#this is way more complex and serious of how im making it sound please trust me

[axel-tiredstudent]

giving my fav oc and protagonist really disturbing sexual fantasies cause they make sense with the narrative's and his own themes 🫡

[axiekyouraku]

“We’ll Make it out of This Alive”

RenDoc

Major character death!

His kingdom was running out of money. He should have known that eventually all the Diamond put into his new empire would slowly fizzle out. Donations were at an all time low, his and Bdubs’s shops were not bringing enough money to sustain all the quests. His kingdom would fall before long if he did not do something.

He knew just mining for more diamonds would only prolong the inevitable but he had to do something. He had held another meeting telling only his most trusted friends the problems he was facing but still none but Tango and Bdubs were willing to help by donating more diamonds.

He had to mine, cave mining was doing almost nothing for him, three hours of constant mining and he only had a half a stack to his name. He had to branch mine no matter how dangerous it was.

He tried at the old coordinates first, creating a complex branch mine but still was coming back with little to no diamonds. He confided in one of his closest friends, Doc. “I don’t know what to do! Man my kingdom- it’s almost back to how it was before I became king I just- I expected people to put more back in and Grian- he’s been making ‘priority quests’ behind my back that only benefited him- he gave someone six Diamond blocks just to put half in his base!” Doc tilted his head “It sounds like he contributed the diamonds no?”

“No! That’s the thing! He fucking- he stole them from my statue!” Doc shook his head. “We’ll that’s not right. What about raising taxes?”

“Already tried. They were voted down. I just- I need to go to the bottom, and mine for diamonds myself. It’s the only way to bring more in. I’ll lower the money people are getting in quests. I have to”

Doc had him by the shoulder. “No. You heard X before. Anything in deepslate is unstable. Just cave mine. It’s slower but safer. Please” Ren shook him off, standing. “Maybe you don’t understand, you have an unlimited amount of wealth- you aren’t a king I am! You don’t have to worry about what I worry about on the daily! I’m just gonna go. Bye Doc.”

He spent the next week at the bottom. Just two feet above the bedrock. It was dangerous, he had uncovered dozens of lava piles and even caught himself right under one, due to falling gravel- leaving him with a hell of a burn he had to spend the rest of the night nursing.

His communicator had been out on silent the whole time he was down there but he decide to check it before he went to sleep.

Bdoubleo100: My king are you AFK?

ZombieCleo: his name is not grey I think he’s active

Bdoubleo100: has anyone seen the king? I’m worried

Grian: nope sorry

Goodtimeswithscar: was he out mining?

Goodtimeswithscar: I’d check with Doc.

*******

Bdoubleo100: my king I’m worried it’s been three days.

Iskall85 tried to swim in lava

TangoTek: lol

Bdoubleo100: GUYS IM SERIOUS

Bdoubleo100: I’m worried!

********

Docm77 whispers to RentheKing: Ren your second in command is losing it. He’s been all over the server looking for you. Even I’m worried. Please just leave me your cords I won’t share them. I’ll just keep them in care of emergencies

Docm77 whispers to RentheKing: Ren I’m worried. It’s been a few hours you’re not responding.

TangoTek: anyone seen Ren? We’re all worried.

Joehills: no I’m sorry

Iskall85: I swore I saw his name tag while I was mining. South of the permitter

Docm77:I’ll go look

Docm77 whispers to RentheKing: Ren. I’m coming to find you

Fuck he hadent realized it had been so many days since he left. He rushed to type back to Doc

RentheKing whispers to Docm77: Fuck man- I hadn’t realized it’s been so long. I’m sorry! Here’s my cords man. I’ve just been mining I’m fine. There’s no need to come. Just tell Bdubs I’m fine. I’m sorry for worrying everyone.

Docm77 whispers to RentheKing: Ren. what the fuck! It’s been a week since anyones seen you! Stop mining right now it’s dangerous! I’m coming to you right now!

Fuck! He did not want to see anyone. All he needed to do was mine. Figuring he only had a limited amount of time before Doc showed up and carried him out of the mine. He had been branch mining for days and it was easy to get lost in the maze like structure. He walked back as far as he could go and began mining again. In need of more diamonds.

It was about an hour later when he realized his communicator was going off again. This time a call- from Doc “What?” He sounded annoyed. “Updated cords on where you are, now Ren! I’m taking you back home- or at least to my home.” Ren begrudgingly gave up his exact location, but kept mining. Ignoring the rumbling noises he was hearing above him.

“Another vein of diamonds!” He exclaimed and began mining them out, “Ren- Rendog! Hurry!” It was Doc. “Dude leave me alone I just found more diamonds!”

“Your branch mine is unstable, you have to leave now!” Doc was at his side now, grabbing Ren around his waist and throwing him over his shoulder. “Wha- put me down you big cyborg!” Wait- “What is that?” Ren asked, his ears twitching trying to hear it better. “Your branch mine is collapsing. I tried to tell you how dangerous this was!”

“Dude it’s fine you’re being dramatic!” He thought he was until he was not. The quiet rumblings began to grow louder and the ground beneath them was even getting louder. Ren was put down behind Doc and he grabbed his hand. “Follow me Ren, you have to run we don’t have much time.” They ran and soon blocks began to fall, lava pools that were above them were exposed and began to pour around them; almost trapping them.

“I’ve already sent word to Scar- and Bdubs! They’re the closest to here-“ Doc yelled as he took a sharp corner, pulling Ren along all the while. “Ren I swear! I told you how dangerous deepslate was!” Ren only hung his head as they ran. A pit of lava opened up above them and trapped them- “Fuck! We’re gonna die here! And for what-?” Ren cried and held his head in his hands. Doc was too preoccupied with lining the area above them with obsidian. “Ren listen to me- focus. Ren!” His head snapped up to look at the other man. “Do you still have your comm?” Ren touched his robes pocket and nodded. “You need to give this exact location to Bdubs. Now-“ he rushed to grab his comm and typed out the message:

RentheKing: Bdubs’s me and Doc need assistance, we’re at -2874 -54 3865 we need immediate help. My branch mine is falling. We don’t have much time.

Bdoubleo100: My king! I am on my way! Please hold on!

Xisumavoid: Ren! I’ve put out several things saying how dangerous deepslate is- what is so important that you’d risk your life?

Ren dropped his comm and slipped against the wall into a sitting position, his hands coming up to his face. “No one understands dude! I never- I just wanted people to clean up after themselves! I wanted the server to look good! I never- I never wanted this title!”He ripped off his crown and threw into one of the lava pools to his left.

“Ren…” Doc whispered and leaned down to his level. “Keep a level head please. It’s not safe to be down here- let alone down here when you’re this upset so just try to breathe. Do you have a water bucket to help with this lava?”

They spent the next hour keeping lava at bay- and only having three pieces of obsidian for protection over their heads. “The obsidian won’t hold out much longer. My comm is dead- yours was destroyed when you dropped it. We’re fucked Ren…” Doc said as he replaced blocks around them, keeping the lava at bay.

“We’ll… if we’re gonna die I might as well fucking say it.” Ren said and stood, standing on his tippy toes to reach the other- wrapping his arms around his neck he pulled him into a kiss. A kiss which Doc happily returned, reaching down he pulled on Rens hair making him gasp so he’d have free reign of his mouth. Doc’s tongue explored the new area, running his tongue over the others teeth as he deepened the kiss. When they pulled away they were panting.

“Was this a bad time to tell you I’m thinking of declaring independence from your kingdom?” Doc asked with a laugh. “Such a bad time dude” Ren returned the laugh and kept his arms around the others neck. “I’m sorry I got you stuck down here with me… it’s all my fault man.” Red hid his face in the others chest. “I would have found you wether you told me where you were or not. I would have turned over every piece of stone looking for you until you were found- and safe.” Ren hummed as the creeper hybrid pulled him into a hug.

They stood like that for a few minuets longer, until the sounds of blocks breaking from the lava could be heard again. “I’m out of blocks Ren! We need to patch that hole now-“ Doc said frantically. “A-all I have are Diamond ore blocks! Nothing else-“ Ren dug around his inventory. “Use them!”

Ren was torn, he needed these diamonds to help stabilize his kingdom. “I-I can’t dude! I need them!” Ren was shoved against the wall as Doc yanked a stack from him and began patching the holes. “You’re faced with death and you’re still worried about your fucking kingdom?” Doc was pissed. “When we get out of here Ren, you’re stepping down-“ Ren opened his mouth to argue. “No! No arguments Ren! This not an option!” The ground rumbled again, this time from above. This was it. They were going to die.

The middle block above them disappeared and Bdubs face popped in. “My king! Hurry! This whole chunk is falling apart!” Ren stopped and pushed Doc towards the rope. “No no- you’re going out first. You and Bdubs are light enough to be pulled together- my cybernetics? I’ll have to go alone, now hurry Rendog.” Before Ren grabbed the rope he turned and kissed Doc. “And I will Doc, I’m stepping down as soon as you’re out of here. I love you- don’t you fucking die on me okay?”

As he and Bdubs were pulled out the rumbling got worse, blocks around them were shaking, some falling into the hole that Bdubs had dug to get to them. “What did you mean by stepping down my King?” Bdubs asked looking down towards Ren. “Nothing. I don’t wanna talk about this right now. Let’s just hurry I want Doc safe.” The rope was dropped back into the hole but no one ever grabbed it, the rumbling seemed to have stopped too.

They deemed it safe enough to dig another tunnel down and looked into the hole Ren and Doc were trapped in. There laid a bloodied Doc under large pieces of obsidian from the ceiling. “Doc!” Ren screamed and tried to enter the hole, stopped by Bdubs. “It’s too late! It’s too dangerous- we have to go back up my king!” The rumbling mocked him as it started again, the ground under their feet shaking. Bdubs tied the end of the rope around rens waist and yanked, a sign for the people at the top to pull. “No! Doc! We need to save him! Doc!” Ren screamed and fought against the rope around his waist. The knot far too technical for him to undo. He and Bdubs were pulled back up to the surface as the whole area around them began to fall into one big sinkhole- at the middle even the bedrock was falling in. A glimpse of green and white falling into the void.

Never to return again.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

hi ash! i know you said before that you're not autistic you just did a lot of research to depict chris realistically- do you have any advice for finding resources on writing disabled characters that isn't like... horribly abelist? im writing someone with an intellectual disability from head trauma and who is nonverbal, and i want to get it right but everything online seems very autism-speaks-y. im autistic and semiverbal but i dont have an id and i want to be realistic and respectful.

I cannot speak with any expertise or sense of speaking from enough experience to be taken as an expert here, and defer as always to those with lived experience with intellectual disability!

But I will give a few more general tips for what to do when looking to write a character with a neurological makeup that doesn’t match your own, as far as what has worked for me with Chris:

1. The story should never be ABOUT their lived experience if you do not also have it. Chris’s story is not about autism, or being autistic. I would never presume to try and write a story like that because, whatever my intentions, I don’t have that knowledge that comes from living it. I would at BEST be taking the experiences of others, their voices. At worst, I would be someone standing with a megaphone shouting over those who deserve to be heard.

Making the disability what the plot revolves around is... generally just not going to be a good idea, in any sense. It’s moments like this where I feel like it’s best to defer to the writers who have lived it, instead. 

This is not to say “never write someone different than yourself”, because... I don’t think that’s at all good advice. I think that way lies stunted writers who never push themselves. But it does mean “do not center the story on this thing if you have not experienced it and don’t have that knowledge and understanding”.

2. At the same time, don’t try to be coy or dance around or hide the disability behind purple prose or refuse to acknowledge its reality. Trying to make a disability sound cute, or talk around it instead of speaking it out loud, can be minimizing or shaming in ways that I think it’s easy to miss, if you don’t live with that disability yourself! To me, this touches on one of my hugest pet peeves - characters who are written as having a particular neurodivergence in media, or shown on tv, but they never expressly admit to it or name it. 

I know I hesitated with Chris, more because I didn’t feel comfortable giving him a diagnosis until I understood autism better myself, and I do regret how long it took me to embrace that reality about him. I just thought it better to err on the side of researching before I embraced. But I do feel some guilt about waiting so long when I had readers who were identifying so heavily with him, and I kind of knew, but just didn’t feel comfortable owning it yet.

3. On a related note - disabilities in a story that become melodramatic tragedy or turn the disabled character into a ‘redemption story’ for an abled character. This is so, so prevalent in common media and pop culture and once you recognize it for what it is, it’s so hard to not see it in so many places. Think of how many movies, novels, etc contain a disabled character who exists to teach abled people some virtuous lesson about living life to the fullest or ‘what it really means to be human’ blah blah blah blah blah. Don’t do that. Please. (I mean, I kind of feel like you definitely won’t, but I’m just speaking very generally here). If you find the story going in a direction in which abled people learn something from the disabled person, please think very carefully and critically as to why the story is heading in that direction.

Language alone can also be a problem here - think about the difference between openly describing a character moving around their life with a wheelchair vs. calling them “wheelchair-bound” or “reliant on a cane”, when the cane or wheelchair may actually represent freedom to that person - an aid they need, yes, but one that allows them to live with far more agency than they might have had otherwise. 

To describe them, especially from their own POV, as “wheelchair-bound”, may ring false to disabled people who understand that the wheelchair isn’t a cage, but a tool that allows that individual person to feel less caged by being able to more freely leave home.  

(This varies person to person, just providing an example)

4. Educate. Research. And don’t just do so by asking people with disabilities to tell you their stories. I often express gratitude to the autistic readers, those with ADHD, etc who spoke up about Chris, talked about their own experiences, identified with him, found him very resonating for aspects of their own lives. 

These stories, this information, this sharing of their lives was given freely to me, and I’m fucking amazed and grateful for how welcomed Chris was, and how willing readers were to share about themselves when talking about him.

Their willingness to speak about these things is something I treasure. But I absolutely would never believe that a single person owed me the story of their life to make sure I got Chris right. That was my responsibility, you know? I try to keep in mind the concept of ‘emotional labor’. Asking a disabled person to be your resource is asking them to give, and give, and give of themself. They may want to give you that kind of labor, they may not. But I definitely wouldn’t ask it of anyone without understanding it was something they were happy or felt comfortable giving.

