#the question about whether or not elliot can think for himself continues to be complicated

[sparrowwritings]

Writing Challenge Day Six: Eventually

Day Five -- Masterpost -- Day Seven

Elliot stared down at Shiloh. She didn’t have to look away from her game to know that he was giving her that stare that other people would consider judgmental. He definitely couldn’t feel anything like that. At least, she hoped he couldn’t. “Something important going on?” This was said towards the screen instead of at the golem.

“You have told Verity you would put up the dishes by today. It is currently 10:56 PM and the dishes have not been put away.” His monotone voice boomed around her. The mechanics were a little odd, but sometimes Elliot could direct his voice in such a way that only Shiloh could hear. One day she’d have to hash out how exactly that worked. Not now, of course.

She tapped the button combination that allowed the colorful cartoon character on screen to jump several times and attack the enemy in its way at the end of the last bounce. “That didn’t mean that I had to do it literally by this exact date. I could put them up at three in the morning and she’ll live with it.” The end of the stage was in sight, hampered only by a series of temporary platforms that Shiloh’s character would have to navigate. “Besides, I’m almost at the end of the game.”

“You have pushed off the chore seven times since she first asked you to do it this morning.” 

“Yeah and it’s not the end of the world that I’m not getting the dishes done right now, El.” Shiloh’s tongue poked out of her mouth as she concentrated on finishing the level. “Just a little bit longer…”

It’s not like the chore was all that hard. Really it would only take her a few minutes to put everything away. It was the principle of the matter, really. Shiloh just had better things to do! That didn’t include dishes. 

Also she couldn’t just ask Elliot to put them up for her. He would get clay stains all over the clean dishes and Verity put up with with a lot but dirt all over the dishes was not something she could tolerate.

(Shiloh didn’t see what the big deal was, she accidentally ate clay all the time and she was fine!)

“You are also expecting Verity to be too confused after her transformation to realize that you hadn’t put away the dishes until very late.” Elliot’s voice invaded her thoughts.

Shiloh tapped a direction button on pure instinct and her character comically fell into the spikes below. “Oh nooooo!” The TV cried as the lives counter ticked down by one and the character respawned at the most recent checkpoint. 

She dropped the controller and pointed an accusatory finger at Elliot. “Hey now,” There was a warning in her tone. “What have I told you about psychoanalyzing me?”

The golem’s mouth opened a little wider and her own voice came from his body. “Don’t fucking psychoanalyze me into a guilt trip for god’s sake.” 

“Exactly.” Shiloh huffed. “So unless you want me to put it into an order, just drop it!” She turned back around and picked up the controller again.

The only sounds between the master and creation were the noises of the video game for a long while. Finally, once she hit a difficult jumping puzzle Shiloh groaned and hit pause. She slid off the couch and slouched her way over to the kitchen. “God fucking dammit, every fucking time…” She muttered as she started her chore. 

Just behind her, Elliot allowed himself a small smile before returning his expression to its normal, neutral one. He had been ordered to not directly guilt her...but reminders were not meant for anything related to guilt. Her own conscience tended to do most of the work for him, eventually.

Still, he would need to be more subtle about them for the next time.

[pop-punklouis]

hi hope! i saw that you’re really big into film and tv. do you have any tv shows you could rec? i need something new to watch.

hiya grey! and of course. i always have tv shows on hand to rec

• Dark (3 Seasons)

When two children go missing in a small German town, its sinful past is exposed along with the double lives and fractured relationships that exist among four families as they search for the kids. The mystery-drama series introduces an intricate puzzle filled with twists that includes a web of curious characters, all of whom have a connection to the town's troubled history -- whether they know it or not. The story includes supernatural elements that tie back to the same town in 1986.

• Portlandia (8 Seasons)

this absurdist series set in Portland, Ore., that gently pokes fun at the laid-back Pacific Northwest city and the many eccentric characters that call it home. Among the many recurring guest stars on the series are Ed Begley Jr., Jeff Goldblum, Natasha Lyonne, Kumail Nanjiani and Kyle MacLachlan, who plays Portlandia's mayor.

• Parfum (limited series)

When a woman is found murdered with scent glands excised from her body, a detective probes a group of friends who attended boarding school with her.

• Trinkets (2 Seasons)

A grieving teenager finds an unexpected connection with two classmates at her new high school when they all land in the same Shoplifters Anonymous group.

• Fleabag (2 Seasons)

A dry-witted woman, known only as Fleabag, has no filter as she navigates life and love in London while trying to cope with tragedy. The angry, grief-riddled woman tries to heal while rejecting anyone who tries to help her, but Fleabag continues to keep up her bravado through it all.

• I Know This Much is True (limited series)

Middle-aged Dominick Birdsey recounts his troubled relationship with Thomas, his paranoid schizophrenic twin brother, and his efforts to get him released from an asylum. (Mark Ruffalo’s best performance to date)

• The Vow (limited series)

Following the experiences of people deeply involved in the self-improvement group NXIVM, an organization under siege with charges including sex trafficking and racketeering conspiracy brought against its highest members and founder Keith Raniere

• The Outsider (limited series)

Based on Stephen King's best-selling novel of the same name, "The Outsider" begins by following an investigation which at first seems like it will be simple and straightforward but things change as it leads into the gruesome murder of a young boy by a seasoned cop. When an insidious supernatural force edges its way into the case, it leads the investigators to question everything they believe in.

