#the only nightmare would be if people actually like it and it somehow sticks as characterization but

[robocops-a-christ-allegory]

Im more angry about the “Making changes to a comic book character in a adaptation is normal and people angry about it just dont get it!” page in the Peacemaker miniseries because

1. You cannot convince me there were enough people genuinely mad about the changes made for this page to read as anything but making up a guy to be mad at

2. The changes made to Peacemaker for the show were mostly things like updating his backstory so it would make sense in 2022 and other inconsequential stuff. I dont want those changes forever in the comics just because I think his comics specific lore would be interesting to explore, but he’s still the same character and them being a thing in a Show is fine

3. Peacemaker is one of those characters who gets a soft reboot everytime he shows up in something. Its literally happening right now even though hes appearing in alot of stuff: hes different in doom patrol then how he was in suicide squad and Im sure hes about to be different in the green arrow miniseries too. He was different in blue beetle and even his stuff written all by the same writer kept having changes thrown in in between appearances, not to mention the version of Peacemaker everyone writes and knows of now is literally a reboot thats a parody of the way he used to be. Like whats the point.

[astralis-ortus]

spoiled

✱ boyfriend!bc x gn!reader

— it really is in the little things he does.

w.count → 0.5k genre → slice of life, fluff notes → chan referred to as chris, reader referred to as babe, teeny weenie kith a.n → been feeling sappy whenever i see chan, and what’s the best cure if not to write about it♡ ⋆ if you're enjoying my stories, do send me a ko-fi ⋆ see masterlist

growing up, you never really thought much about relationships.

well, it's not like you had the breathing room to do so anyway—with your parents' strained relationship and the way education had taken over the role as your safe space, the thought about crushes, falling in love, and jumping from one relationship to another like people around your age had resembled more like some faint, annoying whispers from the nether world rather than something you needed to experience as a young adult. instead, your goal revolves simply around graduating, getting a good job, and sticking with that—nothing more, nothing less.

well, that's exactly what you've managed to do so far…

with some minor adjustments.

"babe, do you want—oh, you're about to shower?"

you stopped a few steps from the door of the bathroom, eyes finding your boyfriend's curious pair just beyond the bedroom door while your arms hugged the fresh pair of pyjamas and a fluffy towel chris had bought for you a few months prior, right before your first sleepover at his place.

it still feels wild to you, the way chris just popped into your life one day and somehow managed to stay. the fact that you let him? even wilder. never in a million years would you ever thought you'd walk into your first and somewhat of a serious relationship not long after landing your first actual job, fresh out of university.

"yeah," you nodded, repeatedly blinking your eyes out of habit, "do you need to go? i might take a while since i'm gonna wash my hair."

"no no, i'm good," he replied, no longer looking at you when he turned busy, fumbling away at the cabinet under his kitchen sink, "but wait, there's something i want—found it!"

the curiosity in your eyes turned into sparkles of surprise when you noticed the rather familiar bottle in chris' hand as he heads over in your direction, sweet pair of dimples decorating his proud, cheeky smile.

"i got that body wash you said you wanted to try," handing the green colored bottle, chris lightly scrunched his nose alongside the click of his tongue, "kinda unfortunate—i was going to surprise you with it, but you beat me to the shower."

it's at times like this when you feel like your life in the past year has merely been a series of lucid dreams—when he looked at you with so much tenderness in his eyes, when he treats you like you're his entire world and more, when chris went out of his way just to prove that he meant everything he whispered in your ears between the ungodly hours of the night as he held you close when nightmares crept its long and sharp nails around your neck.

chris' affection still feels like a fever dream, and you don't know if you deserve to be at the receiving end of it at all.

"you're seriously spoiling me way too much, christopher," you finally chirped a response, mirroring your boyfriend's nose scrunch whilst keeping your unspoken worries locked away, "but thank you. i promise i'll use it well."

"i know you will," the dimpled smile made its way back to your boyfriend's features, igniting the familiar fuzzy feeling in the depths of your chest, and its rumble only grew louder when chris leaned in, faint scent of vanilla greeted you as he stole a peck from your lips,

"you know that's why i love spoiling you, right?"

©️ astralisortus, 2024. | likes and reblogs are highly appreciated♡

[steddieas-shegoes]

take my hand, we'll make it i swear

for @steddielovemonth prompt 'love is a hand reaching out'

rated m | 2,343 words | cw: blood, injury, temporary character death, nightmares | tags: coming back barely right, post-vecna, realizing feelings, getting together

🖐🏻🖐🏻🖐🏻🖐🏻🖐🏻🖐🏻🖐🏻🖐🏻🖐🏻🖐🏻🖐🏻🖐🏻🖐🏻🖐🏻

Hawkins has been torn apart for eight days. Eddie's been dead for eight days.

Everyone's been mourning for eight days.

A week doesn't seem like a long time until you're in the throes of the world ending and a group of teenagers mourning one of their friends. A week starts to feel like a year when all you've done is cry and hope for any other ending than the one you got.

Steve was just trying to be there for them, be there for the people who didn't run from Hawkins, and somehow still take care of himself. It wasn't going well.

He'd barely slept more than a few hours at a time, and that sleep was anything but restful, nightmares invading his mind from the moment he closed his eyes to the time he woke up in a cold sweat with gory images seared into his brain.

One in particular had happened three times in a row now: Steve was walking in the Upside Down, searching for something but he didn't know what. He'd be surrounded by demodogs and demobats, but none would attack him. He'd keep walking and walking, yelling something he was unable to decipher. Eventually, he'd see a hand sticking out of the ground. A very recognizable hand, one that he'd last seen covered in blood, his rings no longer a shiny metallic, but a dirty and dull gray. When he tried to reach for the hand, it disappeared. He woke up.

And then he pretended he hadn't just had a nightmare about Eddie.

Robin saw through it. She made him talk about it, said the only way to get through it was to talk and actually receive comfort.

But so far, it wasn't helping.

The nightmares got worse.

By day 12, he was convinced Vecna had managed to get into his head.

By day 18, he was so sleep deprived, he started sleep walking. Robin insisted on staying with him to make sure he didn't try to drive or walk into the road or something.

It was bad.

And then suddenly, on day 19, they just. Stopped.

He didn't dream at all. In fact, he slept for nearly seven hours with no movement at all.

Robin figured maybe his body was just so exhausted, it finally gave up on torturing him. He figured she might be right.

But on day 20, things got weird.

He was awake, he knew he was.

He was sitting in his car with the radio on low, staring out at the only place not touched by Vecna and the Upside Down: the quarry.

It was quiet other than the radio, which is why he jumped when the radio suddenly flipped to a different station. White noise filled the car as he tried to put it back to his usual station, but then the car just...shut off.

His keys were still in the ignition, but the car wasn't running.

A technical problem was the last thing he needed right now; All the mechanics had left town and he wasn't very handy with anything except changing a tire.

But then it started up again, the radio on the right station, and nothing seemed to sound or look wrong.

"Okay then," Steve said to himself. He gave it a minute to make sure it wouldn't shut off again before putting it in reverse and leaving the parking area. He could try to take a look at it at home.

But when he got home, Dustin and Mike were in his driveway waiting for him, pacing, looking far too worried.

"Where've you been?" Mike asked.

"We've tried to get you on the walkie for an hour!" Dustin whined.

"I was busy," Steve said. "What's wrong? Is everyone okay?"

"El said she felt something," Mike spit out. "She said it's not Vecna, but it's powerful, or at least seems to be."

"Mindflayer?" Steve asked.

"Don't think so. Will didn't feel it."

Steve gestured for them to throw their bikes into his trunk so they could go back to El and find out more of what was going on. He decided not to say anything about the weird incident with his radio for now, wanting to hear what El suspected about things before he worried people for no reason.

When they got to Hopper's cabin, still in quite a bit of disrepair, but livable, El was drinking a glass of water on the couch, pale and eyes constantly moving from person to person.

"Sorry, we had to wait on Steve to get back from whatever he was doing," Mike rolled his eyes as he sat next to El and reached for her hand.

"It is Eddie."

The room was silent as everyone processed what El said.

"It can't be," Hopper said, though softer than he would normally. He knew the kids were still having a hard time. "Steve checked his pulse. Nancy checked his pulse. He lost so much blood. It's-"

"You know better than to say impossible," Joyce spoke up from her spot next to Will. "With everything we've seen, impossible is an impossible word."

"But he wouldn't be human if he was alive. And we couldn't really know if he was on our side," Hopper said to her. "We can't trust anything that comes out of that place, even if they have the face of our friends."

"So you do not trust me?" El asked.

"Or me?" Will asked.

Hopper sighed. "No, that's different."

"It's not that different," Will said. "I was down there for a week and everyone thought I was dead. We all know I have a connection to the place. Eddie may just be like me."

El suddenly stood. "We must go to him. He needs our help."

"El-"

"I am going. Steve?"

Everyone's eyes shot to him, his face turning a bright red.

"You have seen him in your dreams. You know where to find him."

"Uh..."

"You can take me and Hopper to him. I can't see him, I can only sense him."

"Uh." Robin shoved at his shoulder. "Okay, yeah. I can try. But they were just dreams. They might be wrong."

"They are not wrong."

So, despite Steve's promise to himself that he would never go back into the Upside Down without the help of the entire military, Steve held his bat in one hand and El's hand in the other while Hopper walked behind them with a flamethrower ready to go.

He didn't think about where he was going, he just walked.

They had a walkie with them for communication, but told everyone to stay silent unless there was an emergency topside. El assured them there wouldn't be, but she wasn't always right.

Steve felt goosebumps on his skin as they approached a more dense wooded area. If you looked hard enough, you could see the trailer through the trees, but it was unrecognizable, somehow even more dilapidated and gross than the last time they were down here.