Research, on the other hand, is essential. You mentioned things being “autism speaks-y” when trying to research on your own, and oh god, do I feel you. It sucks that autism speaks is the first thing to pop up when trying to research the lives of autistic people - and in my research, I was lucky to already know AS sucks and write them off and anyone who heavily referenced them as not helpful. I can see how someone might not know that, though, and stumble on them and believe they were a helpful resource for writing autism when they... well. Nope. 

Try to think about the express disability you are writing for this person, and why, and then go research! I looked up “books on autism recommended by autistic people”, and found some invaluable books, yes, but also papers published online, websites, etc! Each of them vetted and looked over and recommended by autistic people, so I knew I was getting information that came from people with those experiences and that understanding. A good example - I picked up a book on the history of diagnosis and treatment of autism in the United States, mentioned it here, and @redwingedwhump recommended a book called Neurotribes... which turned out to be immensely more helpful, spot-on, and provided some really excellent foundational information I wouldn’t have found in the first book at all.

There’s a lot of information out there on Traumatic Brain Injuries and their lasting effects on individuals who receive them, so I would start there. What you’re describing sounds like a TBI with lasting effects! So I would start your research there, and also look up being nonverbal separately, as well as combining the two. Make sure you’re not just looking at the top links - often paid ads or problematic organizations that are able to pay more for better exposure - but also scanning for blogs, nonprofits, lived-experiences stories, too.

I found a lot of information on the second or even third page of results i would never have seen if I only stuck to the first. Remember the algorithm on search engines is usually showing you what other people are clicking on, not necessarily the best source.

5. This is one you the asker already know, but I want to include it for general reasons: do not ‘dumb down’ the thought processes of a nonverbal or semi-verbal person. I see this in fiction surprisingly often, and I think it’s this sense we have as abled people (’we’ just meaning I’m including myself) that being verbal is required to have a highly complex thought process, and it’s... it’s just fucking not. Speech and though are related but not completely wound around each other, and the ability to verbalize is not the same as the ability to think. 

Like I said, I know you know this, asker, but it’s something I see in fiction/media and it drives me up the wall. So I wanted to include it.

6. For the love of God, do not use medical terminology unless you actually know what you’re doing/talking about. Many disabled people or those with serious medical conditions become what amounts to experts on their own diagnoses, because they have to. They have to be experts to receive the care they should be able to rely on. If you constantly fuck up terminology - trust me - it will be noticed, and it will take people out of the story or hurt their ability to suspend disbelief while reading.

There are ways to do medical scenes/conversations with doctors that avoid falling into this problem! I would just be very very careful to heavily research before using any complex terminology.

7. This disabled person does not exist to evoke pity. They are a human - nuanced and multi-layered - living their life, and their story should always, always reflect that. I don’t really have anything else to add to that.

I would love to hear further advice from anyone with anything else to add.

[nightklok]

TELL ME ABOUT HOW YOU WRITE PICKLES AND CHARLES PLEASE ;0; what are you inspirations for their dynamic? you write them so in love and it makes me immensely happy

Thank you firstly, means a lot because writing them happy brings me so much joy-even if I probably wrote more angst than fluff of them at a point-jkfl

I have answered Pickles here so I’ll write about Charles and why I write them together with the way I do! :D

Charles

I feel like Charles has a lot more emotions/feelings than the show tries to give him credit for (I like to think that by season 4, he learned to be a little be more emotional around the boys enough as he learned that it’s okay to be a bit emotional if he needs to around them BUT then Doomstar completely wrecked him) 

I really adore trying to write characters that are normally stoic in the show into more gentler/emotional people. I feel like the DVD extra of him taking calls and season 4/Doomstar shows he can be emotional! He has friends outside of Dethklok, his own hobbies/interests, definitely feels something and I don’t think my idea of him is really all that far fetched. He’s not just some asshole in a suit and while he has done questionable things, 9/10 it’s for the sake of Dethklok and not himself (Whoops forgot about Melmord here but even then I think Charles isn’t being selfish because he really does know he’s the only one that keep them in control-Melmord is just a snake oil salesman in a non-existent clown costume or something-)

I do keep in mind that he is a serious person and most likely is even when around people he completely trusts. He’s a person who can be a bit hard to read but he’s also not that hard when you actually get to know him and really know where to look when talking to him. Also I do headcanon that he is autistic but that’s for another story i think

He’s a character that even though I know is emotional inside, he does have to keep a stoic/non-expression look to him on the surface. He has the most important job in his life and he’s well aware of it. Being emotional/expressing anything but seriousness could possibly endanger him and Dethklok. It’s probably not by much because I do think even when he is emotional and can express himself, it’s still controlled to a degree. He can’t just let himself completely break in front of someone, he wouldn’t allow that at all.  I’d imagine he’d have to pretend that he only sees them as coworkers and nothing else or that the band would have to do the same to him or there would be kidnapping attempts. there probably is anyway on a yearly basis but thanks to him, it’s near impossible to do that as they do have highly trained klokateers.

But I still believe even regardless of that that it must get exhausting at times. A warm bed and wanting to sleep in is something that everyone desires to do at least once but they have to get up early and go to work or do whatever they need to do. Charles is human and he’s a human has needs like everyone else. I feel that he does probably have the days where just sleeping in sounds like a wonderful thing to do or that there are stressful days where he’d just need a long bath or something. Because of this, I don’t really seem him as aggressive or overly dominant when off work and in a relationship. Having to take care of a band and basically the world’s economy is exhausting. If he just wants to be taken care of, let him!!

Basically what I’m saying is let the guy take a nap

I do like to try and base off characters/writing off real people/situations so I think I gotta say Brian Epstein who managed the Beatles really helped in figuring out how Charles is like as a manager to Dethklok-I really began researching him around the time I got into the show because of class and it was interesting reading about him and I honestly think he’s one of the best band managers I heard of (next to Peter Grant of course-). I do also relate to Charles in some level though the patience he has I think is really almost inhumane because wow-

I kinda did write Chickles first before this so i might be repeating? So I’ll just leave this as it is but either way, I just like writing him as a little bit more emotional/down to earth. I get that it might be OOC a bit but I feel like the aggressive/dominant part is a little bit way too OOC-

Chickles

I honestly wonder why I write them so in love too if i have to be honest dsflkj

To answer what the inspirations; i feel like a huge factor into why I write them the way do (and probably any other ship) is because while i have had the feeling of falling in love before, i never really had the experience of being in a romantic relationship or went anywhere even close to that with someone. I feel like this is kinda obvious but its about the yearning I kinda do fantasize what it must be like but I do also take what I have learned/read/seen from either relationships I know of personally or seen in media and apply to them. I take both toxic and good relationships to see what I do/don’t want to write when it comes to relationships and what they would/wouldn’t do. I don’t use toxic relationships to completely shape a relationship but rather analyze it, see why it’s toxic in the first place, and see what I can do to either when I write relationships/pairings in general. Obviously I use Addams family’s Morticia and Gomez as a base for writing good relationships in general because who wouldn’t???

I also think writing terribly written Chickles fanfics and even ones with Charles probably help to in writing Charles. Are they near uncomfortable and make me wanna take a shower after reading them? Yes-but reading them not for entertainment/knowing what you’re getting into and then thinking about why you didn’t like it honestly helps in keeping a character in check. Not something I recommend for works that can potentially trigger you but for for those fics that just don’t nail their character right, can be useful in knowing how you don’t want to portray a character/relationship. It can be VERY easy to make Chickles a toxic pairing if you don’t know how to handle them right. Having a character like Charles be with someone like Pickles can be easy to butcher if someone doesn’t really study their characters. Charles doesn’t have to be completely dominant nor is he a Christian Grey-like character that doesn’t seem to know how to properly communicate with his partners. And Pickles is definitely not a weak, submissive person and is stronger/braver than anyone gives him credit for when writing those relationships. I like to think that while one may be a little more dominant/in control of the relationship, they are complete equals. If one needs to be taken care of, the other will step in and help them out.

Writing them that they had knew each other in the Snakes N’ Barrels era/80s has always been basically canon to me too! So I guess it just makes it also a lot easier to write them as in love when I set the stories in dethklok/present day; whatever problems that they had in the beginning that they fear the other might judge/yell/misunderstand for would be long since resolved/handled by the time the show aired. Whether they actually date or not by then kinda depends on the story but either way, they would have a strong relationship. They would have learned about each other, their problems and who they are inside and out. They fall in love with the little things they do and learn to handle any pet peeves with them but accept them as who they are. They have gone through so much together behind the scenes and their relationship to each other probably is one of the few that hasn’t changed when Dethklok got incredibly famous.

Season 3 and onward might be a different story. Though it’s not because of personal grievances but more of just the topic of keeping secrets & not telling the truth when they would’ve most likely been so honest with each other before. And honestly that’s what makes it REALLY devastating to write about; Pickles would know jackshit for at least a few years (Assuming that Season 3 & Season 4 took place within 3 years at best.)  and I don’t think watching someone you really love/care about die in front of you, then come back less than a year later and refuse to talk about why they’re here and give vague/cryptic answers is gonna put things back to normal.  (Maybe one day I’ll finish that fic I poured near 10,000 words in-).

And honestly it’s probably where I would like to explore on their relationship the most but it’s just so damn complex and detailed that I definitely need a lot of time to work on. They’d both want things to go back to normal but by Charles coming back, it signaled that things weren’t as what they used to be and that they most likely won’t be. What used to be a relationship based on comfort, familiarity, and a predicted unpredictability, has become something much more than neither of them have either prepared for. They’ll have to work hard to move past it and accept that like their relationship, things won’t be like they used to be. But with how much time they have spent together and that they still love each other regardless, they’ll be able to go through with this and get their happy ending!! (And I guess this is why I evolved from ‘definitely not the marrying type’ to ‘yeah they definitely get hitched after galaktikon’ because charles and pickles have probably signed a lot of important documents all their lives, so signing a marriage certificate that binds them to each other would be the most sentimental/important document he’s ever signed.)

All in all,they have such good potential writing because it’s just easy to write them for me. From their first meetings to first relationship to getting to be signed to Dethklok, I feel like they have something I probably won’t be able to replicate in other ships. They are an absolute joy to write and getting to explore.

God i could go on forever about them but im gonna stop dlfskj

[benaffleckofcrowdsurfing]

Lazerquest - part 4

Alex Turner x Reader

Chapter 4/?

Description: you are an impulsive bartender who recently moved to London after traveling across the United States and living on the road for a few years. You befriend Alex, a musician who recently got out of a long term relationship, and you show him the ways of your free-spirited lifestyle in an attempt to help him move on from his ex. However, you become more of a muse than a friend for Alex and all is revealed when he releases his band’s fourth studio album, “Suck it and See”.

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: none

Tag list (msg me if you would like to be added):

@lolurnotmileskane @imagine-that-100

Updates whenever the heck I please (at least once a week) 

Author’s note: hi friends. This is a sucky chapter because im brain dead from work, but i promise things will pick up soon. Ive got big plans for this bad boy, i just need to figure out how to get there.

**************

“Here she is,” Alex burst, and stopped in front of a beautiful vintage Porsche. Your jaw dropped as he leaned up against the car. It was a beautiful deep green color with tan leather interior, and although it was obviously an old car, it was in pristine condition. 

“Oh my god, Alex, this is yours? Is this a 1969 convertible 911?” You inquired, but you knew the answer. You were a bit of a car geek, and Porsches were some of your favorites. You ran your fingers lightly across the hood in awe, you couldn’t believe you were actually touching such a classic car. Alex had a proud grin on his face.

“Yes ma’am. One of my larger purchases after Favourite Worst Nightmare went platinum. She’s my baby,” Alex beamed, and opened the passenger door for you. “Your chariot awaits, Milady.” 

“Why, thank you Sir,” you imitated Alex’s accent, before stepping into the car. He shut the door behind you and went over to the drivers side.

“I got a brand new sound system put in, it has an auxiliary cord and everything. You can go ahead and hook your phone up to it if you’d like, it’s your adventure so you can pick the music,” Alex said, and handed you a cord. He then turned on the car and shot you a huge grin. You pulled out your brand new IPhone 4 - a going away gift from your best friend back home - and scrolled through Itunes. You settled on another album that reminded you of home: Red Hot Chili Peppers’ Californiacation. As the opening track, Around the World, began playing through the car’s speakers, Alex drove off and out of his apartment complex’s garage. 

“So, where to?” Alex had to yell over the music.

“You know the vintage shop by the place I work?”

“Yeah, the one with all the leather and costumes and shit right?”

“That’s the one!” You chortled. Alex and you exchanged knowing glances before he stepped on the gas and you turned up the music. 

The two of you were speeding through the city, and you thought you looked quite good. Your hair was flowing in the spring breeze, and your leopard fur coat matched the interior of the car perfectly. Alex looked cool as all hell in his oversized aviator sunglasses, and his toned arms resting on the steering wheel of the car made your insides weak. When you’d stop at a traffic light, the people in cars around you would stare and smile at you, and to be honest you liked the attention. You liked being the mysterious girl in a Porsche with Alex Turner. As the 911 pulled up to the vintage shop, you clapped your hands in excitement. 

“I hope you brought your wallet, Turner. We’ve got shopping to do,” you winked at Alex as he opened your door and put a hand out for you to hold onto as you exited the car. What a gentleman.

When you entered the shop, you grabbed Alex’s hand and dragged him towards the huge section of racks containing leather jackets.

“Alright, Al. Remember when I said I knew how to make your outfit perfect? Well here we are. You need a good vintage jacket to match that vintage shirt and vintage car of yours,” you smirked. Alex gave you a massive grin before practically diving into the massive collection of jackets.

“You go look around, Y/N, and I’ll show you the one I choose once I’ve found it. Like some sort of big reveal,” Alex instructed. You ruffled his hair and squeezed his arm before skipping away.

