#there is a much sadder second part to

[queerfeardear]

for the art prompt, alice/narcissa (if you want, it’s a slightly obscure ship so all good if not)

This is a recycled sketch I did right after reading @rollercoasterwords fic Alice Look At Me, yet another of Rae’s fics i have still not recovered from

[sunny-knight]

SCROLL FOR @forgettable-au ANGST :D

ok so ((WAILS LOUDLY))

WE KNOW HOW THIS GOES *breaks knuckles* ITS TIME TO TEAR APART MY ART BECAUSE PASSION

trust me, im a proFESSIONAL yapper at this point

This whole thing takes place within my own headcanon that “The Quiche Room” was one of many of Sans and Wingdings’ little hangout spots. They also really liked the echo flower there (maybe they planted it themselves-) Maybe thats why Papyrus is so unnerved and disturbed by echo flowers now…

Notice, the echo flower grows as they grow!

Oh yeah! I had fun drawing them grown in their kid outfits for 2. Wingdings can finally see his ankles

2 is also sorta a reference to my Radio Star comic, same stuff they did as kids, Wingdings working and Sans assisting, They haven’t changed too much yet. haven’t gotten the lab job. yet.

in 3, this is after they get the job at the lab and Wingdings realizes its a great place for supporting his unhealthy habits of seclusion and emotional repression. The echo flower is repeating something Wingdings said a while ago. I dont know what- fill in your own angst I suppose (I cant do EVERYTHING around here)

in 1 and 2, the light sources… are each other. Sans n Wd. Theyre each others lights. Each others stars (cries loudly and noticeably) but then for 3, the only light source is the echo flower. Yknow. The echo flower. with wingdings’ voice

4 is how the quiche room looks in the game 👍 Dunno whats sadder… Wingdings’ voice being removed because he’s in the void now, or because someone just talked over it without a second thought.

Oh yeah, and its empty because Sans and Papyrus don’t remember that ever being a place they hung out.

Yeah.

Yeah, im crying too. Its okay, let it out.

SANS AND GASTER SANS AND GASTER SANS AND GASTER (PLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASE) I need them to interact i’m gonna have an aneurism.

THIS PART IS GETTING ITS OWN SECTION BECAUSE CMON MAN, ITS SANS AND GASTER

It was said in this post that Sans knows he was involved in whatever accident Gaster had, that had MAJOR consequences, and made everything and everyone different.

That makes me wonder, does Sans feel any guilt?? like subconsciously or not, he knows he was involved, so does he suspect he could have done something to stop it, or did something bad, and he was at fault in some way?

I DONT THINK HE WAS

so in 5, Sans is asking “what happened.”

What happened to him, why is everything like this, was it his fault? what did he do? what did he NOT do???

And Gaster just replies “Nothing that wasn’t my own fault.”

OK THATS ENOUGH. WHITEBOARD DOODLES, ATTACK!!!!

also- I PROMISE IM WORKING ON THE DTIYS 😭😭😭 IVE GOT IDEAS IDK HOW TO EXECUTE EM

Heres a thing I made/am working on(???) that was inspired by the dtiys though :3

[leah-lover]

Little helper

lucy bronze x reader ( smut 18+)

Summary: you help Lucy with her frustrating about leaving Barcelona.

Content: spanking, daddy kink, strap-on sex, aftercare.

Ever since you and Lucy came to London she has been different. Her step is heavier, her sleep is messier and she is much more quiet than usual. You knew that leaving a club that she loved so much would haunt her. She loved Barcelona with all her heart. She adored the weather, the city, the team, and all the relationships she formed there. For you it hasn't been any different. Sure you missed Barcelona but not as much as Lucy did. After all, as long as she was with you you were happy.  You tried to talk to her about and to get her to share her thoughts with you but to no resolution. 

With the days progressing she only got sadder. She hasnt ignored you or your needs but she felt a little different, a little colder. Your heart ached for her and your brain hated her stubbornness and needed to always seem like she was okay. 

Today was no different than the past week.  Usually, she would get from training, go sit on the couch and wait for you to join  her with dinner in hand. She would cuddle with you, kiss you and sometimes have sex with you. But today you were determined to change her mood. As soon as she sat on the couch you took off your apron and your oversized t-shirt to show a set of black laced lingerie. You put your hair in a ponytail and headed staring to the living room. Once you got there you stood in front of her and knelt between her wide spread legs. She looked at you amazed and surprised. Her eyes scanned every inch of your body hungrily from your eyes to your chest to your core. She then leaned forward and gave you a sweet kiss. 

“ What did I do to deserve this?” she whispered a meare inch from your face. “ you have been sad lately and i thought since you didn't want to talk about it,  you can take it out on me?” you answered while looking at the floor, your submissive instincts kicking in.  “ Is my little girl worried about her daddy?” she teased. “ Yes, very much. I want to please you and make you feel better.” you whisper while still looking at the floor beneath you. 

Lucy then lifts your head up by your chin and takes your lips for a lustful kiss. “ I don't know if I can do this little one. Daddy is very angry today.” she admitted once you two separate. 

“ But daddy I can take it. I can take everything. I want to make you feel better.” 

“ I don't trust myself today. What if I hurt you?” you never heard lucy say that before a little part of you got scared once you heard her say this but you need so badly to make her feel better. 

“ You wont hurt me daddy. I trust you.” you reassure her. She stayed quiet for a minute. 

“ giving you a spanking would make daddy feel better.” she said. You immediately get up from your position and go to her lap. She gives you a pillow to put your head on. “ if you need me to stop, safe word.” she demanded. You nod in response. “ use your words little one.” 

“ Yes daddy.” you respond while you situate your head on the pillow. Her hands roamed every inch on available skin on your ass before the first hit. It was painful but it made your core flutter. 

Then came the second hit, the third and the forth. Your ass was pink, your skin was on fire, and your new underwear was damp. The room  echoed grunts from Lucy after each spank, hisses of pain from you, and occasional whispers of “ thank you daddy.” By the 10th spank,  your core became needy and the hisses of pain became moans. “ is daddy's little slut turned on? Did you want to be spanked so badly?” she said in a condescending tone. She didn't leave you time to answer, she gave a much stronger spank to which you responded with a pornographic moan. 

Lucy’s focus was on your ass. Every  spank was powerful, she didn't stop until she reached 40 spanks. By then your ass was red, your eyes were filled with tears, and your moans turned into cries of pain. At the 40th  spank she froze and closed her eyes. The echo carried your muffled cries. A few minutes later, she helped you straddle her lap. Your ass was in the air because sitting on it would be painful. 

“ You did soo good for daddy little one.” she said while wiping your tears away. “ Daddy feels so much better. I am not angry anymore.” she confesses. She then takes your lips for a much softer and more intimate kiss. You stay silent. The skin on your ass was burning and your core was needy and sensitive. “ Daddy thinks her good little girl deserves a reward. What do you want us to do?” you didn't usually choose what to do so you froze for a second. While you were thinking, Lucy's hand roamed your back and took off your bra. 

“ I want you to make love to me.” you whispered. She kissed your lips again, then moved on to your neck where she left shallow kisses. 

Lucy was aware of what your choice of words meant. You didnt ask for her to “fuck you” or for her to give you her “ cock” you wanted her to make love to you. She carried you to the bedroom and put you on  the bed slowly so as to not irritate your already sensitive skin. You watched as she went to the closet and came out wearing nothing but your favorite strap. She immediately went to work worshiping your body and giving every inch of your skin a passionate kiss. The silence in the room quickly turned into a symphony of moans coming from both you and her. When she arrived at your core. She found your pussy dripping with arousal. She came back up  to you and gave you another kiss. “ If I had known a spanking would get you this wet, I would have done it a long time ago.” you couldn't think about anything but her cock at this point. “ I need you,” you whispered. She immediately started to duck you after that. Her thrust was slow but fulfilling. She didn't leave you as her lips found a spot to bruise your neck. 

“ I am so full. I want to come.” you whisper in between moans. You felt lucy smile against your lips.  “ whenever you are ready.” Lucy loved to edge you but since this was a reward she wanted to make it easy on you. She kept her thrusts deep and slow which quickly made you cum. Your legs started to shake quickly and your head was deep in your pillow. A few minutes later Lucy came too in the same intensity as you. 

She stayed inside you for a few minutes until you both came down. “ stay still, I am gonna go get us a glass of water.” she said as she kissed your head. She then came back witha cloth, a bottle of lotion and 2 bottles of water. You were quiet, your brain still fuzzy from what just happened. She cleaned you up and handed you the water. “ turn around for daddy to apply the lotion on you.” she demanded. “ Daddy, I need to cuddle with you.” you answer shyly. 

“ We will , princess but I need to apply this first.” Getting you to do anything after you just had sex that didn't involve cuddling was a challenge for lucy. “ The quicker you turn around the faster we can cuddle. You comply angrily and let her apply the lotion on you. She does so in a sweet manner leaving a kiss when she was done. She found her place next to you and you cuddled to her side. You practically layed on top of her so that your ass can heal at night. 

“ Thank you for tonight my love.” 

“ You can always talk to me, you know.” 

“ not today, maybe tomorrow.” you saw her eyes closed as she drifted asleep. 

[buckysegan]

With all my heart, my love and my unfiltered adoration - Part three.

Summary: The letters back and forth between our loves through the rest of the war. Word Count: 2.1K A/N: we are def rolling with some historical inaccuracies in regards to letters here but sue me, do i know how long the letters took? not a clue. but google gave us a good guess. john egan how i miss you, i need your love so here i give you mine. Part two link.

Dear Major Egan,

I'm delighted to hear I'm with you. I hope you know, that you've been with me too. It's rather insane to me if I think about it too much, just how much I've thought about you in the time that I've waited for your letters. Part of me was worried that you would think I was a little crazy righting to a man I didn't know and an even bigger part of me was worried my letters would reach you too late, but I'm glad you were happy to hear from me.

I don't mind that you're a simple guy, in fact I think I like that, then I won't have to worry about impressing you whilst we write back and forth I can just say what comes to mind. I like to think that I laugh quite easily myself, laughter is free right? And right now I think we could all use a little laughter in the world. I'll tell you my favorite song next and then you can tell me yours, I love you are my sunshine, it warms something in my chest whenever it comes on, I just can't help but smile you know? Your turn John!

I wish I could know exactly where you are, then I could know if you were some place safe but I'll settle for knowing you're still out there. As for me, I'm in Washington, Redmond to be more precise, is that anywhere near where you're from? I'd like to meet you very much Major.

With all my anticipation, excitement and continued adoration,

A friend from home x

Dear Darling,

That's what the boys have been calling you ever since your second letter arrived and given I don't know your name, that's what I decided to roll with. I hope that's alright.

I have no idea how your letters keep finding me at the exact right time, it's like fate keeps leaving it till it knows I need to hear from you. You should also know, it wouldn't matter to me if you were a little crazy, I know I'm crazy so you'd just fit right in. I don't think anyone that thinks laughter is free could be considered crazy though. You seem to good for such a thing.

I've had you are my sunshine stuck in my head for the past few days whilst I tried to find paper to write you. I think the boys were grateful at first because I wasn't sinking Blue Skies my old favorite, now I think they're ready to kill us both darling. Next question, do you like cats or dogs more? I'm not telling you my answer till I know you can be trusted.

I am with you. Know that much, and I guess Washington will be my first stop when I'm back home.

Please never stop writing.

With all my wondering, respect and ever growing adoration

John Egan

Dear John,

I could have given you my name. But I've decided that darling will do quite nicely for now. If you want to know my name you're going to have to make it home and come and get it yourself.

Is it sad of me to confess that every day I don't get your letter I get a little bit sadder until one comes through? I just hate the wait each time even though I know that these things take time. Writing you might just be the most stressful thing I decided to be. How does anyone's heart survive doing this?

You'll be pleased to know, I've been annoying the girls plenty in return with Blue Skies since learning that it's your favourite. I feel like it tells me a lot about you Major. Sing it for me sometime? I also feel like your question is a trick, a cat and a dog have very different purposes in life so I'll just chose both if that's ok?