El squeezed his hand, but nobody spoke.

They walked further.

It started to feel like one of his nightmares, the darkness and thickness in the air starting to weigh heavy on his chest.

But a small movement caught his eye, and before he could even think it through, he pulled away from El and ran towards it.

A hand.

It was his hand.

Eddie's hand was reaching over a fallen tree, just as bloody and dirty as Steve's nightmares showed.

God, why hadn't he said something to El? Why had he thought they were only nightmares? He knew better.

"Eddie!" Steve said as he cleared the trunk of the tree, nearly landing on Eddie's body. "Shit, Eddie. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

Steve wasn't think about this being a trap, wouldn't even care if it was. It was Eddie. He was alive, or at least a form of alive that they could get him out of there, and that was the only positive thing that happened for weeks now.

"Steve." Hopper's voice was right behind him, and El was standing just on the other side of the tree. "Back up. He could be dangerous."

"Shut up! He's barely alive, Hop! He needs help."

Steve was working quickly to check over where the injuries looked the worst. But everything seemed healed, all the blood on him dried and some of the smaller bites already scarring over. But he looked incredibly thin, dangerously thin, and there were dark circles under his eyes as his hand started to reach for Steve shakily.

Steve grabbed it, didn't want him doing more than he could handle. "It's okay. You're okay. We're taking you home, okay? I'm not letting you die here again."

"Didn't die the first time, Stevie," he whispered, his lips curling into a smirk.

Steve let out a disbelieving laugh that tried so hard to be a sob. "I guess not, huh?"

"Don't know if I can walk," Eddie said.

Steve looked to Hopper, who gave one small nod.

He turned back to Eddie. "Anything bleeding?"

"No."

"This probably won't be fun."

"What-"

But Steve's arms were under him, lifting him, carrying him before he could finish his question.

"Didn't think you'd sweep me off my feet like this," Eddie joked breathlessly.

"How else would I have?" Steve played along.

Or maybe he wasn't playing. Maybe the reason he couldn't get Eddie out of his head even in his sleep was because there was a connection. Maybe he was here because he actually cared about Eddie, not about the way the kids mourned him. Maybe Robin was right about expanding his horizons.

"I dunno. Kinda figured I'd actually die before you got here."

"What do you mean?"

"Did you see me in dreams?"

El was following right behind them, probably listening to everything. Steve nodded as he kept walking the way they came.

"I felt this pull. I dunno how to explain it, man." Eddie coughed and it wracked through his entire body, almost causing Steve to lose his balance. "Sorry. Um, but like, I kept seeing flashes of you. Not anyone else. Just you. And if I thought about you hard enough, I could almost like...sense you?"

"Me? Why me?" Steve looked to El for an explanation.

"I do not know," she replied.

"I thought I was just crazy. Like, the crush I had on you shouldn't be enough to cause this."

"You had a crush on me?"

"Have, present tense, Stevie. Kinda hard not to when you're carrying me out of here like a bride on her wedding day," Eddie's eyes closed as they got closer to the gate in the road they used before. It was the only one marked safe by the entire group. "Hurts."

"What hurts?" Steve ignored everything else for now.

"Everything."

"I'll fix it, okay? Just a bit longer."

Eddie passed out less than a minute later after a whine left his mouth and his hand curled into Steve's shirt against his chest.

******

When he woke up again, Eddie was certain he died for real.

20 days in an alternate dimension puts things into a different perspective.

Steve Harrington was next to him, in a large bed, a bed that was definitely not his in a home that was not his. He wasn't in a hospital, at least not the one in Hawkins.

"Shit, Eds. Hi. Hey." Steve scrambled to sit up as quickly and carefully as possible. "How are you? I mean, obviously not great, but like, does anything hurt more than anything else? Are you bleeding? Shit, I was supposed to check while you slept and didn't."

"Steve. Jesus, man, it's okay." Eddie huffed a laugh. "I feel better than I have in a while."

"Good. That's probably the fluids and drugs we've been pumping into you for two days," Steve smiled apologetically at him, like he had to apologize for taking care of him. "You were out of it when we made it back. Hopper made the kids leave."

"Did I say something?" Eddie had no memory of getting back to... "Where are we?"

"Oh, this is my house. Safest place for you right now. Close enough to everyone if there's an emergency, but far away from where most people who stuck around Hawkins are living that no one will see you." Steve shrugged. "Joyce comes three times a day to check on you. I stick around the rest of the time."

"You've been here for almost two full days just...watching me?" Eddie should be uncomfortable with that, at least a little. But he should be a lot of things that he isn't.

"Making sure you don't die, mostly. Keeping the IV fluids switched around at night. Um, changing the bag," Steve looked down at his lap, face bright red.

Eddie realized exactly what he was talking about the moment he moved. "Jesus Christ. You've changed my pee bags? Just let me die. I can't go on like this."

Steve giggled. "It's not a big deal, Eds. Just part of taking care of you right now. Since you're awake, maybe Joyce can get rid of that on her next visit."

"Maybe she would do me the honor of killing me so I don't die of embarrassment."

"Eddie-"

Something about Steve's voice made him look up.

He reached his hand towards Steve's, suddenly not caring about the embarrassment at all.

"Steve, I'm okay. I promise. My pride may be wounded, but I will survive," Eddie said quietly. "You got me out of there. You did what I needed you to do. You did good."

It was easy to hold hands for the next hour while Steve caught him up on what happened.

It was easy to hold hands when Joyce came by and Eddie experienced more embarrassment at the realization of what she'd have to do to remove the pee bag.

It was even easier to hold hands as they both fell asleep in Steve's bed, finally finding rest without nightmares and without the threat of the Upside Down immediately surrounding them.

[sapphic-agent]

I feel bad for Mitsuki. She has a parent's worst nightmare to raise, and people are legit calling her abusive because she doesn't worship the ground at Bakugou's feet.

Maybe I'm a bit biased, because she reminds me of my stepmother. Her family spoiled her son rotten (he was never as bad as Bakugou, but he did have some severe behavior problems that alienated him from a lot of people), and she was the only one trying to instill rules and discipline in his life, which made her the bad guy in many people's eyes.

Someone tried to make the case that Mitsuki and Katsuki (calling them both by their given names for this ask) are both horrible and abusive and I'm like no way José.

Compare Katsuki's introduction to Mitsuki's. One of them is inherently painted to be more cruel and callous and it isn't Mitsuki. In fact, I'd say that Mitsuki is actually a lot more friendly. She didn't get hostile until Katsuki did. Calling her abusive from what we've seen when she did it in front of his teachers and they didn't say a damn word is so... Disingenuous? I don't even know what to call it.

A playful tap on the back of the head is not physical abuse. If her intention has been to actually hurt him, this would be a different story. But it isn't. She wasn't even upset during the first hit, so what about that screams abuse?

I'm not averse to saying that Mitsuki could be verbally abusive. But even then for me, it's more like she's careless with her words than intentionally cruel. Like when she says, "Oh hush. This wouldn't have happened if you hadn't gotten kidnapped and caused all that trouble." I sincerely doubt she actually means, "It's your fault you got kidnapped." To me, it's more like, "You were careless and other people are suffering because of it so get off your high horse."

Because as much as I agree that the LOV's actions (and UA's negligence) are not on Katsuki, he very much was careless and that contributed to him getting kidnapped and putting his classmates in danger. Which also was the reason everyone had to uproot their lives and move into the dorms. I think Mitsuki is trying to make him more humble and aware of how his actions affect others by saying this. I don't agree with how she communicated that, but I sincerely doubt her intention was to be cruel.

The problem is that Katsuki stans take one scene and run with it. But they also somehow miss the part where Mitsuki thanks Aizawa for sticking up for him and humbly asks him to make him a good hero. She even playfully ruffles his hair and he doesn't pull away. An abusive mother wouldn't care so much about her son's dream.

This same scene also implies that she regrets letting adults feed Katsuki's ego because she knows it made him worse. That's probably why she's harsher on him now, because she's aware that the temper of a 4 year old and a temper on a 16 year old are two different things and doesn't want him to continue to be violent and temperamental into adulthood. She's doing damage control the best she can.

That's probably why you relate her to your stepmother (who sounds awesome btw). Because you see a woman who's getting hate for trying to correct her violent, bigoted son's behavior before it escalates.

(Female Katsuki stans are such boy moms. No one can say or do anything to their precious Kacchan and nothing is ever his fault because he's just a poor child who doesn't know any better so who gives a fuck about his victim)

[scoobydoodean]

Dean starting off 7.05 having nightmares about 1) Cas walking into the lake 2) Sam going crazy in the warehouse shooting at nothing 3) His conversation with Amy about past actions being a pattern you will always come back to, right before stabbing her.

I’m already so tired of hearing about Amy in early season 7 and it’s only been two episodes. Fuck her suburban mom schtick that she uses to justify remorselessly murdering addicts. I simply don’t feel bad for her at all and the idea that it was all a one time thing is absolutely laughable to me given she felt absolutely zero remorse for anything. But I do think she represents something deeper for Dean—the idea of an inescapable destiny. It will always end bloody or sad or with you becoming the monster higher powers told you you’d be. When Dean tells her "You are what you are" he's talking about Cas, and he's talking about Sam, and he's talking about himself. They will never escape. They will never be okay. Their world will always be full of blood and death and mistakes and all of them taking turns going off the deepend.

It’s a defeatist attitude in keeping with his depressed state and the range of emotions he was feeling in 7.04 when Osiris saw the delicious levels of guilt Dean puts on himself (most of them completely illogical—like it being his fault that Jo became a hunter, or that Sam would somehow still be at Stanford if he hadn't asked him for help finding John over a single weekend). Osiris targets guilty people because he has a type like any most other serial killers. The situation with Osiris also illustrates the differences between Dean and Amy even though Dean sees both of them as monsters. Osiris only targeted people who felt bad about the things they'd done. You could murder 1000 people in cold blood and if you didn't feel bad about it, he wouldn't give a damn. The guilt was delicious to him, and that guilt is something Amy utterly lacked... and also something Sam claims to lack (though I don't think Sam's low level of guilty feelings actually sticks).