You found yourself in the dress section, like usual, and began digging. Most of them were rather cheesy numbers from the 80’s, but just as you were about to give up and move on, you found a stunning 60’s Mod style dress. It looked like a checkerboard, it was 4 huge grids alternating between black and white. It was a rather stretchy material and was a bit short, which you thought was unusual for the time period, but you knew that it’d just make the dress far more flattering. A huge grin appeared on your face, and you darted to the dressing rooms to try it on.

 Just as you had slipped the dress on, you heard Alex calling your name. You were so eager to see the jacket he had picked out that you didn’t bother to look to see how the dress looked, you opened the curtain to go find Alex. You were surprised to see him waiting for you right outside of your dressing room. Both of your jaws dropped at the sight of each other. Alex looked amazing in his jacket, he had picked a rather worn one in a biker style that looked to be around the 1950’s era. 

“You look like a greaser, Al. Like a modern Danny Zuko or something. It’s fantastic,” you gushed. Alex hadn’t said anything yet, he just looked at you with wide eyes and a little smirk.

“And you look like a modern Twiggy. Absolutely brilliant,” he breathed, before taking a step towards you. He traced the outline of the dress with his large hands, before reaching for the price tag. He was so close you could smell him, this time the sandalwood and cigarette was accompanied by the smell of worn leather. “I’m buying this for you.” 

“Oh no you aren’t, you can buy your own jacket and I’ll buy my own dress. Oh and those SHOES!” you gasped and practically ran to the wall of shoes. You pulled down a pair of chunky soled white go-go boots and squealed when you discovered they were in your size. You put them on right there in the middle of the shop and gave Alex a huge smile. “Thoughts?”

“I don’t think you want to know what I’m thinkin, Love.” Alex’s eyes were glued to you, the corners of his lips curled up into a devious smile. 

You rolled your eyes and gave him a little nudge. “Stop playing, Alex. I’ve got to go take this beauty off, then I want to go look at costume jewelry. Then our day can really start.”

“Brilliant.”

“Be back in a jiffy.”

When you had come out of the dressing room, you found Alex at the front of the shop looking at jewelry. The man behind the counter was showing him a gorgeous yellow diamond choker with a black diamond in the center.

“It’s a 30’s era piece, one of my personal favorites. I think it’d look absolutely lovely on your bird, there,” the man said and nodded towards you and then back at Alex. 

“I think so too, Sir. I’ll take it,” Alex beamed. You blushed when he looked down at you and bit his bottom lip. “And don’t let her pay for those shoes and that dress either, I’ll take care of it.”

You frowned. “Alex, seriously. I can buy my own things.”

“I don’t care, I want to buy them for you.”

“You don’t need to do that for me.”

“Y/N.”

“Alex.”

“Y/N/N.”

“Al. I’m being so serious.”

“Do I need to show you my bank statements? Trust me, it’s nothing. Think of it as a little thank you for staying up with me last night.”

“Alexander….”

“Y/N…..”

“Cut it out and move so I can pay for my shit.”

“Nope. I’m buying them for you.”

“You’re impossible, Al.”

“You love me, Y/N/N.”

**********

Once Alex and you had returned to the car, he took the necklace out of the bag and instructed you to turn around. He wrapped it around your neck and gently moved your hair out of his way so he could fasten it. Once it was on, he turned you back around, and fixed your hair. He was still wearing his new jacket, and you took the moment to admire how good he looked. Neither of you spoke, he just stood there with his hand on your shoulders, smiling down at you. You could feel your cheeks turning pink as the two of you locked gazes. After what felt like an eternity of blissful silence, he chuckled and shook his head.

“You’re an interesting one, you.” He muttered as he opened the door of his car for you. “So, where to next?”

“Not sure. Just travel East till you reach the water. I want to go for a swim,” You hummed. 

Alex looked at you, rather amused, before starting the car. “I know just the place.”

************

By afternoon time, both you and Alex had shed your coats and were driving down a windy, narrow, road, soaking in the sunshine. You had taken off your shoes and your seat belt so you could lounge your legs up on the dash and look up at the sky above you. Alex had put on Room on Fire by The Strokes, and the two of you sang along as you sped towards the beach. He had one arm draped over the steering wheel, the other alternating between playing chords on the air guitar and messing with your hair. 

When the two of you made it to the beach, it was nearly sundown. Alex had taken you to a small village perched on a cliff above a large and sandy seashore, and the two of you parked on a small bluff before hiking down towards the water.

“You know, you said you wanted to swim, but neither of us have swimwear,” Alex called after as you ran down the bluff and onto the beach. You didn’t answer him, though, you just turned to face him and took off your top. Alex was extremely taken-back by what you had just done at first, but when you continued to slip off your shorts and skip down the beach, he caught on and took off his own shirt and jeans. You were quite a bit closer to the water than him when he had done so, but just before you were about to stick your toes in the cold water, a pair of muscular arms wrapped around your waist and lifted you off the ground.

You let out a little shriek as Alex threw you over his shoulders. He adjusted his arm around your thigh, and began walking deeper into the water.

While helpless in the arms of the musician, you couldn’t help but notice his boxers. “Nice dino undies, Al. Very badass of you.” You gave him a playful slap on the bum and he slightly tightened his grip on your legs.

“Well I’m sorry that I didn’t expect to be getting naked in public today, Y/N. Not all of us can wear an Agent Provacateur set on some random Tuesday.”

You knew Alex was referring to the undergarments you had chosen this morning, and you laughed. Sure, it was a black and lacy number and looked a bit fancy, but it definitely wasn’t Agent Provacateur. “For your information, Al, I got this at Target. And watch your mouth, Buddy, I’m not some slut that just expects to end the night in her bra and undies. I just like to feel put-together.”

“Oh, trust me Y/N, I’m not complaining,” Alex smirked. He was now waist deep in the waves, and still had you on his shoulders. He shifted you down so he was carrying you bridal style, and grinned at you before biting his lip. “Now are you ready to get wet?”

You smirked to yourself a bit. If you had held my thighs like that any longer, Turner, you wouldn’t have had to put me in the water for that to happen.

“Ready as I’ll ever be, Alex,” you laughed. When he told you to hold your breath you did, and at that he tossed you into the water. The cold of the ocean bit you the moment you hit the wave’s surface, and you gasped in shock. 

“Jesus it’s cold,” you shrilled. Alex laughed hysterically as you tried to climb on him and out of the water, still shaking due to its temperature. He pushed you off of him, and when an exceptionally large wave came your way he completely submersed himself under it. 

“Bloody hell, you’re right. Fucking freezing.” He yelled as his head popped out from the white caps surrounding the two of you. “Why’d you want to do this, Y/N?”

“Well, you’re having fun, aren’t you?”

“Of course I am!”

“Well then there you go, my plan worked out  perfectly,” you beamed. The late afternoon sun gave Alex a golden tint, and with the combination of his wet curls and the waves surrounding him, you thought he looked something like a Greek god. The thought made you let out a breathy laugh, which caused Alex to scrunch his nose at you. 

“Making fun of my Dinosaur boxers again, Y/N?”

You faked a gasp and put a hand over your chest dramatically. “I would never!”

“Then why are you staring, Love?” 

Shit.

“Just trying to figure out how I can get you back under the water,” you sniggered. Alex began swimming away from you, so you chased after him and when you were close enough you put your arms around his neck. “Gotcha!”

“Oh, do you know?” Alex chuckled, and hooked his hands under your armpits. He lifted you all the way up and out of the water, causing you to giggle like a schoolgirl. When he put you back into the water, you wrapped your legs around his torso and placed your hands on either side of his face. Alex pressed his forehead to yours, and you looked into each other’s eyes.

The two of you were so close you felt like you could feel the atoms between you, and a massive smile painted itself across your face. 

“You’ve got gorgeous eyes, Y/N,” Alex whispered, just barely loud enough for you to hear over the roaring of the ocean. His comment caused your cheeks to turn as pink as the sunset behind you. 

“As do you, Alex.” The two of you were still wrapped in each other’s arms, forehead to forehead and nose to nose. “Now, take me back to shore before it gets too dark. We’ve still got items left on our agenda.”

Alex furrowed his brows before turning around and allowing you to climb on his back. “What more could you possibly have in store for us, Y/N.”

“You’ll see.”

“You know, being with you is like constantly getting left on a cliffhanger.”

“I like that, Al.”

[fairycosmos]

TRIGGER WARNING : I know you're not a psychiatrist tbh I just need to vent and I really like you so yea, I've come to the conclusion that I am what everyone thought I was which is a lazy little bitch using depression and suicidal thoughts as an excuse to be lazy I use to feel guilty but idc anymore it just shows there's no hope for me at all the only problem is I don't have the guts to shoot myself in the head and it's the last option I have Im sorry I just don't know who to turn to

hey dude. i’m sorry to hear you’re hurting so much right now. i know it’s a complex and personal issue that words alone can’t solve, but i still hope you’re open to some comfort, some alternative narratives to center your thoughts around. and idk just a few words from someone who can understand to an extent....i think first and foremost it’s a good idea to ask yourself, when you’re in the right state of mind to, where all of this self loathing is actually coming from. whether it’s grounded in anything substantial. it’s important to remember that a massive part of depression is feeling like you’re faking, over-exaggerating, using it as an excuse etc. i’ve heard a lot of people with mental illness echo the same sentiment. and the fact that you feel this way, so violently negatively towards yourself, indicates that you ARE struggling with a much deeper problem. but we’re taught to overlook it and to blame ourselves, partially due to society’s attitude regarding mental illness. in short we’re conditioned to feel like we’re lazy and worthless if we can’t produce labor and profit, or if something prevents us from doing so, but that’s merely a capitalist myth. those around you have internalized its message and are now projecting it onto you. but now that you recognize that fact, you can begin dismantling that belief system in your own head. cause in actuality, it’s got nothing to do with you or your value as a person. it’s the system that’s the issue, and the way it sees human life as nothing more than a means to an end, when people are so much more than that. you are so much more than that. you’re not here to constantly please everyone or to be some emotionless machine. so anyone who was judging you by that standard is fkn deluded and their opinion doesn’t hold much weight to begin with. then there’s also the stigma surrounding depression itself. people who’ve never experienced it don’t get how debilitating it is to live with. how it doesn’t just prevent people from working, how it prevents people from progressing in all areas of their lives when it’s left unacknowledged. which is why the answer isn’t to hurt yourself, it’s to admit to what hurts. this isn’t a matter of personal failure, or of laziness. it’s an illness, something that needs to be confronted head on with time, treatment, and self help in order to move beyond it. it’s just as serious as any physical ailment, but you don’t have to beg anyone to understand that.  you’re going through so much just by getting through the day and the fact that you’re still here counts for so much. i promise, you are not your negative thoughts. your mind is just trying to get you to stay in the cycle of self hatred > self destruction > self hatred so that you feel more discouraged and less likely to seek the support you need, even though that could be the one thing that would break the repetitive pattern. idk who made you believe that you are this bad and unforgivable person but i hope you know that it is genuinely, truly possible to grow beyond that way of thinking. it may take time, and it may feel unreachable right now, but change is honestly constant especially if you seek it out. the way you see yourself in five years will not mirror the way you see yourself now, you know? this is all a process and as long as you’re getting through it, you’re doing so much better than you realize. 

it’s ok to recognize all of that and to still feel like shit, to still feel like giving up sometimes. sadness, anger, pain - they’re exhausting and terrifying, but you don’t have to push those emotions away. though they don’t have to control all of your actions either. because they’re never as permanent as they feel. part of being suicidal is thinking in a black and white fashion, where everything has to be all or nothing. but it doesn’t. there’s a lot of nuance and a lot of different choices you can make, if you just breathe and keep yourself in a safe environment above all else. like i said, you’re living with an illness and bad days are a natural part of that. but having the tools to be able to cope with them in a healthy way could make all the difference. and that IS an option for you, even if you can’t see it right now. are you currently seeing a mental health professional? if not, i’d really really suggest looking into that before you make any permanent and heavy handed decisions about whether or not it’s worth it to stay alive. seriously, even if you’re unable to see a therapist at the moment - there are depression/suicide hotlines you can call who can help you with the next step, there may be support groups in your area, your doctor may be able to refer you to a counselor. you are capable of reaching out, as proven with this message, which is a really good sign. and building routines around personal self help and finding what works for you would be a step in the right direction, too. there is so much that can be done in terms of identifying what you feel the way you feel, relearning how to treat yourself, developing a support network over a period of time, opening up to make room to heal - it’s possible. i promise it is. it’s possible to live a full, stable life that you’re proud of despite having depression. if you have any trusted loved ones, now may also be a good time to talk to them about whats going on. i’m sure they want to have the chance to be there for you, and it’s alright to lean on them when you need it. you’re clearly in a very emotional state right now so i don’t blame you if you can’t bring yourself to believe me, but i hope it’s an idea you can keep revisiting. because really what my main point is, is that you deserve to stay alive regardless the fact that you’re dealing with a mental illness. i don’t want to sound cliche but it’s true that nothing would be the same without you, that you’re here for a reason (which you fulfill every day, just by being who you are) and that your presence is far more precious than you know. i’m sorry you were made to feel any different. you get this one life and i would really hate to see you do something you could regret over situations and feelings that can be helped. you are not beyond hope, you are not a lost cause. especially if you live your life as if you’re not. you still exist and that means there are a million different ways things could turn out, the future is ever changing. the present is all you need to worry about. it’s just another symptom of depression to catastrophize and picture everything ending in the worst case scenario, which is something that can also be helped with therapy/practicing mindfulness. anyway, i’m aware that this is getting super long and i’m going to leave some links that may be of some use to you in terms of follow up support, but i’m really begging you. no matter how awful you feel tonight, just allow yourself to breathe through it. cry through it. call someone if it all feels like too much. keep yourself away from anything you could use to harm yourself with. and then wake up tomorrow knowing you have the chance to try again, knowing that that is a good thing, knowing that this moment is not what your whole existence is going to look like. please, please call someone if you think you’re a danger to yourself. even if you have to pick up the phone on autopilot. you mean so much. im sending you a lot of love and hoping you find the self appreciation you deserve. if you ever need a friend please feel free to message me. you’re not on this alone.

https://faq.whatsapp.com/general/security-and-privacy/global-suicide-hotline-resources/

https://www.helpguide.org/articles/depression/coping-with-depression.htm

https://www.mentalhealth.org.nz/get-help/a-z/resource/50/suicide-coping-with-suicidal-thoughts

https://medium.com/@sameoldzen/finding-intrinsic-self-worth-in-a-capitalist-system-7069be072b5b

https://serenitymentalhealthcenters.com/31-coping-skills-for-depression/

[sirenasinsib]

Spider

If you Like it please don't for get to press that Reblog! its means a lot to me!

