silence that lurks around the dark corners of this room though.

I glance over my shoulder, making eye contact with the dark hallway that looks back at me. Shadows dance around the edges of the vignette, mocking my fear. I'm worried that if I watch for too long, I may really see something staring back.

And I thought my tiny, barely there feelings for Sal were scary. All that needs to be done to reset my mind is put me in an empty room, I guess.

Turning my gaze back to the TV, I try to focus on The Crow. All the gothic notes and emotional aspects try to distract me... but I quickly learn that even my favorite movie and Brandon Lee's ethereal beauty can't steal me from reality.

I'm restless. I can't stay here a moment longer.

Sighing, I sit up and gaze at the hardwood floor. Dad's not home-- I could go back to my old apartment, but that's a fifteen minute drive. That's a last resort. I would go to Todd and Neil's, but they're over in San Francisco to watch Todd's favorite musical. 

That leaves me with Larry. 

Can I bear to be in Sal's presence with all the turmoil in my head? I don't know, but I can't figure it out until I try. Not to mention, knowing him, he'll be locked up in his room anyway.

Me and Sal's conversation last week made me feel a bit more secure. I know things can continue the way they have been and I don't have to worry about anything else, I just have to work on getting past exactly how much I feel now. The fact that we had to had to have that conversation at all is embarrassing-- even if he told me that it was okay. It feels so stupid to me now that it's all over. It feels even more ridiculous that I apparently haven't learned a thing and still want to put distance between us.

I stand up and grab my keys from the kitchen counter before shutting off the TV. Then, I'm out the front door like a bat out of hell. The quiet was overpowering me-- having such a big place is so eerie when it's just me.

In my diluted panic, I make it to Sal and Larry's apartment in record time-- hoping and praying that they'll let me stay.

I pick up my pace once I reach their floor, bounding up to the door and knocking. Each corner feels like it's leering, hiding evil that lurks everywhere I go. It's unbearable and I just can't be alone.

That, or maybe some depraved part of me just wants to Sal.

Chewing on my bottom lip, I tap my foot against the carpeted floor and try to pretend that I've got it together. I do anything to get rid of the adrenaline rushing through me. Readjust my mask, pick at invisible lint on my shirt, crack all of my fingers, look up and down both sides of the hallway stretching around me. It feels like I wait for hours even though it's merely seconds until the door opens.

My eyes snap upward, gazing into the eyeholes of Sal's prosthetic. He holds it against his face with a hand, the straps dangling at the sides. It's clear I've caught him off guard.

"Vi?" He asks, tone suggesting he's both confused and alert by my sudden presence. I watch him glance down the hallway the same way I just did. 

When he looks back at me, he has an eyebrow raised inquisitively. 

"Uh," I choke out, remembering that I kind of have to tell him why I'm here. "Is Larry here? I wanted to hang out. The, um, silence is... loud." I rush to explain myself, knowing full well that I don't have to explain myself to anyone.

But Sal looks like he gets it though, his gaze softening in understanding as the words leave me. 

"Larry isn't here," He tells me forthright. My heart drops at the news. "He went to Anaheim with Ash. Didn't she tell you?"

I hum bashfully, embarrassed at myself and the circumstances as I shake my head.

"Sorry for bothering," I say with a sigh, trying to hype myself up to brave the quietude and darkness.

A beat of tense silence passes between us as I build up the mental strength, already feeling like I'm rotting in the lonely apartment back upstairs. 

Then, Sal mutters, "You can stay if you want, so long as you don't mind me practicing. And don't make me regret inviting you in."

I watch him watch me, both of us hesitant and unsure. But what's more unbearable than being around him (which hasn't been all too bad lately) is being alone.

I clear my throat lightly then look down at my feet, nodding. "Okay, thanks."

I may come to regret this.

Sal leads me into the apartment, his slightly taller figure blurring as I take in the living room and kitchen I helped unpack just a week ago now. To replace all the boxes and uncertainty is a kind of clean organization that I just know Larry had nothing to do with.

Sal spruced up. It's orderly, uncluttered, and so him. It works because Larry isn't much different.

The climbing living room walls have various band, tour, and festival posters, records, guitars, a bass, signed drum covers. It's a metal-head's dream. There's just a little touch that screams 'this-is-the-house-of-a-streamer,' which happens to be the multi-colored LED's on the ceiling. But I'll give them a pass for that one.

Regardless, it's nice. And the kitchen, while not completely decked out, is doctor's office-level pristine.

I purse my lips, feeling a little apprehensive. This might be the first time Sal and I have been in each other's presence without a plan for sex or something related to it. We're just... hanging out. It's weird, but I'm desperate enough to put up with it at this point. 

Sal's out of my way already, settled on one of the black sofa's with his flashy red guitar nestled on his lap and a laptop in front of him. Oh, and the prosthetic is gone.

My eyes train onto his pretty face. With all of this moving, I've hardly been able to see it. As crazy as it is, it's kind of been killing me. This recent revelation of mine has led to this insatiable urge to look at him constantly. I thought it was bad before, when this was all just a meaningless crush, but now...

I swallow past my raging thoughts. I've had enough to think about today.

Following Sal's lead, I plop down onto the adjacent, larger sofa-- right in the middle of it. I stare at the dark television and subtly gaze around the room in search of a remote. I'll be damned if I sit here with him in silence like this. Once again, I would much rather hot box in a car full of Larry's tamale farts.

Sal's head tilts upward in my peripheral so I look at him. He looks at me, his azure eyes surveying me before leaning over to a little table between the sofa's. He grabs a remote, then an Xbox controller and tosses them to me.

"You can play something if you want. Just switch to HDMI 2," he offers, turning his attention back to his guitar, strumming a quiet note. His brows furrow and he bites down on his bottom lip, shakes his head lightly. Those hypnotizing cerulean locks fall past his shoulders and shield his handsome face from me. His hair has grown in the past few months, hanging at least an inch past his shoulder by now--

--and that is not the point of why I'm here.

I murmur a quick thanks and lean over to grab the controllers, switching on the TV and finding my way to Sal and Larry's shared console.

There's a selection of games on here, some I've played, others that are on my TBP list (like TBR, but instead of to-be-read, it's to-be-played).

I hover around the Resident Evil 4 remake. For the past few weeks, I've been telling myself I'm saving up for it. I brought it up to Ash a couple days ago and she gave me a funny look then proceeded to remind me that, with my streaming career, I have around $4,000 in my bank account right now. I don't need to save for once, I can just get it.

Except I panicked and said I have to keep all my money in case of an emergency... so having disposable income is still new to me and I have no idea how to handle it.

I click on the game, biting down the excited grin that tries to build on my face.

I start a new game and nearly crap myself, doing my fangirl job by raving over the updated graphics and Leon's lore-accurate hair color.

For about an hour, Sal and I don't even spare glances at each other. It's nice, chill-- just two... acquaintances... in each other's presence without having to talk to enjoy their company. I play RE4 and he strums away on his guitar. A couple times, I become entranced by the melody he plays. Each time he plays longer, it starts to come together. Around the second time he played more than a couple notes, I realized he was composing. Creating a tune. Whatever you want to call it. 

While a musician myself, I've mostly worked on covers of songs. I've only tried to write my own music a couple times and even then, I realized it was tough work. Watching Sal now-- how long it takes him to come up with all the notes and lengths for just one chord-- I do not envy him, but I do admire him. He's putting a lot of work into it, clicking away on his laptop when he finds something he likes.

Each second of him working on his music steals me away from my game though. I start getting antsy, missing infected people even if they're right in front of me in the game. Hell, I walked Leon into a wall two minutes ago.

I grit my teeth as I navigate through the village, heart beating out of my chest with every corner I turn because a horde of zombies is going to be on me any second now.

I need to be prepared, need to get all of these questions out of my head.

"You're making a song?" I ask Sal, staring at the screen in front of me with my knees pulled up to my chest.