• Peaky Blinders (5 Seasons)

Britain is a mixture of despair and hedonism in 1919 in the aftermath of the Great War. Returning soldiers, newly minted revolutions and criminal gangs are fighting for survival in a nation rocked by economic upheaval. One of the most powerful gangs of the time is the Peaky Blinders, run by returning war hero Thomas Shelby and his family. But Thomas has bigger ambitions than just running the streets. When a crate of guns goes missing, he recognizes an opportunity to advance in the world because crime may pay but legitimate business pays better. Trying to rid Britain of its crime is Inspector Chester Campbell, who arrives from Belfast to try to achieve that goal.

• Schitts Creek (6 Seasons)

a wealthy couple -- video store magnate Johnny and his soap opera star wife Moira -- suddenly find themselves completely broke. With only one remaining asset, a small town called Schitt's Creek, which the Roses bought years earlier as a joke, this once-wealthy couple must give up life as they know it. With their two spoiled children in tow and their pampered lives behind them, the Rose family is forced to face their newfound poverty head-on and come together as a family to survive.

• Mindhunter (2 Seasons)

Catching a criminal often requires the authorities to get inside the villain's mind to figure out how he thinks. That's the job of FBI agents Holden Ford and Bill Tench. They attempt to understand and catch serial killers by studying their damaged psyches. Along the way, the agents pioneer the development of modern serial-killer profiling.

• Mr. Robot (4 Seasons)

Young, anti-social computer programmer Elliot works as a cybersecurity engineer during the day, but at night he is a vigilante hacker. He is recruited by the mysterious leader of an underground group of hackers to join their organization. Elliot's task? Help bring down corporate America, including the company he is paid to protect, which presents him with a moral dilemma. Although he works for a corporation, his personal beliefs make it hard to resist the urge to take down the heads of multinational companies that he believes are running -- and ruining -- the world.

• Dark Tourist (1 Season)

Journalist David Farrier focuses on that area of travel, known as dark tourism, in this docuseries. In each episode, Farrier travels to a different locale to visit destinations and have experiences that wouldn't be on most vacationers' bucket lists. He embeds himself in a death-worshipping cult in Mexico, sees tourists soaking up radiation left behind in Fukushima, meets vampires in New Orleans, and travels to the most-nuked place on Earth for atomic swimming and fishing.

• Maniac (Limited Series)

Annie Landsberg and Owen Milgrim are two strangers who are drawn to the late stages of a mysterious pharmaceutical trial. Each has a different reason for participating in the experiment -- she is disaffected and aimless, fixated on broken relationships with her mother and sister, while he has struggled throughout his life with a disputed diagnosis of schizophrenia. The radical treatment, using pills that the inventor claims can repair anything about the mind, draws Annie, Owen and 10 other subjects into a three-day drug trial that they're told will permanently solve all of their problems, with no complications or side effects. Unfortunately, things don't go as planned.

• The Witcher (2 Seasons)

The witcher Geralt, a mutated monster hunter, struggles to find his place in a world where people often prove more wicked than beasts.

• Living with Yourself (Limited Series)

A man who's burned out on life and love undergoes a mysterious treatment, only to find that he's been replaced by a better version of himself.

• The Society (cancelled after one season unfortunately)

The Society follows a group of teenagers who are mysteriously transported to a facsimile of their wealthy New England town, left without any trace of their parents. As they struggle to figure out what has happened to them and how to get home, they must establish order and form alliances if they want to survive. The series is a modern take on Lord of the Flies.

• I Am Not Okay With This (1 Season)

I Am Not Okay With This is an irreverent origin story that follows a teenage girl who's navigating the trials and tribulations of high school, all while dealing with the complexities of her family, her budding sexuality, and mysterious superpowers just beginning to awaken deep within her.

• The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance (1 Season)

The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance returns to the world of Thra with an all new adventure. When three Gelfling discover the horrifying secret behind the Skeksis' power, they set out on an epic journey to ignite the fires of rebellion and save their world.

• Grace and Frankie (6 Seasons)

Two nemeses become bonded jilted wives after their husbands reveal they have been having an affair with each other since the 1990s and now plan to get married.

• Special (1 Season)

A young gay man with cerebral palsy branches out from his insular existence in hopes of finally going after the life he wants.

• Russian Doll (1 Season)

Russian Doll follows a young woman named Nadia (Natasha Lyonne) on her journey as the guest of honor at a seemingly inescapable party one night in New York City.

• American Vandal (2 Seasons)

American Vandal is a half-hour true-crime satire that explores the aftermath of a costly high school prank that left twenty-seven faculty cars vandalized with phallic images. Over the course of the eight-episode season, an aspiring sophomore documentarian investigates the controversial and potentially unjust expulsion of troubled senior (and known dick-drawer) Dylan Maxwell. Not unlike its now iconic true-crime predecessors, the addictive American Vandal will leave one question on everyone's minds until the very end: Who drew the dicks?

• Immigration Nation (1 Season)

A rare and expansive look into the consequences of unfettered power, Immigration Nation is a powerful, harrowing indictment of the current state of American immigration.

[gunmetalarchived]

continued from this text thingy for something to tell you | a discord thread with @diabolicaltendencies

ALEX

She hovered outside his door, already wondering if he had just been nice on the phone to let her down in person. Even worse, after years of going through the conversation with people she didn’t give a shit about, it was hard to redo it all when she cares this much about someone else’s opinion. It was easy to dismiss gossip and rumour. Not so much the way her face cracked in a smile whenever her phone lit up with his name.