WOW I havent posted in a while, been working on my own stuff but here is some personal works. Expecet to see alot of content of Spider and Viper. Ive been playing a ton of Titanfall so im in that mood rigt now. 

Fandom: Titanfall

Relatonship: Viper/OC Character

Warnings: Very long clocking in around 3260 Words! Explict language, canon violence, mutual pinging, build to relationship, and smut at the end!

He really didn't see why the ship was built to have a limited number of dorms. It was hard to find a spot and claim it as yours when it's already six members and their Titan, but the recent addition made it just a bit harder.

Spider, he was told, was to be dorming with him. Sloane and Ash were already in one room as was Ritcher and Kane, and he preferred to not have one of the other two males to be dorming with him, he saw how messy they kept theirs. Blisk's room was of course off limits. They were just about to take off when he heard a knock on the door before it slid open. Spider was there with only 2 duffle bags. She walked in quietly looking around the room.

The "kitchen" was towards the front of the room, right beside the entrance, a couch and TV opposite of it. Towards the back were two beds in opposite corners and lockers on both sides. The left side was noticeable more used with the bed sheets being almost completely off the bed, an extra locker that was slightly open due to the amount of tech it was holding. She took to the right side. Placing her duffle bags on the bed. Viper didn't focus on her as she moved around. He would have to just get used to another person in the room.

It was actually quite easy getting used to another person in the same room as him. The first week she slept with most of her gear on. The second week he noticed she would get up very early, earlier than Ash even, he didn't know where she went at the time, too busy trying to get more sleep before the day started. Hawk, his titan, told him later where Spider went. Often she went to the Titan hanger bay and got into her own Titan, JD. 

She appears to be under stress. JD has stated that they are not used to working with others. He also stated that she fears word of her being with the Apex Predators might get out and someone from her past may try to capture her.

Hawk spoke into the link as he worked on one of her thrusters. 

Is she that valuable of a member if she needs protection?

You were only a Predator if you had the skills. Needing protection meant you were weak. 

Calculations suggest a 78% better performance in missions with the assistance of a Monarch Titan and Pilot. It is also easier to be assisted, that is a possible reason why they joined instead of remaining in hiding. They were on low ammo and power, yet we’re able to steal just enough from both Militia and IMC units without being caught. 

It was one of their first real big missions after joining. They were to defend a couple of units going in to steal information and escort them out and to extraction. Spider had JD watch the back as she jumped from rooftop to rooftop calling out as well as distracting. 

“Would be nice if I got some help! Got a Legion hiding with an Ion!”

Kane yelled over the comms. Viper was on the far side of the complex and was dealing with his own Titan, same with the others when he heard Spider speak up. 

“On the way, can you distract them?”

“I��m in a fucking Scorch you bug! What do you think?!”

He spotted JD quickly running to the back of the area, halting slightly he guessed to pick up Spider before he started to hear the faint rattle of an electric charged XO-16.

“Enemy shields down! Kane?!”

He heard Kane laughing along with the roar of a Flame core activating and the sound of a Titan exploding. 

“Enemy Legion down.” 

Kane’s Titan spoke. Spider had to back up from a placement of Anti-Rodeo smoke when the Ion charged out with a vengeance. The monarch shot a few rockets and even an energy siphon before charging against the Ion. Then the radio filled with a hatch opening and a loud Metallic BAM. 

“Systems restored. Enemy pilot down.”

JD spoke. They had executed a Titan, and stole its battery. That was smart and ballsy Viper thought.

“Both teams got the data! Time to go!”

Blisk yelled into the comms, the roar of his Predator Cannon in the background. Viper dashed to the location of his team to defend as the others followed suit. Ash, Spider, and Kane made it back to his location while Blisk, Sloane, and Ritcher made it to their spot. Viper took to the skies, circling the group as Kane to the front and the other two took to a side. They would have a long walk to evacuation as they kept the enemy off their back and made sure that the ground troops stayed together. 

It was a long walk getting to extraction. They had to stop twice to make sure that they weren't followed and to give the ground troops rest since they didn't have a Titan. It was dark when they did their second stop deciding to rest a little before getting the last few miles in and getting off the planet. 

"Spider, Viper, you're on first watch. Sloane, Ash, you’re next, one hour." 

Blisk told them before finding a spot for his Titan to hunker down and both of them rest. Spider and Viper walked a bit away from the group before they found a spot. Spider hopped out of the Titan onto its hand as it lifted her up to the top of its chassis. She had a DMR in one hand with a ration bar in the other. Viper decided it would be a good time to eat as well. 

They sat in silence save for the whir of both Titans. Occasionally Spider would grab her DMR and look into the forest, he didn't see why, the titans would pick up on anyone approaching faster than they would, unless it was cloaked units but he didn't say anything. The hour passed uneventfully and Ash and Solane soon came to take their spot. Spider got back into her Titan as Viper moved Hawk to a spot and the other pair went to their own. 

"Viper? Can I ask you a favor?"

He turned from the blueprints for Hawk. Spider had grown more easy to get use to, she talked more. Sparred with the rest a few times. She seemed unsure right now. 

He spoke "Depends."

"My arm, I need another hand or set of hands to fix the connections and make sure the rotators aren't getting any build up or are worn down."

He was surprised to find her asking for help, he seen the way she reacted to others touching it when not fighting. 

"I wouldn't be asking if I didn't think you were capable, and I trust you a helluva lot more than the rest of the lot."

"Really, not very smart."

She gave a snort. "I seen the work you put on your Titan, as soon as you get this you're gonna do the same, besides, why purposely mess it up when I'm the one that keeps everyone's backs cleared."

It was quiet for a moment. 

"Fine. Blueprints?"

She tossed a small flash drive to his hands as she turned her focus to getting her arm off. He saw out of the corner of his eye, she pressed a button before twisting and pulling off the arm and placed it on the desk before turning

"I'm going to get cleaned up, you know how to find me."

They were sparing. He would never admit it out loud but she was one of the hardest predators to fight against. Sloane had a pattern, Ash wasn't fluid, Kane was easy to get dizzy, Ritcher you just let him do all the hard work of runnin around, Blisk favored his right side, but Spider? She dodged another lock, ducking quickly and she slid up right beside him, their gear rubbing against each other before she backed up from another swing.

She was fast, graceful, and really fucking hard to hit. He had one more trick. He turned around and charged her, she sidestepped, just like he thought she would and quickly grabbed her arm, pulling her with and using his momentum to flip them as they landed on the ground. He placed his fist above her neck as the other held her arm.

“I won.”

She gave a quiet laugh before tapping her non trapped hand on his side, where the armor was weaker. 

“More like a stalemate. Besides. . .”

He gave a small head tilt before suddenly her legs pushed against him, flipping him above her head. He let go of her arm, trying to stop himself from flipping. She quickly rounded and got above him, trapping both hands in her metal one as she placed her weight on his thighs, keeping from him lifting his legs to do the same. 

“I won now.”

Ok so he may or may not be pinning for the skilled sniper sleeping in the same room as him, who can beat him in hand to hand combat, does not intrude into his space, while also being a helpful hand when it comes to modding Hawk, and she looks good. Viper gave a quiet groan at his thoughts as he let the water wash his sins off the wall before he turned off the water. Drying most of his hair before wrapping the towel around his shoulders and pulling on a pair of boxers. He stepped into the room he shared the person of his thoughts with. Spider was distracted, she had taken her DMR apart and cleaned it again. The jump to their next contracts always left her on edge. “How many times have you taken that apart now?” He asked as he pulled on his pilot gear. “In total or while you were in the shower?” She was being funny, noticing he was in there longer than usual. He shook his head but grinned. 

“Ha ha very funny.” 

“Huh really, am I getting better at jokes? But in reality probably not a good idea to use a lot of hot water, you know how the boss and Kane get when they cant basically melt their skin off. There are other ways to relax.” His brain short circuit, did she really mean?-No that's just his thoughts, Spider didn't seem like the type to get attached to coworkers, or offer to be a fuck buddy. He didn’t turn around to face her, rather not look at her and see if she was being serious, the mission wouldn't go right then. “Yeah I know it's called sleep.”

“Thats- “Five mins till we get to the drop, get your asses to your Titans!” Blisked yelled into the comms. Spider didn’t get a chance to finish what she was gonna say as Viper grabbed his weapons and the rest of his gear and rushed out the door, she followed suit. 

He didn’t understand why he was sent on a solo mission, but he was told to for some reason, he guessed it was the fact no one knew his face, so he had to. He was ready to get back to being on the ship and rather deal with his personal issue then do another solo mission, he missed the small comfort of being assisted should things go south. 

He walked into the room quietly, it being late on the ship, and set down his duffel bag. The room looked mostly the same, another Sniper had been added to Spider’s desk, while a few Titan parts were placed on his, most likely due to Spider, she often found bits he was needing to get. Her bed was surprisingly empty seeing how she wasn’t in the hanger and he saw no one in the training room when he passed by. 

He looked to his bed, ready to sleep in his gear and deal with the pain later when he saw something in it. Spider was under the covers, wearing one of his shirts surprisingly and hugging his pillow. He turned not sure how to deal with her and decided to change. He heard the bed creak slightly as he changed and glanced back seeing Spider sit up. 

“Sorry I didn’t know you were back and I- the room felt different- I had problems sleeping and . . .”

She rambled before stopping, looking down and fiddled with the blanket before placing her hands beside her to get up. 

“I’ll get out of your way.”

“Spider.”

She paused and slowly looked up. He was close now, having changed. 

“If you want . . . you can stay.”

He didn’t want to admit but sleeping sucked when he was alone on the mission, the room felt barren without her. He missed her presence in general. 

“Oh-ok” 

She went towards the wall of the bed, grabbing her pillow and placing his back in the process as he got in. She hugged the wall as he faced the outside and he could feel her tension and it got on his nerves. He flipped over after sometime and placed a hand on her waist and held her.

“Relax.”

She took a deep breath calming herself before the two slowly drifted to sleep. They woke up with her head tucked under his chin and her own arms wrapped around his waist. They didn't speak about sleeping together, but they didn't stop either. He didn't know what to call whatever they had, sleeping together but not actually sleeping together. 

She was on a solo mission now. They needed someone who could go in and get close to the target without drawing attention. She volunteered actually. Pointing out that she still wasn't known as a Predator, and was an assassin before joining them. She got back two weeks later and immediately went to the med bay. The mission was successful but she had taken a few bullets, thankfully not in severe locations, removing glass shards, and trying to fix her arm. 

She was in a foul mood and no one bothered her, well except him of course. He had snatched her gear, arm and helmet mainly, the visor was cracked, as he set out to fix the two as she recovered. Once released from the med bay she was to rest and given a few more weeks for the nanites to do their job. 

He bothered her by watching movies, Top Gun and Edge of Tomorrow at least twice. Once healed she immediately went back to training, prepping her body after not having done so while healing. He joined her, bored out of his mind. 

"-nd I snapped his arm in half." 

She was talking about the mission as they spared. He stayed quiet letting her sort of vent before he blocked a swing from her. 

"Taught the ass to don't even think about touching someone without asking."

She spoke of someone following her, harassing her, while on the mission. She had gotten somewhere quiet and out of view before she attacked him after he touched her. While he was pissed that someone touched her, the fact that she broke his arm made him satisfied. He gave a groan hearing what sounded like metal on metal. 

His head was pounding yet he didn't even drink that much the night before. Spider was trying to be quiet, whipping up some food their bodies could handle while being slightly hungover. Eventually the noises stopped and he could tell lights were turned off. Cracking one eye open just a bit to see Spider in the kitchen eating whatever she made quietly, lost in her thoughts.

She was wearing one of his shirts again, he could see her shorts under the edge of his shirt but just barely. He looked away in his own thoughts before his eyes flicked back to her when she started moving. Bringing a bottle of water, medicine, and some food. 

"Are you always looking out for everyone?"

She hummed a bit as he sat up before speaking. 

"Guess it's just in my nature."

He gave a soft grunt as he was pushed onto the bed. Spider was quick to straddle him. She leaned down quickly, capturing his lips with hers and kissed hard. He kissed back just as hard as his hands grabbed her waist and head. He’s not sure how the make out session started. They were sparring again when it just got a little heated. OK more than a little, Spider had gained the upper hand and straddled his waist when he let out a tiny choked moan. She halted slightly, surprised by the noise before she moved but it felt like she purposely dragged her weight onto him more. Then they were hurrying back to their room, their gear quickly stripped away.

He was brought back to the present when Spider slowly kissed down his chest, her thumb flicking over a hardening nipple before kissing above his navel. She then tugged on his briefs, getting him to lift his hips as she pulled them off. Her hands felt along his thighs as she breathed over his cock. Slowly she gave the head a tiny kiss before giving a long lick on the underside. His breath was shaky but when she enveloped him with her mouth he let out a moan, his hands covering his face as she slowly bobbed up and down. Stopping at times to flatten her tongue on his head. 

"Fuck." He groaned out. 

Spider hummed, watching his reaction through her eyelashes. She continued before he started to pant harder, his hips slowly thrusting.

"Fuck-Spider-Ah!"

She quickly pulled off, her hand squeezing the base almost painfully keeping him for cumming. Slowly did he come from that high and she started to pump again. She crawled into his lap as she kept the slow pace, her other hand going to her cilt and rubbed lightly before slowly sliding a finger in. She matched her pumps, her finger sliding in as her hand went down. She continued even as she added a second and third. Once she felt stretched did she stop. 

Viper's hands went to her waist as she held him and slowly slid down a tiny moan coming out as she bottomed out. Then she rose and slid back down, her pace slow. His hands gripping her waist tight. She leaned down quickly kissing him as a hand went into his hair as the other braced near his head, his own hands moving, one to her hair, the other to the small of her back. 