I wanted to tell you I joined the war efforts myself since I last wrote. I'm in the factories now and I have to admit, I've never enjoyed having dirty hands so much. I'm helping to build the planes. The wings specifically, I think they put me here because I wouldn't stop talking about my pilot John.

I wonder if anything I ever build will make it across to you? My letters won't stop as long as yours don't John.

With all my curiosity, joy and bursting adoration.

Your darling from home x

Dear Darling,

I'm in a terrible mood. Buck said I can't start my letter like that but I told him you'd be alright. You don't mind do you? I have to tell someone or I think I might actually start going a little crazy. I might already be crazy if I didn't get just as excited as you do when the mail call comes through.

I wish I knew you before the war. I wish you knew me before the war, I fear I might not be the John that came to England. I don't even know if I'm the John that start writing you all those months ago. I'm just sort of hoping you won't give up on me anyway even if my letters ain't always sunshine.

And I'm glad darling, I'm so god damn glad that waiting on my letters is the most stressful part of your day. Reminds me why we're doing this, what we're over here for. To keep you all safe at that side.

I suppose I can give you cats and dogs though. I wouldn't want to pick either if we really had to come down to it. My girls smart though huh? Making those planes for us to fly? I gotta say the idea of that does something to me and my bad mood in a good way.

What I wouldn't give to be home with you right now and I never even met you.

My longing, wishing and steady adoration

John Egan

Dear John

You can write to me, come rain or shine, bad moods or good. I don't want to just be here for the fun parts Major. I may not have known you before the war, and I may only just be learning who you are now but I don't doubt for a second, every part of you is worth knowing so tell Buck that I'll take it all and he can keep his opinions to himself.

I'm sorry, it was thoughtless of me to say writing letters were stressful when you're over there doing what needs to be done. More news keeps reaching us and each day I am terrified that your name is going to appear on a list somewhere.

I know that you can't be here, and I can't be there, but I wanted you to have some small piece of me with you so I sent you something with this letter. Keep smiling with me John, through the good and the bad, just keep smiling if you can.

I hope to see you so soon.

All my determination, strength and adoration

Darling x

Dear Darling,

Buck said he's sorry. He won't ever doubt you again. I think you two would really like each other you know.

He's my voice of reason these days, or rather he always has been. One of my two favorite people, him here, and you all the way over there. How is home? Does it still smell as sweet as I remember it?

I'm a little convinced that you're too good to be true darling. Your picture caused more whistles and taunts that I've seen from the boys in forever and I would have knocked them all on their ass if Buck didn't strike and tell me to sit down again. How do you not have a solider of your own to be writing too?

Sometimes when I get down time. I like to day dream about what you're up to over there. How many planes you fixed up for us, imagine taking you dancing on a Friday night, do you have siblings? Your folks still around? I've been trying to picture it all.

I dream of that soon more than I care to admit.

With all my promises, thoughts and adoration

John Egan

Dear John,

I'm glad you have a voice of reason. We wouldn't want you getting up to any trouble now would we? Are you the sort to be in trouble a lot? I get the impression you could be Major Egan.

How are your moods holding up these days? I can't help but worry about you over here even when I'm meant to be busy.

If you could see the blush that you have all caused you would all be ashamed of yourself. I promise I'm real. I tried to get my friend Meg to let me send a picture of her but she claimed you were really going to show up here one day and then you'd be looking for the wrong girl.

I like the idea of you imagining things. It means I'm not the only one. I do have siblings, an older sister who works in the factories with me, and a little brother who is out fighting with you somewhere but his own girl writes him. My folks are both still here with me too. What's your family like?

I do have a solider of my own to be writing John, I have you.

Tell me a secret if you can?

Your darling x

Dear Darling,

Forgive me because this letter will be short, but I needed to send it out before we move. If you don't hear from me in a while, don't worry, I'll write back as soon as I'm able. I want that name, I want the dancing, I want you to meet my mom when I'm back.

You want to know a secret darling? I think it's taken me ten letters to fall in love with you after all you've given me.

With my heart, my love and my unfiltered adoration

John Egan

Dear John,

I'm writing even if you might not get this because I refuse to believe anything else other than you're busy for a while. I'll be over here waiting for you remember. I'm with you even when I'm not.

I have so much more to tell you and things I want to learn before I am satisfied.

In fact, no I may never be satisfied and then I never have to let you go.

You'll be in each of my thoughts till I hear from you again John, I think loving you took me one letter.

With all my heart, my love and my unfiltered adoration

Your darling x

Dear John

I don't think I've taken a real breath in weeks. I figured I would write you again, just in case the first one didn't reach you and you thought I hadn't wrote back.

Your name hasn't appeared on any lists so I refuse to believe that you're not still out there waiting to come home to me.

In case you missed it in the first letter, I love you too.

I am still expecting you home John Egan, I'd be with you till you were. That was the deal right?

With all my heart, my love and my unfiltered adoration

Your darling x

Dear John

If my letters and love don't reach you where do they go?

Tell me more secrets please? Tell me anything? Tell me you'll sing for me like I asked? What do I do if I never get to meet you?

I've checked each list I've found twice every day for months now. Meg said I'm a mess but I don't really care, I just want to know that you're alright. Even if you're not coming here. Please just tell me you're safe John.

With all my heart, my love and my unfiltered adoration

Your darling x

Dear Darling,

Sorry, I didn't think a little while would be that long but I've thought of you every damn day I couldn't write to you. I got your letters, all three of them made it to my base some how.

I'm hoping I beat this letter home so that I can tell you in person that I love you.

I hope you like what arrives in Washington darling, but please bare with me if it takes me a second to adjust. I'll tell you everything, all of it, anything you want to know about me. I feel like I have very little to offer you but it's all for you now. I'll be home so soon.

With all my heart, my love and my unfiltered adoration

Yours,

John Egan

[hiddenreamers]

Telegraph Road 1977 & 2024 - Lando Norris

SUMMARY: For Lando, the words "first love" just make him think of his childhood neighbour. Then, his heart breaks a little when he remembers she's somewhere in San Francisco. How surprised he is when it turns out you're much closer - in an apartment across the hall. Lando couldn't be more grateful for the strange mysteries that led you to this doorway.

WC: 983

Everybody has those moments when they are suddenly reminded of someone they knew long ago. Old classmates, kids from summer camp, playground friends – people who once were part of your daily life but now you think about them maybe once a year if not less often. Those silent questions of “I wonder what happened to them?” come and go just as quickly, like a golden brown leaf carried by the wild, autumn wind.

Lando is something of an exception to that rule. The thoughts of his old neighbour never quite leave him, as though his autumn is more of a perpetuity than a season. Despite the passage of time, that curious quirk of his stuck. However, the why has changed. While still a child, he’d ponder the memories of you simply out of longing. It is only natural when one’s closest companion is gone one day. Then, as his young heart began revolving around crushes, dates and girlfriends, Lando suffered an epiphany. Finally, he understands! It was as if on some random Tuesday lightning had struck him – it was love he felt for you, not just friendship. And what a tale of one’s first love it told! “We were inseparable, soulmates, if you will, when one day she moved away and I never heard from her again.” Truly, a drama worth a thousand novels.

Little does he know, that those strange mysteries that separate lovers, sometimes lead them to each other’s doorways��

Lando is closing his front door, when the sound of paws tapping the floor grabs his attention. Without much thought, he looks down the corridor.

The tapping belongs to a rather happy-looking Scottish setter. He recognizes the breed only because he’s spent his childhood running around a small British town with you and two of those dogs. Despite the lingering memories of the past, Lando doesn’t mind the pet any longer, again focusing on his own things. Then, a strangely familiar voice distracts him again:

“Come on, Axel! We’ll have plenty of time to make friends later.”

Almost giving himself whiplash, Lando looks for the source of the sound. Could it be…?

You’re a little surprised when you hear someone calling out your name in a questioning manner. As far as you know, none of your friends live in Monaco. So how come someone here knows you? Fixing your grip on the box labelled Kitchen, you take a look around the corridor.

For a moment, you think you’re just seeing things. But you’ve stared at that face for so long, you could recognize him in the darkest, most inexplicable fever dream; the face that you’ve associated with home for your whole life.

“Oh my God, Lando Norris!” you exclaim between chuckles. “I can’t believe it!”

His cheeks redden a little. “You remember me?” The question has a distinct tone of surprise.

“Of course I do! You were my best friend,” you say. “Well, the only friend for a few years,” you add, your voice noticeably quieter than before.

“What are you doing here? I thought your family moved to San Francisco.”

It is only then that Lando truly sees who you’ve become throughout all those years away. Perhaps you are more beautiful than he could imagine but you’re also much sadder. There’s a wistful look in your eye, a tell-tale sign of maturity that is only born out of tears. He can only wonder what pains have brought you back to him.

“At first, it was San Francisco, then New York, Chicago, L.A… I never fit in anywhere. They’re all very lonely cities, you know?” Just for a second, your eyes become glossy. His heart feels a painful sting that only gets worse as you force a wide smile on your face. You’ve had practice in faking happiness, haven’t you? “But enough about me, it’s not that interesting,” you say in a casual tone. “Congratulations on your driving career. Seriously, you’re amazing. Would it be creepy if I admitted now that I’ve watched every single one of your races?”

“Not as creepy as admitting I’ve stalked your social media and never followed you because I thought you don’t remember me.”

“Are you dead serious right now?” Lando’s sheepish smile earns a loud laugh from you. “You should have tried anyway!”

“Funny that you’re the one to say that,” he retorts. “Why didn’t you message me if you’re such a big fan?”

Flustered, you look away for a moment. “Honestly, I thought it would be weird,” you confess. “I was sure you’d forgotten all about me and pulling this ‘we were childhood friends’ schtick now that you’re famous would be so embarrassing. You’re this top-of-the-top racing driver and I’m, well, me.” A bitter chuckle comes after your words but the faux amusement isn’t enough to fool Lando.

“You’re staying for long in Monaco?” His question is accompanied by a light gesture towards the box in your arms.

“As long as they don’t fire me, I guess.” That strange, sad laughter again. “Listen, you look like you have somewhere to be and I’ve already taken up too much of your time. You could come by in the evening, catch up if you want?” Your tone rises, revealing uncertainty about whether the invitation is welcome.

But to him, the answer is obvious. “I’d love that.”

You give him one last smile, then disappear behind the door to your apartment.

In some sense, he has you back. Not the girl he remembers, no. Something innate seems to be gone from your soul but Lando lacks the words to name the change. The sights, the loves, the pains – whatever it was that took your life on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean, it sprouted melancholy in the very marrows of your bones.

“What happened to you?” he whispers to himself.

The only answer that comes is muffled footsteps and the shuffling of cardboard boxes.

Check out other fics in the Ampersand Themed Works

[achenetype]

Hihi can you please do a Luke x reader where it’s basically an unrequited love like reader is so in love with Luke and he has no idea so she moves on and years later she’s over him and confesses to him like a oh I thought you should know and the whole time Luke had been in love with her, kinda base it off that one TikTok audio where it’s like “I’m not in love with you anymore” “I never knew you were” 🩷🩷

OHH YOURE FEEDING MY ANGST BRAIN WITH THIS ONE. buckle up lets break some hearts

edit: this ended up being WAY sadder than i originally intended. i am so sorry anon oh my god

i gave you a rare gift (but you didn't want it) — luke castellan

pairing: luke castellan x fem!reader

word count: 2.8k

content: angst, major character/reader death, unrequited love, mutual pining, reader is part of kronos' army, luke and reader are doomed by the narrative, [Y/N] used (sparingly), alcohol mention, description of injury

listening to: bloodfest (from mizumono) by brian reitzell

You are twenty-two years old, sitting on the rocky beach of a lake somewhere in the forests of upstate New York. Light, gentle fog hangs in the air around you, and the only sound is the tap-tap-tap of Luke skipping rocks across the water.