Sal hums in acknowledgment, distracted by whatever he's messing with on the computer. "Yea. Has to do with that Twitter leak." His voice is soft, hoarse. I'm shocked he even answered me with how focused he is.

Ah, yea. That leak. Ash and I didn't hear from Sal or Larry for two days after they rushed out of our apartment. When they finally popped up yesterday to help us with some more unpacking, they briefly mentioned something about 'damage control' and 'whistleblowing bastards.' Don't know how that has anything to do with whistleblowing, but those were Larry's words, of course.

I nod lightly, dragging Leon to a ladder. "I take it you don't want to give me the drama on that leak?" I guess, stealing a glance his way. Damn his pretty hair and equally as pretty face.

As I'm glancing, he shrugs, bright eyes darting across his laptop. The color of his irises is enhanced by the blue light of the screen-- I hate him. "There's not much drama to give," he murmurs, clicking on something. Then, he sits back, his eyes snapping to me. "The leak was the bridge to this song. I've been fixing it up and messing around with it. I had a producer with me a couple weeks ago, he took a picture of my screen. The back of my head was in it and it inevitably got out. What are people supposed to think when this is the title?"

He flips the laptop to me and I lean forward, squinting my eyes to look at the screen. There's a lot of graphing and multicolored lines that look overwhelming as hell-- but I focus in on the bold words at the top of all the mess. "DAC COLLAB."

I pinch my lips together in a guilty smile. "Ah, so that's the mess. That fucking sucks," I tell him as he pulls the laptop back to him.

Tongue in cheek, he tilts his head to the side as if to say 'whatever.' He at least seems unbothered by the whole thing now. "It is what it is. It's going to be released at some point anyway. North was going to make an announcement next month when we'd made a little more progress. Damn asshole at that studio just did the job for us, I guess." He seethes a bit on the last sentence, brows pinching together. 

I hum contemplatively, eyes trailing over his hands as they press into his guitar before I look back at my game. "I wouldn't let it bother you too much. You still get to make the song, still profit from it."

A tiny grin pulls at Sal's lips. "True," he says nonchalantly. 

Silence builds around us, our conversation having fallen off rather than ending. We're still learning. Awkward moments have to come along here and there.

Doesn't stop me from getting killed within the following moments though. I'm so stressed about making things work with him and me... I shouldn't have started the damn game. 

"I'll make you a deal," Sal suddenly pipes up when I get mauled a second time.

Growling frustratedly to myself, I pause the game and turn to him, waiting for him to continue.

He shakes his hair out of his face, letting me see all of him. He sets his elbows on his knees, showing off the veins in his forearms and the map of tattoos that trail up his skin just to disappear beneath the sleeves of his shirt. 

I take a fortifying breath.

"Come listen to this and I'll help you past this part." He juts his chin toward the TV before looking back at me.

I shrug. Why not?

"Okay," I accept his proposal, scooting down the sofa toward where he is. His tattooed fingers type away on the keyboard before he turns the laptop so we can both see the screen.

"My taste is a little harder than what Dark Autumn Complex usually puts out, but I think we're getting somewhere," he tells me and for a moment, I wonder why he's trying to explain the music to me before I've even heard it. Is he nervous?

I simply nod my head. If I say something, he may get even more freaked out. I'm fighting for my spot on earth right now, man.

He presses the space bar then leans back, letting me listen.

I flinch when I hear the opening-- he wasn't kidding. It's similar to what the band usually does, but there's something sinister and death-metal-ish about the instrumentals. Sal seems to have a lot of control over the sound here. The double electric guitar, and heavy bass from a literal bass but drums too says enough. It's veering off the path that DAC usually takes.

Just because it's a little different doesn't mean it isn't damn good though. It's really good. Sal's cooking up a five course meal on his laptop here.

"Life slips by In the blink of an eye, Dripping through the gaps In my hand which saps This eternal time lapse Of brutality.

Prophesy each of my regrets; My mistakes chosen by the oracle. A fool making bets With possibilities so rhetorical."

I grin at the lyrics, at the sound, everything. I look over at Sal and he has a little smile on his face too, his expression so heavenly when his eyes meet mine. 

"This is--" I start to say, but Sal cuts me off.

"Shut up. Listen," he whispers. So I do.

"An artist of malice-- My muse of persuasion. Drink from my crimson chalice, Submit to the composer's pervasion.

Aren't we friends? This anguish and me. Gaze through the rose-tinted lens, Ignore the razor blade's sharp plea."

I blink, the smile falling from my lips in record time. Just days ago, Sal asked me that question. 'Aren't we friends?' There have been so many coincidences with this band. So many, in fact, that I genuinely thought Sal and North were the same person at one time.

There's more to this than what I've been told.

"You work close with them, don't you?" I ask, tuning out the rest of the song for now. If he tries to shut me up again, I'll shove a finger down his throat.

Sal doesn't look at me as he chews on the inside of his cheek. And-- wait... is he... blushing?

"Caught that, huh?" He asks, pausing the song but still refusing to look at me.

My eyes widen at his admission. "What exactly do you do with them?" I ask quickly, leaning back a little bit as a thousand and one theories pop into my head. Is he going to tell me that he is North? That he's been hiding behind that name all this time?

And if he is, would I finally tell him that I'm Lexi? 

If North is Sal, a lot of things are going to change.

Sal's tongue swipes along his bottom lip. "I write every single one of their songs," he says, nodding to himself. "They put it together, make music with it."

Oh. I got ahead of myself again.

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding as my body suddenly grows warm with shame. It's time I put that theory to rest. 

I furrow my brows though, thinking back on the lyrics. "Look," I start warily, "I don't want to seem full of myself or crazy or anything, but I swear--"

Sal shakes his head, his dimple forming on his cheek as a bashful smile grows on his lips. "You're not crazy. I hate that you correlated it, but... there are a few lyrics inspired by some of our interactions. When things make an impact on me, I usually incorporate them into my songs." Now it's my turn to blush. I need a moment to process, but, fuck, Sal keeps going. "For example, 'Wherein Christine Daaè Becomes Her Own Phantom' is about Ash. And then a couple lines in some other songs, like the one you heard in this one and 'Falling through like fingers in fishnets---' those were about you."

I gape at him. This genius made of multitudes and art and misery and physics. I don't know what to say, so I stupidly spit out, "Ash has an entire song about her? You gonna write one about me?"

As soon as the words come out, I narrow my eyes and internally scold myself. Not the time to joke, y/n. Not at all.

Sal strums a note on his guitar, in a completely different world as he mumbles, "Who says I haven't already?"

My head snaps to him and a full on, rainbow infested panic attack starts up. He was so serious, ditched all of his reservations when he said that.

At my silence, Sal glances up inquisitively. He takes one look at my face and his eyes widen a fraction. "I'm joking. You aren't that important for me to write a whole song about. Don't take it so seriously."

Do I snap at him for that or feel relieved?

I choose to glare at him instead and switch the subject. "North has a really nice voice," I say a bit too cheerily. Sal notices and I watch him stifle a petty laugh. "It's very melodic, goes well with the band's sound."

"Don't tell him that," Sal snorts, something a bit bitter taking the place of his previous amusement. "His ego's already huge as is."

Ash had some serious heat on North, and now Sal's looking like he has some not-so-good opinions too. Is North really so shady? What is it that everyone's so on edge about?

I recall the time Ash went on a rampage about North incessantly flirting with me and how she mentioned that he isn't exactly known for being in relationships, that he may not be what he portrays himself as.

Sal seems to be pretty open tonight. Maybe I can finally start to understand what the issue is.

I open my mouth but fail to get a word out. I contemplate saying anything at all, nerves consuming me at the prospect. But North isn't here, it's not like he's going to find out we talked about him.

"Is he really..." I start softly. "Ash hinted that he may not be the best person?" I settle on, peeking at Sal through my lashes.

Sal watches me, eyebrows drawing together and jaw working as he searches for what to say. I wait patiently, happy that he's at least thinking about answering me.