Fuck it. She took a deep breath and hit his door bell, the smell of vinegar seeping up from the heavily soaked chips in her arms. At least she would have some fuel for bribery, and a couple of beers to help it flow quicker.

SAM

Sam knew the conversation they'd had over text was heavier than she was letting on. He'd done some poking around the internet since, but after one or two crazy headlines and hyperlinks to celebrity conspiracy blogs popping up on his screen, he quickly quit he quit. It just gave him more proof that talking to people was more useful than googling them. He still can't believe people actually do that.

He opens the door with a smile, genuine and bright as he looks at her, "Hey!" He glances down at the bag and looks a bit confused but no less happy to see her, "Did you bring food?"

ALEX

“And beer, don’t forget the beer.” She beamed up at him, immediately glad she had come even if this was going to be awkward. She took a step inside setting the bag down in his hall to immediately yank him down to her level. If he had been acting polite earlier, fine, but there was no way on earth he was going to escape her barrage of kisses. She missed him. A couple weeks up north and a long overdue day in the studio aggravated that. The nerves more so.

“Cmere stupid.”

SAM

"And beer." He concedes, closing the door behind her. He pulls her close the same time she reaches for him, kissing her thoroughly like there hadn't even been an earlier conversation. He missed her just as much. Cupping her jaw, Sam runs his thumb along her cheek when they pull apart. "If you keep that up, the food's going to get cold."

ALEX

She folded into him so easily, so naturally it was like she was made to for there. It was still a surprise how normal this could feel. Her experience of relationships had been all or nothing, hot and cold was a mild way to put it. Yet with Sam, things seemed to sit at a constant simmer. A gentle bubble, a constant reminder that happiness was just a kiss away d as t the most. Gentle hands and soft touches, it was all so cliche and yet simply perfect.

Alex shrugged, because in all honesty she was happy to forget about the food entirely. But she rolled her eyes like a begrudging teenager, even if the idiotic grin on her face gave her away. “Fine, but I’m coming back for more later, alright?”

SAM

He presses a kiss against her hair before pulling away to pick up the food, "I hope so~" He flashes her a just-short-of-cocky grin and ushers her inside. The flat is an organized mess. There are jackets, papers and books littered about but they've each found their own neat pile. He's been pulling long hours and has resorted to just enough tidying to keep things from overwhelming him. One day it'll all get put away but it's not today.

"Wow, what'd I do to deserve this?" He comments happily upon peeking at their meal for the evening. He places the bag on the coffee table and settles down on one end of the gently worn couch.

ALEX

Alex followed him into his space, heading straight for the sofa too. She liked his flat, it was funny how it could feel so lived in. Her own place was so sparse, she looked like she could leave at any moment without it seeming out of place. But his was worn, loved, filled with time and memories.  “Consider it bribery? Also, you’re welcome for saving you from any attempt at me cooking.”

She kicked her shoes off, immediately tucking her feet up underneath her and reaching for her keys from her pocket to open the beer bottles. “What have you been reading about? What’s that one?” She pointed to a pile on the coffee table curiously.

SAM

He begins sorting out the food, placing a box on either end of the table within reach and divvying up all the extra things in the bag. He glances up at the pile of books. It's mostly a stack of textbooks but the top one is a novel, "Oh, that's Stephen King's new one." He reaches to grab it and pass it over to her before opening his box and popping a fry into his mouth.

ALEX

She took the book form him, flipping through the pages likes he could actually take any of it in. No doubt she'd be up for it whenever it became a movie, but she had neither the mindset or the patience for reading. She learnt over, setting it back down carefully where he had pulled it form even if it meant being thoroughly in his way.  Alex grabbed one of the bottles, using her keys in a way they were definitely not intended and holding it out for him to take.   "Here y' go"

SAM

He leans backs slightly to make room for her to lean over but not quite enough that they aren't completely in each other's space. But it's comfortable, easy. "Thanks," He takes the bottle and downs a quick swig before smiling at her. "So what's the bribe for?"

ALEX

She grabbed the other bottle, playing with her keys again to loosen the top and taking a large swig to gather her thoughts. Her own food was still semi wrapped, so she stretched out for a chip from his. Taking it, Alex smirked.

“Well, I’m guessing you’ve got a ton of questions. And you might not like the answers so.. just in case.”

SAM

Sam slides his food a bit closer between them without complaint, continuing to casually eat himself. He smiles softly at her smirk, there's a short silence after she speaks before he replies, "We don't have to do this now. Unless you want to. My questions can wait."

ALEX

"Feels like we should rip the plaster off now, right?" There was no easy way to explain that if she put it off, she might stop talking all together. It happened, from time to time. He had just the good fortune of not being around to see it. Long distance worked like that. Alex shifted further into the sofa, curling into the arm to face him. "I'm all ears."

SAM

Sam looks over her and sits back against the couch, holding the beer in his lap. "Okay... I'm... not sure where to start." He offers an apologetic smile. "Maybe if you just-- explain what you were worried about me hearing? Give me the context?"

ALEX

"That's... fair." And it made it all the harder. Usually the songs lead this conversation or the press. Or both, if it was truly awful. She had fielded the worst of it for a few years not. It just had less stakes than this normally. Even when Jim found out. "I- erm-" She swallowed, hard. She pursed her lips to let the silence hang, trying to figure out where to start.

"I was with someone for about five years, l-like I said. He was on my course, and lived with me. We made a lot of music together until he got scouted, and then the thing I liked about him made us... not great."