[akirayuri]

CSM rant. The tragedy of the Hayakawa family

The tragedy of Aki Hayakawa was not only his own, but also Denji's own suffering. What Makima did was to raise a dog. What She did was to build a foundation in which Denji could grow, flourish as a human being, using both Aki and Power as the core of this little dysfunctional rag tag trio, only to rip that away in the cruellest way possible. Destroy his home in front of his eyes, by his own hand.

Home is a person. Aki Hayakawa was already a gaping hole of loss and grief. And Power had no sense of what human connection feels like. They Worked as a perfect beat for Denji to bite into. For Makima, Denji was a dog and Power and Aki were the meat of an animal you fattened up to kill and feed the dog.

What was more disturbing is that, not only did she used Denji's own vulnerability against him, but also Aki and Power’s. She meticulously played her cards and chose those two as they work the best. When you are lonely for such a long time you simply try to grapple with whatever you can get your hands on. For Aki however, it was rather peculiar. He never really managed to cope with his loss. Which led it to fester and rot silently. He chose to keep the wound tender and burning as it would simply fuel his single minded death parade to kill the gun devil. But what he didn't expect was for him to feel so profoundly for each and everyone around him, he was still just a guy. He chose to build walls around himself, wear his cold anger on his face, to put on that unapproachable facade that led people to view him as a stoic jerk. But what he also wore was his heart on his sleeves. And somehow, some people choose to stick with him. Himeno being a prime example. The thing is, he lets people in without realising it. Because somewhere in him, he carves the connection.

And Denji, despite not looking like it, is highly sensible and empathetic when it comes to forming bonds and connection with people. It goes beyond his horniness but rather something that his teenage self also carves, the need for nurture and for a shoulder to lean on. Which is exactly what Aki is. He is stoic, he is a perfectionist and he knows how to take care of and nurture someone and to simply put, he is everything Denji needs in a guardian.

I guess I really want to talk about his sublit but prominent suicidal tendencies too. But let's save that for later.

With Power, it's something else but also not so different. The thing is, fiends also have empathy and feelings, they aren't exactly the heartless nightmare fuel that are often their devil counterpart. Power is kind of a different case then Denji and Aki. In where Denji chooses to shut his brain in order to make himself feel at home, and Aki simply ( trying ) to give his middle finger to establishing connection ( and failing to do so miserably ) Power is surprisingly open about it. She lets her emotions control the best of her. She is willing to bash Denji’s head open and probably get herself killed just to save her cat. And that openness is something that both Aki and Denji get more and more comfortable in. Power is selfish, she's a brat, but she cares. With her you don't have to pretend as she also has nothing to hide.

But Makima actually failed to fathom exactly how DEEP this connection between those three ran. And definitely not the outcome it will lead to.

And Denji himself as a person. Makima underestimated him a big time.

It's lowkey a fucking rant. I needed to proceed with the absolute psychological fuckary Makima dumped on those three unfortunate individuals. So yeah. It's kinda 'yap without any closure on sight ' kinda rant.

[howlsofbloodhounds]

ooooh interesting thoughts about stage 1. ironically, killer is his own worst enemy. i wonder if he just subconsciously goes into stage 2 as a defense mechanism so as not to think or feel about the things he's done. is he just constantly in stage 2 the whole time under cross' monitoring period? maybe he only lets himself be vulnerable in stage 1 around color.

and the selective amnesia!! oooooh the angst!! stage 1 doesn't have any idea about what's happening. is he dreaming? is he hallucinating? because color wouldn't do that to him, surely. i wonder if he sometimes thinks he's back in nightmare's grasp, and all the happy times he has with color are just happy dreams he has. that kinda implies that stage 2 is the one in the most lucid state, and i don't know what to think about it tbh.

also delta anon is so true. i'm imagining delta just holds color's shoulder and goes "i think we're gonna have to kill this guy", like the meme lol. i think cross wouldn't mind that either, but dream would be so disappointed so he would try the talk-and-rehab route. though, with this huge bump in the recovery road, i think most people in cross' advisory circle would suggest cutting killer from color indefinitely. at least until killer can actually accept help, which he truly needs. color needs some therapy after all this too, and it's really uncertain if he will forgive killer once he gets professional help and realizes objectively how much killer fucks him up.

~ crowshipping anon

damn :( (please dont kill him we need him alive for the angst and hopefully the healing process)

imagine this story from stage 1’s perspective. the confusion, the pain, the disbelief mixed with moments of relief. maybe he even just convinces himself all the good parts are a wonderful dream he never wants to wake up from.

..what do yall think was the most impactful or “severe” lessons. either that killer taught to color or color gave to him (with killers prompting). what was the worse punishment.

..did he make color punish him for showing emotion. like color comes to dread the mornings after taking care of stage 1 because st2 will immediately start provoking him to punish killer for daring to be upset or scared or in pain or for trying to get away from colors touch.

and did he stay in stage 2 throughout the whole monitoring process? i know hed definitely try, but did he succeed. was that apart of one of cross’ goals—try to coax him into stage 1, trying to pry some slimmer of truth of what’s going on in killers head. did color have to give tips and ideas on how to provoke it (or did killer come to a conclusion that color was commanding him to be in stage 1) (I wonder if that’s another form of punishment killer used to have with nightmare)

and will cross and killers’ dynamic develop with having to be in close proximity—especially when killer really fucking feels threatened by cross right now (doesnt help that cross is another connect to nightmare in killers mind).

how is colors therapy going? Will nightmare somehow learn word of all this and try to get in contact with color somehow—either just to mock him, offer to “take killer off his hands,” or even give tips on how to better handle killer…what if thats been happening for awhile even before cross and the others interfered. and its so disturbing how likeminded killer and nightmare can be even without having any contact.

what is the moment out of this entire thing that will stick with color the most. what is one specific part that he just can’t forget or stop thinking about

[batdiangelo]

Dionysus and/or Dionysus kids headcanons? If you do that, but it’s worth a shot:)

YES I LOVE DOING THIS, I HAVE SO MANY. thank you sooo much for this question dez!

okay so, Dionysus definitely cares about the campers and the camp itself.

It shows when he heals Chris Rodriguez from the bout of insanity, it shows when he grieves for Castor and asks Percy to look after Pollux.

I like to think his kids also care like that

they care so deeply for their close friends and family that it hurts sometimes

Dionysus can't show it normally anymore because he's seen so many hopeful kids get their spirits crushed.

he's also seen them die. countless times.

if gods could dream, Dionysus would be plagued with haunting nightmares.

Dionysus kids are really good with plants, but not as good as Persephone or Demeter kids

They're also the type of people who say "I listen to anything!" for music and they mean it.

They have the best outfits. Sorry, cabin 7, but their fits slay, hardcore.

that being said, Specifically Pollux has TERRIBLE style.

My OC Grayson's style is definitely also bad, he dresses similarly to his father (oof)

Dionysus leaves shirts and stuff in the cabin and somehow his kids are stealing them and wearing them better than him

He doesn't know where they get the style from

The cabin has all the best quality "Slime tutorials" of your favorite musicals. You do have to take some chores off their camp chore list to get the footage though.

can and will rant to you about Gender being a social construct while wearing clothes typically associated with the opposite gender

Grayson is genderfluid, and so while he definitely prefers masc terms and whatnot there are days he goes all out with dresses and skirts and he literally slays

Castor will definitely go all out with a skirt, but dresses are a different story.

Dionysus secretly encourages his kids to break the gender normality.

Dionysus is definitely also a hands on dad, He tries so hard to be there for his kiddos before they reach camp age

in my story, the twins are at camp as early as 9 years old, simply for two reason- hella powerful and bonding time with Grayson

but, Dio was there, giving the twins mother (I've named her Marryane Moncharm) any help she needed.

for Grayson it's a different story, so you'll have to read the story to see

but I digress

At camp, he's attentive with his children, listening to their issues, giving advice if they want it and a distraction if they need it.

He will, however, tell his children that silly drama is below him before helping.

Dionysus has a secret obsession with dad jokes

think Patton from sander sides, but way more disgruntled and gruff than typical.

Dionysus has made Zeus tell a dad joke without realizing it, and to this day, it is his best achievement ever.

Has a shirt that says "Dad jokes? I think you mean Rad Jokes." and will wear it unironically.

as for his actual cabin and how I picture it.... that's a whole different set of headcanons.

I've previously said I think the cabins got a major upgrade at the end of the titan war thanks to annabeth, I believe.

prior to that, Cabin twelve feels the most homely.

there's no big harsh lighting. only soft warm lighting.

the beds have the best bedding ever, like it's so cozy

lots of theatre memorabilia hanging up

uh, like that one guy from only murderers in the building, I forget his name but he had theatre stuff all over his apartment- like it was a lot

also, Dionysus definitely has like, his item of power hung on the wall in there because he Does Not Care™ and the only rule is no touching the insanely powerful pinecone stick (Thyrsus)

Cabin 12 to me is the physical embodiment of Noah Kahan's music if that makes sense.

there's a bunch of headcanons for you friend! I hope you enjoyed them!

[thehusbandoden]

Won't Let Go- Dabi x Fem!Reader

Warnings!: Pure angst. No happy ending, blood, major death, yelling, crying, argument, harsh words, not willing to accept death.

Umm yeah I have zero idea if I'm good at angst or not... I'll probably make an alternate ending for people like me, but until then I'm sorry.