"Are you considering cutting off our arrangement to be with him?" He asks genuinely, nothing but seriousness portrayed in his expression.

All the air leaves my body. I hadn't thought about ending things with Sal for that reason, not even once. Plus, North and I haven't talked in a while. After Ash freaked out, I pretty much put the situation on the back burner. "No," I reply quietly. "It's just curiosity at this point."

Sal's expression softens and he blinks at me, holds me in his gaze before sighing heavily. "Everyone has their own shit to work through. He's no different. He has a lot of baggage though, lot of issues. He's told me a thousand times before that he doesn't think he'd be able to handle a relationship because of his problems." He pauses, grimacing as he fights for the right words, clearly not wanting to disrespect is friend. "North is a bit of a hit or miss. I can't predict how he'd be with you." 

He sends me a devilish look, teeth on display in a stunning smile as he adds, "Definitely can't tell you if the sex is good or not. He wouldn't let me hit."

I shake my head at him and roll my eyes, a blush forming on my cheeks. "I did not ask for that last bit," I tell him pointedly.

Sal chuckles, standing up from his spot on the opposite sofa to sit beside me. I watch him with questioning eyes, my body falling into a frenzy because, oh God, Sal's close. Arms. Tattoos. Fingers. Neck. Face. Teeth. Mouth. Hair. Veins. Ravenous. Gnawing at the bars of my enclosure.

Yikes.

He grabs the controller I'd been playing Resident Evil with and that's when I remember that other half of our last minute agreement.

"Figured I'd give you one last little push to keep fucking me and not him," he says as if that statement holds no weight, gesturing toward me with the controller.

I hate when he says 'fuck' because it's always so unironically seductive. I know he's just playing around, but that glint in his eyes and the smirk-like tilt of his lips tries to tell me otherwise.

I snatch the controller from him and unpause the game, grumbling, "I already said I'm not interested in him."

I walk through all the steps I'd already done, having to restart the entire village scene due to my repeated fuck up from last round.

Sal doesn't reply to me, he watches every move I make on the screen and I focus as best as I can. The last thing I want to do is embarrass myself, but I get wrapped up in the same exact spot again, fighting off more of the infected than I can handle.

Leon's body drops to the ground again and I stomp down the overwhelming urge to walk through the TV screen and beat Leon's dead body myself.

"I see what the problem is," Sal pipes up beside me, his tone screaming 'Physics Graduate' with how... scientific he sounds. I bet he conjured up a fucking hypothesis for this. "Come here," he says, linking a finger through my belt loop and tugging me toward him.

I nearly choke on air when my shoulder squishes against his and he leans closer, grabbing my arm closest to him and pulling it so that I'm holding the controller between us.

He moves his hands so that they wrap around mine and over the controller. He can move my thumbs any way he wants with this position-- but now I'm suffering the consequences. His hands are rough and warm on me, his fingers callused and brushing over mine with a perfect plan set in place. I can hardly breathe because, technically, Sal's holding my hands right now. And my body is pressed to his. If he listens a little too hard, he'll hear my heart slamming in my chest.

My body is completely rigid against his. Sex doesn't even involve closeness like this. My entire brain has been completely detached and rewired in mere seconds. Everything I thought has been reversed and I could... totally bed him right here, maybe?

"Are you going to restart or do I have to do that for you too?" Sal rasps humorously. His voice is so near, so clear. I want to look over at him so bad, see the dimple on his cheek because I can hear his smile, but I keep a level head. My eyes stay trained on the TV as I press start.

After all, when a cool, slow-mo explosion happens in the movies, the protagonist never looks back to watch. 

I am the protagonist. I am the fucking protagonist. Iamthefuckingprotagonist.

"Okay, so this is where you're going wrong," Sal says in my ear, his tone suggesting he's much more focused now. His thumbs press into mine, moving Leon around the village much more easily than I could. Doesn't mean he's better than me, he just isn't running on fumes like I am. Sal fumes. I'm suffocating in him, it's all his fault. I am a good player, I swear I am.

I let him direct me, slowly beginning to relax in this soooo not-embrace. His arm, pressed against mine, acts as leverage for me to rest. He seems to lean against me more at some point too, the both of us more worried about getting Leon through the village than about how we slowly warm up to each other and this proximity.

"I don't know if we can get it with me guiding you like this," Sal says a tad urgently when the chase scene starts up, his thumbs working quickly with mine. At some point, I was able to start predicting what moves he'd make, so we seem to be more in sync now. "But we'll try. We have to get through the first wave, then we're going to shoot that damn church bell."

I furrow my brows. "Like the first game?" I gasp, "We can still do it here?"

Sal snorts, manipulating my fingers to shoot someone heading our way. "Of course we can. Watch and learn."

I do watch, and hell, I learn too. It takes maybe five minutes for Sal to get me through the part I'd been stuck on since I got here. The moment he gets the shot on the bell, it rings through the city and evokes deep satisfaction within me-- especially when all the citizens start piling at the church.

I smile at the screen, Sal's hands still wrapped around mine as the famed cut scene starts up.

"Where's everyone going? Bingo?"

This time I look at Sal because we said that line in unison. We said it together. At the same time. He looks back at me with wide eyes and an astonished grin, like he's barely holding back crazed excitement.

Something catches Sal's eye as we watch each other for a short moment, reveling in our shared interest and achievement. He looks up and past me, smile softening as he lets go of my hands. 

The controller is suddenly so heavy without him holding it up for me. It slowly drops to my lap as he stands, walking back over to his respective couch.

I swallow, biting down my yearning for his missing presence. He was warm, he was stable. And that admission only reinforces that fact that I really need to put some much needed distance between us before things get way too real.

I look down at my lap for a moment, reminding myself that everything's going it work itself out. It'll be okay.

Things go back to the way they were before we started conversing today. Sal plays his guitar and tweaks things on his laptop, I play Resident Evil. Only difference now is that we're both progressing through our tasks.

And you know what, it's really nice. I thought this would be a mistake, I thought this would make things so much worse-- well, things are worse, but not in the way I assumed it would be.

But I'm actually having fun. The best part is neither of us need to talk to enjoy ourselves right now. A dynamic like this one is rare.

"You need to go."

The words are abrupt, make me look up. Sal is placing his phone down beside him and pulling his guitar strap over his head. 

Is this some kind of prank? Is he just trying to get our old bickering going? I was just thinking about how nice things were and he cut it off like he read my mind. He had this icy monotone to his voice that I haven't heard in a long time.

With a wary smile, I try to play along. "You're stuck with me, buddy. You made the mistake of inviting me in."

"I'm serious, y/n. I need you to leave." He nearly cuts me off, the words rushing out in what almost sounds like a panic.

I look at him closer, leaning my head down a bit to peek past his curtain of hair. His face is so stone-like, one would think he had faced off with Medusa. My eyebrows pinch together as I finally click into the veiled tenseness around us, my realization making everything that much thicker. 

"Are-- are you okay?" I ask softly, a trickle of apprehension going down my spine. I don't know how to approach this. Clearly, something's wrong and he's trying to play it off. What do I do here? Things were going fine.

"Get out." The words are like a slap to the face, so aggressive and loud that I flinch, the controller tumbling off my lap and onto the floor.

My racing heart only increases its speed as I freeze up and just stare at him. I'm frightened, something I definitely don't want him to see but I can't help it, especially when he looks up at me with a glare so menacing-- the same glare that was always hidden by his prosthetic months ago. Until now.

I force myself to breathe and think.

Okay, he wants me gone. I can do that. All I have to do is walk out the door and I'll be out of his hair. Hell, he might even apologize about this later. My brain nags at me though, says that behind the anger in his expression is fear and sadness. Says that he doesn't need to be alone right now-- he needs someone.

This switch in him was so random, so fast. It feels wrong to think that I was the cause or that he's suddenly freaking out because I'm here. There's something deeper; the problem now is whether he'll let me find out what's going on or not. Should I even try?