Come dawn, the world will burn. The gods will be dethroned. Every demigod will either be free, or dead.

But now, at midnight, you are twenty-three and Luke turns to you. He's holding a small, squashed cupcake in one hand. "Happy birthday," he says, "to my right-hand man." He pauses. "Woman. Right-hand woman."

He holds the pastry out to you and smiles, but something behind his eyes is empty. Hollow. He hadn't been sleeping recently. As much as he tried to hide it, he couldn't stop you from seeing when he came to you every morning for a cup of coffee and to debrief for the day.

Perks of being the revolution leader's best friend, you think. His right-hand woman.

Luke's eyes flick from the cake to your face. "Do you like it?" He asks, and for a split second, you swear there's a note of hope in his voice. "I wanted to do something, y'know," he says. "Twenty-three is huge. It's a monumental age."

You nod, but stay quiet.

He pauses for a second. "You remember how you always said you wished you never had a birthday?"

When you were twelve, nearly thirteen, your mother drove you across the country to go to summer camp.

"It'll be like a road trip," she said, tossing your duffel bag into the back seat of her battered car. "And then, hey, you'll only stay at camp until the end of August, and then you can come back and go to school. See all your friends again." She squeezed your shoulder and pushed the car door closed. "How about that?"

"Sure," you said. "Super fun."

And it was; you were actually kind of excited. You'd never been to New York. It seemed a million universes away.

And it was your birthday tomorrow. Maybe this was a gift, something that your mother had put together to make up for the years of being too tired and too drunk to make a cake, or get presents, or anything.

Your mother put her hands on her hips and sighed. "You know how I feel about the attitude, yeah? Let's not do this today."

"I wasn't even trying to—" You cut off as your mother glared at you, her face tense. You knew that look: the biting-the-inside-of-her-cheek, trying-to-be-understanding, trying-to-be-a-good-mom-despite-it-all look.

You hated that look.

"Just..." She sighed. "Just get in the damn car, [Y/N]."

You did, fighting back the tears building in the corners of your eyes, and the slam of the car door closing was as loud as thunder.

Twenty silent minutes of city streets and highway merge ramps and cold, empty stretches of asphalt and concrete passed before either of you spoke.

"Mom," you said, thirty-three seconds into minute twenty-one, "I'm sorry for talking back earlier." Your voice was quiet, shaking, cupped in your throat like a scared animal.

She didn't answer, keeping her eyes fixed on the road.

"I don't like being like this, Mom," you said, looking over at her. The silhouette of her through the driver's side window, backlit by the streetlights, was shapeless. Impassive. "I don't like doing this with you all the time."

She scoffed.

You pulled your legs to your chest, tucking your head between your knees, and tried to find sleep.

You weren't sure how long you slept, but you woke up to the sound of music playing softly over the speakers. Exit signs whizzed past you at what felt like breakneck speed. You wondered, briefly, if you would break your neck if you jumped out of the car right now.

Ultimately you decided against it. You didn't want your mother's last words to you to be, get in the damn car.

That would make her feel guilty, you thought, and that guilt would make her hate me even more.

"I don't wanna fight," you tried instead, picking at a loose thread in the cuff of your jacket sleeve. "Mom, I'm sorry, okay? I don't want us to be mad at each other anymore," you said. A sob caught in your throat, heavy and wet and choking.

Your mother sighed and reached one hand from the wheel to tuck your hair behind your ear. "I know you don't, sweetie," she said. "I don't want to be mad at you either."

"Then why do you do it," you asked.

When she turned to look at you, her eyes were wet. She smiled, or tried to. "Sometimes, certain people just…can't help but fight," she said. "It's just part of who we are, I think."

"Did you fight with Dad?"

Your mother inhaled, quick and sharp through her nose, as she flicked the turn signal to right and guided the car down the exit ramp from the highway, her eyes locked ahead. "Yes," she said. "Sometimes. Sometimes I think that's where we get it."

You swallowed. "Do you ever miss him?"

She doesn't peel her gaze away from the road. "Every day."

The two of you made your way through bustling streets and across too many bridges to count. You thought you fell asleep again, for a minute or maybe a year. Maybe it was all a dream.

"Mom," you asked as she turned onto a worn dirt road, the sunrise barely stretching over the horizon, "why are you bringing me here?"

She didn't answer for a moment. Two moments, then three. Through the leaves, you saw one tree standing impossibly tall. A pine tree.

Your mother parked the car and turned to you. "Because I don't know what to do with you, [Y/N]," she said. "I don't know how I can keep you," she paused, "safe. How I could do this, on my own, in any normal way."

She got out of the car and grabbed your bag, shoving it against your chest. "Camp is just up that hill there," she said, gesturing in the direction of the large tree you'd seen earlier. "They’ve got people up there waiting for you."

"Mom," you said. "Wait, I—I wanted to talk to you—"

She shook her head. "I can't come with you, sweetie." She smiled, the curve of her mouth falling just short of her eyes. "You just remember that I love you, okay?"

At that moment, you knew: she was going to leave you here.

“No,” you said, tears rolling down your face. “No, no—Mom. Mom, please.”

“Before you go,” she said, her voice tight and sharp, “I wanted to give you this.” She reached into the back seat and pulled out a jacket, worn leather with patched elbows. “It was mine in college,” she explained, not meeting your eyes. Like she was reading from a play or book, and you were the unfortunate audience. “I figure, it doesn’t fit me anymore.” 

She pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Happy birthday, baby.”

It was the first time you had ever felt like your mother loved you. You knew she liked you, sometimes. But you were never quite sure if she loved you until that moment. 

And then she got back into the car with one final, teary nod. 

And you never saw her again.

“Yeah,” you tell Luke, shrugging. “I think I’ve got a pretty good reason, though.” Your lips curve into a smile.

He laughs and tilts his head. It’s a habit of his; he’ll say something and twist his neck just a fraction, narrow his eyes. A nervous tic that not even years of training and fighting and killing could stamp out.

You used to think about kissing his neck when he did it, but now you’re not sure whether you would know the difference between kissing and ripping his throat out. 

“True,” Luke concedes. You laugh, too, unrestrained and loud. “Gods, your sense of humor is dark.”

“You laughed first,” you remind him. He grins.

The cupcake he offers you, despite its lumps and smears of frosting, is pretty good. You split it apart with careful fingers and hand half of it back to him.

“You’re celebrating with me,” you laugh, “so you get half. That’s the rule.”

Luke simply smiles at you and takes the crumbling cake from your hand. “Whatever you say.”

You roll your eyes, grinning back. “Damn right.”

Luke’s laugh rings out again, sharp and bright against the night sky. Firelight flickers across his face, painting him in brilliant streaks of orange and gold. 

“After tomorrow,” Luke murmurs, pulling his knees up to his chest, “we can do this whenever we want.” The wind ruffles his hair almost fondly, floppy brown curls stirring and settling back against his skull.

You raise an eyebrow. “This?”

He gestures in a wide arc. “Be here, like this. Just be people, instead of demigods or heroes or revolutionaries.” Luke’s voice picks up, conviction surging into his words. “I mean, seriously—when was the last time you thought you would ever have a normal life?”

You’d never understood the demigods who joined Luke’s cause without knowing him. The plan itself seemed crazy—the only way anyone would follow it was if they knew their leader could pull it off. 

You have to know Luke to know he was capable of that, you think.

Until now. Now, you see what you think everyone else sees—a real leader, a revolutionary. A force for change with a silver tongue.

He makes it all seem so possible. You almost think he might pull it off.

Luke looks over to you. “We’re going to change everything,” he says. 

Almost.

“We’re going to change the rules,” Luke said, spreading the map over an empty cot in his cabin. “If we want to win, we need to be thinking six steps ahead of the enemy.”

A few of the campers huddled around the makeshift table shuffled and coughed awkwardly. 

“Every strategy’s been done before,” a tall girl with bubblegum-pink hair and an eyebrow piercing shouted from the back of the group. “How are we going to out-war the god of war’s kids?” 

Murmurs rushed around the table, soft and susurrant. There’s no way we’re going anywhere here. We’ve gotten our asses beat six weeks in a row. What are we even doing?

Luke smiled. “Ares is the god of war,” he said, “not strategy.” He slung his arm around one of the campers next to him and inclined his head in the direction of the map.

Quietly, almost too quiet for you to hear, he murmured into the girl’s ear. “Don’t doubt yourself, Bethy,” he whispered.

You learned three things in the ten minutes that she spent explaining your team’s new strategy—

—one, your team was going to kick some major ass—

—two, your strategist’s name was Annabeth Chase, and she was the smartest eight-year-old you have ever met—

—and three, Luke was right.

Annabeth’s plan took the rules of Capture the Flag and threw them out the window. She split the team into four subgroups, each with a delegated leader. Luke nodded along as she talked, marking the map with a stubby pencil. 

When Annabeth’s eyes, dark and piercing, searched the crowd and landed on you, you felt your heart stop.

“You,” she said, “are you good with a sword?”

You raised your eyebrow, pointing to yourself—just to confirm this genius child was speaking to you—and Annabeth nodded. 

“I guess?” You said, shrugging. “I know some basic stuff, and I’m good at disarming.”

Annabeth’s face broke into a smile. “Work with Luke on the first wave of offense.” She gestured to the map. “You two will take points B and B-one,” she explained. “My group will take the A-points. You wait for our signal to move in.”

You met Luke’s eyes across the table. Hey, you mouthed. 

His eyes flicked up and down your form. Hey, he mouthed back. You ready to win?

You smiled and nodded.

Good, Luke said, all teeth. Let’s go.

He stood and grabbed his helmet. You did the same.

“I’m [Y/N],” you said as you followed Luke through the forest. “We, uh—we met when I first got here, like, a year ago.” I was sobbing my eyes out because my mother abandoned me, you didn’t add. It was kind of pathetic. I think I threw up from crying so hard.

You suddenly hoped Luke didn’t remember meeting you, actually. That would be less embarrassing.

He turned and caught your eye. “You live in the same cabin as me. ‘Course I know you.” 

Of course he remembers.

You laughed, flushing red. “Oh. Yeah. Of course.”

The silence was so thick, you could have cut it with the sleek bronze of your sword.

In the end, it was Luke who broke the silence. “You wanna play a game while we wait out here?”

You shrugged. “Sure,” you said. 

“Twenty questions,” Luke replied. “So we can learn enough about each other to actually work together.” He smiled. “What’s your favorite color?”

“Low-hanging fruit,” you said, your voice just barely taking on a teasing tone. “It’s green.” 

Luke laughed, loud and full and bright. “Apologies,” he said; mirth crept into his words, staining everything with a tinge of that laughter. “I’ll go for the more gut-wrenching, intimate questions next time.”

You flushed red again. Intimate questions. What the hell does he mean by that?

“My turn,” you said instead. “What do you want to be when you get older?”

“We’ll be heroes,” Luke whispers. “Real heroes. Not figureheads propped up by the gods.”

You wish you could believe him. He’s lying on the beach next to you, his head resting in the junction between your shoulder and your neck. Over the treetops, the stars are beginning to fade from the sky.

It’s almost time.

Your throat feels like someone has sanded it down to expose your vocal cords. This is a bad idea, you want to say. We shouldn’t do this. Tell me we can still not do this. 

“Wanna play twenty questions?” You say, crackling and hoarse.

Luke turns to look at you. “Yeah,” he murmurs. 

“My turn first,” you whisper. Luke nods.

You take a deep breath, in and out. “Are we going to die doing this?”

Luke inhales sharply. “Maybe,” he says. Slowly. Deliberately. “But we’ll do everything we can to make sure we don’t.”

“I got another question,” you say. Luke raises an eyebrow. His knuckles brush yours as you sit up.

“Are you scared?”

It’s your birthday. 

You think you’re going to die. 

Luke is kneeling over you, the palm of his hand pressed against the wet opening in your stomach where someone had caught you with a spear. The shaft of it is still sticking out of you, you think. You’re afraid to look down, afraid to see it. 