I kinda rushed bc I wanted to keep my brain going.. it's unedited like usual too.. so sorry for the errors. I might edit it later.. but idk.

You and Dabi get into a nasty fight. You leave for some air, but get attacked by a fellow villain.

1,800+ words/Pure angst

It started simply, just another stressful day, and just another argument. Both of us hissing insults back and forth, hurting one another in ways only we knew how.

He made a jab at that one insecurity that no one knows about except him, and I jab at his incapability to take me out on a normal date. He then throws out a harsher, more personal insult, and I insult the fact that he can't properly provide for the two of us.

It went back and forth, words only get shaper and more venomous to the point where I'm in tears, and Dabi is still sneering at me. "DO YOU EVEN CARE!? YOU LOOK PSYCHOTIC RIGHT NOW!" I scream, e/c eyes locked onto his turquoise ones.

"NO! I DON'T CARE, NEVER HAVE, NEVER WILL!"

"DO YOU EVEN HEAR YOURSELF?!"

"LOUD AND CLEAR! YOU'RE NOTHING TO ME (Y/N)!" As Dabi's words sinked in, my tears continued to fall, increasing in speed. "Aww look at you. You're so sensitive " Dabi cooed, venom lacing his words.

As my anger grew my body started to shake. Standing up, I walked over to our shared closet. "You know what Dabi? I'm done. I'm done with how you hurt me, physically and emotionally, and yet I stick by your side, holding you during every nightmare as you burn me. You burn me to the point of tears, and yet I still hold you. You insult me time and time again, and yet I'm still there to hold you after a particularly nasty mission. I hold you when you need me, and yet I need you and your somehow entitled to shatter my heart? Enjoy life alone. I now see why you were alone, you only hurt the people that actually care about you." I seethe, pulling on a hoodie, making sure that it was one of mine.

"Where are you going?" Dabi chuckled, turquoise eyes hardened in anger. "Away from you. Just know that it's your fault that this happened to us." I reply, eyes tearful as I took one last look at the man I adored.

"Goodbye." I whispered. As Dabi moved to say something further, I walked out the door, closing it softly before leaving, much to Twice and Toga's confusion.

"(Y/n) chan! Where are you going!?" Toga asked, skipping over to my shaking form. I just ignored her, picking up my pace slightly. "(Y/n) chan?" Twice muttered, eyes focussed on my back.

I just continued forward, stepping outside into the rain. Sighing, I started walking forward, toward the alley ways, failing to notice the eyes on my tired form.

Dabi's P.O.V:

As the door closed, I immediately crumbled onto our shared bed, regret coursing through my being. I stepped out of line. Yes, so did (y/n), but I started it.

As I remembered the cruel words I said to my precious (y/n), I scoffed as I felt a drop of blood fall down my cheek. Shooting myself up, I yanked at my hair as I paced around the room, waiting for my precious (y/n) to come back.

After about forty minutes, I started to freak out. (Y/n) usually comes back after a 10-15 minute cool down, and then continued to ignore me until I brought her into my lap, kissing her softly as a silent apology.

She would silently forgive me, and we would go back to normal. It was unusual for her to be gone for so long. Pulling out my phone, I left her a text telling her to come back, before continuing to pace back and forth.

Reader's P.O.V:

I huffed as the villain in front of me searched for an opening to strike. Right as I started to head back to my precious Dabi, I was jumped by a fellow villain.

My arm was cut badly, my stomach ached from a kick, and my left eye was bleeding, which affected my sight immensely. As the man launched himself toward me, I kicked his groin, temporarily stunning him.

As he fell to the ground, I smashed his head into the ground with my foot before fleeing towards the bar, praying that I would run into one of my fellow colleagues. As I ran my stomach ached, and sweat stung my eye, but I continued to run, avoiding calling out due to my villainous reputation.

Right as I turned the corner to get to the bar, I felt a rough hand pull at my shoulder. "Got you." The man hissed, face right below my ear. I shivered in disgust, pushing against his masculine form in a vain attempt to get away.

"I'll bloody you up real good, and then I'll chain you out of your little boyfriend's window." The man sneered, dark eyes shining as he dreamt of Dabi's horror.

"You're sick." I spit, kneeing the man in his stomach. Unfortunately, the hit wasn't strong enough to drop him to the ground, and it only angered him further.

"You little-" I couldn't help but whimper pitifully as he stabbed a knife into my arm, spilling blood onto the concrete. "You'll pay for that." The man promised, twisting the knife in my arm, producing small whimpers from my shaking form.

Dabi's P.O.V:

I awoke with a start, looking around the dark room in confusion. I don't know what woke me, but I do know that something was terribly wrong.

Unlocking my phone, I went into a panic as I saw my text not being read after an hour or so later. (Y/n) always kept up with her texts.. what was going on?

Scrambling to our closet, I pulled out a black hoodie before slipping it on, pulling up the hood as I exited our shared room, rushing towards the door. "Where are you going?" Shigaraki rasped, light blue hair covering his eyes as he lightly scratched his neck.

Ignoring him, I made my way out the door, picking up my pace as I heard a commotion nearby. As I jogged around the alleyways, I started sprinting as I heard whimpering becoming closer and closer.

Turning a corner, my blood boiled with rage as I spotted my (y/n) on the ground, blood pooling under her quivering being. A man was standing next to her, glaring down at my (y/n) as he held his bloodied arm.

As I ran toward the pair, I freaked out seeing blood leaking from (y/n)'s chest quite quickly, staining her clothes. Burning the man, I made sure to keep him alive for later. Kneeling down next to (y/n), I panicked at the amount of blood seeping from her stab wound.

Reader's P.O.V:

Breathing heavily, I looked up at the wet form in front of me, only realizing it was Dabi as I heard his shaky voice call out to me. "D-Dabi..." I whisper, e/c eyes moist as I studied his face, blood running down his face.

"Don't talk! Save your strength!" He demanded, pulling off his hoodie to press to my chest. "Dabi.. are you crying?" I ask, pressing my thumb to the blood falling down his cheeks. "No! Now be quiet!" Dabi yelled, blood coming faster as his hoodie soaked up the blood way too fast.

Dabi's P.O.V:

Dread sunk in my chest as I absorbed the situation, realizing that unless I turned us both in, or found some miracle, she couldn't be saved. Pulling my precious (y/n) into my lap, I cradled her gently, rocking her back and forth.

"Dabi... I'm sorry." (Y/n) murmured, (e/c) eyes moist with regret. "Don't you apologize; don't you dare." I growl, hugging her tighter. "B-but I said some really horrible things to you..."

"And I said worse things! Just- just be quiet while I try and think!" As my thoughts ran wild the only thing I could think of doing is to take her to a hospital, but then we'd be recognized and earn ourselves a life in jail.

But, it was better than losing her. Swooping (y/n) up, I started to run towards the nearest hospital, trying to devise a better plan. I'd- I'd sneak in through a window, and single out a doctor. I'd first persuade the doctor with money, and than threaten them.

If that doesn't work I'll kill them and find another. That- t-that would work.. it has to work... As I solidified my plan I looked down to see (y/n) getting worse, her (s/t) skin was pale, and her gorgeous eyes were almost fully closed.

"H-hey.. open your eyes." I mumbled, freaking out. "(Y/n). Open your eyes!" I demanded, stopping to crouch in an alleyway as I heard sirens nearby.

"(Y/N)-" "Dabi... I'm sorry I tried to push you into sharing things you didn't want to share-" she stopped to cough up blood before continuing, "I'm sorry I said so many horrible things to you.. and I'm sorry for not being the idle partner for you.. please know that I love you.. and no. You don't have to say it back my Love."

As (y/n) forced her eyes open, dread consumed me as the light started ebbing away and they started to close. "Don't you dare apologize! You did nothing wrong! It was me, I was the one in the wrong! And I'm sorry! So, so sorry! You were, and are the perfect partner! And I love you, I love you so freaking much! So please... STAY WITH ME!" I screamed, blood leaking from my eyes and falling into (y/n)'s (h/l) (h/c) hair.

After a few seconds of silence, I pulled (y/n) away, just enough for me to look her in her eyes and hurriedly check her pulse. As I felt her still pulse my heart stopped. (Y/n) was dead.. the one person I loved was dead.. Desperately, I attempted to give her CPR, deep down knowing that she was gone for good.

As I labored to try and revive (y/n), I screamed on top of my lungs for her to come back to me. Failing to notice Twice, Toga, Kurogiri, and Shigaraki coming up from behind me.

After a few more minutes of my screams Twice came up and grasped my shoulder, tears falling down his face. "I CAN STILL SAVE HER!" I yell, shoving Twice away, causing Toga to frown and catch him.

"Dabi. She's gone." Toga murmured, tears staining her face. "NO! NO SHE CAN STILL BE SAVED!" I paused to desperately bring her into my lap, cradling her cold body to my chest, trying to warm her up.

Rocking us back and forth, I murmured sweet things to her, kissing her head gently. "OVER HERE!" A voice yelled, growing closer quickly. "Kurogiri." Shigaraki rasped, an unpleasant look on his face.

Kurogiri then silently transported everyone except me, (y/n) and himself. "Dabi.. you're coming." Kurogiri muttered, sending out a portal underneath me. I just hissed and cling to (y/n) tighter, hugging her still body to my chest.

Masterlist

Requesting Rules (requests open and appreciated)

Do not copy, repost, nor plagiarize my work. Ask before you translate or use my work in any way, minus reblogging.

[sea-salted-wolverine]

Had a weird nightmare about a cult

It was in a church, just an average protestant midsized church, you would expect boy scout meetings in the backroom kind of a place. I was there with some anonymous friend/ acquaintance, the pretty older girl from high-school who was popular and yet genuinely nice, her mom is friends with your mom, her family is well known and well liked, offending her would be social suicide not because of anything she would do but because everyone you know would take her side and grant her victim status because she's just so nice.