Utterly split on what to do, I slowly stand to my feet, never breaking eye contact with him. His excruciating glower softens a little, showing off a glimmer of relief that further proves my thoughts.

I fight past the fear he suddenly evoked, overwhelmed by how pained he must be to have a sudden reaction like this. He helped me when I had a hard time, so shouldn't I do the same for him?

As if to confirm my thoughts, Gizmo comes veering into the room. He talks and talks, skittering over to Sal and climbing up his chest. That's when Sal finally looks away from me so he can run his tattooed hand over the cat's orange fur.

My heart drops to the pit of my stomach. There is something wrong. Gizmo's presence says it all-- he did the same thing for me when I was anxious.

"Sal..." I say gently, hovering in my stance. I hold my hands to my chest, stuck on what decision to make. I don't know what to do. I'm torn between his wishes and mine. "Do you need to talk about something?"

"No," he bites out. "What I need is for you to get the fuck out." He gently moves Gizmo and stands up. I gulp, watching as that threatening aura of his grows closer and closer with each step he takes. I match his pace, taking steps backward. He herds me to the front door of his apartment, stopping when my back hits the doorknob.

I gasp at the feeling of metal digging into my lower back, using all my might not to back down and cower as Sal towers of me; every inch of his face curled with malice and rage and anguish. His dark brows are furrowed to hold up that glare of his, his light eyes darkened by the negativity roiling around in him. His marred lips set in a frown that just doesn't suit him at all. It's all so unlike him.

This isn't who I've come to know. No matter how scary he is, I just can't, in good conscience, leave him like this.

I take a shaky breath and stay stock still. Stand a bit taller to match his energy. I say a silent prayer that I don't end up on the evening news before I jump into the river crawling with snakes and alligators.

"I don't feel comfortable leaving you like this," I declare, making sure my voice is confident to show that I won't back down despite how unconfident I am.

He looks away, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth as if to bite down his instinctual reaction before he addresses me again. 

He's trying. He's trying so hard not to scare me off for good-- that's why he wants me to leave now. I see it-- I see through him.

The gears work and click together in my mind. He doesn't want to be alone, he doesn't want to suffer with no one to hold him up when he's low. He's just so focused on boxing up his secrets, keeping them hidden from everyone that he won't rely on his only option. I really can't leave him now, can I?

"You can talk about it if you want, or you don't have to. But you don't have to be alone, whatever it is," I try to console him gently, moving to the side so he can see me in his peripheral. But my movement just makes him squeeze his eyes shut. My heart stutters upon realizing I'm not getting through to him, he isn't hearing me.

"Don't say that shit like you care!" he nearly explodes, voice rattling in my ears. "You don't understand anything. You don't know a thing about me."

He's looking at me again, desperation swimming in his ocean gaze, hiding away from the rage taking over his expression. His eyes rove over my face, sizing me up, waiting for the moment I bite back or walk away.

"I know I don't know anything," I tell him softly, making sure that my expression is open and, fuck, caring. Because I do care. "That's why I'm asking you to help me help you. However way is better."

"I don't want your fucking help," he hisses, eyes narrowing. "I don't want your fucking pity. I want you gone."

I open my mouth to passively fight him on that decision, but he interrupts me before I can even get a word out. "You can't spew this bullshit at me. Like you've lived a day in my life and you know what's it's like to be me. You don't, and you never will if it's up to me." With each word, pity, guilt, and anger builds within me. He's suffering and he won't let himself feel even an ounce of reprieve. Instead, he's trying to push everyone away. He's the type of asshole who probably thinks he deserves to be alone. "I don't want you here, nor do I need you here. Go coddle someone who needs it and get off my fucking case."

I clap back at him the moment he finishes. "Well, maybe you do need help! Maybe you do need my fucking pity! Have you thought about that?" I snap, gesturing to him with a hand. Why can't he just accept this? Get help? Let someone take it so he doesn't have to bear it all? "I don't need to be you to get it, Sal. I don't even need to be me to get it because I see it. You think you can hide it all, carry it all, but you clearly fucking cannot." I scrunch up my face to accentuate my words, trying to get it across to him through the parts of my face on display, the thing that supposedly captures his fascination so much. "It's seeping off of you like oil; doesn't even soak into you. You don't wear your heart on your sleeve, you wear your feelings. I don't know what the hell's going on, but it doesn't take a genius with an IQ higher than yours to see that you're in pain."

Sal doesn't let up that harsh scowl, but I watch his Adam's apple bob as he swallows. And then he blinks. Then he's turning his back to me, walking away from me and toward the kitchen while running a hand down his face.

My heart physically feels as if it's cracking in two, but I grip onto the bit of clarity I have left after literally yelling in his face. I take a hesitant step toward him when his head tilts down, his hair falling around him.

I wet my lips, ponder what to say now. How to approach this with my fingers quaking as each quiet second passes.

"Let's..." I whisper, heaving a troubled sigh. "You don't have to tell me, but maybe talking about it will relieve you, even if just a little." I chew on the inside of my cheek, tiptoeing around the topic, making sure I'm gentle with him now that he's backed down. "And if you really don't want to talk about it, you don't have to. We can watch a movie, play a game. Whatever you want."

The tides are shifting. With each offer that leaves my mouth, something about us changes. With how much I live to loathe change, I find that I don't fear it the way I did before. Not if the change is with Sal. Not right now when this man is nearly falling apart in front of me and pretending that he isn't.

"I need--" his voice cracks and my heart does the same. He's holding himself together with wet glue right now. What the fuck is going on? "I need to talk to Ash," he tries again, his voice a little more stable this time, though still soft and reserved. "But I can't. She's busy."

I bite down on my bottom lip. I know he doesn't want to talk to me. He said it himself; he would never tell me his secrets. But I don't think either of us have much of a choice.

"I'm not Ash," I say delicately, taking one more step toward him. There's still so much distance between us, I don't know how to get to him. "But whatever you say will never leave this room. Once it's out, I'll forget it ever happened if that's what you want."

He doesn't move, doesn't speak. He's heavily contemplating, weighing his options. 

Still silent, he jumps into action, moving to a cabinet in the kitchen. He opens it, pulls out a can of peaches. I watch his every movement as he opens the can then grabs a fork from a drawer. 

I don't push him to speak, I let him figure out what he wants to do. He doesn't quite face me, but he turns so that his back leans against the counter, all while he bites into a colorful peach slice that's hanging from his fork.

He chews while staring unblinkingly at the emptiness in front of him.

"She messaged me."

My eyebrows draw together in confusion for a moment, but I think about what he's said before I ask him to be more specific. 

She. She. I only know of two women regarding Sal-- one being Ash, and the other...

I hold my breath as I realize. It's the woman who hurt him. I shift my weight, expression slackening as I try to find a solution for him. My mind starts swimming with ways to drag him from the depths of his agony. 

Ash told me that if I ever had strange messages and suspected it to be that woman, that I should let her know. And if this woman is harassing Sal, we could take it to police and maybe, hopefully, they could do something about it.

"And I don't know what to do," he continues helplessly, his sweet voice melodic with despair as he looks down at his can of peaches.

I watch him, collecting myself to approach him as rationally as possible. Then, I close the fated distance between us and walk over to him. I stand before him, about a foot of space between us. He doesn't look up.

"Here's what we can do," I start tenderly, trying to be as soft as possible while being a stable foothold he can use to climb out of this mess.  "You don't have to look at it again," I continue, my gaze never leaving him even though he's almost completely hidden from me. "If you trust me with it, I'll take your phone, log in, screenshot the message. Then, I'll block her-- no response because she does not deserve it. I'll send the screenshot to myself then send it to Ash from there. It'll be out of your hands at that point. Me and Ash will handle the rest." Me and Ash because I want to sink my fangs into this bitch too.

Sal sets the can on the counter beside him, rubs a hand across his forehead. His fringe is wild, his hair sticking up in different directions until he runs a hand through his hair, his black nails clashing against a sea of cerulean blue. "Okay," he says, the word so quiet and raspy that I nearly miss it.