“No,” Luke gasps, “no, no, no.”

You watch as the gold fades from his eye, leaving behind the honey-dark brown you remember. His hands are slick with blood—most of it’s probably yours, it has to be yours. You’re bleeding out, after all. 

You tug on Luke’s sleeve weakly. “Hey,” you breathe. “Luke. It’s okay, it’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

“No,” he says. “You’re—you’re hurt.”

“I know,” you rasp. “I know it hurts. I’m the one—” 

You break off as a cough sticks in your throat. It feels wet. Oily. Desperate to get out. You taste the blood in the back of your throat before you can even take another breath.

“—I’m the one who’s feeling it,” you finish, your voice tilting up at the end. A joke. Gods, your sense of humor is dark.

Luke laughs weakly. “Don’t talk,” he says. “You’re gonna be just fine, [Y/N], just fine.”

He meets your eyes. You see him realize it in slow motion.

Tell him. Tell him now. He’s never going to know otherwise—he could die any minute—

“Luke,” you murmur. “Luke, did you know I loved you?”

He freezes. “What?”

You cough again. Blood spills over your lips. “I loved you,” you repeat. “Since we were campers. Had the…the biggest, stupidest crush on you.”

Luke shakes his head. “No, no,” he says. “You—”

“You’re my best friend,” you continue. “Whatever feelings were there, you’re my best friend.”

Luke’s palm against your stomach is warm. It feels safe. It feels like sleeping side-by-side in the cabin, like shared meals and shared secrets. 

“Why are you telling me this?” Luke says, “why are you—why?”

You blink, just once, but it takes everything you have to open your eyes again after closing them. “Because I’m going to die,” you whisper. “And even if—even though I moved on, I wanted you to…to know.”

Luke bows over your body, pressing his forehead to yours. Tears slip from his cheeks and fall onto yours, driving little rivers through the blood smeared there.

He’s crying. Why is he—

“You idiot,” Luke says brokenly. “I loved you too. I loved you too.” He cradles your head in his lap, brushing your hair away from your face. “[Y/N], I’m so sorry.”

Your eyes slip shut.

I loved you too, Luke’s voice echoes. I loved you too.

[awriterinthenight]

"You're all I need, love,"-Five Hargreeves

requested: anonymous

words: 866

warnings: uhhh idk really, maybe a bit of angst, no Five and Lila, they do get stuck together, but nothing happens between them

summary: Five has been stuck for 7 years without you, and now he's finally home.

7 years.

7 long years.

But to her it's only been an hour. Five had gone off on one of his adventures to try and figure out how to solve our apocalypse problem. Even though it was barely an hour for her, Five had been on the worst trip from hell for a whole 7 years.

He would constantly think of how having her there with him would've made everything better, but no matter what he tried he could never get to her. Every train line seemed to take him farther and farther away.

To him being away from her was the punishment no apocalypse could ever make him feel. Being without her, traveling from timeline to timeline, felt like walking through each layer of hell alone, with only the distant thoughts of the person you once loved to keep you company.

Of course he has Lila there with him, but even she was starting to hate his mopey attitude, and how every other sentence was how much he missed her. She herself missed Diego and her own kids, which made her understand how Five felt. They both had someone who truly understood them, and now here they were stuck and trapped with the hope of getting back to them, withering away like a flower stuck in eternal winter.

But, when Five found the notebook with the instructions on how to get back it felt like maybe believing in a higher power wasn't so horrible, and that some god or deity wanted him to get back to her. He would trade his whole life just to be able to find a way back to her, and here it was in his hands. The messy writing giving the perfect instructions on every step needed to make his way back.

When he and Lila found themselves back at the front door of her house it felt unreal. It felt like at any moment someone would pull the rug out from under their feet, and tell them it was an elaborate mirage. But it was all real.

Every second felt like a moment wasted, so they opened the door where Lila's kids ran to her, full of joy of seeing her again. To them it had only been an hour. Maybe you wouldn't think he was the same? Maybe you wouldn't notice anything and act like it was just his normal self?

All of these thoughts went through Five's head, thinking of every possible way the both of them would react when seeing each other. When she finally appeared she immediately moved towards him, happy to see him again. She saw how he looked sadder, but somehow happier at the same time. Their hug lasted for longer than it seemed time could handle.

"I missed you. I missed you so much," He whispered into her hair, softly stroking it while pressing her so far into his chest that their heartbeats were felt by the other.

She smiled, amused by his loving words, "You've only been gone an hour, was it really that bad?" she asked, concerned about him, willing to devote every inch of herself to make him feel better.

Five moved to press their foreheads together, "Yeah, it was that bad," he told her, his voice barely above a whisper, as he downplayed his 7 years he couldn't have dreamed of in his worst nightmares.

"I'm sorry then. But, now I'm here," she told him, knowing that that was usually enough to make him relieved. He just held her tight, breathing in her scent, as if it was a quintessential part of his life he hadn't had in an eternity of suffering.

He would move to peck her lips softly, or to place a kiss somewhere on her face. To her it was just him relishing in her presence and showing his love to her. But to him it was his way of making sure she was really there. That she was really in his arms, that he could really kiss her, that he could finally tell the face that haunted his dreams with the presence he thought he would never be in again, how much he loved her.

All those years apart from her made him realize how much he would give for her love. Maybe she was a goddess in disguise, since it seemed almost impossible to make a person go crazy just from not being with them. No matter what, she was his savior. She was the one keeping him going all those years, and the only reason he kept looking for an escape to the point where he would've sold his soul for a way back to her.

Being there in her arms gave him a feeling he wanted to bottle up and savor till his death. "You're all I need, love," he told her, his words meaning more than he had ever meant anything before. She was all he needed to live a perfect life.

And finally after all these years he was back with her. This time not even the heavens or hell, or anything in between could separate him from the person he would run to if the world was ending.

[seat-safety-switch]

Earlier this week, one of my scientific companions in the field of industrial shitbox arts was killed. Don't worry, I didn't do it. I'm not even liable this time. Here's who is completely responsible: whoever the fuck makes Roombas.

Let's first speak to the normal people in the audience. When you get tired of your Roomba and want to get a new one, the old one gets "recycled." What this means is that it's put on eBay for parts. Someone new gets a cheap Roomba, you no longer have a junk Roomba sitting in your house, and the eBay middleman "recycles" about a hundred bucks into his pocket without doing any actual work.

Despite the fact that all of the rest of us have watched Brave Little Toaster during critical development periods in our lives, and imagine that the Roomba we are discarding would be much sadder in the junkyard than in a million pieces in our basement parts box, you still went and did it. You monster. And now someone else has your old Roomba. Statistically, they actually have several Roombae, because why else would they be buying parts for them from eBay?

What this all means is that humanity can be divided into two kinds of people, roughly: individuals with one Roomba, and folks with several dozen Roombas. There is, in theory, a group of people who own no Roombas whatsoever, but we can ignore them for the sake of this explanation. They have very sad lives and should get an eBay account going.

Long story short is that my buddy, who we'll call Ralph Hoover, was consumed by his robot vacuums. According to his GitHub account, the last thing he was working on was "swarm cleaning," where every Roomba in his home would be summoned to the same room and devour it in an ultra-efficient grid, phalanx-like, until it was perfectly cleaned in mere seconds. Anyway, it turns out that those babies can strip a man to the bone when you get in the way of about twenty of them. Good lesson for everybody, particularly that you should be pretty wary about looking for odd red stains on all the "for parts" Roombas that are going to be listed on eBay for the next couple of weeks.

[alwaysthefool]

Lie To Me (MC/Reader x Sylus)

Tags; Angst to comfort, MC is OOC. Discourse under my post = BLOCK.

Warnings; self doubt, you are sad

You were gazing off into the distance when he asked you to train with him. “Huh?” You didn’t meet his eyes, nodding and getting up before muttering an ‘okay’, walking over to the boxing ring with your head down. It was ordinary for you to be a bit dazed and lost, but this time, there was an obvious grief etched across your face.

You knew he was dying to ask you what was wrong as you wrapped your fists with sports tape, but you also knew he knew you wouldn’t give him a clear response. You stepped into the ring, finally looking up at him, flashing him a polite smile before raising your fists.

“Wrong posture.” He stared deep into your eyes, his expression as much a mystery as yours.

No, it’s not a mystery. The voice in the back of your mind spoke. He’s concerned. Truly, genuinely, concerned. But the logical part of your mind denied it.

You didn’t speak to him for what felt like minutes, until you broke away from his gaze with an ‘Oh’, looking down at your posture. “Uh, what am I doing wrong?”

He didn’t take the opportunity to touch you and fix your posture himself this time, and that made you even sadder. “You need to stand up straighter.” Was he mad at you? But why did it matter if he was mad at you? You were nothing to him, right? He just wanted to resonate with you for power. There was nothing more to it. You were the one foolishly falling for someone so extremely out of your reach.

“Right, sorry.” You stood up straighter, looking up at his face now, your arms almost mechanically in the correct position. He probably noticed you being uptight but ignored.

You flung an uninterested but quick punch when Sylus got into his fighting stance, evoking a smirk out of him as he struggled to deflect it. You’ve always been fast. It’s something you caught from training with Xavier. Maybe it was your constitution, but you weren’t half as strong as him, earning you more than your fair share of teasing from everyone around you. But Sylus was different. He’d never tease you, only push you to do better.

So you did, throwing punches and kicks he struggled to deflect as he moved backward. “You’re pulling your punches.” He noticed.

You stopped, looking up at him. “We’re just training. I don’t want to hurt you.”

He laughed. “Sweetie, you couldn’t hurt me if you tried.” On hearing that nickname he called you, your eyes sparkled, but you looked away quickly, hoping he wouldn’t see the hope in your face when he called you that.

“You wouldn’t hurt me.” You replied, not meeting his gaze that was surely boring into you, always trying to figure out what was on your mind.

“What makes you so sure?” He lifted your chin to make you look up at him, his expression serious and stern. You could tell he was trying to appear rougher, but he always treated you like a precious and fragile treasure, probably because of the aether core. That’s all he wanted, right? He couldn’t let your precious heart be hurt.

“Then hit me.” You challenged. “I won’t pull my punches if you won’t.”

Sylus looked a little taken aback by your words, his expression turning concerned again as he seemed at a loss for words. After a while, his irritatingly confident smirk returned as he leaned in closer to you. “Careful what you ask for.”

You pulled away immediately as he got closer, resentment bubbling inside you. Why was he playing at your heart’s strings like that?

“I know exactly what I’m asking for. Come at me.”

He smiled, as if to say ‘as you wish, sweetie’, turning to you at a speed you couldn’t match. You dodged his first lunge, but at the second, he held both your hands and tackled you, pinning you down on the ground, one hand behind your head to make sure you wouldn’t get hurt as you hit the ground, the other holding your wrists above your head. You tried to use your legs but he held your thighs down with one knee, and you felt like your heart would explode from your chest.

“You okay?” He asked. You wanted to scream ‘No’, that he hurt you in a way that didn’t show except in the beats of your heart or the colour of your cheeks, but you gulped and nodded.

You tried pulling away, but he didn’t let go. “Not until you tell me what’s wrong.” As if sensing the burning question in your mind, he asked gently.

You didn’t reply, looking away from him. His hand that was behind your head forced you to face his sweet eyes etched with concern. “Please. I can’t see you this way.”

“What way?” You spoke with a bite in your voice, cursing yourself for sounding rude. He didn’t mind. It was almost as if he was used to it.

“You’re angry with me.”

You pouted and looked away again. “Let me go now, I’m serious.”

He didn’t. “You know it kills me when you’re angry at me and you don’t tell me why, right?”

“Can’t you guess?” You faced him, tears prickling your eyes. As soon as he noticed, he released you, helping you sit up against the boxing ring ropes. “Sweetie.” That word again. His gentle and concerned eyes again. His rough hands cradling your face again.