She had invited me to some function and I was going out of curiosity and obligation, which is the only reason I'm ever in a church anyways. I was guaranteed to know people there, in the same roundabout, you-know-people-I-know kinda way.

Because its about to be relevant, I'm wearing skinny jeans and a sort of blousey black tank top. I've also got black nail polish and thats a fully normal irl outfit for me. Maybe a bit casual for a Sunday-best style church function, but I was not under the impression that's what I was going to.

I show up and am promptly ushered into the coat closet because what I am wearing is completely unacceptable. (I'm calling it a coat closet because that's what it is, but the churches in my area all have a full sized room set aside for outerwear storage because for half the year everyone shows up in a full down parka and that takes up a ton of space)

Anyway, I'm like, "oh shit I didn't realize this was formal, I can run home and change if its okay that I'm a few minutes late, or if someone has a spare dress I'll wear that" which is also something I have done irl. No one ever tells me anything but I'm small and can cinch down big waistlines and make it look intentional that I'm wearing wildly misfit clothing. So like, the dream is getting weird but in the same way that my real actual life gets wierd.

So then she hands me what is fundamental the same thing I'm already wearing, a pair of slightly darker wash skinny jeans that are slightly higher waisted and with more spandex and buttons, and a black polyester/lycra cropped tank top, which is a shirt I've been looking for irl. And she's apologetic about it, as in, "sorry 😞, hope these fit, 😔 might be a little small"

It's a transparent body shaming attempt, because everything is a xs or a size zero, and meant to make you feel uncomfortable and ungainly in too small clothes, but its so badly executed that I just kinda roll with it, like, okay 🤨. Also I like the tank top.

So I change, and she's finding me a bag to stash my clothes in, and some dude sticks his head in the coat closet as I've got one leg in the new pants. And the whole thing feels so very staged, like I'm supposed to be embarrassed about squeezing into too tight pants in front of some acquaintances hot older brother. Either that or my brain is trying to set up some bad porno wet dream and none of the options are working.

Because the pants fit fine and if you have somehow reached adulthood and are scandalized by the sight of a thigh you're the wierd one for being raised under a rock by blind snakes. So I'm figuring out how to fit my phone and wallet into my waistband because these pants don't have pockets and trying to remember whats-his-faces name, I'm almost certain it starts with a j and I've definitely heard it before but I can probably get away with claiming I mixed him up with someone else and not be considered rude, Jacob? Jason? Jeremy? Jed? Oh wait, is he somebody's boyfriend rather than somebody's brother?

But now he's holding my hand and tut-tuting over my nails because I absolutely cannot have black nails, and wouldn't I prefer a nice dusty pink?

At which point I think I kinda woke myself up because the no rice on Tuesdays tactic of high control groups popped into my head, by name, as that specific phrase, and I went "hmm, yep, this is weird, gimme my shit I'm leaving"

But that only conjured up the first girls mom, complete with a really nice travel duffle with my clothes in it. So I'm yanking my clothes out of the bag, because if I take the bag and leave they're going to want it back and that gives them another opening for things they think you owe them. Anyways shes dissapointed in me, in that performative manipulation kinda way. She says something like if I wanted her daughters shirt I can just have it, heavily implying that I'm causing a scene and being an unreasonable bitch, at which point it occurs to me that it's fucking wierd that they have clothes this small at all because everyone in the building is at least 6 inches taller than I am.

Whats-his-face is still hovering and now he's got a hand on my shoulder thats meant to be reassurance and all I can think is wow you guys are really bad at this. I can hear people in the next room and I know they're people like, my grandparents friends and prospective employers and other important social connections and I need to get out of here without making a scene, which isn't gonna happen.

At some point I said Jesus Christ in the context of a frustrated curse word, which they all jumped on and said I needed to let the lord into my heart or some shit. To which sleepytime subconscious responded to with CAUSE A SCENE AND CONTROL THE NARRATIVE!!!

So I raised my voice loud enough to be heard in the other room and told the guy to get his hands off me or I would punch him in the dick. And because no one believes you when you tell them you're going to punch them in the dick he did not take his hands off me and was calmly and rationally requesting that I calm down and be civil so I followed through and punched him in the dick.

Committing physical violence in a dream always wakes me up, pretty much immediately, but I did get a few glimpses of storming out through a crowd, yelling about entitled pricks in closets and if anyone ever felt like leaving the cult I would give them a hand.

So yeah. What's your religious trauma look like?

[countrymusiclover]

4 - Just Ariyne and Finnick

Part 5

Are You District or Capitol?

Pretty please leave your thoughts in the comments 🙏 😁 ❤️ Tag list ( send an ask in my ask box to be added ) @lemonluvgirl @virtualsweetsdreamer @emma-andrea1 @voiddylanobrosey @kmc1989

@agentxx92

I wasn’t sure what time it was or how long I had been down in the training yard but I was beginning to get the hang of using some weapons if I got thrown in the arena. Holding the dagger in my right hand I sucked in a breath launching the blade into the orange hologram that came running at me. The hologram broke apart when it landed in his chest right before I heard Finnick speak behind me. “You're getting pretty good with those knives.”

“Yeah it seems so.” I shrugged my shoulders eyeing the trident hanging on one of the weapon stands. “So I’ve been told you're pretty good with a trident. Care to show me?”

He sent me a smirk of the usual capital charm. “Are you afraid that I'm not as impressive as they say I am?”

“I never said anything like that.” I shook my head no.

He stared at me. “But you're thinking it, blossom.”

“How do you know that?” I snapped at him.

Finnick picked up the trident walking back over to me, carrying it in his right hand. “Because I'm good at getting information out of people.” His ocean green eyes scanning over my facial features.

“I'll believe it when I see it.” I sniped, biting the inside of my lip. Before I could react he spun me around into his chest with my back pressing into his front and the trident stick pushing up against my throat. I shutter out his name, my hands were holding onto his wrists thinking I could stop him somehow. “Finnick-”

He leans his head down to my ear whispering. “Come up to my floor when we're done here and I'll tell you some of the things I found out.”

“Really you found something out?” I knew I had a hopeful tone when I responded.

His hot breath ghosted over my neck as we stayed that way for a second until the elevator door opened a few feet away from us revealing my father standing there. “I haven't lied to you since we've met - we'll work on your response time there, blossom.” He pushed me forward, lowering the weapon away from my throat.

My hair got thrown in my eyes so I pushed it away, sparing him a glance. “Finnick, I - I'll see you later.” I felt like I was at a loss for words never expecting he would actually be a man of his word. Maybe he wasn't like the other Carrier tributes. Just like maybe my mother wasn't like who my father said she was.

3 years ago

Laying in my bed I silently stared at the ceiling not being able to fall asleep. I had gotten used to my father sometimes waking in the middle of the night screaming. He also always kept q knife hidden underneath his pillow. I heard him get up and walk from to the kitchen so I decided to check on him. “Dad - uh are you okay?”

“Ari! Oh um - yeah I’m - I’m fine. I’ll be fine.” He croaked through some tears, raising a drink glass to his lips.

I slowly walked up to him, gently touching his shoulder. “You don’t have to be tough on me, dad. Is it - about me?”

“I just had a nightmare about my games. How much I hate the capital for what they did to my family. How much I wish I didn’t despise who your mother is.” He gripped the glass in his hands and his jaw was clenched when he grumbled.

I paused before asking my next question knowing he didn’t like to talk about it. “Who exactly is my mother?”

“She’s a snob in the Capitol. Thankfully we only have to see each other once a year!” He grumbled the last part under his breath.

I moved in front of him, bending down on my knees trying to make him look me in the eye. “Dad, I know you're not a huge fan of whoever my mother is. But I want to know, do you think I'll find love in a world where these games exist?”

“Ariyne, I wasn’t expecting for you to come into my life. But now that you have I can't imagine you not here with me.” He lifted his gaze up to meet mine, he used his freehand to cradle the side of my face. “So in my experience with the Games and everything else this world throws at us. You should always expect the unexpected.”

That evening I had told my mother that I wouldn't be eating dinner with my father and the others like I usually had been. I didn't bother telling my father where I was going considering he would most likely figure it out anyhow. Taking the elevator up to the 4th floor, I walked off, finding a door that said Odair on the outside of it, so I knocked three times, assuming that was a good enough signal that I was there. The door peaked opened with Finnick popping his head out. “Hey blossom, come on in.”

“I think we should set a rule about that nickname you have going for me.” Was the first thing I said entering the apartment hearing him shut the door and lock it. I slowly turned around hearing him enter the living room. “It's not that I hate it. I just wish you would call me by my - oh wow I would've figured you always wore low cut clothing.”

He was wearing some black sweatpants and a light gray shirt that actually didn't show off his nice brad chest. “That’s not the real me. It's all just for the show of the Games.”

“Oh, so who is the real Finnick Odair?”

He sent me a genuine smile that didn't look like his cocky one he usually wore. “I'll tell you if you tell me more about you, Ariyne Abernathy.”

“Finnick.” I giggled feeling my face turning red at his true words.

He gestured to the empty coach going to sit down on the furniture and I joined him sitting near him on it. “So tell me something about yourself.”

“My life is pretty boring to be honest. I have been hiding for basically my whole life.”

He gave me a sad look. “I’m sorry.”

“I haven’t had any of the firsts. First love, first date-“

He cut me off. “First kiss.”

“Yeah.” I nodded silently, staring at the district four boy. His sea green eyes focused on my gaze slowly leaning forward beginning to close the gap that was between us.

I blinked my eyes a couple of times thinking about whether or not I should kiss him. I’d never done anything like that compared to him at this moment. Biting my lip I scooted forward closing the rest of the gap we had before we finally kissed the other. Finnick kissed me slowly while moving one hand to the side of my face deepening the kiss until I drew back with a nervous smile. “At least now you’ve had your first kiss now, Ariyne.”