I wait just a moment, eyes glued to him. "Okay," I repeat. "I'm going grab your phone."

I backtrack to the living room, picking his phone up from the couch where he'd left it. I flip it so that the screen is facing me and see an Instagram notification. I don't read it just yet, but I slide up on the lock so that he can type in his password. 

When I'm back in the kitchen, I stand in front of Sal and hand him the phone. Fork hanging from his mouth, he quickly types in his password then hands the device back to me. 

It's open to the message. I know I'm doing this for him, but I'm afraid to look too much in fear of seeing something he doesn't want me to see. The last thing I want to do is betray his trust when he's finally given it to me.

"Do you want me to read it or just get the job done?" I ask him. 

"Just read it. It's inevitable either way," he mutters dejectedly. That tone makes me frown worriedly. I'm already on the precipice of falling into complete heartbreak. His reaction certainly doesn't help. Still, I take the screenshot before glancing over the text:

@zoxbby112: 2 fucking years? sexual assault? you've got to be fucking joking you pathetic piece of shit. i TOLD you no one was going to believe your dumb ass and you still went and did it anyway. you're literally a dude, if you didn't want it you should've pushed me off or smth. everyone says no in the heat of the moment asshole. you liked it, you just need to play the victim since no one else is ever going to want you and that ugly fucking face. you're lucky i even still fucked you after getting that piece of plastic off you. fucked up my entire life. making yours a living hell is the only revenge i'm willing to get. 

I have to grip onto the counter to stop myself from crumbling to my knees upon realizing just how this woman hurt him. It was sexual assault. She assaulted him. 

"Oh, Sal..." The words slip past my lips, unbidden and broken as I take a shaky breath.

I blink past the sudden tears in my eyes and shake my head as I block her account then delete the message, navigating my way through his home screen and to discord. I send the message to myself then grab my own phone, making sure to save the screenshot. I go back to his, deleting the photo from our messages and his camera roll so he never has to see it again.

I don't know what to do. I don't know how to feel. So much of me wants to be angry, but all I'm feeling is throbbing pain and overwhelming guilt. I feel like my organs are being harvested from my body, like my skin is slowly being peeled away from my bones. All because I have no idea what to do for him, I don't know how to make it better. I don't know how to fix it for him, and I don't think I can.

"I'm..." I start to say, my voice hoarse. 

"Please don't tell me you're sorry," he says quietly, stabbing his fork into another peach.

I tilt my head, biting my tongue as I place his phone down beside him. If I were in his situation, I wouldn't want to hear sorry's anymore either. God, more than anything I just wish I could go back in time and save him from that.

"You know," I say instead, so much emotion ravaging me whole that I don't know how to stay standing on my own. The only reason I'm still up is for him. "I don't know much about physics, but I did like biology. And something my teacher taught me is that skin renewal takes seven years. So in seven years, you'll have brand new skin, and, um, it won't be the same skin you had when..." I trail off, going completely blank while trying to give him something to look forward to. Everything is so pathetic that even my brain can't cooperate.

Sal's head snaps up to look at me like he actually understood what I was yapping about. His pretty blue eyes glisten with unshed tears, but he still looks at me, face completely expressionless.

I match his gaze, waiting for something. Anything. But then he cracks a pitiful smile, snorts softly-- shows me as much humor as he can muster up. Wipes at his eyes with the back of his hand.

I feel each of my damaged cells rebuilding themselves again at his shift in character. My heart beat becomes a little stronger, my breath more even and not so shallow with torturous anticipation. 

"My skin will be untouched in seven years," he laughs, albeit humorlessly, but it's something.

"Yea, that's what I was getting at," I confirm, rubbing my arms and looking down at my feet.

Still standing beside him, I glance up just as he bites off half the peach slice on his fork. He gazes back at me, his eyes bluer than any sky I've seen, expression softer than any lingering touch of his.

I feel heat gather along my cheeks when he tilts the fork toward me slowly, offering me the other half of the peach. He looks like a cornered bunny, giving the fox hovering around him a peace offering. It's an apology and a thank you, reinforcing the trust that I handled with as much care as possible. 

This fruit means something to him. I haven't an inkling of understanding on the offer, but if it matters to him then it matters to me.

I gently pluck the fork from his fingers, bite off the other half of the peach then hand the fork back.

Turning, I lean my back against the counter and stand beside him, both of us looking into the empty living room in front of us. We don't talk, we don't share a word. But we do pass that fork back and forth. He takes a bite of a peach, I finish it off. It goes like that until the can is empty, and then we both just kind of... stand there.

He pushes off the counter with a soft grunt, dumps the remaining syrup into the sink, washes it down the drain, then he walks over to me. He just stands there and looks down at me with the gentlest expression I've ever seen on him.

I stare back at him, dumbfounded as my mind races for explanations. So much is different now, I didn't think it could possibly change any more but I'm slowly learning that I keep severely underestimating Sal Fisher. Neither of us can make up excuses for this. 

I quickly fit the puzzle pieces together though and realize he's right in front of me because I'm blocking the trashcan. What only solidifies it is that a little upside down smile quirks his lips upon seeing me connect the dots. 

Now, we move the the awkward, embarrassment stage that comes with deep connection. Yea, making friends really sucks, especially when I want so much more than friends.

What?

The unwarranted thought flies out of my head as Sal braces a hand on the counter beside me when I don't move, caging me in as he bends forward. His face passes right beside mine and his hair brushes my cheek, making a chill run up my spine.

His body heat encases me like a warm duvet on the coldest of winter days, his scent wrapping around my soul, squeezing tight, comforting. He's so familiar now, it feels so normal being close to him like this. So much so that I ache to hold him right here for hours. Forever, even. 

Maybe it's the dim lights in the kitchen, the dark night filtering in from his balcony windows. But when he moves backward, he doesn't go far.

He hovers near me, his hand still pressed into the counter beside me. He's close, very close. Closer than he's ever been, I think. 

I map the curve of his lips, my eyes drifting to where the deep scars elongate and change the shape of his mouth, dragging up his cheek and to his eye-- the eye that I can clearly tell is a prosthetic now that he's so close. It looks so similar to his real eye that I genuinely couldn't tell the difference before. 

"You have freckles," I whisper upon noticing them, my voice barely above a whisper. Before I can stop myself, I lift a hand between us and gently run my fingertips over his skin, tracing every little light spot along his nose and cheeks. 

His eyes glance back and forth between mine in my peripheral vision and at the same time, a light pink dusts his cheeks that I'm so focused on. He swallows, licks his lips. Unable to form words.

He opens his mouth, almost like he's thinking of saying something, but he doesn't. He simply lets out a breath, delicately holds me in his gaze.

I let my hand drop between us, marveling at the feel of his soft skin beneath mine. I don't want to make him uncomfortable though, I'm already ogling him enough as it is.

At the realization that I really am looking at him so hard, I tilt my head down, dropping my gaze. After what that awful woman texted him tonight, I doubt he wants to be looked at like this. Picked apart, observed. The point of this is to help him, not point out everything he probably hates about himself. Though, there really is nothing to hate. The me from a couple months ago would passionately object to that statement, but that's past-me for a reason. 

Things change. I changed. Sal's changed.

My breath catches in my throat when his hand presses against my cheek, using the leverage to tilt my head up again. To look at him.

My heart leaps in my chest and I'm unable to breathe when I notice his dilated pupil, feel his thumb gently rubbing my along my jawline. His eyes track his digit's movements, but I can't even be bothered to look away from him. I'm bewitched by his fascination with me, haunted by the calm expression on his face, the wonder in his eyes.

His thumb drags down from my cheek and to my mouth, skimming over my top lip, then the bottom. I feel skittish, burning to move some part of my body to release the energy pent up inside me.

His tongue runs over his bottom lip, entranced by my own mouth.

And if he were to actually try to kiss me this time, I wouldn't stop him.