Stop it. Stop pretending you care.

“What?” He replied softly. Shit, you said that out loud. “I…”

Tears fell out of your eyes like tiny dew drops, your face reddening as you hugged your knees, embarrassed and hurt. But you couldn’t tell he was hurt too. He didn’t wipe away your tears, just stroked your hair.

“Come here.” He spoke as he switched positions with you, leaning against the ropes with you on his lap, knees on either side of him. It was a bit intimate to be in a position like that with someone you had nothing to do with romantically, which made you feel even worse.

“Sylus, I can’t take it when you hold me like this.” You blurted, now sobbing. You couldn’t look at his face, but his hand was wrapped around your waist. You wanted him to pull you close, but at the same time, that was the last thing you needed. “We’re nothing, and god, this is embarrassing, but I… I don’t know why you do this to me. Don’t ask me what, you know what it is, and my heart is too fragile to take so much toying. I’m tired. I know you need me to get stronger or whatever, but I wish you’d leave me alone once and for all.”

He stayed silent and still, but then he pulled you into his chest, making you sob even harder. “I told you, I’ll leave your sight if you want me to.”

You held on to him tighter. You didn’t want him to leave. He wasn’t getting what you meant. He was older than you, he should know better. He should-

“But don’t you for a second think I’m toying with you.” He spoke with ferocity you had never heard from him before. He tried pulling you away but you grabbed on to him like a cat refusing to let go. “Well, that’s the strength I was looking for.” He joked.

So he held you as tight too, burying his face in your neck, taking a deep breath before continuing. “I’m not using you for anything. How could you even think that? I just want you.”

“Why?” At that point it was easier to believe he was using you. Why would he like you? It didn’t make any sense. Why would someone you met so recently treat you like that? Unless-

“Because I just do. I love your voice, I love holding you, I love your face, and I… just absolutely love your body.”

“Sylus!” You smacked him on his shoulder lightly, finally pulling away to look at him, his face tired and hurt as he forced a smile for you, eyes glassy. Was he about to cry too?

“What’s…” You wiped the tears of your own face, holding his as he looked up at you in a look that could only be described as reverence. He wasn’t joking about anything.

“It kills me to have made you cry, you know, sweetie?” He held your waist closely. “I… I never intended for that. You’re so sweet, you could never—” He seemed to be talking about something you shouldn’t know but trailed off as he realised. “I just mean, if you would have me, I would never want to let you go. I would never make you feel this way again.”

You looked at him with wide eyes. He held your hand and brought it close to his face, nuzzling it. You almost wanted to apologise for thinking that way of him.

“Can we move on and pretend I did not cry in your arms today?” You spoke, embarrassed.

He chuckled, placing your hand on his erratically beating chest. “If that’s what you want, but I hope you know, what I feel for you… that will never change.”

——x——

Feel free to request

[steddiehyperfixation]

don't you forget about me (part seven)

(part one)(part two)(part three)(part four)(part five)(part six)

Eddie takes back everything he’d thought before; sex dreams are so much worse actually, especially when you wake up to the subject of them holding your hand. His face turns bright red the second his eyes open and land on Steve. He sits upright immediately, bunching up the blankets over his lap. 

The pounding of his heart - aka the rapid beeping of the heart monitor - alerts Steve who snaps awake instantly and tightens his grip on Eddie’s hand as he asks with urgent concern, “Are you alright? Did you have another nightmare?”

“No, no, definitely not a nightmare.” Eddie’s cheeks burn, feels the flush reach his ears and down his neck too. He clears his throat. “Just, uh- just a weird dream, that’s all. Not bad, just…weird, yeah. I’m fine.”

Steve relaxes. “Okay.” He hesitates, then adds hopefully, “Was it, uh- Do you think it was a memory?” 

Eddie shakes his head. “Definitely not.” 

“What makes you so sure?” Steve asks. 

“It was fantasy.” Eddie’s eyes rake over Steve, and he tries not to wonder just how accurate his dream was. 

Steve raises a skeptical eyebrow. “Fantasy?” 

“Yeah, fantasy. So unless you have some truly awesome news to give me about the existence of dragons,” Eddie lies (better to have Steve think he’d dreamt of riding on a dragon rather than that he’d dreamt of Steve riding him), “I’m pretty sure it was just a regular old dream.”

“Oh.” Steve's face falls; and Eddie almost wants to take it all back and tell a different lie, that it had been a memory, but he doesn't. “Yeah, no, I've yet to run into any dragons yet, I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Eddie says, running his thumb over Steve's hand. “I wish it was a memory. I mean- I wish I had more memories, and I'm sorry that I don't. I'm sorry that makes you so sad.” 

The apology only makes Steve look sadder. “Oh, Eddie, no, it's okay.” He shakes his head, squeezes Eddie's hand. “Don't apologize for that. It's not like you chose to forget.”

“I know. I’m still sorry though,” Eddie responds quietly. His dream-sparked lust has since curbed into something softer, inevitably. He looks into those downturned and devastating brown puppy dog eyes. “I didn't choose to forget, but I’m still the reason you're sad - I know that, so I'm sorry.” 

It's Steve this time who mutters “You don't have to worry about me so much, Eds, I'm alright,” and it's Steve this time who clasps Eddie’s hand in both of his and brushes a kiss over his knuckles. 

It sends a rush through Eddie's whole body to feel Steve's lips against his skin - in real life, that is. Heat rises in his cheeks again, heart rate kicking up for the millionth time. “Uh- yeah, uh, o-okay,” he stutters, can’t seem to form a coherent thought or sentence right now. He pulls his hand away and runs his fingers through his hair instead, changing the subject, “Um. Are you, uh- are you sticking around today?” 

“Yeah.” Though there’s still a trace of sadness behind his eyes, there’s something like flirtation there too as Steve smirks and says, “I’m all yours today.” 

God. Eddie really is done for, isn’t he.

It’s no wonder, then, that after spending another full day with Steve, another full day of being subjected to Steve’s bittersweet smiles and friendly banter and (that is, if Eddie’s not just being delusional, which is a very real and probable possibility) the occasional flirty comment, Eddie’s dreams soon turn sappy again:

They were sitting in some restaurant, in a corner booth, holding hands behind a propped up menu. Steve was looking gorgeous in a tastefully tight polo and perfectly styled hair streaked with gold, and he looked at Eddie with that warm little smile that always made his heart glow. It overflowed; Eddie almost couldn't take it. 

He said, “I know you said you wanted to do things right, so after how many dates can I ask you to be my boyfriend?” 

Steve's smile grew, eyes wide with a sort of wonder and disbelief and anticipation that was vaguely reminiscent of a child on christmas morning. “I, uh- I think the third date is just fine.” 

“Okay, good.” Eddie grinned. He caught Steve's other hand and held it right there out in the open without a care who saw or heard. “Because I like you so so much; you’re the best person I know, Stevie, and I wanna lock this down before someone else comes along and snatches you up. I want to be your boyfriend more than anything, and I want you to be mine, if you want that too. So, what do you say?” 

Steve must not’ve cared who saw or heard either because he immediately lunged across the table to kiss him, holding Eddie's hands tight as he pressed their lips together fervently. 

Eddie certainly wasn't about to complain. He indulged the kiss for a good long few moments before he pulled back to double check, “So that was a yes, right?” 

“Yeah, dumbass,” Steve laughed, fond and bright and beautiful. “That was absolutely a yes.” 

That ache is back when Eddie wakes up, the wanting, the wishing. 

He thinks this dream falls somewhere in between the events of the last two, like his brain is turning this fantasy into a whole connected narrative now, building and fleshing out this wishful story of him and Steve. Unless… No. Eddie can't let himself think like that. If these dreams have been memories, if that had really been the type of relationship they'd had, surely Steve would've said something. It's not unusual for Eddie's daydreams to become so involved and become entire worlds. This is, as he tells himself for the third time now, just another case of his overactive imagination. 

Steve doesn't ask about his dreams again, and he soon leaves for work and isn't around much that day, but that still doesn't stop Eddie's mind from continuing the fiction when he falls asleep holding Steve's hand, as always now, that night: 

Eddie sat on Steve's couch, his arm slung casually around Steve's shoulders as Steve leaned against him and idly played with the rings on Eddie's other hand while a movie played on the TV in front of them. It was Steve's turn to pick the movie, and there was a time when Eddie would've rolled his eyes and scoffed at the suggestion of watching The Breakfast Club, but it had just come out on VHS and Steve was so excited about it and Eddie was more than happy now to sit just there and watch Steve watch it. Because Steve was smiling and humming along to the songs on the soundtrack, and Eddie felt, suddenly, with such simple certainty that this is where he was meant to be, that this is who he was going to spend the rest of his life with. 

Something must've changed in his expression, in his stare, because Steve soon rolled his head to the side to look at Eddie and asked with an amused (and vaguely confused) smile, “What?” 

“Nothing, I just-” Eddie shook his head, pressed a kiss to Steve's temple and then said like it was the easiest thing in the world, “I think I've fallen in love with you.” 

Steve laughed as if this great big relief just bubbled free from his chest. “Oh thank god,” he said. “I’m in love with you too.” 

Eddie believed him, knew it with the same certainty as before. They shared gentle smiles and a sweet, chaste kiss. Steve slipped an arm around Eddie's waist and curled closer against his side. He went right back to watching the movie and Eddie went right back to watching Steve. And that was all there was to it. 

Clear, effortless, uncomplicated. Because how could they be anything else but in love with each other? 

~ 

Eddie sighs when he blinks awake. His eyes slowly shift to the side and he looks at Steve strangely for a few silent moments. 

Steve asks, “What?” 

Eddie's cheeks tinge pink, and Steve wonders, not for the first time, what Eddie had been dreaming about. He gets a devastating sense of deja vu when Eddie shakes his head and says, “Nothing.” But it stops there where Steve's memory doesn't. 

Although, Eddie is still considering him in that weird, just short of familiar way, and Steve wonders - again, not for the first time - if maybe Eddie just might remember too. But surely he'd say something if he did. 

Eddie taps his fingers against Steve's hand and asks after a long minute. “Are you gonna be around tomorrow?”

“I can be.” Steve is scheduled to work tomorrow, but he'd call out sick in an instant if Eddie asked him to.

“Okay, because, uh, that's when the doctor’s gonna have me try to walk and when they're gonna teach me and Wayne how to take care of my wounds at home for when I’m discharged, and I, um, I want you to be there for that too,” Eddie says. 

Steve finds himself a little surprised by this. “You really want me there?” 

“Yeah, I mean, If you don't mind,” Eddie starts, rambling like he's suddenly scared Steve might refuse, “I know it's not the most fun thing to be here for, but I just figured whatever the doctor tells us tomorrow you should know too, just in case, you know, like I might need you one day and Wayne can't be around all the time and-” 

“I’ll be there, Eddie,” Steve assures him, squeezing his hand. “Of course I’ll be there.”

And so he is. He calls out of work the next day, much to Keith’s annoyance, and stands there as the room fills with doctors and nurses and Eddie's uncle Wayne. 

Eddie's mobility is tested first. He makes a soft grunt of pain as he's instructed to swing his legs over the side of the bed, and then another when the doctor taps his knee and his injured leg kicks with the assessment of his reflexes. Satisfied with that response, the doctor moves on to pressing various pressure points on Eddie’s leg to measure how much he can feel (and Steve tries very hard not to feel so weirdly irrationally jealous at watching the doctor feel up Eddie's leg). After a few more soft painful hisses that let the doctor know Eddie's nerve endings are intact - or whatever it was she was testing - he's told to try and stand. He's understandably apprehensive, hesitant. The doctor and his uncle help coax him off the bed; the competent and the familiar. Steve hangs back still, sure he's not needed for this. 

But the second Eddie attempts to put pressure on his injured limb and he stumbles, his hand shoots out and it's Steve’s name he calls, as if on instinct. And, on instinct, Steve is there in a second to grab his hand and assist in steadying him. “I've got you,” he murmurs, guiding Eddie to the walker that's been set out for him. Eddie limps a few more feet with the help of the walker and the encouragement of Steve’s (hopefully) comforting hand on his shoulder until the doctor calls it and tells Eddie he can rest again. 