SAM

Sam nods, he's listening intently, following along but not demanding anything. "And... that's what went into the music he wrote?" He asks gently, trying to put the pieces she's given him so far together.

ALEX

Alex nodded too, averting her eyes to take a sip from her own bottle as her fingers moved to fiddle with the label. “I wasn’t a great person... well I’m still not.” How best to put it? Her early twenties had been toxic, partly because of her relationship but also her outlook. There wasn’t really a way to explain all of that. “He wrote about me, about how he felt things had shifted between us. He took songs I had worked on with him and changed the lyrics to suit his view. And because my family is involved in politics, I didn’t get the luxury of having a fucked up relationship the same way other people do.”

SAM

Sam frowns, "So the media get a hold of it." He concludes. That would make sense of all the dramatics he'd seen from a simple search.

ALEX

“The band charted, there was a lot of press around the music from the few demos the label had pushed and... I was a great target.” She shifted awkwardly, tearing off a larger chunk of the label and rolling to between her fingers. “Things kind of spiralled from there.”

SAM

"Can I ask his name.. or the band's? I don't want to listen." He clarifies quickly. "Not unless you want me to for some reason. I just-- I don't want to look like an idiot if they come up."

ALEX

"Yeah- yeah, no of course. Elliot McAlistair, the band is Vactican Camoes. It was some dumb in joke the boys had." She smiled, softly. It was reassuring, whether he meant it or not. "You can. I mean, they're on the radio constantly. Sort of... unavoidable."

They had become the soundtrack to her life, especially working in the bar. Eventually she'd managed to curate some decent playlists to avoid it, but every now and agains she would be caught off guard by his tinny voice echoing from a shop front or builders radio.

"I don't come off well from it. I'm not... the most stable person in his eyes. And my dad - my brother, they didn't take it well."

SAM

"Well, good news is I don't believe everything I hear on the radio." Sam looks at her fondly. She's sitting so defensively, so worried about what he's going to think or say, but all he want to do is wrap an arm around her shoulders and hold her close. He knows this is her side of the story, but honestly that's the only one that matters to him. "...How did they take it?"

ALEX

Everything about her was nervous, tightly wound and yet somehow restless. Maybe finally talking about this would release the pit in her stomach.

“It’s- erm...” she tried to swallow again, opening her lips a few times before she had the sounds to fill them. “It’s.. complicated. I’m not, well, I wasn’t close with my dad so- yeah. It was very... personal. I sort of- I-I stopped talking for a while. My brother, he was better. But it’s... it’s not something people forget.”

She puffed out her cheeks, letting loose a heavy breath. “He wrote about things that made them look b-bad.”

SAM

Sam puts down the beer and shifts to sit facing her. He slowly reaches for her hand, giving her time to pull away if she wants to. He won't force the contact, "Hey." He shakes his head, "That's not your fault."

ALEX

“No, n-no I know you’re right.” She took his hand, lacing her fingers through his with a small squeeze. It was hard because she wasn’t expecting this comfort, but she liked it. Maybe this is what healthy relationships looked like. Her smile fell from her face though, her eye-line dropping to her feet. “Except, well, it kinda is. S-some of it anyway. They’re politicians so my life just... it doesn’t work for them. Me being me- it’s a bit of a whirlwind.”

SAM

He takes her hand in both of his, fingers caressing her skin. "I can't pretend to know what you were like then. I guess I don't really know your family either, but, I like who you are now. A song or headline isn't going to change that... and politicians, celebrities or not, nothing justifies someone selling your private life to the public without your consent. You know that, right?"

ALEX

On some base level, she knew he was right. And she agreed with him completely. Yet her mind swung constantly, between outrage at her life being subject to the judgment of the British public and shame at what a mess it had become. "Yeah." She said it quietly the first time, barely audible before she repeated it a little stronger. Maybe it would sink in.

"I don't know. I wasn't a decent person, neither was he. And I can live with that. It's become very real, having to explain it to everyone."

SAM

He nods and smiles encouragingly, squeezing her hand lightly between his. Sure, he would need more details for the full picture - to actually listen to the songs or read the articles. But even if it's the worst thing he can imagine... he doesn't think it would matter. He likes the Alex he knows, flaws and all, "Well I'm not running away yet... so now what?"

ALEX

"You sure? There's still time?" She uses her free hand to check an imaginary watch, trying to use the bit to gather her shaky confidence. It made sense he was playing nice now, whilst she was here and in the room. It was what came later she was terrified for. "It's okay. If this is too much, that's alright. My life isn't private anymore, it's a lot to get used to"

SAM

"It's not too much." He keeps up his reassuring smile. "Is there anything else you want me to know?"

ALEX

“You say that now...” she took a swig from her beer with a shrug. “I don’t know, guess if there’s any questions?”

SAM

"Hm." He looks down at their hands leaning in to kiss her knuckles before glancing back up with bright blue eyes, "Do I get to hear more of your music now that I know?"

ALEX

It was impossible not to smile when he did shit like this. Small, meaningful gestures that completely derailed her toxic train of thought. She leant forwards, pulling her hands away setting her bottle down on the coffee table before she flopped onto him entirely. She let her head rest against his chest, curling her shoulders to fit in the space at the back of the sofa. Impossible for him to eat, but soothing all the same. “Maybe. If you wanted to? Truth is I haven’t really written, well not for me. For friends, sure but that’s different. I’ve had an idea or two... just not got very far ‘til you came along.”