A low hum spreads throughout my entire body upon acknowledging our situation and the tension that's suddenly filled the air. It's a tingling in every limb, down my spine, up to the very tips of my fingers and toes. I feel him everywhere even though he's only touching my face. I can see him so well, so easily. The slightly darker shade of his left eye and the golden flecks of stardust in his right eye. Pretty. So pretty.

"So pretty," he murmurs my own thoughts. Something about the way he says it, so unguarded and adoring, makes me think I wasn't supposed to hear it.

I don't know how to reply or if I even should. I simply watch him like I have been all night, feeling oxygen and rationality leave me with each prolonged second of this somewhat embrace of ours. We've found ourselves like this more than once today, could we possibly escape it again?

I feel so light and heavy at the same time, thrumming with energy but weak. The feeling of his skin, so cool against my flushed skin, is enough to have my mind racing but to make my body completely freeze. I'm stuck. There's so much... so much that I want to do with the way he's looking at me this way, but I can't make myself do it.

I don't quite realize how close we've suddenly gotten until his nose bumps my mask's. A quiet gasp leaves me and his eyes dart up, gazing into mine.

He's fighting himself and I can tell, the quick scrunch of his eyebrows gives everything away.

Things are really about to change-- again. As if they hadn't already.

There's something startling about the way his eyebrows draw together again, but this time in a pleading way, like he's silently willing me with his mind to pull away from him. Begging me to put a stop to his internal madness. To change his mind. His doe eyes look a little scared and a little dedicated– two very different emotions that just so happen to go hand-in-hand for the moment. 

The way he's looking at me... it's been so long since anyone has looked so pleasurably torn up over wanting me so badly. And not in a lustful way, but in the way that forms bonds. Connects us so intimately without the goal of chasing an orgasm or being able to get something out of the situation. The way he's looking at me screams curiosity and a need to sate it so bad that he's not fighting the battle he wanted me to pull him away from moments ago. He's just slowly giving in and trying to convince himself that he's not.

I'm no better than him in this moment. My hands are balled into fists, my entire body frozen and awaiting whatever it is that's going to come next. My fingernails bite into my palms and my heart drums against my chest, wishing he'd move closer.

I didn't think it'd be this way. I didn't expect to crave him so badly, to miss the feeling of his lips on mine without ever having felt it before. It's excruciating to yearn for him in this new way and hope that he doesn't back out before I can even feel him.

As if he read my mind, he's moved so close that I can feel his breath on my chin, his top lip brush over mine.

I suck in a choking breath and hold it, praying this isn't all a dream.

"Aren't you scared?" He whispers quietly, his mouth skimming over mine with each syllable. His words echo in my mind, his tone caressing my thoughts, coercing me into falling into him and never getting up again.

"No," I whisper back, shutting my eyes and waiting. It's scarier to look at him and fear that he'll move away. Almost as if to lock him into place, I grip onto the hem of his shirt.

He goes quiet and I feel every one of my neurons lighting up with anticipation when his forehead presses against my mask's. 

"Push me away. Something," Sal whispers, the words so quiet and pained that I don't dare open my eyes to observe his current state. 

He knows. He knows this is exactly what he told me wouldn't happen, but now it's about to. And we should be realistic, think about the consequences but I don't want to. I just want to feel him, have him near. I want to be selfish.

I lick my lips, forgetting he's so close. My tongue swipes over his bottom lip and I hear it-- feel it when he steals a breath that tries to escape him.

"I can't," I answer him hoarsely, unable to raise my voice for him to hear me better as I squeeze the fabric of his shirt in my fist. Every bit of me aches to touch him, to feel his skin on mine but I can't muster up the courage, not when this entire situation is in his hands right now.

I won't choose for him today, not with what brought us to this. If he wants me, he can take me.

"Please." His word comes out in a broken whisper, so full of yearning that a little whimper escapes my mouth.

"Please," I mimic him, entranced by the featherlight brush of my lips over his. I can't keep doing this. I can't... "I can't think. Do it."

He lets out the most pitiful sigh I think I've ever heard in my life, and then leisurely presses his lips into mine. It's slow, soft, careful. He holds himself there, suffocates in the sensation just as I do.

Everything I thought I had lost so long ago comes rushing back into me. Excitement, life, a want for more than basic necessity. And for once, I don't feel bad. I don't feel guilty for wanting Sal as much as I do.

I place a hand on his stomach to remind myself that this kiss is real, that he's truly standing in front of me.

My touch was the trigger, I realize, when his other hand moves to my other cheek, pulls me closer to him. He tilts his head a bit as his jagged lips part against mine, softly welcoming the slanting of my mouth against his.

My throat feels as though it's clamped shut as I move a hand to grab onto the base of Sal's neck, my fingers wrapping around the collar of his shirt. I'm completely enraptured by the feeling of his mouth on mine. I feel like I'm going to faint, my heart beating so quickly, so vigorously that I can hear my blood pulsing in my ears. There's so much emotion that I've bitten down and hidden for so long regarding Sal. It's all coming out now.

Our lips move slowly, passionately. There's no rush, no heat. It's just feeling. Every movement, every moment of his lips sliding so delicately against mine, every ragged breath, every tightening of his hands on my face or my fingers bunching into his shirt. The feeling of our noses occasionally brushing against each other, plastic against damaged skin, and his chin skimming over mine just a bit. It's beautiful and so passionately smothering. The quiet morphs to mimic the simultaneous quick pace of our heart beats.

I feel the rapid beating of his heart like a drum right in the center of my chest where we touch, becoming one despite the heavy, loathsome origin story we were granted with. I'm sure he can feel just how much he's affecting me, his hand drifting over my neck and two fingers pressing against my pulse point like he did the first time we were together.

As sadistic as he is, I think he's only checking because he can't tell where his heart beat begins and where mine ends. 

Sal's lips close over mine again, the feeling eliciting a shiver that threatens to take over my entire being. I return his kiss, desperate to be closer to him in any way possible while my hand trails from his shirt to his cheek, brushing over the soft, scarred skin. 

He presses me against the kitchen counter, his hands beginning to roam past my face and neck as things gravitate from sweet to intense.

Our kiss becomes aggressive, his teeth biting into my lips and quiet breaths and whimpers passing from him and to me. He makes me feel crazy, filling me with exhilaration that courses through my blood quicker than adrenaline ever possibly could. 

Sal moves backward and I move to follow, but then his lips leave mine. 

I open my eyes, blinking up at him with barely an inch of space between our faces. 

He stares at me, looking like I've just torn him to pieces and hid every bit of him away and now he has to play eternity-long hide-n-seek.

But beyond that, his lips are flushed and kissed, his cheeks tinged pink and hair a mess-- when did I touch his hair? His eyes look a little brighter though, a little less haunted.

"Uh," he voices shakily. "Heat of the moment?"

He doesn't even sound like he believes himself.

The statement still makes my hopes deflate dramatically though. I chew on the inside of my cheek and force myself to look him in the eye as I lie to his face. "Yea," I rasp, taken aback by the sound of my voice. "Yea."

He watches me closely, never moving farther nor closer. As the seconds pass, he seems to sober up, the terrified look in his eyes slowly fading away.

If he decides this was a one time thing, at least I got to taste him once. At least we got one moment, one kiss. It's what I wanted and it's what he wants. 

Sal interrupts my thoughts, whispering, "You know..." One of his hands painstakingly and slowly trails along my side, making my skin erupt with  goosebumps. "I think we're still in the heat of the moment," he continues darkly, gaze falling to my mouth.

I don't let shock take control, I only try to control the smile that tries to quirk my lips. "I think so too," I whisper back, looking down at his teeth that bite into his lower lip like he's barely holding himself back.

As soon as he hears my response, he doesn't bother holding back. He smashes his lips onto mine and engages the two of us in the same dangerous dance we made the mistake of beginning earlier.