“Thank you, um - what did you find out about Snow and me?” I mumbled, being scared for the answer he would give.

He sat back running his fingers through his blonde curls taking a deep breath clearly feeling the weight of the conversation we were about to have between each other. “He’s planning on trying to throw you into the arena.”

“Anything else?” I asked, feeling a nervousness in the pit of my stomach.

Finnick parted his lips. “He found out about who your parents really are. My informants don't know how but that is what I could gather from them.”

“What am I gonna do. I - I've never even been in the Games before and now it's all former Victoria going into it. I'm - I'm gonna die the second that cannon goes off.” I began heavily crying burying my face into my knees when I hugged them up close to my chest.

He slowly wrapped his arms around my body tugging me against his chest. “Sshh Ariyne. That isn’t going to happen to you. I'll make sure of it.” He whispered running his freehand through my messy blonde hair.

I sniffed, barely lifting my head from his chest. “How are you going to manage that?”

“You let me worry about that, Ariyne.” He brushed hair away from my eyes with a half smile, kissing my forehead that I found rather nice in this moment of fear. “For now let’s just simply be Ariyne and Finnick.”

Laying my head down against his chest he wrapped his arms around my body once more, trying to imagine that the Hunger Games didn’t exist. “I’m glad you’re helping me, Finnick.” We just remained that way for a while. With any luck my father would be happy that I was finding some alliance with him.

[moosemonstrous]

(don't mind me cannibalising my own bits from before 😳)

Ghost Rider Pacific Rim AU - build your own nightmare

Yegor Ivanov is in charge of security on a large, well-appointed quasi-military base housing twenty thousand people – mostly J-techs and their families, but also a sizeable assortment of soldiers, scientists, medical staff, relief workers and support crew. It’s the most stable job he’s ever had. The general populace is just so grateful for the giant robots he deploys to fight the ever-nastier demons crawling out of the Breach, he barely has to pay any attention to the actual security part of it. His subordinates haven’t reported a single issue they couldn’t deal with themselves in years. His approval makes or breaks people’s careers. He has the respect of the international leaders for keeping Hong Kong off of their priority list. Somehow, in this beautiful, messed up world he managed to carve himself out an existence most people can only dream of. It doesn’t come without its share of headaches, though.

He has been pretty careful in building his strike team. He has the final word on every new ranger. He’s been saddled with a Stark from the very beginning, but while the current one is prone to sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong, there is a definite advantage to working with someone who can handwave away what would usually be weeks of financial advisory committees. That seems to be the balance of things – trade a tiresome but overall manageable personality defect for a fantastically useful professional benefit. If nothing else, Yegor is good at dealing with tiresome personalities.

Brooks is barely an effort – military history, some very helpful connections in the underground and, for the defect, as-of-yet undefeated idealism. He can't be trusted with the more... sensitive issues, but tends to stick to the point in meetings, which is why he usually leads on the tactical debrief. This, like most things, backfires as soon as Cho gets involved.

“We’re talking about positioning,” Brooks says. “We’ll get to the hindsight part later.”

“Not if you’re going to point fingers like that. I can’t tell for sure until I get the hide, but drone footage shows the scales opening under pressure, here, let me—"

“Gentlemen,” he interrupts before their argument devolves any further. “Before Mr Reyes loses consciousness, if you please.”

Reyes startles from where he’s been daydreaming in his seat at the table. Every now and then, when the light hits just right, his damaged eye seems to reflect it, like some sort of a nocturnal animal. Like he doesn't give Yegor enough creeps as it is.

There are vanishingly few advantages to having Reyes on the team, but Yegor only has himself to blame for this. Most of the old guard making decisions around Hell Charger’s fate ten years ago have either died or retired into obscurity; other than himself, there is scarcely anyone left to confirm whether the similarities he’s seeing are truly there or just a product of his imagination. Even the way he shreds the label off the bottle of water in his hands, a perfectly common nervous tick, or the way he fidgets like he can’t wait for the meeting to be over – everything is just a little too close.

Not to mention his uncanny overnight progress with martial arts. Or the way he used the chain to choke out a Cat-4 demon. The chain that, as far as anyone can tell, he never had any training with.

Eli was always so fond of his garrotte.

“Sorry,” Reyes mutters, and looks at the wrapper confetti in his hands like he’s only just noticed it.

“As I was saying,” Brooks shoots Cho an impatient glance, but if Cho can be relied on for anything, it is to switch his focus to the weirdest thing in the room and Reyes certainly matches that description. “The last three attacks confirm we need to shorten our approach time. The demons are clearly prioritising civilian targets over a head-on fight with the closest hostile. The jaegers were too spread out, and until the core replacement program gets going we don’t have the speed advantage.”

“I get that,” says Danvers. “But what you’re proposing gives us very little space to react without running into land.”

“Where the jaegers outperform a demon every time,” Brooks points out. “As proven yesterday – even a rookie like Reyes can catch one when the water only goes up to your knees.”

Yegor didn’t truly believe all of his problems would be solved by putting the kid directly in a line of fire, but some part of him is still disappointed. It’s like the universe conspires to ensure at least one Reyes is always a thorn in his ass, and removing it risks perforating a goddamn artery. On one hand, Razorback slithering right past Eden Assassin and making a beeline for the coast is certainly bad news – Yegor has by now learned not to underestimate it when the beasts develop new strategies. On the other, he can’t pretend he wasn’t hoping it will make a short work of Hell Charger before the others caught up to her. On one hand, he’s sure to get the credit for taking a risk on a new ranger and saving Taipei. On the other, the new ranger has so far evaded several ways his removal could be considered innocuous and if Yegor gets any more direct in his approach, someone will notice. Cho has already made him his new fixation, and Stark is like a dog with a bone – it was a mistake to play the hardass card with him to start with. He’s less likely to be helpful now that he’s fallen for the sad orphan routine. Yegor has been making too many mistakes around Reyes, and that on its own is also familiar.

“We have to run this by other Shatterdomes before implementation,” he says, mainly to head off further squabbling. He nods at Brooks. “Work with Reyes on his ability to follow a direct order until we get a confirmation.”

“That’s unfair,” Cho rallies to his pet project’s defence again. “What was he supposed to do, let that thing hit the pier?”

Amadeus Cho is a thorn all of his own. Yegor stopped worrying about him months ago, when it became clear that there was indeed nothing tying him to Banner’s untimely demise. This much interest in not just The Charger but her pilots, though... “Mr Reyes is present to defend his choices, if he so wishes.”

He could, too. Any ranger at the table would likely do the same thing – throw themselves at the danger instead of staying clear of it when told, like a functional human being. If either Yegor or Brooks were to really press the matter, at least one of the pilots would acknowledge it, and he isn’t looking to initiate any feelings of solidarity. Of course, in this one thing Reyes is more obviously like his father than like his uncle – he doesn’t run his mouth at every opportunity. If he spoke up, Danvers or Summers would try to assert their dominance, which would inevitably lead to an argument with the twins, who have been keen on preserving their lone agent status despite the circumstances. Yegor could use the resulting hurt feelings without looking like he has a stake in the game beyond what can be expected. Instead, Reyes merely shakes his head, further convincing everyone that he’s a harmless newbie rather than–

What is this kid, exactly? More than a liability – he’s a threat. Yegor panicked once already, hoping to engineer a tragic accident, and only ended up making the problem worse. He needs to keep a cool head about this. Reach out to Chau, maybe, see if he’s noticed any mutilated bodies showing up on the island. Refresh the surveillance kit so he doesn’t have to rely on Barton for everything. And put a better face on meanwhile – Hell Charger stopped Razorback from barging right into the coast, where it would’ve decimated the ground troops in a blink of an eye. The press is going to want in on the new hero, which will only make the whole situation that much more complicated. You can’t quietly remove someone whose mug is on every news report for a week.

Yegor doesn’t buy for a second that Reyes turned back up in Hong Kong after a decade purely by accident. Not when he’s clearly trained in all of Eli’s favourite moves. Not when he isn’t asking any of the obvious questions, like he already knows what the answers are.

Not when his mask slips sometimes, and he looks at Yegor like he’s only delaying the inevitable to watch him squirm.

##

(in the highly probable event this doesn't come across clearly, Razorback managed to slip past the jaegers and would've hit a beach if Robbie didn't react. He was ordered not to engage, bc that was the agreed tactic and the others were only minutes away. For ~some reason~ he decided to catch himself a demon instead.)