SAM

Sam falls perfectly into place, right where she wants him. He curls an arm around her, fingers lightly ghosting back and forth before reaching up to brush her hair back from her face. "I'd love to hear it." And he genuinely means it. There's a small note of excitement in his words.

ALEX

Easy. He made things easy. Easier to talk, to be kind, to be honest. Easier to write too. Sure, she'd been playing around with ideas more form the moment they met. However they were still personal - a real outlet for the intense feelings she had been having and trying to play down. Alex knew she was besotted. Acting cool was tricky when she fel so hard, and so fast for the people who showed her the slightest affection. She didn't even think, she just let it out. She had intended to say 'I'd love you to.' but it came out... different.

"I think I love you."

SAM

Out of everything she’s said, all the supposed horrors and skeletons in her closet, it’s those three words that surprise him. He inhales, chest expanding under her cheek, and his expression flutters between surprise and happiness. His breath catches on the exhale, words tumbling out of his mouth before he can think twice, whispered into her hair, “I love you too.” 

Maybe it wasn't the right time to say it. Maybe he should've waited for a moment that wasn't weighed down by what's she's been through. But he's happy. He loves her. It's the truth. His arm tightens around her in a loose hug.

[xmxisxforxmaybe]

108 and 83 with whoever you feel fits it best.

I’m going to try this one with Elliot--wish me luck!

* * * * *

Elliot quickly walked from the train stop to your apartment, his hands shoved in the pockets of his hoodie, his eyes trained on the ground. He knew something was wrong and his fingers damn near itched with the need to find out the best way he knew how—twice last night he had started to hack you, digging into your social media accounts because he felt those were the least invasive.

 But he stopped there, angrily pulling the desktop’s cord from the wall to power it off and muttering to himself—you had asked him not to ever hack you, to talk to you instead to find out anything he wanted to know. You were always, always honest with him, knowing how important it was for Elliot to have trust and stability, especially when he was going through one of his bad times.

 Elliot loved you as well as he knew how, which included doing his best to honor anything you asked of him.

 When you texted him and asked him to meet you after your shift at the hospital, Elliot almost forgot his shoes in his hurry to get to your place as soon as he could.

 The train ride, which was only 10 minutes long, had felt like an eternity as Elliot worked over everything that had been different between the two of you for the past few weeks. You had been distant, picking up extra shifts at the hospital and telling Elliot that you were too tired to come over. Usually, the two of you spent Saturday nights on the couch, smoking weed and watching movies, but you hadn’t wanted to do that lately either.  

 Elliot assumed you had met someone else, someone who wasn’t as complicated as him and he couldn’t even be angry with you for that.

 You hit the unlock button almost as soon as Elliot buzzed for entry into your building, and he added that to his list of unusual things that meant you were breaking up with him.

 Elliot pushed his hood back and fixed his hair before he knocked on your door, which resulted in you, again, almost immediately answering.

 After you shut the door and clicked the deadbolt back into place, you turned to see that Elliot hadn’t moved very far. Normally, he made a beeline for his spot on the couch and settled in to wait for you to interact with him, whether it was asking him what he wanted to do that night or if he wanted to order takeout and stay in—this was your routine and it made both of you feel at ease.

 You were thrown off, so you awkwardly moved to stand in front of Elliot, attempting to gauge whether he wanted to be greeted with a hug or a kiss or nothing at all.

 “Hi,” you said, hoping that he’d look you in the eyes.

 “Hey,” Elliot said back, his eyes averted and his hands still pushing into the pockets of his hoodie.  

 Alright. Today is a no touching day, you thought.

 You turned and walked over to the sofa, leaving his spot open.

 After a few moments of hesitation, Elliot followed you and sat, his hands still in his pockets.

 “It’s been a while since you’ve been so closed off, El. Anything you wanna talk about?”

 Elliot looked at you, his blue eyes looking more grey today as they shifted quickly over your face, clearly trying to read you. He opened his mouth, just a little, then shut it and chose to shake his head no, returning his eyes to the black of your TV screen.

 “Well . . . I do need to talk to you about something, and I bet that’s why you’re distant right now. You know something is. . . different,” you said, choosing your words carefully.

 Elliot focused on you again and the intensity of his expression damn near left you unable to think. It was so clear he was hurting and your eyes quickly filled with tears as they were prone to do lately.

 “Fucking hormones,” you said mumbled as you swiped at the tops of your cheeks, trying to smile as you looked back at Elliot, the same expression of hurt still embedded in his features.

 “I’m just gonna be straight with you, but first I want you to know you can ask me anything and I also want you to know we will talk about everything when you’re ready.”

 You took a deep breath and continued, “I’m pregnant.”

 You willed your eyes not to spill over again because you wanted to send Elliot a clear message—you were happy and you wanted this child.

 You never took your eyes off Elliot’s face as he worked through what you had just said to him. Dropping a bombshell on Elliot Alderson was never a good idea, but how else do you tell your boyfriend of a year that the universe saw fit to drastically change both of your routines in an instant?

“Is it mine?” Elliot asked, causing you to laugh with relief. Had anyone else on earth asked you this question you would have been offended, but it was Elliot. Of course this would be the first thing out of his mouth.

 “Yes, Elliot. I love you, and only you. We made this baby together, but you do have a choice. If this isn’t something you want, you can walk away. It will break my heart, but I will never force you to stay if you don’t want to.”

 Elliot turned his eyes back to the TV screen and then turned and looked out your window. He pulled his hands from his hoodie pockets and wiped them on the knees of his pants, his fingers clutching and unclutching as he slid them over his thighs.