-------

A/N::::: BEEN HOLDING THIS ONE IN THE DRAFTS FOR A WHILLLLLLEEEEE I CAN'T BELIEVE IT'S FINALLY TIME-- LIKE I ACTUALLY CAN'T BELIEVE IT WHAT THE FUCK AM I GOING TO WRITE AFTER THIS

jk >:3

yea so as much as i adore this chapter, it also scares me because i feel like it moves way too fast (totally hasn't been nearly thirty fucking chapters ahahhaha). so yea, PLEASE let me know how we feel about this and what could have been better!

psa: i'm going to be starting student teaching august 1st, and college has me going to lots of meetings which means things are about to get VERRRYYYY busy for me… busier than they've ever been :( but!! i think things will be okay. lately, i've been teaching myself to fight through the lack of motivation and write any time i get even an inkling of yearning for it. exactly why y'all got this chapter so soon, actually! i saw something about how stephen king writes 5,000 words a day and i've been building to that! so while i won't be able to freely write as much as i know i'll want to, i'll still be writing. you guys know the drill though, even if it takes me a month or two to get something out, WINTER BREAK IS IN DECEMBER WHICH MEANS I CAN BEAT Y'ALL UP WITH CHAPTERS!!!

as always, i love you all SO much. more than you'll ever know. things have been tough on my mental lately and i'm going to be going through a HUGE shift in my life, but… that's okay cuz I know I'll always have you guys. thank you for being the most stable, non-toxic, and reliable things in my life! y'all going in my will fr

have a wonderful morning/day/evening/night my babies <3

p.s. when i wrote this note, i had just posted this chapter to wattpad-- which was about a week ago. the huge shift in my life had involved a six year relationship that i ended yesterday. i am incredibly torn up and shaken by this, but i believe it needed to happen for my wellbeing as well as my growth as a person. I know it's not necessarily an important thing to add to this note, but i want to give a reason just in case this healing process causes a prolonged absence for me. i am completely dedicated to faceless fixation and even today i've thought about what i want to write next, but i need to put some focus on myself instead of running away from my problems. thank you guys for being wonderful, i love you all so much!! until next time <3

[lemon-natalia]

Nona the Ninth Reaction - Chapter 23

Corona’s going along with both the deception that Nona is Harrow and that Harrow’s blind, so that seems to be a sign that she’s not going to fully rat them out at least

‘I’m only a Lyctor, a sacred fist and gesture holding the power of life and death’ Ianthe you are trying wayyy too hard rn

wait so the entire sixth house literally just lifted off of the planet and flew away, thats so fucking funny

and the plot thickens, Cassiopeia, in true Lyctor fashion, also had weird secret betrayal stuff going on. also again i love that her plan was apparently just to completely fuck off the moment things started going south

DUPLICITOUS SLUTS omfg Ianthe remains iconic

also from the sounds of it John isn’t doing so hot rn. who knew lying to and murdering multiple of your best friends would have emotional consequences

'this is not going down as a good day in my diary’ i want to read Ianthe’s diary, i bet its full of Cohort admiralty gossip

oh what the fuck is happening here with Nona’s weird bomb scream. it seems kind of like her tantrum, in the sense it’s an outburst she can’t really control. and her screaming affected necromancers like the RB’s do … if Nona is Alecto, and Alecto is the earth/souls of humanity (somehow?? idk) then it would make sense that she could understand/have similar abilities to the RB’s, which are also the revenants of dead planets

this feels like the most off-the-rails Ianthe’s been in a while. she’s overcompensating a lot about how she’s a glorious Lyctor and has all this authority, but in reality she seems very stressed. she's essentially gotten her dream job only to have to take on like 5 other people's jobs at the same time, eternal 22/23 year old experience

oh for Jod’s sake i cannot fucking believe the goddamn unfinished duels in GtN are actually being plot relevant again what is this

oh Cam and Pal definitely have a plan here challenging Ianthe. i mean the plan might just be ‘Camilla stabs Ianthe a lot’ but they’ve definitely got something up their sleeve. is Camilla-in-Palamedes gonna come back to overpower Ianthe in this duel or something?? i’m still horrifically anxious waiting for that to come back up

and now Corona’s threatening to kill herself, this is a very stressful chapter in so many ways. also you cannot say that Corona does not commit to the bit  

'watching Pyrrha’s eyes following it’ oh Pyrrha’s gonna get a gun for sure

Hot Sauce hit some other schoolkids with a car at one point?? this girl is something else

oh fucking shit Camilla’s gotten properly impaled. but Ianthe’s also just fainted?? they’ve managed to cut off her connection to Bab’s body … somehow? guess we’ll find out how next chapter 🤷‍♀️

[vorpalfae]

i'm omw back home now from the mental hospital i was sent to & i had my meds adjusted & i am meeting an autism life coach soon who i will be seeing regularly. i didn't even know that was a thing lol but i spoke with her on the phone & she's going to help me with a LOT of different stuff 💜 i feel a little bit better✨

the psychiatrist i saw told me that getting off an antidepressant so abruptly as someone with bipolar disorder and anxiety definitely made my emotions become more extreme. and they said i did the right thing by going to the emergency room when i did because having an impulse disorder like i have possibly could have caused me to really hurt myself. i definitely won't ever take lexapro ever again. i already feel so much better after getting my meds adjusted and also just started taking a 2nd one for anxiety. its only been a couple days but i already feel much more calm and less anxious. thank you to everyone who sent me kind stuff while i was away. i just needed a few days to get evaluated and remove myself from everything. and i'm gonna do my best to ignore anything and anyONE that makes me feel bad mentally. the psychiatrist gave me some really good advice and really helped me gain a lot of clarity about certain situations too. it definitely wasn't the same mclean i had gone to before. its changed so much and i'm grateful they sent me there this time even though i was terrified because of my experience in the past. they had an entire new staff there and i hadn't felt that calm in such a long time. it was much needed, and i'm not having any dark thoughts now. honestly i really didn't even feel like myself when i was thinking like that. i felt a huge sense of depersonalization mixed with despair and really bad anxiety. now i just have to force myself to keep practicing self care and prioritize my mental health more. even though i'm doing good in life physically i know i need to stop neglecting myself mentally. because i still have bipolar disorder and im still learning about myself now that i know im autistic. the coach i was referred to is going to help me with that so i'm relieved i won't have to do it alone because its all so overwhelming 😭

anyway, i'm doing much better now and i am just gonna keep focusing on moving forward and making progress with my mental health💜

[76blades]

I can no longer stay silent.

I always feel bad for venting out loud, whether it be publicly or to my Twitter circle (which I have been doing a lot lately, and I’m sorry if it’s been distressing (…my point exactly)). But things have not been ok, nor have shown any significant chances of getting better anytime soon. I know I’m gonna be beating myself up later for posting this, but I’m sick and tired and I can’t stay quiet. I’m desperate for change.

For those who don’t know, Winter’s family (and job) has been severely mentally and emotionally abusing her, and it’s not just because of her gender identity. They’ve threatened and harassed her over her showing any negative emotions, her body, her interests, the food she eats, you name it. Granted, it’s not my tale to tell, but it has been BAD as of late for her, and it definitely has affected me. I might be going through some similar stuff with my dad, but he’s nothing compared to them.

Speaking of, for those who don’t know about my dad, he’s a slightly better version of Winter’s parents; a well-intended asshole but still an asshole. He has caused me to question my sanity and safety several times, and he refuses to acknowledge my anxiety as anything serious, and believes it’s something I can easily control and/or an act I put on. He’s been trying to pull me into college even though I’ve told him several times that I don’t want to, and he’s told me several times that if I don’t follow his advice then I’m only gonna end up nowhere. He certainly doesn’t believe anything regarding Winter’s situation either, and views it all with rose-tinted glasses. 

He also demands to know my entire schedule for the week, that I laugh at his jokes or smile when I don’t want to; and he even touches my shoulders and back without my consent, and he’ll get mad when I express my discomfort. I was dreading having to move back in with him because I knew this would all be happening, only for it to be so much worse. I don’t even feel comfortable recording when he’s home because I’m afraid of him yelling and/or making fun of me. And yet, it’s funny and sad how he’s an absolute saint compared to Winter’s family.