The kisses were slow and sloppy, quiet pants came out between the kisses before Spider slowly increased her pace. They broke the kiss, letting their foreheads rest together. Quiet words spoken as the pleasure rose. 

"Nnnn-Viper-ah-Viper!"

"Fu-ck-Spider!"

They came with a shout. Spider giving a few thrust before slamming down hard and stilling. Small shakes went through their bodies as they breathed. Spider made a quiet whine as she pulled off him, feeling slick dribble out onto them both. She ran her hand through his hair slowly before giving a quiet grunt. 

"We need a shower."

"Is that an offer for round 2?"

He said with a grin causing a quiet laugh to escape her.  

"Only if you promise to help clean up the mess."

"Deal."

[bleufrost]

Frozen Embers || Chapter One

Loki x reader

Series Preview/General Story Guide

Warnings: a swear or two maybe? Nothing extreme quite yet (: 

Series summary: Growing up under the guidance of S.H.I.E.L.D, you were trained from the moment you could walk to be a good agent. You were everything you needed to be, but the emotions and empathy that ran through your blood tainted all of your hard work. One day, you are given the chance to prove yourself by being assigned to the cell of Loki, the god of mischief. Quickly, icy walls begin to melt as you both realize that your time together is bringing forth a mix of flame and frost that can only end in chaos. 

Original request by: @procrastinatinglikeabitch

Masterlist 

A/N: ahh this is my first ever series! i read it over like thirty times but im sure theres still mistakes lol. I really hope you guys like it though!! feedback of any kind is always suuuper appreciated and although I cant always respond to comments on this side blog, please know that they make my entire day <3 love yall !

You had felt from the beginning that this was a terrible idea. Fury had called you into his office that morning, his normal dead serious look upon his face. You were used to it, but for whatever reason today it set you on edge. He had briefed you on your mission, it wasn’t the first little assignment he had given you but this one had left an uneasy feeling in your stomach. Not much did that, but what he had asked of you very seriously went against everything you believed in. Fury told you that you were to get as close to Loki, the god of mischief, as possible. Not only were you to gain his trust, but you were to also completely shatter that trust by informing S.H.I.E.L.D of everything he told you. 

Loki was a threat, they said. He was dangerous, they said. Yet, you still couldn't stop the growing fear and suspicion that you were doing the wrong thing from settling within your stomach.

Regardless of how you felt emotionally, it was still your mission and you were expected to complete it. As an agent, there was no room for sentimental matters to intermingle with work, and you often forgot that. You didn’t want to be stuck with inside jobs for the rest of your life though, so you made the decision long ago that what Fury said you would do. At the end of the day, you knew and trusted him far more than this god who had tried to overtake the world, not to mention had also stolen the free will of your friend and mentor, Clint. He had caused irreversible damage to the lives of countless innocent people so you knew you had to put your morals aside for a second considering he had done so for a while; he may not deserve to be used, but neither did your friends. With that in mind, you made your way over to the holding cell.

***************

Sliding your key card into the heavy metal opening was something you had never done before. In the grand scheme of things, you were still a fairly new agent and so the opportunity to come down to specialized cells was not one that you had been offered; until now. Your heart was beating loudly in your chest and you tried hopelessly to calm it. Whether or not Loki could hear the nervous thumping or not didn’t matter; you had a feeling that he could sense it.

Quickly brushing the invisible lint off your clothing and straightening up the black top and jeans you wore as your uniform, you took one last calming breath before stepping inside. The cool metal offered no sense of warmth or comfort as your heels clicked against the floor. Sound echoed for what appeared to be miles in here, and you swallowed thickly as you realized that you were trying to be quiet; you were trying to hide from the person that you needed to be seen by and that had to stop. 

The next step came far more confidently, and you lifted your head a bit higher and stood a bit straighter. He would be within a specially engineered cell designed specifically to keep him inside. He more than likely had not been offered conversation since he was thrown in here. He was alone, and a god with his need to be praised would not do well when met with complete silence at every turn and passing moment. You had the upper hand here, so you had to use it. 

************

Loki sat with his back against the soft pillowed sofa he had conjured up within the cell. He tossed a little statue up and down as he contemplated for the hundredth time that day what he would do when he inevitably escaped this prison. It was stupid of these midgardians to think that they could hold him for long; an ignorance they would soon come to regret. As it stands though, he remained here nearly going mad with boredom. He would never admit it, but the lack of company was beginning to weigh on him in a manner that was testing his sanity. 

That’s when he heard it. Soft footsteps that turned a bit louder after a moment or so. The sound bounced off the walls and met his ears in a way that sparked his curiosity immediately, and Loki couldn’t help but wonder if those steps would lead the person right to his cell. As they drew nearer, his excitement grew. He wanted to get up and see for himself who or what was walking through these typically barren halls, but if they were to come to him he would not want to grant them the satisfaction of seeing him eager or even so much as intrigued by their presence. He remained there with his back against the sofa and resumed his mindless tossing of the small figurine. 

*************

Stopping in front of the glowing cell was nerve wracking, but seeing the god for the first time in person was absolutely terrifying. Loki was laying upon an ornate bed-like couch, surrounded by beautiful furniture and books that had surely not been gifted to him by S.H.I.E.L.D. He had something in his hands, and your eyes watched a moment as the object was flipped up into the air before settling back down into the skin of his palm. It was oddly mesmerizing.

You couldn’t have been staring for more than a few seconds, but that was long enough to annoy him. The statue was thrown up into the air, and on its way down it made a sharp turn and came smashing into the glass at exact level with your eyes. You let out a small yelp, and finally his eyes slid over to meet you as he chuckled lowly.

“Well aren’t you a jumpy little pet.” Loki sat up slowly, turning to face you with no real hurry or actual interest apparent in his movement. He was dressed beautifully in different shades of black, grey, and a gorgeous green. Even though he had been trapped in here for weeks now, his hair was still combed perfectly and his eyes held a certain glint to them that made you question whether solitary confinement had been affecting him at all; surely it had to be, right?

Clearing your throat, you step forward slightly to hopefully show him you aren’t afraid of him or his abilities; even though that may not be the whole truth. “My name is Agent (y/l/n). I’m here to talk to you.” You look to him expectantly and it takes him a moment to react. He seems confused for only a split second before he scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Well, if that’s all it appears you’ve already done it. You can leave now.” Loki makes a move to lie back down before you speak up.

“Wait! I mean I actually want to have a conversation with you. You know, get to know you.” There was no keeping the nervous look off of your face as you spoke. It wasn't a lie, you really did want to get to know the god and understand why he did the things he did. No one hurts people like that without reason; without having been hurt themselves. 

Slowly, he turns back to you. His face is unreadable as he walks over to stand in front of you and stares deep into your eyes from behind the glass. The urge to break eye contact with Loki is intense, but you know that giving in is exactly what he wants you to do. He’s trying to figure out if you’re worthy of his time and you need to prove that you are. After a lifetime of feeling him stare into the darkest crevices of your soul, he speaks.

“Why?” You don’t hesitate for even a fraction of a second before responding. “I want to understand. You did things that I could never have even imagined doing, and I think it’s important to know why.” 

His jaw became tense, features tightening as his eyebrows pulled together. “You, my pet, must have a very WEAK imagination.” His voice was harsh as he spit the words out at you. Turning away to pace, he once again shook his head while letting a low and humorless chuckle escape his lips. “No, you could never understand. How could a god ever even begin to explain the complexities of their actions to the measly mind of a midgardian child?” 

The comment bothered you only slightly, but you knew that you were losing him quickly. Loki apparently didn’t trust kindness; you suppose that’s something you both kind of have in common. You were basically raised by Fury and Clint, and although you had kept up a sense of outward positivity, there was a deep underlying feeling that you really could not trust anyone but those two men. Kindness always came at a cost and you knew that you wouldn’t trust yourself either if you were in Loki’s position, so you decide to take another approach. 

“Look, they never let me out of this tower either so I’m just as bored, if not more so, than you are. The way I see it, you can honor me with your company every once in a while and keep a child entertained, or you can tell me to leave again. I’d hate to be a bother, so if it’s that draining on you I will gladly find someone else to talk to. You were my first choice, not my last resort.” Letting out a little breath, you wait for his response eagerly. It took a few minutes and you were nearly ready to leave, but Loki finally spoke up.

“Are you doing this for them?” The fact that he refused to look at you while speaking did not go unnoticed by you. “S.H.I.E.L.D would never trust me to do something like that. Like I said, they don’t even trust me enough to let me go out into the field.” It wasn’t a lie in entirety. The agency found you to be too sympathetic for field missions and refused to test your loyalty to orders. Fury was the one who trusted you and, seeing as he himself wasn’t S.H.I.E.L.D, you were telling the truth. 

Loki put his hand up to his face, giving a pondering look through his gesture. Suddenly he turned to look at you with a dazzling smile gracing his features. You saw something shimmering in his eyes, but you couldn’t quite tell whether it was friendly or not. “It seems pet, that we have something very interesting in common then.” The look he gave you set you on edge, yet you wouldn’t dare look away in fear that it would disappear. He scared you, but you never felt a desire stronger than the one you currently felt to be afraid. 

“It seems we do.” The small lift at the corner of your lips was instinctual. You didn’t even notice that you were doing it, but Loki most certainly did. Making his way back to stand before you, his eyes meet your form and take you in for the first time. Loki was a fair amount taller than you, so you found yourself looking up to meet his gaze as his own skims over you from head to toe. The height difference was something that he would surely be taking advantage of to make you feel even more like the child he thought you to be. 

“Pray tell pet, what is your name?” He finished looking you over and now received your stare fervently. He enjoyed being looked at; he found thrill in being a spectacle and you could feel it. If he wanted to be seen, you would make damn sure that you saw him. 

“My name is (y/n). And, for the record, I’m far from being a child.” His smile grew even wider at that, and his hand came up to gently run his fingers down the glass that separates you. For some reason, you almost felt as though you wished it weren’t there. 

“I can guarantee that no matter how old you may be (y/n), it pales in comparison to the length of the lives I have lived. You couldn’t fathom the things I have seen, and most certainly not the things I have done ” The words were almost solemn, in a way perhaps reflective. There was no way for you to even begin to comprehend the existence he had experienced firsthand, but your fascination and hunger to try burned through your body like the flames of a wildfire. He drew you in like a moth to candlelight, and you let him. “Tell me about them.”

Your comm went off at that moment, Fury’s voice filling the empty halls with a loud crackling. “Agent (y/l/n), I need you on the training deck right fucking now.” The loud noise startled you out of the trance like state you had been in, and you fumble around to quickly answer. “Be right there, sir.” As you let go of the button that allowed Fury to hear your voice, you look back to Loki. He was already laying back on his bed, lazily flipping through a book as though you were not even there. You hadn’t even seen him move. Unsure of whether or not to he wished to speak any further for now, you nod your head slowly and look away. “I’ll be back tomorrow, if you’d like.”

Just as at the start of your conversation, he did not respond immediately. You were cursing Fury in your head for breaking the connection you felt you had been growing with the god, but just as you began to leave he called after you.

“I would yearn for nothing more, pet.”

__________________

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i hope thats everyone, but if i missed you please let me know! Im still new to this and constantly make mistakes lol

(message me to be added to my tom list!)

A/N: Requests are still being filled by the way! I’ll also try to get one-shot stories out in between these chapters, so stay tuned for that (: Let me know what yall thought of this, and have a wonderful day/night/evening <3

[pernatius]

The Forbidden Blade: Ch 86

Ch 85

The three stayed back, just outside of the doorway. As for me, I headed towards the slouched, dark figure. He stands before a flickering candle. “Detr?”

“Everythin’ was for nothin’.” Just a foot behind him, I reach out towards him. I call his name again. He goes on to continue, “Centuries, Arthus,” my arm lowers, “Six hundred years I have been alive. Throughout that time I gave my life for that blade, leadin’ hundreds to protect it. I even protected hundreds of others from the Mindscape’s beast. I was the Guardian of the MIndscape. I’ve failed, Arthus. I’ve sent my entire life to waste.”

“No, you haven’t.”

“The sword was taken by Zelous, Reina is dead, Zelous has ya, and now the world is in chaos. Even with all of these I still can’t bring myself to do anythin’ about it. After my last run-in with the Mindscape’s beast, my defeat against it, I’ve begun to question myself. Arthus, why do I let the world fall apart? Why do I watch from afar, lettin’ the world around me turn to ashes?” He turns to look at me. 

I look away, and with it he turns back around to the small, swaying fire before him. I feel my own fire burning within me. It too is small, controlled. I turn back to face him. “But moping like this, making it all about yourself, isn’t going to do anything. It won’t erase anything. What has happened has already happened.”

“Ya sound a lot like Xyetius. Speakin’ of ‘im, where is that serious bastard anyways?”

“He’s...” If anyone else were to ask about Xyetius I would answer easily, but with Detr I can’t bring myself to be so blunt. 

“Gone too,” he lets out a faint chuckle, “Makes sense. That man never took care of himself anyways.” He shakes his head from side to side. 

“Detr, I know we showed up abruptly, but we didn’t come here just to reminisce on what has happened. We came here to ask for your help.”

His demeanor is no longer solemn. Instead he is annoyed. He turns around and grabs a hold of my collar. Then, he yanks me closer to him. The elderly man brings my face up-close to his eyes. “Yer askin’ me? Have you forgotten what I just told ya? I spent my whole life protectin’ that damn sword,” he points his finger towards Xyetius’s blade, “It was taken away by Zelous, the very thing that was in that blasted blade. Now he’s within ya. Why should I not kill ya right now?”

“Because that would mean the lives of Xyetius, Reina, and everyone else would truly be sent to waste.”

“Firstly, Xyetius took Zelous’s spirit out of the blade without telling me. So, why should I care about someone that never trusted me with such imperative information, one that led ya here in the first place? Secondly,” he throws me onto the floor, “Don’t ya dare say her name like that. Ya have no right. Thirdly, I don’t give a damn about everyone else.”