 “Talk to me,” you said.

 His tongue darted out to lick his lips and he slowly turned back to face you. Instead of speaking, he shifted and laid down with his head in your lap, one arm around your back and the other across your thighs, grasping onto you. His head was pressed against you and soon you could feel the tiny shakes of his body that meant he was crying.

 “Baby, don’t cry,” you said softly, running your hands through his hair and rubbing his back.

 “You’re gonna make me cry,” you said as tears began to spill down your cheeks.

 Elliot rubbed his face against you, breathing you in and calming down before he sat up, his hands cupping your face and wiping away your tears.

 You reached out to wrap your hands around his wrists as he brought your foreheads together.

 “I thought you were going to leave me,” Elliot whispered.

 “Does that mean you want to stay? You want to be a family?” you asked, bracing for whatever response was coming.

 Elliot pulled back, his eyes still teary like yours, and you were so happy to see that the hurt on his face was gone, replaced by love.

 “I . . . I’m scared. But I wanna be with you and be with them,” Elliot said as he reached down to lightly trace a finger over your abdomen.

 You nodded, pressing your lips together and sniffing.

 “We can be scared together,” you said, finally pulling a small smile from Elliot.

 “Together,” Elliot repeated before leaning in to kiss you.

[ridiculousyoungicarus]

Self Para 003: Bring All That You're Scared To Defend TWs: Mental Health (and discussions involving BPD. Ches and Zander both discuss things like how chronic emptiness feels, among other things, but it’s sort of in a more clinical “trying to explain” esc way), Violence (metaphorical / mentioned in discussions), suffocation (metaphorical, in a brief inter-thought context) Word Count: 3,203 Setting: Zander’s room, after game night (and then the cafeteria in the second scene) Notes: It’s about fucking time, Alekzander. If anyone needs me to tag further, let me know and I will immediately!

Maybe it was weird for Zander to wait around near Elliot and Chris’s room for Ches to come out, but he needed to talk to her desperately. She was the only person who seemed to understand him when he was like this, the only one who knew how to help him when he couldn’t even begin to figure out how to sort his thoughts and feelings. He knew Elliot hated him, he knew that neither of them had any reason to trust him at this point, but he needed Ches.

It was almost like she was oxygen, she kept him alive, and right now if he didn’t get a breath of air soon he was going to suffocate to death.

He can’t help the way his head shoots up when he hears the door open and the click of her heels on the hallway floor. “Ches, we need to talk.” He says immediately, and there’s something almost like a deer in a headlight. For a moment, he’s not sure how she’ll react, but after the initial surprise seems to fade, concern crosses her features. As if she knew how close to going off the rails he was at the moment.

“Come on, let’s go to your room,” Ches suggests, not giving him much time to answer before she starts heading in that direction, and he follows. She wasn’t wrong, he didn’t want to do this in the hall. Honestly, he wasn’t sure he wanted to do this at all, but he couldn’t stop thinking about game night. The way he’d reacted when someone even suggested there was a possibility that Ches could ever be the answer to a riddle, the way it’d immediately set the tone to him being against Gemma the rest of the night. The girl being devalued right before his eyes for simply implying that there was even the slightest possibility that someone could even consider that Ches was capable of messing with the plane. The way it’d set him off the rest of the night.

Zander had asked Elliot to ask his father about borderline personality disorder to try to help him with Ches, but the more he’d stewed over the answer, the more he was starting to question if he needed the answer about the favorite person for himself. She holds her hand out for his room key once they reach his dorm and he hands it to her without hesitation. It doesn’t matter if it’s nearly as messy as his mind is at the moment, just like the swirling hurricane of thoughts, he wanted her there as he waited for the eye of the storm to finally approach.

She carefully walks around the legos scattered across the floor, approaching his bed which she sits on the edge of, crossing her legs as he sits beside her. How was he even supposed to start this conversation? Was there a right way to approach it? “I’m glad you came to me if we need to talk.” She says after a few moments of silence. “I’m sorry I asked Elliot to move in with me in front of you.”

Wait, was that what she thought this was about?

“It’s fine.” Actually, it had bothered him. The circle reappearing afterward was actually a relief but it was irrational to be bothered. Elliot had said it best all those months ago, Ches didn’t belong to anyone. He couldn’t control whether or not she moved in with Elliot, and there were certainly worse people she could be shacking up with. “I actually wanted to talk to you about therapy.”

“Therapy?”

“I think something’s wrong with me.” It was hard to confess. “The way I react when it comes to you, my temper, how I feel all the time... this isn’t normal.” Despite the fact he was saying something was wrong, he still couldn’t bring himself to get into everything. Saying he had a problem was bad enough, the thought of going any more in-depth with Ches terrified him this time. But as always, he trusted her to make everything make sense. “How did you know you have BPD?”

It was as if the more he talked, the more concern he noticed on the girl’s expression, an uneasy feeling taking the forefront as he watched the way her face shifts, those green eyes feeling uncomfortable set on him. “It’s complicated?” She says after a few moments as if she’s not exactly quite certain how she knew. “My therapist brought it up to me, and the more I learned about it, the more I realized that he was right. The childhood PTSD diagnosis still stuck but... it was never one of those moments when I woke up and knew something was wrong. I know now, and I look back and I’m aware just how off everything was but...” She reaches out to briefly squeeze his hand, trying to give him a bit of comfort, as if it was clear to her that he needed it at the moment. “If you think there’s something wrong, and you want to see a therapist and figure out what it is, I will support you every step of the way, okay? I know it’s hard to admit that you feel like there’s a problem sometimes.”