Winter and I have been breaking our backs trying to save up for a new home, but our jobs have been cruel to us on top of our families. We’re being overworked and underpaid, and a good chunk of our paychecks goes towards food and travel expenses. And while we’ve been trying our best to push our comms, we’re still a far way from freedom.

I don’t ever want to come off as a beggar for money, attention, etc., and I feel anxious whenever I boost my comms because of that, and yet I also feel like that’s exactly what I’m doing here. But I need to be transparent with you all about my and Winter’s situation. I am truly afraid that one of might truly snap, with the little remaining of our sanity vanishing in an instant. Tbh I feel like that person is more likely to be me than her. 

Regardless, I’m unsure of what else to do right now other than to keep boosting commissions and whatnot (and I might make a Ko-Fi goal too, idk), but I want to keep finding affective (and healthy) ways to spread awareness of our situation and help bring us a few steps closer to where we want to be.

I know I’ve said that I feel like I’m waiting for a miracle that won’t come, but maybe you all could help us bring that miracle to life. Thank you all for taking time out of your day to read this and support us.

I will be attaching links to my comms and Ko-Fi, as well as Winter’s. If you have any questions or would like to consider commissioning us, feel free to DM or Email either of us.

TLDR: Winter and I are being abused. We're desperate to leave our perspective toxic environments, and we need some extra help.

My Commissions | My Ko-Fi | Winter's Commissions | Winter's Ko-Fi

[ametrictonofaudacity]

Hey I'm a huge fan and I saw you did a Stucky Yan dad and I was wondering if you write for Matt Murdock/Daredevil? If not it's totally cool but if you do could I get a Yan dad one with him and a reader he kinda just found one day, who has the ability to control others emotions? I love your DC work and didn't realize you also do Marvel so that's super exciting! 🥳

Absolutely!! I basically do everything on my rules list, and I’m sort of constantly adding fandoms and updating it lol 😅.

I think this is a super interesting ask, so thank you so much for sending it!

Warnings: snippet from yandere’s pov, blackmail and extortion to gain custody of a child, reader does not want to be there, themes of obsession and overprotectiveness.

When Matt closes the door behind him, the house would be entirely silent if it was for his enhanced senses. As it was, it takes only a moment of listening to reassure him that you were in the apartment, curled up in your bed as you so often were. The brown paper take out bag rustles in his grip, and he puts it on the counter, moving through the apartment and knocking gently on the door.

“(Y/N)? I brought home some food. Why don’t you come out and eat?”

The rush of apathy that floods his chest makes him wince, and he grits his teeth. Most wouldn’t be able to tell the difference, between your powers and their own emotions, but his training with the monks had taught him how to spot the mental or emotional influence of others. That didn’t mean he liked it, though, especially because you had very quickly tried to learn which emotions got him to leave you alone the quickest.

“(Y/N), the food is on the table.” He manages to grit out, before he retreats, sighing.

He could hardly blame you for not wanting to interact with him. As far as you knew, he was just some guy, who had swept into your life when you were at your lowest. Even though Matt had been nothing but patient, he knew well enough that you were scared. Why wouldn’t you be? Your entire life had flipped upside down, and this had been one of the more tame plans to get you somewhere safe and taken care of.

Not that you knew that. Although Matt suspected that you were, at the very least, suspicious of him. He wasn’t sure how in depth your powers went, whether you could sense the burning need he felt to keep you safe and out of harm’s way, but there were days when he simply couldn’t push it down. When the only thing that kept it at bay was going out as Daredevil and making the world that much safer for you.

He sets a pan on the stove, splitting his attention between you and his cooking. Foods with lots of spices, or even strong flavors, were often overwhelming to his tastebuds, thanks to the enhancement of his senses. Because you liked very heavily seasoned foods and strong flavors, he often had to cook himself a plate separate from whatever it is you were eating.

There’s the soft rustle of the covers, and he tries not to smile when he hears your bedroom door open, hears you quietly padding down the stairs to the kitchen. He keeps his focus on the pan, stirring the food constantly, and when you slip into the kitchen, you’re heart rate doesn’t go up. Good. You hadn’t thought he had noticed you.

There’s the rustle of a paper bag, and your heart rate spikes when he shifts, and he turns his head just slightly.

“You might have to heat it up in the microwave. There was an accident on 23rd street so I had to take a different route than my usual.” That has been…inconvenient. He had spent the entire walk back to the apartment anxious and tense, worried that someone had managed to sneak in or you had managed to sneak out.

“Thanks. I haven’t eaten today.” You mutter, and he feels you try and shove away the concern that wells up in his chest. It doesn’t work, and he sends a frown in your direction.

“You need to eat. It’s important you take care of yourself.” He moved the pan off the stove, and grabs a plate, setting his plate with a hum.

“I take care of myself. I just wasn’t hungry.” You say defensively, and he sighs. He had forgotten that you didn’t exactly respond well to being shown concern.

“So when am I starting back up in school? No offense, but this apartment has been driving me crazy.” You huff, and Matt nods, going to sit next or you at the table.

“It shouldn’t be too long. It’s difficult to find a decent school in Hell’s Kitchen, much less one we can afford, so in the meantime I spoke to your old school and managed to set it up that you would be attending online. Shouldn’t take more than a week or two.” He explains, taking a bite of his food.

While Matt did want you in school, he knew full well how important it was, it wasn’t the school that was the issue. It was the safety. How would he get you to and from school safely, what neighborhood was it in, what were the students and teachers like. Every factor and aspect went into whether or not he wanted you going to that particular school, and so far, all of them had been failing to meet his standards miserably.

You frown, and he shoves down the concern and the frustration and the overwhelming urge to protect. Your heart rate has picked up, your scent sharpening with the beginnings of adrenaline being released, and he needed to get a handle on everything before he managed to frighten you so badly that you decided to run off.

“Matt… can I ask you something?” You start hesitantly, and for some reason, your heart rate picks up even further. He nods, and he can smell the sweat that you wipe on your jeans. He does his best to come off as calm, and to be as disarming as he can.

“Of course you can. What is it?” He asks gently, and he hears your heartbeat slow, which makes him smile, just slightly. He was glad he was able to help, even just a little bit.

“Do you.. know? About me?”

It doesn’t take a genius to realize you mean about your powers. He nods, and he feels your breath hitch, heart rate picking up so quickly it makes alarm race through his veins.

“I knew since I met you. I didn’t want to rush you into telling me, or make you uncomfortable by telling you.” He explains softly, and your heart rate begins to slow.

“You knew… does that mean you knew when I was.. messing with you? To get you to go away?”

“I did, yes. I’ve worked with a lot of super-powered individuals, including some psychics and empaths.”

“And you weren’t mad?” You sound almost challenging, and he exhaled through his nose, trying to figure out just how to word what he was about to say.

“I was, for a bit. It’s never fun for anyone to be in your head, or tampering with your emotions, and I felt.. uncomfortable. But I also understood why you were doing it. You were scared, and angry, so you were defending yourself the only way you really knew how.”

“How do you know that? How do you know it was just that, and I’m not some.. some jackass who does it for fun?” You challenge, and you are terrified, panic in your scent and he feels the vibrations from your shaking in the floor and hear the speed of your heart.

“Your whole life had been turned upside down in a matter of days. I would be angry and upset to.” He says it gently, and for a second, fears that he said the wrong thing when he smells the salt of tears and something like grief.

He gets up when you start sniffling, and he feels you jolt at the warm hand on your shoulder. For a second, he considers telling you about his own powers. About the senses, and how he lived in a world on fire. He decides not to.

Instead, he just sits with you while you cry. The kitchen is silent beyond your sniffling, and when he finally wraps his arms around you, you lean into his arms and sob, burying your head in his chest.

You don’t notice when the arms around your shoulders tighten, and you don’t notice the way the tiny feeling of victory curls in his chest.

Matt promises himself that he is never going to betray this newfound trust. He wouldn’t let himself.