I get myself up, and act like him throwing me as roughly as he did onto the floor didn’t just bruise me all over. “Detr, we did not come all the way here just for you to say no.” Detr looks past me, towards the other three. He smirks. 

“Ya brought a Crow, a Shadowman, and the previous leader of Ignitus here. Ya must really be desperate if yer workin’ with them, but I know yer not usin’ them to get the better of my reluctance. No, yer usin’ yer title to get the better of me.” He once again pulls me by my collar, but this time he throws me out of the room. My back smashes against a wall. The three waiting outside are left to stare, eyeing the coming figure. Detr comes out and pushes me against the wall. In the corner of my eye I see the three ready their weapons. “Ya think just because yer a Vancaster, the emperor, I’ll do as ya say?”

“No, I came here as a friend. Many months ago you aided me in my time of need. Though small compared to what I’m about to say, I want to repay you for that day. Please, Detr, help us fix this mess. Help me do what I was set out to do all those months ago.”

I fall to the floor. When he moves his hand in front of me, wanting to help me back up, the three lower their weapons. Once I am able to stand back up our eyes meet once again. That bubbly man he was before is no more. All he is now is a man with a cold-hearted facade. “Fine,” he answered. 

All five of us stood underneath the tavern, where the sword had spent six hundred years. As I explained to Detr about why I needed to get into the Mindscape, the other three can be spotted elsewhere. Beteka is sitting on the steps, Jäger is pacing and looking around, and Reess is meditating. “At this point, I’m not surprised.”

“So, how do we get into the Mindscape?”

“Do ya know the Language of the Gods?” The look I gave him causes him to recite a few of their words. I light up, as I notice they’re similar to the ones I heard from Reess, Beteka, and Xyetius. “When some of Dieus’s children came down from the heavens, they had used this language to not only communicate, but to manipulate the world as well. A human had managed to overhear. He shared it with his tribe. Overtime, as more gods came down, they eventually figured out how the language works. The Language of the Gods gives those that know it a portion of what Dieus can do with just his mind. It can be used to split open stone and even keep a demon’s six hundred year old prison sealed up. Though, there are limits. It is impossible to use them in a way that becomes hypocritical to Dieus’s rules, such as bringin’ back the dead.”

“You’re going to teach me the Language of the Gods, right?”

“Yes.” He opens his mouth. Words come out of it, but I’m barely able to catch any of it.

“Every time I’ve heard someone speak the language it wasn’t like that.”

“That is because ya were hearin’  the second layer. The language has three layers to it. What we need right now is the first layer, the highest layer. By doing this we are rippin’ open a hole in our minds. Therefore, allowing our minds to easily go into the Mindscape.”

“So, the language relies on knowing what to say, saying the words correctly, and pitch?”

“Correct. Each pitch does something different for the words being said. The first layer focuses on the Mindscape, second is about the physical world we inhabit, and third is for the Realm of the Gods.”

“That is very complex. I can’t believe anyone outside of the gods was able to figure any of this out with the few snippets they overheard from the gods. I’m not even sure if I’ll be able to get any of this down before sunrise.”

“Thankfully, we just have to deal with two phrases right now. The first one deals with entering the Mindscape and the other is exiting from it.”

“Well, then, let’s get started.”

Detr, this time, says the phrase in full. I try to copy, but he tells me it’s wrong. He explains it has to be a certain pitch. So, I try again. This time he complains that what I’m saying is too fast. Detr motions his hand over to his throat, pointing out what he does with his throat in order to get the right pitch. This time I get the right pitch, but I mispronounce a word. This proves to be a grave mistake. 

[artstoday-blog]

The Parent-Teacher Conference

An excerpt from the just finished novel Nothing Straight by John Grantner

Wednesday, January 3, 1979

Mr. and Mrs. Wallace were driving to their kids’ grade school for a full evening of parent Teacher Conferences, wherein the educators tell parents how their children have either screwed up beyond measure or excelled in the past semester. At St. Nicholas School, for the Wallace’s, there never seemed to be a middle ground.

“Steven’s gonna give us grief again, I know that.” he said.

“Yes. he always does.”

“What’s with that boy, anyway? Why can’t he be like Frank Jr.? Or, Christ, even if he were like Kevin… Gawd, there’s a prize, right?… That would be an improvement.”

Olivia didn’t like to hear the conversation turn in this direction. This inevitable direction. Not that she didn’t accept the truth of it, agree with it, but she knew she was wrong to do so. There shouldn’t be favorite and less-than-favorite children. But there are. She hated living with that as she was growing up one of nine children, yet here she was as a parent using that same qualitative measuring scale. She was always aware of the hypocrisy, and it shamed her, so she always did what she could, when she could, to to correct the unfairness, to adjust the tack of the familial ship toward impartiality—that is, in the rare quiet moments when she wasn’t too harried to think. And thus she inevitably spent some time, however small, on occasion, in Steve’s corner.

“Stevie’s smart, in his special Stevie way” she said.

“Lotta good that will do ‘im.” he said.

After meeting the teachers of their other children, they finally entered Mrs. Pierson’s classroom to get the expected dressing down for having burdened Mrs. Piersson, St. Nicholas School, not to mention the Diocesan School System, with Steve. There was no friendly greeting for them, no perfunctory wide smile. Mrs. Pierson simply stared at them intensely, with eyes that drilled into them, as they walked in. She had a homely, thick appearance, and a decidedly humorless demeanor. Her face was pudgy and pock marked. Her cheeks were rounded and puffed out beyond a receding chin, and she had a thick snub nose, like a new potato. Beneath all of that was a massive pendulous second chin. She looked like a stalwart farmer on a 1930s Soviet propaganda poster.

After what seemed like an unusually long walk from the classroom door to the folding chairs in front of Mrs. Pierson’s desk, they sat and looked at her, both smiling brightly.

Mrs. Pierson continued to stare. After a moment, Frank spoke.

“So…?”

With no introductory small talk, no pleasant diplomatic niceties, in a measured tone that sounded like restrained rage, Mrs Pierson spoke.

“Your son is a problem.”

“For sure, he’s a handful…” Frank began.

“Please don’t interrupt me. Let me finish. He comes into school late, every day. In the morning, and when he returns from lunch recess. Every morning and noon… Late… Without exception.”

“He leaves on time every morning, I know that” Olivia said. Mrs.Pierson ignored her and continued.

“But I guess that doesn’t really matter so much because when he is here, he spends most of his time staring out the window, or sometimes just straight ahead… at God knows what?… something a thousand miles away. I’ve never seen a child who is so here in body only but not mind, every… blessed… day… day in, day out… Never. Not like this. And when he does occasionally snap out of it, it is only to make trouble. Disrupt… Goof off. He has a need to perform for the other students. Get their approval. He’s a major disruption. A bad influence for the other children.”

Mrs.Pierson opened a drawer of her desk and pulled out a stack of papers. She held them poised for a moment for effect, above the desk, then opened her pudgy fingers. As they dropped she  said, “And when he doses bother to pick up a pencil, this”, as if “this” were something too repugnant to mention in polite company, “is what he does.”

The stack of papers splayed slightly. They were preprinted form test papers, worksheets, pop quizzes, classroom assignments. In the spaces where Steve was supposed to regurgitate all that he had learned, there were some tentative scribbles; vague phrases, with words transposed, words with letters transposed or backwards; some numbers arranged to resemble equations; many blank spaces. Along the margins—sometimes spilling into the text, like an illuminated Medieval prayer book—were his drawings. Some painstaking, complex, intricate but subtle. Others quick, off the cuff. Mostly the stuff that pre-adolescent boys usually draw: tanks and planes and race cars and imaginative speculation about the opposite sex’s anatomy.

On the top test paper, prominently placed between the answer spaces left blank, was a single drawing: a portrait of Mrs. Pierson. It was quick and loose. Something he dashed off in less than a minute. Spare but economical. Sure. Confident. Even elegant. In no more than half a dozen slashing pencil strokes—like strokes of Asian ideographic calligraphy—he captured the essence of Mrs. Pierson. A simple uncanny likeness, somewhere between caricature and naturalism. And it wasn’t complimentary.

Olivia quickly raised her hand to her mouth to hide her grin of a stifled laugh; but laughter was in her eyes and she couldn’t cover that. Frank lowered his head suddenly, as if the cap he held in his lap needed to be examined at that moment. He gritted his teeth, and with all of the strength he could muster tightened every muscle in his face, so as not to betray a laugh. But then the spasms couldn’t be controlled, and he snorted rhythmically through his nose several times.

Mrs. Pierson’s eyes narrowed as she continued stonily. "It’s clear why Steven would have such a bad attitude. Now try to understand this, Mr. and Mrs. Wallace.” She said slowly, meticulously enunciating, as if they were dim witted and had not been understanding anything she had been saying. "Steven will come to a bad end. He will never get into a decent Catholic High School, and forget about any college at all. You have to think about that now. Start to think now about training him, so he’s not a burden on society. He could support himself, let’s say, by bagging groceries… yard work… shining shoes.…”

“Christ! He’s in the third grade! A little early to be mapping the remainder of the boy’s entire life, don’t ya think?” Frank interjected. “Give ‘im a bit of a chance to catch up.”

“Trust me. I’m a professional. I know these things. You may think his shenanigans are cute, a passing phase, harmless… but they’re a serious warning sign…” Her upper left lip curled slightly, briefly. “He will never fit in. Never. He’ll make trouble all his life. …And his grades! My God! They’re as low as it gets. It’s like he’s not aware that he is ever being judged.” She began to gather the papers as she spoke. “Here’s what it boils down to: If he continues this way, then I can’t pass him on to the fourth grade.” She paused, glared at them and hissed. “And you can be sure, I don’t want to see him again next year.”

Frank: “So then…”

Mrs. Pierson: “So then get Steven to settle down and pay attention, to at least not be a nuisance and disruption. If you do that, I promise I will bend every standard I have to push him on to Remedial Grade Four.”

She opened the desk drawer and quickly dropped the papers, with an expression of abject disgust on her face, as if she were handling a moist turd. She slammed the drawer shut and said, “Thank you for your time and attention Mr. and Mrs. Wallace. Good evening.”

Frank and Olivia exchanged quick glances, then simultaneously turned and nodded slightly to Mrs. Pierson. They rose and left as quickly as they could, just short of breaking into a run.

Beginning the drive home, they both quietly, solemnly stared out of the window for several minutes. Suddenly, without breaking her stare out the window, Olivia burst into a childish giggle. She turned toward grim-faced Frank and grabbed his inner thigh. “Oh c’mon, cher! Gotta admit boy’s got talent! Who d’you know can draw like that?”

Frank began to smile, but then caught himself and frowned. “This is serious, Liv. So he can make nice pictures… So what? That’s all he’s able to do. Who’s gonna pay him to do that?”

# # #

[dev-hub4fixfict-ut]

Know & Determinate: II- the surface and a lame witch; chap 1

/racism, /hate crime, /physical assault, /alcohol, /c slur, /unsanitary, /witchcraft, /panic attack, bad writing. like, really bad. i wrote this when i was in a bs brainspace in highschool to cope.

a self-insert fanfiction where i write what happens after my runs of undertale. written in google docs and idk what im doing. Frisk is 12, use they/them, has a bullshit life, Chara also uses they/them, and is still here, and never meant for all this to happen, they hate each other, and Sans is still, and forever will be, a mess.

_________

here we go with that stuff !! im pumped enough to not collapse of stage anxiety ah ah.

please do not confuse my complicated style for pretentiousness. im but a wordy insecure fool. with a super touchy soft spot for a small fat skeleton. and lots of imagination.

this isn’t something for fontcest and frans shippers and gross ppl who villainize and misgender kids and call gay couples “hawt sin” tho. u guys are uglies and i hate you, go away. ;U

_________

“Sans” i deadpanned.

He perked up a little, his forever-fucking-smiling expression mirroring my tone -with his eyes. Eyes’ sockets. Those were the only hints of what he was actually thinking. Because his fake smile -fake, i’m so sure of it, so fake smile, it only ever dropped when Frisk’s puppeted body struck him down, the very only moment he stopped- wow getting sidetracked. Anyway.

“Sans.” i repeated. i need to repeat myself a lot. Verbal dyspraxia i think. He didn’t seem to know that and squinted a bit more, indication of his annoyance/suspicion/mistrust/wariness. ‘s what his squinting usually means, directed at me. Can’t blame him. “i…” Truth is, i don’t actually know what to tell him. ‘s just. i love him, and i know it sounds crass and misplaced blurted out like this, but as a consequence, i’m worried about him. A lot. Constantly. i hope bpd isn’t blurring my judgement too much. ‘m not sure he does take care of himself as well as he deserve. And look who’s talking, right ? But he is surrounded by loving friends and family. And has his brother. He could get help. Good help.

Damn my hesitance was making him unnerved. I could see it in how he turned to me, bone hands switching in and out of his pockets. I only hugged myself tighter, hands vaguely gesturing.

“i… Could i offer you to crash on my couch sometimes ? Or bed even, i don’t use mine a lot, actually. Since it’s, y’know, closer to a good part of your odd jobs than your house and Papyrus isn’t home then ?” Dang that was weirder out loud. i kept a blank face to show i was serious. i was- the guy looked even more tired than me. Tells something.

“uh. kid, you got something going in the back of your mind ?” Damn he took me too seriously. Squinting hard at me now, he was the perfect studied statue of calm judgement. Damn he was good at those.

“Well, safe from letting you get a good deserved rest more easily, not much !!” i made sure to answer jovially, doing the whole ‘punching the air round and low in excitement’ thing. We could be two playing the happy clown game.

i had found him at Grillby’s, like usual. his food was getting cold. like usual too. what was less usual was the tense manner he held himself when i came in, and how he “straightened” up, like he had forgotten himself, when i greeted him, pat on the shoulder. he would have flinched but he wouldn’t have wanted me onto him about it. so his eye socket had violently twitched -violently as in, noticeably, by his standards, and...uh lost myself again, fuck.