Once Eddie makes it back onto the bed, collapsing back into the pillows with a haggard sigh, the doctor and nurses immediately crowd him again, try to go straight into the next step of redressing his wounds. 

“Give him a second,” Steve snaps, protectively holding onto Eddie's hand and leaning over him. “Can't you see he's exhausted?” 

The doctor shoots the only other proper adult in the room a weary look. 

“They know what they're doing, kid.” Wayne's heavy hand lands on Steve's shoulder, both a reassurance and an alert for him to back off. 

“I’m okay, Stevie,” Eddie adds. He gives Steve a tired smile and squeezes his hand before prying it out of Steve's hold. “It's alright.” 

Steve reluctantly relents and steps back to give the medical professionals space to continue. 

Eddie's shirt is pushed up so the bandages on his chest and stomach are accessible as the nurses begin to explain and demonstrate the process of taking care of the injuries. Steve watches, listens intently, wants to absorb every ounce of information so he can best tend to Eddie if need be. Then his eyes flick up and he accidentally makes dead eye contact with Eddie who seems to realize then just how vulnerable and exposed he is right now because his cheeks burn red and his heart rate suddenly increases. 

The nurses don't seem to be too worried about this - if anything, they exchange knowing glances with everyone else in the room except Eddie and Steve before they continue their demonstration. Steve isn't worried either anymore - if anything, he finally resigns himself fully to the fact, the irrefutable proof, that Robin was right and Eddie really does have a schoolboy crush on him again. 

Steve does his best to keep paying attention, but in the background his mind is spinning and his heart aching. 

On the one hand it’s kind of sweet to know Eddie's feelings are not gone completely, that some level of attraction still swirls to the surface even through the empty space in his memory. And Steve has been indulging that crush the past couple days, little comments of flirtation just to feel like he still has Eddie in some way, just to see the reaction and have some evidence that Eddie still feels something at all for him. (Stupid, selfish.)

But on the other hand it is just a crush. Eddie used to love him, but now that's halved; and that's a very specific kind of agony. 

Steve’s not sure how much longer he can handle this. 

~

Something passed between them when they made eye contact; something sweet and sad flitted across Steve's expression, as it often does, but he looked away when Eddie blushed and has been avoiding his eyes again since. 

When the nurses are done showing them how to wrap him up, Steve retreats, saying kindly, though still not quite looking at him, “I'm gonna go get you some water, alright?” 

“Oh, yeah, thanks.” Eddie smiles gratefully after him. 

“Your boyfriend seems sweet,” Nurse Katie comments, carefully, as she secures the last of the fresh bandages. 

“Excuse me?” Eddie coughs, chokes on his own spit, spluttering, “I’m- he's not- we’re- it’s- um. He’s not my boyfriend.” 

“Oh, sorry,” the nurse is quick to apologize. “I didn't mean to assume, I just thought since he's always in here holding your hand, even before you woke up-” 

“We're friends,” Eddie says shortly. He feels a little dizzy at what she's suggesting and would really rather her stop talking. 

“Alright, my mistake.” Katie backs off the subject. 

Steve returns then anyways, further killing that topic of conversation. He hands a cup of water to Eddie, who takes it with another muttered “thanks” and starts gulping it down while the doctor goes off on some spiel about the process of having him discharged and more tests they’ll have to do tomorrow. Eddie’s not paying attention. He’s too tired. 

Not long after that, the doctor and nurses file out of the room, and Wayne stands to leave too. “I’m glad the two of you are getting close again,” he mentions to Steve and Eddie on his way out. “You were good for each other.” 

Whatever that means. 

Eddie doesn’t have the brainpower left to contemplate that. Being poked and prodded and trying to walk took a lot out of him. He’s exhausted, achy all over. It’s barely even late enough to be dinner time yet, but he could honestly just pass out right now. He sets his finished water cup on the bedside table and his now free hand reaches, once again, for Steve. 

“Tired?” Steve asks as he catches Eddie’s hand. 

“Mhmm.” Eddie settles against his pillows, closing his eyes. He adds in a sleepy mumble, “’M glad you were here today.”

“Me too.”

He feels Steve’s lips slide gently across the back of his hand, and then Eddie slides gently into sleep. 

Immediately, though, his dreams are not gentle; for the first time since he’s been falling asleep with Steve’s hand in his, Eddie dreams of the bats: 

Eddie was in that hell dimension, the scene all black and red and dotted with bats. But he wasn’t alone. Nancy Wheeler and Robin Buckley were there too, the three of them fending off the creatures with boat oars, and Steve- Steve was on the ground; two bats gnawed on his sides, another had its tail wrapped around his neck. Eddie’s heart was in his throat, roaring in his ears and pumping pure fear and adrenaline through his veins. He couldn’t save him; all he could do was try his best to keep more bats from joining in on the feast. 

Steve, however, seemed perfectly capable of saving himself. He managed to sink his teeth into the bat tail around his neck, getting it to let go. Eddie couldn’t see everything, too busy whacking away more incoming bats, but when the last of this fleet of creatures was fought off, Eddie turned back around to find Steve on his feet now, holding a bat by the tail and slamming it against the ground far more times than necessary. He watched as Steve stomped down on the bat’s neck and tore its head from its body. Blood from the bat’s tail hung from Steve’s lips in a thick, dark drip before he spat it into the dirt.

Eddie stared, jaw dropped, pounding heart pumping an entirely different sensation through his veins now. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life.” 

Steve gave him a bloodstained grin and Eddie’s knees felt weak. He would’ve dropped to the ground in front of him right then and there if- 

“Keep it in your pants, Munson.” Robin shoulder-checked him as she walked past. “At least until we get the hell out of hell.” 

Eddie settled instead for sidling up to Steve and, after taking a second to make sure he was alright, whispering low and close to Steve’s ear, “If we were anywhere else and you weren’t injured right now…” The muttered end of that sentence was something so filthy it made Steve’s face burn red, and he laughed. 

“Freak,” Steve said affectionately as he smacked a kiss to Eddie’s cheek. 

Eddie was quick to turn his head and catch Steve’s lips, locking them together in something searing and intense. 

“Boys!” Nancy snapped impatiently from a few feet ahead, which startled them apart. “Seriously? Time and place, come on.” 

Both Eddie and Steve laughed as they followed after the girls. 

Eddie wakes up a little bit disoriented from that dream. He doesn’t know what to call it: Was it a nightmare or not? Was it a memory or another fantasy? The lines are blurred and Eddie finds himself confused. 

Steve must’ve seen this on his face because he asks, “Everything alright?” 

“Yeah…” Eddie answers slowly. “I had a dream about the Upside Down…but it wasn’t quite a nightmare, I don’t think. I’m just- I’m not sure if it was a memory or not.” He hesitates, then decides screw it, he might as well try to get some sort of clarification on the reality of some details of his dream. “Did you…rip a bat in half with your bare hands?”

“I did, yeah,” Steve confirms. His expression shifts, sparking with something like hope. 

“And, uh, did I tell you that was the hottest thing I’d ever seen?”

“You did, yeah.” 

“Okay, cool,” Eddie says, reeling. “Just checking.”  

Steve is watching him almost expectantly, but when Eddie doesn’t say anything more on the subject, his face falls into something more like disappointment.

(final part is here!) taglist (CLOSED): @romanticdestruction @daydreamsandcrashingwaves @paintsplatteredandimperfect @hallucinatedjosten @mugloversonly @estrellami-1 @alongcomesaspider @thatonebadideapanda @tell-me-a-secret-a-nice-one @dragonmama76 @wxrmland @nuggies4life @sirsnacksalot @myguiltyartpleasure @lolawonsstuff @marklee-blackmore @vinteraltus @sebastiansstanswhore @0happyeverafter0 @scarlet-malfoy @hotluncheddie @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @emsgoodthinkin @alyelf @warlordess @stevesbipanic @lil-gremlin-things @rockandrolodex @badcaseofcasey @bat-outta-hel @fandomcartographer @manda-panda-monium @littlewildflowerkitten @giopandaonice @mightbeasleep @queenie-ofthe-void @krazyperson @worldofshea @marvel-ous-m @tartarusknight @a-little-unsteddie @xenon-demon @goodolefashionedloverboi @xxsky-shockxx @mc-i-r @bookbinderbitch @aspenshade88 @slowandsteddie @thedragonsaunt @daydreaming-mood @space-invading-pigeon @irregular-child @a-lovely-craziness (taglist continued in replies; please lmk if you'd like to be removed from this list. if you didn't make the taglist but still wanna follow along, you can follow the tag #dyfamsteddiefic to keep up with new updates!)

[bruciemilf]

To this day when Jacob visits, bruce, due to force of habit, has the urge to sit on his knees by Jacob's feet

I feel like jacob used to make him "know his place" constantly by controlling many specific things

It’s very much possible!! The way I envision it, the terrible thing is that it’s all so unintentional.

The authority figures in Bruce’s life, aside from Alfred, got off on bending him till he broke. And he didn’t. And Jacob does it, but there’s no vindication in it.

He wants Bruce strong; Not docile, or submissive, or controlled. You don’t make it in Gotham without any teeth, and he helped Bruce grow his.

Joe Chill thought Bruce tragedy, but Jacob thought him fear, and one is significantly stronger than the other.

But still.

It’s the second nature of war, controlling things. Maybe a part of you doesn’t want to. The other part of you does it anyway, and that part survives. Jacob will always be half man, half war.

Bruce is in love with mankind; That, no one can dispute.

There’s just some things you don’t unlearn. Tying your shoelaces. Riding a bike. Walking, running, fighting. For Bruce, it’s always, always yearning. He wants a warmth from Jacob because that’s his mother’s blood. And Jacob can’t give it to him.

It’d make me even sadder if Damian imitated that, thinking it’s an affectionate custom, but it’s not, and Bruce is horrified.

“No— Dami, don’t do that,” he doesn’t want to see his baby kneel by him. Ever. “That’s not good.”

“Then why do you do it?”

Bruce still looks for an answer to that.

[azure-firecracker]

I, like most people I’m sure, spent most of Small Potatoes laughing hysterically, but the more I think about it, the sadder the climactic scene makes me.

(And yes, I do think Scully knew something was up even though she may not have been sure what. You can see that she’s not leaning back into that kiss at all).

But I just feel so much for Scully in this scene. Because yes, she gave up on having a “normal” life ages ago. We know she’s drawn to the strangeness and charm of Mulder’s quest, maybe more than she’s willing to admit, and that she’s willing to sacrifice normality and conventions for that. But I don’t think that means she doesn’t want normality.

Mulder, I think, is someone who would be content if he never did anything other than search for aliens. And I think Scully would be content that way too, but I also think there’s a small part of her that wants to go on dates and drink wine and make scrapbooks and exist away from the danger where things are easy. And she knows Mulder can’t give her that, that the odd and dangerous is an intrinsic part of him, but still she wishes for balance.

(Fanfic does a great job of giving them more normal moments. In fact, it does such a great job that I forget how few there are in the show. But Eddie was right - they usually don’t talk. They’re connected more deeply than maybe anyone else could be. But they don’t talk).

The inherent tragedy of Mulder and Scully’s relationship is that Scully wants to be seen and valued, and though Mulder does see and value her above all else, he doesn’t show it in a way she always understands. She thinks she’ll always play second fiddle to his quest, and doesn’t see the moments where he reveals he’d throw the whole thing away for her sake. He runs off without her time and time again, and she’s left to pick up the pieces and do the less glamorous parts of the job, without seeing the lengths he goes to to keep her out of danger.

Scully is such a closed-off person that she wants to just exist comfortably and without fear and feel like she’s important. And though Mulder gives her that in some ways, it’s never quite in the ways she understands. She doesn’t know how much she means to him - I think that’s pretty evident.