(yes it is my experience that 90% of any major operations is meetings that could've been a quarter of the time if people stuck to the point, Amadeus would be my enemy at work. I've also cut out his entire aside about ecological impact of trying to curtail urban run-off so that will probably show up elsewhere in a good time)

[princeblack]

it's the second quidditch match of the year for slytherin and it's against hufflepuff, which should ease his mind since he at least gets to see one of his best friends, but he still finds himself on edge. things have been difficult recently, between trying to stay on top of his usual academics while also trying to hide his correspondences with sirius from both his parents and the other death eaters. sirius was outside of europe and in hiding, but sending notes when he could, each time from a different bird and with a new fake name scribbled at the bottom in his now familiar handwriting.

sirius occupies a lot of his thoughts lately, right next to what lord voldemort's been doing and then bee diggory. he's plagued with nightmares a lot of the time, scenarios ranging between the ministry finding sirius to the death eaters realizing that regulus is switching sides. most of his dreams end in death for either him or someone he loves... especially bee.

she's been his main source of happiness for a long time now, ever since she wrote him the letter at the start of last year saying she didn't think his brother was a murderer or that he and his family were evil. she told him to ignore people like justin finch-fletchley, even complimenting regulus and trying to make friends, to which he immediately accepted.

he had a crush on bee even before this, admiring her for her beauty from a distance and even trying to distract himself from it in second year when he dated daphne greengrass. it hadn't lasted long, mostly because it didn't seem to work and regulus never felt anything he should for daphne. she was the type of girl his parents would want him to date, but it felt wrong continuing the relationship when he didn't like her like she liked him. especially when he started to realize that he didn't necessarily want what his parents wanted for him.

in contrast, his relationship with bee only seemed to blossom after the note, the two of them hanging out in class and outside of it, becoming friends and subsequently worsening his crush on her again. they're happy together, even if he's not sure if she likes him like that. it's one of the only things in his life he feels is going right and that makes him happy, but the worst part is knowing he'll most likely lose her when she finds out the truth about him. and even worse, there are the nightmares that lord voldemort will hurt her when he finds out about regulus switching sides. the dark lord shouldn't care about something petty like that, but something regulus is learning is that tom is angry and vengeful, and if he knew for any reason that regulus loved bee, he would certainly hurt her.

the thought plagues his nightmares along with all of the other ones, usually involving an alternate outcome of the night voldemort had sent kreacher to test one of his horcrux defenses, but this time it resulted in the house elf actually being killed instead of injured within an inch of his life. that night sticks with regulus, making him so angry that his nails dig into his palms. that black void of hatred only grew when voldemort ordered barty to kill an innocent who had stumbled upon one of their meetings and he had actually done it.

all of regulus's notions about what being a death eater meant were shattered. it wasn't like his parents had said when he was young-- there was no prophecy saying wizardkind was in danger of extinction, and lord voldemort didn’t have to kill lily and james potter. regulus had learned from professor trelawney that it was her prophecy; that all the prophecy even indicated to begin with was that a baby born in harry’s certain circumstances would somehow bring the end of lord voldemort.

all of his lord's actions were selfish– regulus knows that now. he knows that the talk about preserving their culture and loving pure, magical blood was just an excuse to kill others and manipulate a select few to always do his bidding.

regulus was one of those ones manipulated. and it all became worse when he realized that sirius was never in azkaban for killing twelve muggles-- that was peter pettigrew the entire time. regulus's life feels like a joke with no punchline, especially when he finally meets his brother and has him ripped away once more. all he wonders now are what other lies his parents told him, that the death eaters perpetuated.

focusing on quidditch feels like an impossible task, especially with bee present and beautiful. but he gets dressed in his green slytherin robes as quickly as he can, meeting the team out on the field with his nimbus 2001 before the match starts.

marcus flint gives a speech reminding them the key points of their training, encouraging them to do well against their opponents and not let their guard down just because of lucius's generous donation of nimbus 2001s to the entire team.

regulus is only partly listening, allowing his gaze to drift over to the hufflepuffs, immediately picking out bee. his heart feels warmer as soon as he sees her, like it always does every single time he lays eyes on her. she looks beautiful, a radiant smile on her lips at something her teammate says. her braids make his heart race a little because they're so cute, flopping over her shoulders as she mounts her broom. regulus smiles at her when she looks in his direction, raising a hand to wave. they're too far away for him to say anything, so he just gives her a lingering gaze before finally looking away. his stomach feels tight for some reason, like it's hard to even witness how perfect she is this morning when he knows he'll never be able to tell her how he really feels.

madam hooch makes marcus shake hands with cedric, then she counts down before blowing her whistle to start the game, causing all fourteen players to kick off the ground. regulus follows suit, raising high into the air above the other players. he needs to focus on looking for the snitch, but he can already tell it's going to be more difficult than usual as he feels the droplets of rain start to pelt his face, cold and icy. his gaze moves over to bee again, watching as she flies for the quaffle, trying to catch it as adrian pucey tosses it over to marcus.

he tries not to focus on watching her, realizing he's the seeker and he's responsible for making his team win. he dodges a bludger, swinging his broom around to start flying in the other direction. the rain is starting to pour, making his curls plaster to his forehead as the water gets in his eyes. squinting, he looks for the snitch, all too aware of the way bee is flying past him again as marcus takes the quaffle towards the goal posts. / @devcted

[problems-exe]

Back again not following the character limit to ask YOU about pj and lux for the character opinion thang

This is going to be long, but I'm sure you expected that. I will say, some of my answers will probably be very similar to yours LMAO

Paperjam

First Impression:

I remember thinking their design was so cool, and immediately doing everything I could to research into the character. Sadly, I was 11, and didn't realize Tumblr would be the best place to do that so I saw some very not canon content of them on YouTube, but somehow got attached anyway.

Impression Now:

I'm still just as attached to PJ as I was when I was kid, even more so now with the knowledge of what PJ is actually like in canon. I love the little guy; he's such an angst-filled little shit. Tied with Lux in the top spot of being my favorite UTMV character.

Favorite Moment:

Struggled to answer this because there are so many good posts with him that it's hard to choose from. Ultimately, I'd probably have to choose the entire roleplay between @/7goodangel and @/cereusblue of how PJ and Omni met. It's really cute and really well written and it shows off both of their characters so well.

Idea For A Story:

There are so many I could write here, to just stick to one, any story with PJ being a parent is so awesome and cool. I want to see more of that!!! PJ being determined to raise his kid/kids better than how he was raised? That would be so cool to see. Make this guy a parent!!! He has a canon kid!!!! Include him in more stuff!!!!!

Unpopular Opinion:

Stealing what you wrote for this because I agree wholeheartedly. I do not personally like the concept of PJ and Fresh being a couple. It makes me wildly uncomfortable. I think their dynamic works much better as friends or with Fresh taking on an uncle role! That's just my opinion though. People are free to disagree.

Favorite Relationship:

Platonic: PJ with any of his siblings tbh. Especially PJ as a big sibling. It is something I enjoy seeing very much. PJ is just so sibling coded, guys. It's like he was meant to have one. Or multiple. Trust.

Romantic: I don't want to repeat myself too much, so I'll answer for one ship I really like with PJ and put the other in Lux's answers. I adore OmniPJ. The two of them are so cute, and I am obsessed with their dynamic. Starts sobbing thinking about them. They are so!!! It's definitely my favorite canon ship within the fandom. They are insanely underrated it makes me so sad. Omni is often disregarded, which SUCKS!!!!! They should not be separated!!!!!!!!!

Favorite Headcanon:

I think my favorite PJ headcanon is that he can purr. He is so creature coded to me and I love the idea. Guy that is bad at expressing himself and his subconscious gives away how he's feeling through purring. It's a really cute concept to me.

Lux

First Impression:

I think my first impression of her was that she was pretty but not super interesting. I enjoyed her from afar. I thought it was neat to see a fairly popular girl ship kid, given how male-dominated the characters in the fandom are.

Impression Now:

My baby darling angel girl, I love her so so much. She is the moon, stars, and sun in the sky. She is everything. She's my favorite character in the UTMV fandom, and I think she is severely underrated. I would die and kill for her.

I'm so normal about her can you tell

Favorite Moment:

I generally try to ignore a lot of her canon content because most of it is just silly or weird, but there is one moment I like from her original comic. I think the moment when she was a baby and fed jam to help calm her down was cute. That's like. Pretty much the only thing I can remember having a soft spot for in that comic.

Idea For A Story:

There is so much unused potential with this girlie it's insane. I could ramble about a lot here but I'll just mention one story concept I particularly enjoy. Anything with Lux becoming corrupted like Nightmare is so fun to mess with to me. The symbism and angst go crazyyyy.

Unpopular Opinion:

Repeating one of your points, but I cannot imagine Lux dating a man ever. That girl is a lesbian, and nothing you could say to me would convince me otherwise. No hate towards people who ship her with men, of course; it's just something I personally am not a fan of. As far as I'm aware she was never given a canon sexuality, so it doesn't really matter at the end of the day, but she will always be a lesbian in my eyes.

Favorite Relationship:

Platonic: I blame @/bluepr1ntyy for this, but the dynamic between her and Raven is everything to me. They have literally never interacted in any canon setting but I do not care they are canon best friends to me.

Romantic: Man. I wonder. Yeah, it's FireColor/PJ and Lux. They are. So important to me. The painter and the poet. They are eachother's muses. I just love the idea of them together so so much. They are so in love guys, trust. Also adore her with Omni. They are literally so cute. And the three of them together? That is everything to me.

Favorite Headcanon:

My favorite headcanon is that she likes baking. I really adore the idea of her making pastries for her loved ones, for events, for anything she can make an excuse to bake for. The idea is just so soft and sweet to me. It's just, ugh, I love it so much.

[howlsofbloodhounds]

I was thinking about the concept of gods having only as much power as the number of followers they have and how that would end up making Nightmare even more dependent on Killer because no fucking way anyone who hasn't been conditioned into seeing their abuser as god-like would worship that asshole.

But also he can't let Killer know that he's basically the sole source of his power because of course Killer is gonna use that against him. If Killer finds out that he's in control then he'll think that the game has come to an end. Just like it happened with Chara. And he'll get rid of Nightmare without a second thought.

Though, of course, escaping Nightmare wouldn't solve the issue of other gods who struggle getting followers seeing him as an easy target after that. Literally because of the conditioning he underwent with Chara and then Nightmare.

Having one stable source of power who is also pretty much immortal is quite the catch in general.

It's kind of like with his SAVE, LOAD, and RESET powers and it is connected to those as they're the one granting him a semi-immortal status. It's something unique to him that will make him wanted in all the worst ways.

There is no AU I will ever make where Color won't end up having to fight off a bunch of overly persistent "suitors" with a broom I'm afraid...

“Yup! Sometimes I have to beat the ladies off with a stick!” but it’s just color smacking people away with his walking cane, either because they genuinely wanna get a piece of killer or because they wanna use him for something. Imagining the protectiveness makes me very happy 🙏.