She was trying, he knew she was but he can’t help the wave of frustration he feels when it’s apparent she doesn’t completely understand why he’s bringing it up, why he’s asking. “I think I might have it, and I wanted to know if you thought maybe... I don’t want to go to a therapist if it's going to be a waste of time and money.”

“No matter what you end up being diagnosed with, if anything, it’s not going to be a waste of time or money. I think you’d benefit from DBT.” Ches corrects him, without an ounce of hesitation. “I’m not a doctor, I can’t diagnose anyone but we can kind of run through the criteria if you’d like. See if you meet it, if it’d make you feel any better.” She was trying, he knew she was, and despite the fact he wished she’d just give him the answers, he was being irrationally irritated with her for not being able to just give him one glance and tell him yes or not. He knew it wasn’t rational.

“That’d help.” He tells her, at least it’d be better than walking out empty-handed.

“You need to meet at least five of the seven criteria. Chronic feelings of emptiness.” She pulls out her phone as if she needs to double-check the rest of them. “Emotional instability in reaction to day-to-day events. Frantic efforts to avoid real or imagined abandonment” She glances up at him, considering it for a moment before she continues. “Identity disturbance with unstable self-image or sense of self. Impulsive behavior in at least two areas that are potentially self-damaging, but not including self-harm or suicidal impulses.” It’s then she stops as if she’s wary to say what the next item on the list was.

“Ches?”

“Inappropriate, intense anger.” Well, that was why Ches hadn’t wanted to continue. They both were more than aware he dealt with that. “A pattern of unstable and intense interpersonal relationships characterized by extremes between idealization and devaluation. Recurrent suicidal or self-harming behavior. And, last but not least, stress-related paranoid ideation or dissociative symptoms.” She puts her phone away now she’s done explaining. “Suppose we should start with chronic feelings of emptiness and work our way down. Is this something you’ve noticed?”

What did that even mean? “Is it like constantly feeling numb?”

“Sometimes. I feel like there’s a gaping hole in my chest when it comes up, hollow. There’s something missing, and-”

“It’s like you’re nothing more than a husk, just going through the motions because it’s what you have to do.” Zander finishes, and maybe he should feel guilty for interrupting. But, there’s something about the way that she looks at him that makes him continue. “There's nothing left inside, and you know it’s wrong, but you don’t know how to fill it so you try to pick a fight because a punch to the face, anger, is better than nothing at all, and you keep trying to fill it no matter what it takes until it’s gone again.”

“I think this counts as a yes.” Ches admits, “but I’m not a doctor. I only know how I feel when it comes up, I don’t know what they’ll consider...” but she was trying, which he supposed was the most he could ask for. “Emotionally instability in reaction to day to day events.” The way she says the words make him think she already has an answer in mind, but she doesn’t say anything more; instead, waiting to see what he’d say.

“Yes.”

“Frantic efforts to avoid real or imagined abandonment?” The fact Ches doesn’t even hesitate or asks him to explain further only confirms what he thought. She did already have an answer in mind, and it wasn’t even the nice one.

“You don’t want to discuss the last one further?” He grumbles, but wasn’t he only proving her point by getting offended? Fuck. “I hate you, you know that, right?” There's no heat behind his words though, just affection.

“I know, I’m the worst, aren’t I? Whatever are you going to do with me?” Ches smiles for a brief moment at the familiar back and forth. “But you asked me to help, and I need you to answer these for me, okay?”

“I don’t know. I tried to scare off Elliot?” And that was a fairly big part of why he’d disliked Elliot, the fact Ches seemed to lean on him more and more despite the fact he hadn’t seemed like he was even worth the dirt on her shoes, let alone her time. At this point, he was starting to realize he’d been overly harsh on Elliot, but he’d be honest and confess he had gone pretty far in his attempts to keep Ches from leaving and to get rid of Jack to keep Balo from leaving, and he’s not even sure what Ches was saying, but he interrupts whatever the ramble is. “Fuck, yes.

The annoyance that had appeared on her features as he thought about things is replaced with sympathy as she reaches out to squeeze his hand again. “I get it.” She reassures him as if that’d make things any better. He shifts awkwardly, pulling his hand away as the guilt starts to eat at him. He really had tried to run Elliot off just because he didn’t like the idea of having to share her attention, even if she seemed way happier with Elliot than he could remember her being.

“Can we just move onto the next one?” Zander suggests, hoping to move on from Ches being understanding. How many more symptoms were left?

“How’s your self-image?” “Can we come back to this one?”

He didn’t want to discuss this, least of all with Ches. Some things were better kept to himself, and he can’t help but relax when she nods in agreement. “Sure, we can come back to it.” She agrees, “so, impulsive, self-destructive, behavior. God, maybe I should be asking Elliot if his dad could... fuck.”

Zander can’t help but roll his eyes at that. Elliot didn’t even think his dad was a good therapist, and even if he was, he doubted this would go well with anyone but Ches. Mr. Mills didn’t need Zander ripping his head off for asking hard questions, and he was growing more and more agitated already. “You’re doing fine.” He dismisses. “Just Google the definition of this one? I’m not sure what is even counted.”