What i mean is that he was having a harsh day, probably after a harsher even night, his ptsd acting up (‘m not supposed to know ‘bout that. He himself doesn’t even know it. i just read. and relate), and i wanted to help him. now, maybe i had been presumptuous thinking i could…

So that’s why i insisted, vigorously,

“And uh-we can watch some trash movies and stuff, anytime, and like you can just stop by during your in-between shifts, even if i’m not home, i’ll give you a spare key and-” sudden stop. oh no. He gave me The Hand.

He indeed did, holding it up, like he wanted me to slow down. i did, obviously, but uh. did that mean i was overwhelming him, or annoying ? Was there a difference ?? Did it matter ???

Not now, because he was talking, and internal anxiety mini attack made me split focus, and i wanted full focus on what he said, on him.

“look kid,” i hate he calls me that “i appreciate whatchu tryin to do here” meh.liar. spill it. “but i can’t accept. paps would be upset if he knew i was squatting-”

“No he wouldn’t !! He would call it ‘GREAT FRIENDLY HANGOUTS OF REST’ and be very happy we uuh spend time together and stuff-”

“ok” glaring at me now, probably pissed i used his bro’s good nature to shot down his excuse. Heh. Two play at that game. “but here’s the thing.” he advanced himself up to me, nearly out of his seat. i held my ground. uh oh. “we a r e n’t f r i e n d s.”

Ouch. i mean i knew this but. Ouch. His eyes hadn’t blacked out on that last part, but nearly, too. Could be that his already hazy eyelights had just dimmed in exasperation but um. That didn’t feel any better. i gulped. Just a little. Just to keep down the new forming clog in my throat. Just a little one. i knew this.

“i know this !! but look, we could be, if we hanged out !” i didn’t dare say more. My eyes stung a lil bit too much for my liking and while never embarrassed by my tears, didn’t want to embarrass him.

‘s not like i was seriously hurt. i knew where we stood, and that my crush was going to stay that, a crush. what really stung was the utter lack of trust and the hatred-like suspicion he had of me. that and also feeling like i’m watching someone drown, but can’t help, because when i reach out they swat me away in fear i would be the one pushing them further. That’s probably more of my saviour complex dramatizing everything, but it’s bad to be helpless when you know someone, and you’re the only one to notice where they’re headed, because they’re great at pretending, but it’s like looking at yourself in a mirror for you. Get me ?

But. That’s fair. We hadn’t started well off. At all. Oh boy we hadn’t…

___

Seems like now would be a good time to make a small recap, uh ? ‘bout how i ended up knowing that dude, falling in love, analysing his mental shit and all that jazz. Yeah.

me, some lame girl who won’t eat for days and forgo sleep just because, who doesn’t shave but my actual hair, doesn’t do makeup, who doesn’t smile when I’m told to and who grins for no apparent reason whenever a new daydream pops up, because i’m kind of stuck in my own head because it’s better in here. because of… trauma crap. i get by by drawing and playing games where i can just save everyone.

i don’t know if you get what i mean. i sorta hope you don’t. Because it hurts. But at the same time it’d be awesome if you did, because y a y let’s relate about crap !

Don’t know if it matters, too.

Could help to get a few friends. But being  an asocial, asexual, kinda aromantic mess kinda throws that out of the window. You’d think so many A would get me higher in life eh heh heh heh heeeeeh… not funny. i’m not funny. My life is not funny. The way i react to it can be, though.

Like, that one time i was hanging out on my own, outside the bar i had first entered with classmates, as i tried to be less of a hermit, in a bar street and fled because i can't stand alcoholic jerks, and then saw this crowd of tough guys ejecting a small and stout person in a blue hoodie from said bar by fucking throwing a chair at them through the fucking window, and seeing that this little dude is a monster, and knowing they’re gonna get busted down to a puddle of dust by the mastodont looming over them if nobody intervenes ?

i reacted funny.

---

“Yoo-ou ffffffuking cunt, I-I’m gon’ mash you to the dirt yo motha shitted after getting fucked by yooour d-d-dog of a oold man-”

As he spits the words, an obviously very drunk dude stumbles closer and closer to the monster, his hands shaking like he wants to grip their head and smash it.

Freak it. This son of a bitch may be slurring like he drank the whole city, but he’s for sure all out to kill him ! Get up and run, little dude !

“c’mon man, “fucking cunt” , fun king or earl, it’s still a bit early to speak ‘bout mothers isn’t it?”

[i recognize him]

Pfft- what ? i snort loudly from my spot.

Okay, this is a gloriously  bad, stretched pun -but now is not the time for goodness’ sake ! Run, dude, run -wait, is that a skeleton ?!

[i recognize him]

Oh my fuck, how dumb is that dude, going out in a popular bar at what-the-heck-hours in this stupid city ! There were shootings and assassination attempts on the monster gym leader not even two blocks away yesterday ! And you just go in there with a face that screams “LOOK AT ME” ?! Are you stupid or do you just lack of basic preservation instincts ?!

The brute keeps advancing, spouting shit, a sort of gang backing him up, toward mc comicbonedude, a guy i assume, given the voice, but with monsters you never know, gender’s a myth but not them- who’s still on the ground, backtracking, crawling with a grin it didn’t drop the whole time, is it stuck or something and doesn’t look like getting up holy crap he can’t get up, the more hatred a monster is confronted with the hardest it hits he must be low on hp or something he’s gonna get killed

[i recognize him]

mc comicbonedude cracks another joke or is it his ribs cracking under the viscious kick he just got he’s thrown nearer the spot i’m chilling in. Another kick. Nearer. They can't see me, i’m well hidden in the shadows. Another kick.

This time, mc comicbonedude gags out a pun about sole-ution to the problem being-

FUCK OFF!! a gun is being drawn out.

Screw this i’m not witnessing a murder, fucking racists fucking xenophobics fucking city full of fucking shitheads there are other people around here why isn’t anyone but i don’t want to die either that's how it is, eli, always strive for yourself.

i get up fast and sprint to the monster, screaming about cops and a monster attack and insults, anything to spark a bit of panic, deck a scrawny fucker the one who.was.going.to.shoot.him. and aim for the skeleton, who yells.

[i recognize him]

i grab him by the hood and run in some narrower streets, hearing yells after me, and the anxiety is building up a little too much for my usual adrenaline numbing spell to work-

i trip on some trash and my own feet -same difference, fall over, roll, get up that’s how you do it eli, hit and roll, but back on your feet. And keep running, holding the monster close to my chest he’s warm that means he’s still alive and ok, right, left, dodge the you whore you bitch get back here you bitch and the bullets yup i’m good at thiiiiiiis- a bullet still grazes my ankle, I stumble, nearly faceplant, and it hurts but like a sting and I’m still alive. The adrenaline keeps pumping and i feel so light, i sprint into a shabby alley, panting like a dog, i think i’m crying, and drool is mixing with it. i can feel the headache coming, and mc comicbonedude is heavy enough to slip in my arms why won’t he move ? Is he dead ? Is he in shock ?

[i recognize him]

i run to a staircase, you know, the rusty and slippery metal kind outside buildings for fire escape ? Exactly what i need, as the assholes keep firing at me, huh. I climb, to the top, jump to the next building am i really doing this as me for real and run. i don’t know if they’re still after us, my ears won’t stop ringing, and i can’t tell it apart from sirens. I’m on a four stories building running to save a skeleton who

who starts emitting blue and yellow light and what the hell is happening why am i floating holy fuck i’m two inches away to be totally out of not-looking-near-enough-at-all- concrete to fall on.

[i recognize him]

[*focus insufficient]

[*procedure fails]

He’s silent. Sprawled two meters away from where I’m hanging

h-how did i

Looking exhausted and furious, like a cornered dog who has already taken on a tiger in the past, and from his left pupil there’s a cyan blue and yellow flame ? crackling, or bubbling ? or is it just flashing. can’t tell eyes too blurry. and dark blue is surrounding me at my sternum is that monster magic it’s beautiful, did i get headshot i can’t thing straight no. i can’t breath. It’s holding me in place. i can’t breath properly. i try to call out for him, he’s just overreacting in an understandable alarm but

please don’t crunchy crush the goofy girl on the cracking hard ground but when I try, I look at his eyes. One is glowing a fiery but disturbed cyan and yellow, with shards of red here and there, and the other is blank dead. Black. i’m terrified. He pants and that’s the only sound for a while. He’s alive. Good. Am i going to still be alive after this ?

“DON’T DROP ME DON’T WANNA DIE DON’T KILL ME OKAY IT'S THE LAST TIME I’M HELPING OUT ANYONE I PROMISE I’M SORRY PLEASE DON’T KILL ME. DUDE PLEASE.”

“wha- ghh- !” He flinches like waking up. He lets go- lets go of meeee-

“AAAAAAAAAH NO !” He gasps and grasps again. i only slipped a meter into nothingness “Oh please please please i really don’t wanna die, and not falling, it looks like suicide i don’t do that i managed not to so don’t spoil it all ok i-”

“what- kid no stop r-”

“SO SORRY DON’T KILL ME DON’T-”

“ kiiiid please” he’s clutching at his skull now.

“PLEASE D-”

“shut. up”

Ok. Not talking.

Whimpering and sobbing a bit, but he better take this because i’m having an anxiety attack and it will escalate into a hyperventilation fit if he doesn't lower me on the ground and I can't calm down.

“Please don’t kill me.” blurts out anyway of my gritted teeth.

A white light bulb alights in his empty eyes socket, and the glow in the other dims. Could he not see me before ? Hey, is that a crack across his skull ? Augh that looks like it s t i n g s.

“ H-hey, there. You- ah, fffuck this hurts. You okay ?” i try.

Nothing. He stares at me, as if watching out for something. I can feel the power around me wavering. He needs to come to his senses before I go kiss the dirt.

“P-please don’t leave me hanging.” He snorts, but keeps scrutinizing me, shaking. ‘s like he’s half understanding the pun, half not there. Silent.

“Woah, that was bad, even for me; guess i’m just that high.” i attempt a feeble finger gun.

He holds back a laugh “pffft- what the hell, kid- oh fuck.” He starts, realizing what i’m hinting at. He drags me back to the ground. i still can't move, but breathing is easier. i whimper again -heck i’m surprised i didn't piss myself- and draw out a looong sigh.

Now we stare at each other awkwardly is not strong enough to cut it. And i observe, that i m may be sweaty, tired and teary, but he looks bad.

His skull is definitely cracked across his left eye, he won’t stop shaking, sweats profusely and seems to have troubles breathing so monsters skeletons breathe and pant. Ok. Do they cry too ? Cuz that weird red stuff oozing from his damaged eye doesn’t look like tears but that can’t be blood… right ?

He looks horrible, if only physically. But the way his eyes sway, with this grin I can’t find the reason for, it worries me more. Is he ... having an episode, or something ? i mean he could be and be totally inoffensive, but ? Was he the one attacking first back at the bar ? is he really having an episode of some sort ? i’m not too nice when i’m having an episode either.

Should i cry for help ? i can't budge from his grasp.

And i know i shouldn’t but i’m feeling an attack coming up- the restraint is triggering my ptsd ridden ass…..

Let me go y-you there c’mon i can’t take this not my shit nuh uh lemme go lemme go lemme go

“ lemme go…” woah not pathetic at all. “Let me go.” no reaction, try again “LET M-” i can’t move my mouth.

The pressure fucktupled, and it’s like my lungs and my muscles are being crushed.

“ok buddy, pal, chum, whoever you are, what the fuck ?”

i can’t answer you, you dumbfuck you just muted me

“i mean, nice save and all. thanks i guess. but who the heck and what on earth are you up to ?” both of his eyes went black oh my god what did i do to your highness Hecate like seriously now how did i end in such a mess.

“H-how about we both calm down first, and talk next ?” i seem to break through the mute. ok good, deep breaths, count backward from ninety to zero, relax, we’re both freaking out, he’s as spooked as you-which is funny cuz he’s the skeleton- focus on breathing.

Still no answer. “Look, i, i get it, bad freak out, i interrupted you back there, i get you’re fucked up-” nothing but his eyes narrowing “ but i’m cool. Swear i am. i’m cold and m’name is uidelsib. you can call me sib ! Cool enough ?”

i extend my hand, ready to give him a strong good ole handshake, but he doesn’t take up on it.

Instead he stays frozen, “Not cool, dude,” hand still extended, but lowered, as if he could grab me again “ r e a l l y not cool,” i insist, and his bones are, he’s. shaking ? Yeah. Shivering violently, like he’s super cold too, which is pretty normal given he’s what. Up with me on a high building, one, two hundred meters in the sky, exposed to the icy wind ? Figures.

His bones are making this clattering clickety sound, stresses me out damn. He’s studying me. But it’s also like he can’t focus. Shivering too much. Shock, probably. His eye socket’s still oozing that red shit. Not thick enough to be blood, and too scarletish, but what do i know ‘bout monsters.

[oh, what do i don’t]

He takes a step toward me.

“ not fucking cool, not in the least-” i let out, jaw still clenched.

His bones rattles one last time, on the cement ground. His knees buckled under him the next moment he moved. His arms couldn’t support him.

i approach him, concerned. Once the pursuit’s adrenaline and the near death experience done with, my mind is settling, and i can think more clearly. He, on the other hand…

He stirs as i come closer. Tries to growl something i can’t decipher, but it comes out as a whimper, pained. My heart constricts in my ribs. Fuck, i hadn’t meant shit to go down like that. i seem to have a talent to fuck up, but i only wanted to help.

i tell him that. He grunts, doesn’t acknowledges me further, and quivers as he tries to stand up. He can’t though. I see it from where i am, he shakes enough to make a dr.pepper bursts.

i snort at the image, a skeleton shaking a bottle fixed on his spine, then flies away with the pressure- w o w i’m gone far. Need a bed. Asap. Concentrate on the situation at hand.

He, though, doesn’t react well to my laughter. He immediately stiffens, and

goes slack. Unmoving on the ground. He fainted ? i go on a hunch and inch closer, on the tip of my toes, hunched over myself, because i can’t tell if he’s dead or if i’m going to be.