And now she’s dying. The job she sacrificed all hope of normalcy, of being seen and valued exactly how she wants to be, for, is slowly killing her. And here comes someone she thinks is Mulder, wine in hand. And he finally gives her what she’s been craving - a shred of normalcy. A space she can be herself, be seen, be loved without everything being tied up in desperation and danger and fear.

It’s everything she wanted from Mulder that he couldn’t give her.

But it was all a lie.

[blackhairedjjun]

staying afloat - k.th

pairing: kang taehyun x gn reader | genre / tropes: angst, argument -> makeup, implied friends to lovers, office worker!taehyun, the subtlest of love confessions | word count: 899 | warnings: burnout and exhaustion from overwork

part of my 300 followers event (event masterlist)

prompt - HEAT: while engaged in a passionate argument with one another, sender, in the heat of the moment, blurts out “i love you!” to the receiver. think of like, that glorious trope where people have a huge argument and then suddenly sb drops the mic with “because i’m in love with you!” and silences the other person. u know the trope! (requested by anon)

author's notes: HI ANON im sorry this took sooooo long. as i said, this was hard for me to write bc i already did the heat prompt twice before and i didn't want to be too repetitive with the arguments... the argument here is a bit calmer and more one-sided on yn's part but i hope it still works!

“you are running yourself into the ground, taehyun!” you grab his shoulders and give him a little shake. taehyun watches you closely, and you can see the darkening circles under his eyes. 

he’s still standing before the threshold of your home, right in front of the door. with just one step he could walk in if you weren’t blocking his way. outside, the night air is so cold that you shivered instantly upon opening the door for him. the sky is dark, with neither moon nor stars, and the only light comes from the fluorescent bulb at the doorway.

“y/n, you’re up working too,” he says. his voice is steady but firm. “you can’t tell me what not to do when you’re also working like this.”

“i’m doing overtime for just one night, for god’s sake. but you 一 you’ve been so busy and tired for what, two weeks? you forget to answer my texts. forget!” you throw your hands up. “and you’ve never forgotten before, not in all the years that i’ve known you.”

taehyun stuffs his hands into his pockets and his gaze flickers away from yours for a second before it returns. though he tries to stand his ground, you notice the soft look in his eyes, laying bare the tiredness and worries weighing down on him.

“well, i’m here now. why won’t you let me make it up to you?”

“because it’s one in the morning and you’ve been staying up late for overtime and extra projects for what, two weeks now? you go home late and you wake up early, your boss dumps all this work on you, and you barely get any time off!” you take a step closer, now fully exiting the warmth of your home, to stand so close to him. “please, taehyun. it’s not that i don’t want to see you, but you’re so, so tired. i can see it in your face.”

you reach out to touch his face, but his expression goes taut and your hand hovers just inches away. he turns away from you before you can scan his eyes for the tired look you saw; a cold breeze blows by, causing both of you to shiver and pushing the bangs away from taehyun’s forehead.

he looks... sadder than what you remember. you remember how easily his face would light up before he took on his new position at his job; he would smile at the smallest of your remarks, his big eyes sparkling like jewels. you thought of the steady stream of texts from him day after day, reminding you to eat or commenting on a silly photo you took, and how that stream soon turned into a trickle. the memories make your body feel heavy.

taehyun says nothing for a few moments and just lets out a sigh. when he looks back at you there’s a pained look that wasn’t there before, and you feel an ache in your chest at the sight.

 “y/n, i... i don’t want you to worry about me like this. i can’t... i can take care of myself. please, please just trust me. i hate watching you worry like this.”

“oh, you hate watching me worry?” your tone rises before you even realize it. “and i hate watching you turn into this! you’re exhausted, taehyun. you’re not yourself anymore. i can’t even remember the last time i saw you smile! do you know how much it hurts to see the person you love lose himself like this?”

you tremble in your spot and your words start to trip over themselves. your emotions pile onto each other, keeping you from speaking straight: some anger, yes, but mostly disappointment, worry, loneliness, fear. “i ha一 i hate seeing you like this, taehyunie. i can’t一 i can’t watch一 i love you too much to see this一”

taehyun cuts you off to pull you into a hug. he holds onto you so tightly, as if trying to wrestle you away from the emotions gripping you. one of his hands makes his way through your hair. angry tears prick at your eyes but you relax in his hold, finally letting out a sob.

“i’m sorry,” he says, his hand combing through your hair then rubbing your back. “i know you’re just looking out for me... and you’re right. i am exhausted...”

something shifts and now you feel his full weight on you. now you’re the one holding him, his head moving to rest in the crook of your neck, his shoulders fully slumped. the weeks of exhaustion have finally caught up to him, and you wrap your arms around his waist to prop him up.

“i’m sorry, y/n,” he repeats. “for not... listening to you... for forgetting...”

your hold on him tightens and tears stream down your face, but you manage to speak. “i just don’t want you to hurt yourself...”

neither of you say anything more. taehyun doesn’t let go of you and sinks fully into your touch; despite the chill night air, he’s still warm in your arms. you let your tears fall freely as you keep a firm hold on the friend you love, as if letting go of him means he will sink and drown.

the night is so quiet that the murmur he lets out against your neck still comes out loud and clear.

“i love you too.”

[piracytheorist]

Twilight Eyes Project: "The Target's Second Son" (part 2)

Part 1 here

Previous episodes analyses

After Damian rejects Anya's apology, Twilight reverts his focus back to Plan A: making Anya an Imperial Scholar through good grades.

And so he starts this chapter with Twilight eyes, too focused on having Anya understand fractions to realize that it's too difficult a subject for her to begin with.

Yor suggests they take a break, but he insists, and his eyes keep their serious look.

And they even narrow further when he warns Anya that she won't get to watch Spy Wars if she doesn't finish her homework.

Feeling stressed, Anya runs to her bedroom. Loid follows her, intent on pressuring her to continue studying, until Yor tells him he shouldn't do that. Narrow (though a little softer in the anime) eyes as he tells her that Anya needs to study hard to become an Imperial Scholar.

Yor asks him if he believes that's what Anya wants... and that exposes him.

He's been too focused on the mission, and in his defense Anya has been amazingly accepting of everything, so now he realizes how much he's been actually pushing her. That she doesn't prioritize good grades the way he does, so she doesn't understand why he's doing what he's doing. His eyes stay narrowed in the manga, but the anime gives him a bit of a sadder expression.

Yor apologizes for interfering in his parenting methods, and he smiles at her in a show of registering her message.

He thanks her for offering her view. He's back on Loid Forger mode. This is a normal moment of a small child getting tired with homework, not the end of the world. Yor's words help him remember he needs to approach Anya with understanding, and not panic.

And so, they make her cocoa as a peace offering, but she doesn't respond when they call her. We still get Loid eyes, though they narrow in reaction to Anya's resistance, not in suspicion.

"Loid eyes" are still on, as he asks Yor about her experience in helping Yuri study. I find it interesting here because this could be an important moment in him learning how to navigate his own methods of helping Anya with her homework, but he just looks... invested. He's learning too, here, not as a spy obtaining information, but as a human gaining life knowledge.

Yor tells him that he can motivate Anya to study, the same way she had motivated Yuri in the past, and he looks down with an uncertain smile. No "Twilight eyes" to show he sees this moment from a cold and detached standpoint, and no "Loid eyes" to show he's pretending to be confident about this. In a way, he's exposing his lack of knowledge and experience to Yor.

The anime gives a little more focus on his reflection on the teacup, just as the soundtrack switches to the "teacups" track. We get what the rules of this post series would call "sad eyes".

Twilight's mind fills with his shortcomings as a father in the mission and he starts despairing. His face turns into an uncharacteristically sad and lost expression until Yor tells him that Anya loves who he is already.

And... I feel I'd do both manga and anime a disservice, if I didn't put his entire change in expression here.

Genuine surprise, to genuine relief... to getting himself back together. Judging by his reaction after, as he quickly turns to Twilight eyes, this seems to be the moment he remembers that his job is a slow, arduous work of becoming someone else, not to immediately turn into someone else.

He thanks Yor for her input and reassures her that it is her place to give such input, but I don't think his eyes show he was being duplicitous in any way here. I'd say he was more focused than anything else.

Back to business. He is a professional spy, after all, he needs to focus back on that.

He does, however, look genuinely thankful for Yor's comment. Sometimes all he needs is affirming words from someone not in the loop. Yor sees how high Anya thinks of him, and she simply reminds him of that, and that this is something everyone can see. To him, that means that the mission is going smoothly.

Judging by his expression here, though, and his comment to himself in the end, I do tend to think he's also influenced by the fact that a little girl feels loved. I mean, the very reason he continued Operation Strix as originally planned was because he didn't want to abandon Anya the way her other foster families had, so despite what he may think, there is a lot of emotional investment here. You can't tell me a part of him wasn't relieved here to know that he was directly ensuring a child's emotional safety. It's just that he can safely keep an emotional distance from the situation because he's certain Anya only loves "Loid Forger", so while he's relieved, he's not overjoyed with paternal love, you know what I mean?

Slightly narrowed eyes when he knocks on Anya's door again, apologetic and willing to compromise with her watching her show first and then studying. I think it's a good balance of him being careful as a spy, and showing his "negotiating parent" face.

Like, think about how all this time, he hasn't shown quite a lot of affection as a father to her. He did pick her up in his arms with a bright smile when she passed first the written exam and then the interview for Eden, but there's no plethora of smiles, terms of endearment, or hugs from him towards her. So maybe he knows he can't really be like "uwu I'm sowwy" nor like "yay I'm happy now you can watch your show and then I'll help you with those fractions :D".

I think by now it's become a little apparent, how he's not using over-willing "Loid eyes" a lot with Anya. Anya's high levels of intuition have thrown him off, and he's realized that this weapon of his is useless against her - she'll immediately see through it. For now he chalks it up to him not knowing a lot about children, but I'm curious to see if he'll notice how other kids can fall for his fake bright smile, and then suspect that maybe Anya is way more intuitive than the average kid... and why that may be.

As Anya doesn't answer when he knocks, he enters her room to find her asleep over her books. He matter-of-factly says she'll catch a cold if she sleeps like that, but then hears as she mutters in her sleep about how she wants to do good on her tests for him.

And through his calm expression (and the blush that the anime once again omitted) he shows how surprised he is by her initiative, but also how he feels a little proud of her.

It's interesting how much he shows with them around, especially Anya. The nature of this mission allows him to open up, after all.

Then, with the SOFTEST OF VOICES THAT I'M STILL NOT OVER, he picks her up and says he'll record the Spy Wars episode for her.

Like I'm sorry but how fucking cute is this. My dude is completely gone. He didn't even have to promise to record her show. He really did mean it when he said "You can watch your show and then study".

A small "WTF" expression as Anya is apparently having a dream of Yor going full Thorn Princess on Papa,

a classic moment of "dad looks at his sleeping child" moment added by the anime,

as he finally closes the shutters back into Twilight eyes. Cause now he's reaffirming that Anya thinks of him as a wonderful father... and he ends up wondering what it would feel like if he had a real family.

An evening of surprisingly vulnerable moments for him. He's not ready to unpack all that, so he retreats back into himself and the security of his spy position.

(no manga spoilers please)

[stazsi]

Right time

warnings: break up, mentions of kissing, basically sad shit ex!matt ;(

my notes : okay so this is my first one shot or whatever. i'm not rlly wanting to make it a 2 parter so imma leave this here hehe. :)) ( i'm sorry it's so sad )

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ﾟ✧

it's been 4 weeks since matt and i roughly broke up and he still hasn't stopped trying to contact me.

message after message and tears after tears.