Ches sighs, but she pulls out his phone and hopefully looks it up, rather than texting Elliot. Maybe he should have googled it himself so she couldn’t go against his wishes on this, but, after a couple of minutes, she sighs. “Oversharing, getting angry to the extent you do, jumping to conclusions, I could go on but...” She hands him her phone, and as he reads it, he realizes she’s right.

“I regret coming to talk to you.” He grumbles as he gives her back her phone. He wasn’t sure what answer he wanted, but it certainly wasn’t this. She was only confirming his growing concern that something was wrong, that he needed to get help, that he needed to address everything that’d happen and try to work through it. “The next one was intense anger, right? Yes. Can we get this over with?”

“Intense and unstable relationships, um, I might need to explain this. It’s-”

“No, I know about this. I had Elliot ask his dad for me, and it’s a yes.” Maybe it was harsh to shut her down, but he didn’t want to get into this with her. It didn’t matter how important Ches was to him, there was no way he could explain the cycle he’d fallen into when it came to her. How he viewed her, how he responded to those thoughts, and he sighs. “What was the criteria, Ches?”

“It doesn’t mean anything, I’m not a therapist, I can’t...” Ches starts to remind him, and that’s when he realizes that he must have met it. Fuck. “Even if you start therapy now, they probably won’t diagnose you for a while. But I think you should talk to a professional. I love you, but, if we’re discussing this... fuck.” She sighs, playing with a strand of her red hair as she rambles. “Promise me, Alekzander.”

There’s something about the way she says it that he doesn’t see how it’d be possible to say no, the concern and passion in her voice as she pleads with him to swear he’d go to therapy bother him. And even if he has the urge to flee, he nods. “I’ll go. But, I’m going to have to call my mom. I’m still on Lance’s insurance...”

“I’ll call Uncle Ben and see if we can figure something out if she says no, he likes you..” God, no, he didn’t want Ches getting involved monetarily. She helped him way too much up to this point, and she’d done more than enough.

“I’ll figure it out, come on, I’ll walk you back to Elliot’s.” Zander gets up, heading to the door before she can protest it. “I assume you were just going to grab food before you two get back to it.”

“We don’t make love that much, not that it’s any of your business.” Ches rolls her eyes. “But it’s okay, I can walk myself back. Just, please call your mother.” Did he offend her? He doesn’t have much time to process it before she’s out of his door and he’s standing next to it with his jaw dropped. Okay, that wasn’t a safe subject, and he lets out an annoyed huff as he shuts the door behind her. Why did he have to call his mother? It wasn’t like she’d care anyway.

Still, he pulls out his phone and calls Cassandra. The sooner he got this over with, the better.  

—

It felt uncommon that Ches was alone in the cafeteria, no Balo, no Elliot, no Sora and Minnie. But, Zander immediately takes the opportunity when he notices her. “I called my mom, and I got a list of covered therapists from the insurance company. I have no fucking clue where to go from here.”

Ches blinks, tilting her head slightly as she examines him. “You call and see if they’re accepting new patients, I’m pretty sure. My dad kind of handled that for me.” Well, it was a better plan than he had at least. Surely someone he’d call would have an idea from there. “You should probably try to aim for a female therapist if possible, though.”

“Does gender matter?” Zander was pretty sure Ches had a male therapist and he was positive it hadn’t mattered either way for Balo. Wasn’t it supposed to be based on skill or something? God, maybe he should have asked Elliot how to find a therapist in hindsight. Ches wasn’t exactly the most qualified choice...

“Not usually, but I don’t think a man would be the best choice considering how you react to them. The only men I have seen you not get into a pissing contest with are Collen and Leo, and... I still don’t know how you and Leo have managed to never get into it. You both have a tendency of punching people when you’re self-destructive.” Okay, now that Ches was explaining, he could understand her point about maybe in this case the gender of the therapist could matter. “I think if you try to start this with a man, you’re going to get even more defensive and aggressive than you would with a woman. I mean, you don’t try to fight me usually, but I’m pretty sure you’d go after Elliot, and he’s objectively a way calmer person.”

“Yeah, well he starts it.” “You and I both know that’s not true.” “Fine, but he doesn’t finish it either.”

Ches just shakes her head at his insistence, at him pretty much proving her point much to his own chagrin. Still, he sighs. “Okay, female therapist if possible.” He agrees, “are you sure you should be an English major? I’m just saying psychology suits you. Could be the superior Dr. Mills.”

“Did you just call me a future Dr. Mills?” Well, he just fucked up now, didn’t he? Ches was never going to let him live this down, and with how much he protested Ches and Elliot whenever they tried to discuss a possibility of forever, he was pretty sure Elliot would take some sort of satisfaction when he undoubtedly heard about the slip from his girlfriend. “Anyway, I’m pretty sure you’re the only one who’d feel that way, but I’m glad I was able to help, especially if you’re going to go talk to someone who can-” She cuts off in the middle of a sentence, her green eyes lighting up as a grin crosses her features.

Zander doesn’t even have to glance over his shoulder to know Elliot entered the room. Ches’s sudden excitement might as well have been a neon sign flashing over the man’s head like ‘I exist.’ And he starts to get up, “you really should consider switching majors, Elswood. Just saying.”

“Never going to happen, Zander. I’m happy where I’m at.”

Well, at least he’d suggested it. Despite the urge to double down on his opinion, citing the thought that Elliot would probably agree with him, he decides to leave it for now. She was going to do what she wanted, and he had to find himself a therapist. “I’ll talk to you later, I’ve got some phone calls to make.” He relents.

Actually, maybe he’d text Elliot about it at some point, just to see if he was right.