I honestly think people could do a lot more with killer viewing his abusers as god-like. such as with Chara, somehow still living inside him, whispering, watching. giving their commands and orders with a sweet, sharp smile.

always feeling watched by them, only able to escape them and drown them out when in Stage 2–where he’s too apathetic and numb to be capable of caring of what happens to an unreal world and unreal things (people)—feeling removed from people and consequences and himself.

uncaring about change or redemption, unable to comprehend the idea of happiness or safety or normalcy, just playing along in the game control or be controlled, kill or be killed, as he thinks he must.

finding control in the smallest of ways, searching for something new, anything to make him feel even a bit real—only to pull back or react violently if things start getting too real, or too close, or too emotional. too invasive and controlling and painful. knowing its not safe to listen to chara too much—knowing itll cost him greatly under nightmare if he did.

he can’t do the things Chara wants him to do without going against nightmare—yet saying no to chara and trying to resist them feels impossible, as if something in his mind still hasn’t accepted that they’re actually gone this time. not when he can still hear them, feel them.

as if they really were an omnipresent angel they claimed to be. or at least we are, to stage 4. to it, what is the difference between us and Chara. nothing.

the way parts of him live in fear of the next Reset if he doesn’t uphold his end of the Deal, the next “bad ending” if he dares to try and make his own choices and do what he wants and have hope—paired with whatever conditioning and indoctrination nightmare puts him through. up until color, of course.

{ @stellocchia }

[pureseasalt]

traces of ink (sydney x carmy)

made after seeing the post by @theladyvalkyrieskyeart​ . feeling insane over the idea of carmy drawing syd. i dont believe that he has never done it after meeting her the writers and cast are lying to us. 

posted on pureseasalt on ao3, but posting here again. no beta. i wrote this in one go and blacked out after.

Summary: He lied when he said he’d never drawn again until Claire. He did. Once. (Set pre-season 2. Carmy has a panic attack. Guess who he remembers to help him cope.)

Words: 1.7k

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It was probably the middle of the night. Carmy couldn’t be exact about that. His memory’s kinda fucked– been fucked, since Mikey, or even before that. There were times from high school when Mom would go full apeshit ‘cause she told him to get the phone, to make some calls or just to embarrass Sugar by letting her hear the fights she picks with the phone operator. “No- no, sweetheart, I said don’t fucking put me on hold ever again– yeah? Alright! Go fuck yourself!” Something like that. Anyway, Mom would get mad at him ‘cause she told him to get the phone and somehow, he’d just forget that she did. He’d insist, “I didn’t hear you, Ma!” And he’d believe that; that he didn’t really hear her because in his head it never happened. 

But somehow it always did. She’d tell him things that never seemed to have happened.

This one, he just couldn’t remember when he did, or why. 

Carmy does a lot of things that he could only truly understand the reason behind after the fact he’s done it. All he knew, at that time, was he couldn’t sleep. He’d woken up in cold sweat after having one of those nightmares. He was in the middle of the stage and there’s a stove right in front of him and Chef was there. At the very middle of the seats. No audience but him. The smell of gasoline pervaded but there was no fire burning. No one else in the theater but Carmy and a man who smiled at him like he was the only one who knew the lines. 

And just when Chef was about to say it– “You are an excellent chef,” Carmy’s hand collided with the coffee table, jolting him awake.

You are also a piece of– 

“Shit, shit, shit,” Carmy hissed as he cradled the smarting joints. He sat up feeling as if the world had ended in his sleep and he was the only one left. In many ways, at that point, he actually was. His sous and pastry chef had walked out on him without any notice. Carmy knew that it was only a matter of time until the rest would do the same, even Richie, because Carmy was Carmy and making people stay had never been his specialty. Look at Mikey. 

The lighter wasn’t anywhere to be found so smoking was out of the window. He couldn’t calm himself down. His heart was running ahead of him and he was practically lugging his body around the room, pacing around looking for a destination. Not there, he reprimanded as he thought about the restaurant. It all still felt so raw. If he went there now he might still hear his own voice, the same way his mother’s voice echoed past the kitchen and into the living room, invading whatever silence it finds and staying there. 

So he settled for the floor, next to the stack of cookbooks. The wood creaked beneath him as he crouched down, eventually sitting to fiddle with his thumbs and grip his hair by the roots. His breathing was still messed up, but at least he could see clearly. One book strayed from the rest, he even noticed. Fish Plate by Michelle Rhimes. Its hardbound cover was sticking out and didn’t lay flat like the last of its pages, on the account of something stuck inside. 

He picked it up and flipped through the table of contents; through honey-glazed tilapia and fish florentine. There was a pen clipped to a blank piece of paper. Well, not completely blank. Someone had scribbled 1 tbsp dried thym and didn’t bother finishing it. Must have been him. He knew it was him. That was the funny thing about memory.

His was fucked, yes, but there were details that his brain permanently latched on, sometimes whispering to him in bed like Angry Annie, his bully from first grade, recounting all his mistakes for the entire class to laugh at and refusing to just let him have a good night’s rest without wanting to hit himself. Carmy recalled that he’d written that note for his next door neighbor back in New York. This old couple that routinely asked him for a good trout recipe after they found out that he was a chef. Both of them were hard of hearing, so Carmy thought of writing it down. 

By the time he’d gotten around to doing it, they’d already moved out. 

The rainbow trout on page 79 stared back at him and Carmy blew air out through his nose. 

His brain had a knack for comedic timing.

The pink bellied fish looked exactly like the one on Sydney’s scarf. 

The one that seemed peach-pink sometimes under the midday sun. “I feel like I’m owed one,” she told him on one of those days when she wore it (Trout scarf, he’d labeled it in his head) (Nice scarf, looks beautiful, he sometimes wanted to say, but that was just weird). She ribbed him that time at the back of the restaurant, which he so rightfully deserved. 

What boss leaves the wrangling of a batshit, toxic system to a new hire so that he could attend an Al-Anon meeting and make sense of his brother. Who also happened to be dead. 

Asshole. 

Syd should’ve called him an asshole that day. 

She should’ve left that day.

Instead, she laid out her heart– “This place could be different,” in a manner so concise and cogent and honest that, by the end of it, he’s surprised he’s not wiped out on the floor mouthing, like the crazy that he is, "What the hell just happened.” Because that was more than he ever deserved at that moment. When she talked to him like that it was as if Carmy had been brought back to earth. Sobered up after a long life of passing through doors on nothing but frantic energy. Talked down, excluded, not called, shouted at. Then all of a sudden somebody sits him down and levels with him, tells him, “Hey, dude, I’m with you. Give me the respect I deserve. You’re not the only one in here. I’m with you. ”  

All he could do was nod to everything Syd was saying. 

And she laughed with him and she said, “Fuck brunch.”

Fuck brunch.

He shook his head. In the middle of a fucking panic attack and he’s chuckling. He looked down and realized that he’d been pressing the pen cap, leaving dashes of blue ink on the paper. Sydney did that too sometimes. 

She would repeatedly press the cap as she pondered over that little notebook. He always took notice of that when it happens, even from his office, because she did everything with precise intention. Her writing had a decisive rhythm; hurried, but it knew its destination. Never one to waste time. That was Syd. So those few minutes of her just… idly playing with the cap would make him pause and listen (Never look because that was weird). 

Carmy often wondered what she was thinking about.

Eventually, the clicking would be a steady white noise among the rattling of pots and pans. If he actually stills himself, mutes everything else in a way that he could only do when he’s cooking, he could hear her humming. Just a faint sound trickling through the grooves and corners of the kitchen. Carmy would then resume bookkeeping, feeling lighter about the world. He connected the dashes on the paper with uneven lines. Carmy never looked but he could see . 

Her brows scrunched together when she was deep in thought. Her lips slanted down in a pout. Trout scarf wrapped around her hair. 

It never occurred to him that the last time he’d drawn was in high school.

He only looked at what he’d done– Sydney leaning against the countertop– and thought:

I gotta do more . 

Sydney had a number of scarves, so it only made sense that he did everything, didn’t he?  Besides, it was a puzzle to him every morning what her criteria was for picking and choosing, because of course Sydney would have one. The one with the rays and orange leaves, he decided, is when she wakes up feeling giddy. Probably has an idea she wants to pitch. 

She came to work once in that, beaming. Her smile reached her cheeks. The sun was in her hair. She snorted loudly when she laughed. 

Carmy etched her head with lines that reached to the sky, like a halo. He felt good looking at it. 

Then, he decided to draw some more, even the ones that he knew would make him feel worse. It felt like disrespect to only put to paper the ones that made him feel good, because Carmy had made her feel bad too. More than she deserved. He had shot her down about the short rib and risotto, without the same grace that she’d decided to give him when he made mistakes. Syd wore that same orange scarf that day. 

Her eyes flinched. The light of promise died in there, darkening them. Her braids fell to her shoulders as they sank to Carmy’s rejection. 

Cross hatches made shadows around her face; although having finished it, Carmy found that he didn’t feel as shitty as he thought he would. Only, oddly determined, like he was telling himself, I gotta do more. I gotta do more. I gotta see her again.  

The blue scarf was for when she’s determined enough to knock down walls. Her gaze was sharp, straight ahead on the prize. Carmy drew that one in the middle of the paper. 

Fatigue knocked him down after the fifth…or was it the sixth? (It was the tenth.) (The side profile of her face, earrings dangling like stars.) When he woke up, it was already 11:30 AM. He was on the floor with his slacked fingers keeping the pen from rolling to the floor. 

The cookbook was open.

Different faces of the same woman were sketched on one sheet of paper, and some more on the spaces between the pages. 

—

The next time Carmy tells himself that he won’t draw again will be after Claire.

He will lie again.

The next time, however, Carmy will remember when he does it, and why.