I've always believed in right person, wrong time but if i love him this much why can't i have him now? i don't understand why he can't let go after breaking up with me, so that's why i'm outside his door right now trying to build courage to knock, the floor boards creak inside the house telling me someone's home.

anxiety flowing through my veins as i stand here, the wind flowing against my back giving me chills

knock,knock

..

click.

i straighten my back and look up listening to the the sweet but threatening sound of the lock clicking, reminding myself why i'm even here. i stand frozen staring into them blue eyes i'm used to, just puffier. "hi.." i whisper my voice a little louder than the branches cracking behind me. he stares at me clearly in shock and regret, we haven't seen eachother since the breakup and clearly it shows.

i slowly back up keeping my space, i try to let words escape my mouth but they're stuck in my throat same with my breathing, my stomach swirls and suddenly every body part itches from the sweat. his face goes pale blue with sadness and he slightly moves to the side sweetly inviting me in with no words.

i walk past him his strong cologne infecting my nose, i sit down on the couch and place my bag on the scratched up table. as i look around their house there's so many memories i didn't know i'd be so sadly familiar with. like the dent in the wall from when chris threw my heels, the countless coffee stains on the table from my rough mornings here..and the more i look the sadder i get, tears threatening to escape my eyes, it's silly really..i shouldn't be this sad about a ruined wall or table, even looking down hurts my heart; it's like someone is stabbing a hot cigarette into my fragile heart.

"y/n?" he speaks with sadness, i think he has been trying to get my attention but i've been looking around and forming a wetness on my face from my eyes .

i quickly wipe my light red cheeks and straighten up wiping the tears of embarrassment against my blue ripped jeans. i apologise and clear my clogged up throat.

"what are you doing here?" he asks sitting down and licking his lips, a thing he does when he's nervous he doesn't want dry lips and wants to present himself and act like hes not nervous

i don't wanna tell him why i'm here, i don't even know how to tell him.

i don't even know why i'm here

the silence thickens and as the seconds go on i regret this more and more.

"i don't know" i finally speak up allowing him to un-tense and let out a healing loud sigh.

it's starting to get more awkward as seconds turn into minutes and tears fall

"i'm sorry y/n" he lets out his volume decreasing, almost like he regrets starting to speak. he's sorry. i'm sorry. why can't we be the same? hes said his apologies so why isn't his aura yellow, happy like we normally are? why can't we go and laugh on fun car drives or cry in each others arms why are we separated?

"was there someone else?" i whisper my voice and heart breaking halfway through of the thought of him being with someone else.

he flinches. as if this question is important, as if i'm right.

"y/n.." he says trying to console me "there was someone else?" i ask knowing the answer but unable to believe it, my world just broke in two. the room spins vertically and horizontally and time stops giving me a second to break down, tears escape rather fast and i'm unable to breathe the dizziness taking over my whole body.

i nearly said sorry just because i don't want this to be true i don't want this life i want me and matt happy together i don't want a cheater i want matt. normal matt. happy in love matt. We've been doing this dance for a while now, the fallen out of love dance. one step forward then he spins me all the way back, the music slows down till it eventually breaks up into static and we're no longer dancing. we're just here.

imagining all the times he kissed her, hugged her, told her she's special, the compliments.

i feel his stare stabbing me like thousands shards of glass as i sat there, staring into his familiar yet deadly eyes, i felt a surge of emotions welling up within myself. the silence between us is deafening, broken only by the haunting echoes of my own heartache. suddenly, the words escaped his lips, shattering the fragile hope i've clung to for so long. "I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice heavy with guilt and in that moment, the weight of his confession hung in the air, suffocating the remaining fragments of trust and love - the truth, like a jagged blade, pierced through my heart, leaving behind a raw ache that no amount of apologies could soothe. nothing could mend our wounds, our love can't be replaced or fixed. I felt a surge of conflicting emotions raging within. betrayal, hurt, and a burning desire to escape engulfed my senses. without a word, I rose to my feet, my movements fueled by a mix of anguish and determination. every step I took echoed the resounding ache in my heart, a painful rhythm that matched the cadence of his footsteps behind me.

I could hear him calling my name, barely as my ears are focused on any other sound than his voice, that one sweet voice that once made me feel the most special but now it's disgusting and tinged with desperation, but I dared not turn back the tears that stung my eyes blurred the path ahead, yet I keep on, driven by my sadness and panic from the shattered pieces of our love. His hand reached out, barely touching my hand, but I still felt the strong energy between us.

the air was thick with unsaid words and broken promises, a weight that hung heavy between us even if we are a 10 minute drive away. i can still hear him pleading to me as i lay lifeless in my bed unable to even flinch or blink. breathing hurts and falling asleep becomes difficult. my mind clouded unable to shut down all alone i lay, without him by my side.

maybe it isn't the right time.

my notes; i love and hate this okay thanku for reading💙

[echos-gal]

ok i'm rapidly losing hope that Tech is still alive, and this sucks because it was basically the top thing i desperately wanted from this season. i wanted to see him survive. so here's my exhaustive and embarrassingly long list of reasons why he SHOULD still be alive, and if he isn't, why it was a missed opportunity. obviously no hate to the writers or anything, i love them dearly for creating this show!!!

(if you're a "Tech should stay dead for the stakes/so someone in SW stays dead for once/i hate delusional Tech stans" person, kindly keep scrolling, this ain't for you)

SEASON 2:

right from the start, Romar connects with Tech and calls himself "a survivor." HELLO???

in this same arc, Tech breaks his leg in a fall which he survives. he continues to walk on it, fighting off troopers to save Echo & Omega, showcasing his persistence and grit.

one of Phee's first lines is "better late than dead," and we know she shares a connection with Tech. she flirts with him later in this scene. it would be a shame not to reuse this line, i'm just saying....

Cid still owes Tech for racing for her in Faster. we see Cid looking miserable as she betrays the batch in Plan 99, so her playing a part in his rescue/comeback would be a nice way to show her growth. (i'm afraid there isn't enough time for this, though- as much as i thought a Cid redemption was on the horizon!)

Phee and Tech's departure is awkward, and although we have some context from season 3 (they talked more than we realized), the scene would do best if reconciled in person imo. it felt like it was setting up for something, and feels weird to leave hanging.

"don't go running off with any pirates or smugglers" could not have just been a throw away line. it set up for him to do exactly that. how fitting would it be if pirates or smugglers actually did manage to pick him up before the empire made it to the railcar crash site?

Hemlock's retrieval of the goggles shows that he sent a team to look through the wreckage. he thought there was a chance Tech survived, and may have him.

i won't go into the logistics, but big falls ARE survivable. in star wars especially. we have no idea what was below the layer of clouds/mist Tech fell through.

SEASON 3:

this is mostly CX-2 centric. their armor is very similar: the jaw/mouth shape, the hexagons over the ears, the rectangles on the chest, and the pouches/pockets.

"domicile." that is all.

CX-2 uses technology more than the other operatives we've seen, and he gets past the encryption on Phee's ship with ease.

"who are you?" was enunciated in the exact same way Tech says it to Trace and Rafa, which i definitely think was intentional.

CX-2 stops to use his rifle scope in the exact same spot where Tech and Phee stood to let down the ladders in the sea surge on Pabu.

he survives a waterfall plunge on Teth, which appears to have fooled Rex's group into thinking he'd died. the writers could have killed him off there and sent a new operative, but they chose to stick with CX-2 pursuing them to Pabu.

it's worth noting that while this CX is designated as "2," Tech's CT number is CT-9902. he is associated with the number even on a visual level: he's a dual-wielder, he wears goggles, he salutes with two fingers.

FROM A STORY PERSPECTIVE:

firstly, i am sorry and i LOVE the writers, but if you want people to accept a character's death, you've got to show his family and friends' grief. we saw no reaction from Crosshair or Phee, no tears from Hunter or Echo. it feels like fans were sadder about Tech's death than the characters in the story.

Tech seems to have been mentioned more in the second half of season 3 than the first half, which works if they want to bring him back in the finale.

the finale is called "The Cavalry Has Arrived." i really don't think you can have the cavalry (aka the bad batch) arrive without every member present. i also don't think it would feel right to play their theme without Tech there. idk, that feels incomplete!

we saw no body, and Hunter received Tech's goggles not from a trusted ally or friend, but from Hemlock. this calls into question the legitimacy of his claim that the goggles were "all he could salvage."

Tech alive and being held on Tantiss would provide a nice parallel to Echo in the first mission where we meet the batch, in TCW. and [ep 14 SPOILERS] we see that Echo is currently looking more like his TCW self, with his earpiece removed.

feels kinda sour that a character who a lot of people related to as neurodivergent representation would die just a few episodes after having a deep conversation with his sister about it.

likewise (and as a white woman i can't speak for WOC), from what i have seen, Black women are rarely the main love interest of a series! Phee is the ONLY love interest in this whole show, and it would suck to just cut off that romance before it could really become something. a lot of people wanted to see TechPhee become canon.

CX-2 is the one who destroys the marauder. it works well storywise for its pilot to have been the one to do that- the person who worked so hard modifying it, flying it, and teaching his sister to fly it. i'll be lowkey pissed if it turns out some random dude blew it up.

it's also CX-2 who invades and sets fire to Pabu. this is emotionally gripping on its own, but if he is Tech, it's even more so.

we have no idea what the operatives go through. Crosshair isn't telling, but it clearly put him in a really bad place. if Tech underwent this conditioning in his post-fall injured state, there's a chance he could come back from it. Emerie is probably the key to this, if they take the CX-2 route.

this show is all about a family trying to stay together as the Empire desperately tries to rip them apart. seeing the whole family together again - even if not everyone survives - in the finale is the satisfaction that the show ideally would go for. the last time they were all together was the season 1 finale. that was about 2 years ago in the show's timeline.

leaving Crosshair and Tech's final interactions be where they parted on the Kamino platform also feels off. Tech was the one who really vocalized the need to rescue Crosshair in season 2's finale. Crosshair, in the meantime, has changed significantly as a person. Tech's comment about Crosshair being "severe and unyielding," and unable to change this facet of his nature, is incorrect. leaving Tech dead would mean that he never gets to see this change in Crosshair, which makes me feel like a deflated balloon.

FROM MY SELFISH PERSPECTIVE!!!

give me Tech with cool scars and slightly disheveled longer hair. this is such a good opportunity for the creators to give him a sweet new look!

we never got to see Tech without his goggles on, despite Phee constantly referring to his eyes. he definitely doesn't have them right now (they're in the Archium), so we could get Mister Big Brown Eyes if he's alive. it's another missed opportunity if not, imo!

the goggles being placed in the Archium was a beautiful scene that makes me tear up whenever i think about it. it's symbolic, it's bittersweet, and it's exactly where the goggles belong. but was it closure for me? not really.

Tech is a character who became a LOT of people's favorite in season 2, including my own. why kill off a fan-favorite with an entire season to go?

yes, i desperately want a Rex and Echo series. yes, i want the batch to cameo in it, and yes... that includes Tech. making up for lost season 3 Tech content 😎

the finale will feature the zillo beast, and Tech loves the zillo beast. FREE HER! REUNITE THEM! he would love to witness her rampage.

FROM A "SURPRISE!!!!!" PERSPECTIVE

it seems like most people think Tech is either CX-2 or dead. it would be a great finale twist if we DID get CX-2's identity, it's NOT Tech, the audience loses hope, and then he shows up. i think this is actually plausible given the other assassin schematics Hemlock was looking at in Point of No Return. Tech might be in Hemlock's grasp, but not an active operative. having an enhanced clone to toy with is something Hemlock would want to keep under wraps. we see him step out of the assassin chamber at the start of that episode - if Tech is anywhere on Tantiss, i think it's here.

i think the writers have expected us to have all lost hope by now, so his finale reappearance would ideally come as a shock. the finale is almost guaranteed to be a very long episode, so we really might have quite a bit of time to explore his return, if it happens.

secret 16th episode: i know, i'm putting my clown makeup on as i type this. but the previous 2 seasons each had 16 episodes, with a two-parter finale. season 3 is just 15, with a single episode finale. TBB formally ends may 1st, so what if we get a may 4th surprise episode detailing how Tech survived? (that or an epilogue leading into a new series, which i think is more likely actually!)