[i recogni-- --- [REDACTED]]

i shake my head furiously. i can’t let those thoughts take my attention away from what’s taking place here and now.

i’m close enough now. something like a meter away, i can see him still shivering, and hear him rasp some breaths out. So he can breathe-

[i knew tha- [REDACTED]]

Not Now. i need to focus, i got a seemingly dying monster mere steps away from me.

i crouch down, slowly. My leg muscles burn enough i’m trembling too and i’m pretty sure my teeth are chattering, the noise mingling with his bones against the asphalt.

He’s still face down, arms limp on his sides, and i spy his eyelights peeking at me, way less sharp than when he had me pinned in the air just. one minute ago ?

i creep closer, he tenses, i stop.

“You’re ok.” i whisper. “We’re ok and we’re leaving.” i try to keep my voice from wavering but meh. ‘s not like there’s much face to save, for both of us.

i reach my hand toward him. He doesn’t move. i put it on his back, barely pressing, he tenses. And then disappears with a ping.

[ (*did you think i was going to stay here and t--- -- -) [REDACTED]]

NOT NOW I SAID. GE E. WHERE DID HE Go ?

He’s back right where he was. He basically just blinked in and out of existence. And he’s looking even more exhausted, if that’s possible, sweating bullets and heaving noisily, before he quiets himself. He’s also glaring at me, but meekly, and i’m not too scared anymore to be honest. He looks more frustrated than anything, although i can guess he’s actually scared to death. HAH.

“Hey you’re ok, i said, i just. Need to get us somewhere safe. Yeah. Not here.” i croak out. i’m starting to feel the freezing wind more, too. i can’t afford to stall and give him time to think. i can still hear the sirens. They’re looking for someone. And i don’t want the police on my back, even if i didn’t do anything reprehensible in the end.

So i slide my hands under him, still making sure i don’t touch any possible sensitive areas, and decide to go for the armpits, and hey i might get a tickle out of him ! ...ahah no. As i try to heave him up on his… surprisingly tiny feet ? did he lose his shoes or. Whatever. He just stays as silent as he is limp. And boy is he limp as a rock. Not quite as heavy though, good.

“You’re lighter than you look-” might as well try to make some conversation “and uh, can you walk ?” Or at least i can try to fill the heavy silence. Let’s just forget the “tried to kill you” thing. We’re both in deep crap anyway, and i can understand having baggage.

He really won’t walk though. He barely makes a sound too. If i hadn’t heard him sooner i’d think he can’t talk or something. i barely get a grunt out of him as i put him on my hip, which isn’t hard given he’s like. Half my size. Fun sized boney menace.

And i begin to trudge down the stairs- not the ones i came from, i don’t want to get caught if the cops are back there and it’s too far anyways. i want a bed. Now. A lone pillow would do.

He doesn’t seem much different, dangling on my side barely sparing me a glare as i look down at him, checking if he’s not dusting yet. He stopped “bleeding” at least. He still got that nasty huge scar.

i can feel him staring when i’m not looking. He’s still wary. Probably only lets me pull this only because he can’t not. Heh, at least he doesn’t seem to mind that i’m carrying him like you’d do a toddler. i just, need my other arm to grip and grab at the staircase bars when i slip.

Nah he looks more disgusted to be touching me than anything. Everytimes we get into more contact, because i’m bumping a wall or stumbling on my own feet again, i can distinctly feel him shudder, and try to get away. It’s just a little distracting, and unbalancing, and a lil tidbit hurtful. But i can’t blame him. i’d be throwing a fucking fuss and dishing fists if our places switched.

At least it’s relatively calm. We didn’t meet anyone, maybe a few rats rummaging garbage, and some monsters hurrying home, Whimsuns i think ? No one that paid us any mind at least.

So we’re still walking slowly when rain hits us hard, and nearly sends me on my ass. Doesn’t help the shivering, but now it’ll clean the streets out for sure. It’s something past midnight, i don’t wanna find anyone out at this hour.

But i’d kinda appreciate finding my way to somewhere because

“Aaaaaaaaaaa a h ahhh i got no idea the fuck i’m g-going…” Ah fuck. i said that out loud. And now my passenger's giving me his best ‘are u fuckin kiddin me’ stare. He’s. Very unamused.

“L-look, this isn’t, this isn’t my part of the city, okay?? i’m- i’m tryin’ to g-get us to the monster neighbourhoods, but i don’t know the fuck where it is, alright ?!” My tone escalates with my pitch, and i nearly slip again as he flinches away from me. Damn it, not helping eli, still in an episode or something. Don’t yell.

“Y-y-yeeah okay, look. ‘m sorry i cried but i’m in shock and still lost, kay? S-so maybe help or som’thin’ ?” Indications would help yeah. And now he’s listening, he’s also less shaky and putting his weight on me in a way that hinders our progression less. Good.

He nods. Good.

“Good. Gooood good good good.” i’m on autopilot now, following the skeleton’s grunted directions. i take a few wrong turns every now and then, but what can you do with nonverbal advice, and we end up in a part of the city i recognize, because i’ve seen it on tv and wanted to come look around anyway.

The gym stadium. A big building, at least big for a monster building, given the prices get surprisingly higher when they’re buying, stylized like a Japanese dojo, with anime advertisement posters (whether for the dojo or the animes i got no ideas) on the walls and- oh my gosh are those- fish, dolphin, shark and starfish stickers on the windows.

“Perfect !” i half yell, significantly lighting up. Mc comicbonedude looks at me like i’ve grown a second head, and i give him a big manic smile, obviously stressed out. My right eye might be twitching a little too. Does that when i’m under pressure. He decides to go back to slumping against me and questioning his life choices, and i take that as an ‘okay GO’ to proceed with my genius only just made up plan.

i march up quickly, -i want this DONE WITH. NEXT TIME i GO ON AN IMPROMPTU RESCUE MISSION I’M TAKING MY LEAD UMBRELLA AND A CHANGE OF CLOTHING- to the tall doors, who thanks fucking gods are under a porch, that saves us from being drenched anymore, and pound it with all i got.

“OI BLUE WATER GAL ! OPEN UP!!! I KNOW YOU’RE STILL WORKING, YOU ALWAYS BRAG ABOUT NOT SLEEPING AND PROVIDING A 19/24H SERVICE ON TV!!! OPEN UUUPP!! B I T C H! OPEN!!UP!!”

Skeleton is googly eyeing me like the second head i’ve definitely grown started reciting the ten commandments to belzebuth themselves,

[and he’s not too far off]

but i don’t care my dude i am d o n e. If i get welcomed with a fist to the face i don’t give a diggly doogly dang fuck so long i can get inside and lay down. Even on the cold ass tile floor. i’m don-

“OI PUNK, WHAT’S UP WITH THAT RUCKUS ?? YOU TRYING TO PICK A DUEL WITH ME ? CUT IT OUT UNLESS YOU WANT A POUNDING COMPETITION FUFUFUFUFUFUH~ I’M OFFERING THOUGH !”

Ah, right, i’m still hitting that door. Ouch, that’s gonna swell. Oh welp.

But the voice came from...up?

i step backward some, under the rain, ugh, and look up to see, yup, a noodly armed blue fish person with bright scarlet red hair pulled up in a bun, all sweaty, a poor guy in a chokehold, peeking out of the second floor window, taking in the pouring rain with gusto. A gigantic lightning bolt, quickly followed by loud ass thunder, comes to compliment her boisterous apparition, and she grins- smirks? wide locking her single eye on me, the lighting making her golden teeth flash.

She comes down to greet my miserable form fast, not taking the stairs, but jumping out of the window (much more graciously than mc comicbonedude previously), having let go of her victim- sparring partner previously, good gods, and lands at my feet like nobody’s business, to then bolt up, eager to see the intruder to her night sessions.

And Undyne, former Captain of the Royal Guard of Monsterkind Underground, all steel like blue scales, glinting golden slitted eye and sharp mouth, now renowned Master of Fights in her stadium, among monsters and humans even more, already black belt of more martial arts than i know of, and fresh survivor of one of the biggest terrorist hits on monsters yet, is staring me down, from her easy two meters height, like i’m her next meal.

i gulp. i’m so fucked.

i’m so fucked and not just for the fact that i am royally gay and all, but also cuz…

[i recognize her]

[she was so hard to f---- [REDACTED]]

[couldn’t figure out that all we had to do was to run and then ---- -- ------- [REDACTED]]

“Uh ?” Her gaze has finally caught on my now bundled up passenger, who’s shivering in cold rather than fear, on my hip, who only lazily grins a

“sup”

“YO SANS, WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH THIS WIMPY HUMAN AT THIS TIME OF THE NIGHT ?? AND Y’ALL ARE SOAKED !! GET INSIDE, NERDS !!!”

[i know him]

i follow hollowly the orders and get inside, feel a weight leave my side-kinda miss that already, to then feel a big fluffy towel drape over me. Then i sit down. In the hall on the ground, probably. Wooden floor is in my direct line vision. Uh. Thing is well taken care of, all waxed and clear, who would have guessed.

[i know them both. very well actually]

[Chara would be nervously giggling if they were here]

[wonder what they’re up to]

[and Frisk too, obviously]

[what about Flowey though. no idea what the lil shit is up to in pacifist endings]

i’m so f UCK E D.

---

Aaaand that’s how i ended up rocking back and forth in Undyne’s dojo’s main hall for half of the night, muttering about video games and fucking witchcraft gone wrong again and shit fuck damnit, i guess it was denial all along those last two, six months ? And oOH WELP, guess i did cradle like a toddler my fictional crush for the last, what, half hour ? Whoopsies.

Hhhhhhhh

fuck that ink witch status, that was not planned.

___

When i finish my flashback, and it’s been something like six months again since, got to “meet” his super cool great bro, not on his account though, Undyne just had to introduce Papsy to the dweeb that “saved his big brother” and also Asgore, Toriel, for a quick ‘thanks you’, even a small interview with Mettaton, that made a hit on the Undernet, and mingled a bit with monsters- i’m friend with Chesty Brun now (Burgerpants), and Alphys, because we’re following the same mangas-

he’s already gone, burger nearly untouched, ketchup covered fries half eaten and drink finished, and i’m tempted to ask Grillby, who is hovering close behind his bar, fretting a little, in front of my frozen form, if “you’re gon throw that out ? sure i can’t finish ?”  Because it’d be a real shame to let all that delicious grub go to waste. But that’d be creepy as fuck, even moreso taking my feelings for the small dude, and his against me, so i don’t, and he’ll probably feed it to his pet lava rock anyway, so i stop hugging myself and rocking back and forth and go back to my seat, waving him off with a sorry smile, and go back to sullenly sipping my vanilla milkshake.

Can’t blame Sans.

He’s cautious. Understandable.

i know what he’s had to put up with.

[and so do all of you]

[dirty brother killers ?]

[i hope not]

[i really wonder how’s Chara doing…]

AAAAAAAaaaaaaah how do i turn this shit off ?? Let me pretend i’m normal in a normal situation stupid brain thing !!

...ah. screw it. this magic milkshake is fabulous. That’s totally what i’m crying about.

“Don’t worry Grillby.”

_______________

ye don’t worry my dudes. can i call y’all that ? ‘s gender neutral. ‘m a demi girl, and you can call me “my dude”, my dudes. wow what a bull of crap i pulled here, sorry trans girls and enbies

this isn’t beta read cuz i’m on my own and english isn’t my native language, i’m french, so plz forgive mistakes.

i had some drafts lying around my google docs for a year now, mostly about bugging and kissing snas, put them together and thought i’d do an actual Thing with it all. this isn’t good, i know it.

lest to say i have no idea what i’m doing !

and don’t know when this’ll update, it it does. i had the motivation to finish this cuz there was no clients at the restaurant i worked at back in july. blah blah blebs blah. 

[kumarvarun13]

LOVER INITIAL LISTEN TRACK BY TRACK

1- i forgot that you existed

this so literally so cute. homegirl said bye bitch. SHES SHITTING ON CALVIN HARRIS!! OMG IM LITERALLY GOING CRAZY. SHES SAID I WENT TK YOUR SHOW EVEN THOUGH NO ONE ELSE DID. SHES GIGGLING. SHES SAYING CALVIN HARRIS IS IRRELEVANT. LOVE THAT.

2-cruel summer

come in production. i'm actually getting chills now. the chorus sounds so pretty. this sounds like if 1989 and reputation had a baby. *chefs kiss* that bridge. is. so. heartbreaking.

3- lover

brb i'm just going to go find a man/woman fall in love and get married k bye. this bridge is making me cry. for the 23rd time today. bc i cry at how cute this is. ILL SAVE A SEAR FOR YOU AT SVERY TABLE!! this woman is an amazing writer. and the vocal and harmonies are *chefs kiss*

4-the man

come in complexity. YES A BOSS ASS BITCH. alpha type hell yeah. this is such a bop. my ass is shaking in my bed. IF I WAS A MAN ID BE T H E MAN. we love a hard working queen. she's literally not saying a single thing wrong. women are so powerful like men could never. SHE SAID BITCHES. I- ID BE A BITCH NOT A... she's pissed at men bc we suck. i know. i'm sorry. well this is a song i can't play at work. and i oop. this production is so cool. jack? you did that if this is you. oh it fades out. so pretty

5- the archer

fuck. fuck. fuck. fuck. fuckkkkk.

i'm going to cry now. not the speeches. fuck he drums are coming in. i'll start taylor *cries* the pre chorus is so good. like. ugh. all of my hero's die all alone. who thinks of that. like. so powerful. also still not over the they see right through me part. fuck it's humpty dumpty. all of my enemies started out friends. i can with her. and i've listened to this song for exactly a month. i know what happens and i'm still shocked. ugh *chefs kiss*

6-i think he knows

what in the ass shaking is this. my ass can't stop shaking. she's so cute. yes taylor. spit barzz. that falsetto. this is my favorite chorus so far. i'm only on track 6. i have 12 tracks. this is so groovy. yes sing those ad libs. the HARMONIES UGH. BREAK IT DOWN. love this so much. one of my favs. she's slowing down. please tell me she picks it up again. she is. it's coming. this is my favorite so far. updates to come

7-miss americana and the heartbreak prince

oh this is slowing down. what in the reputation. this is so good. she's talking about the dark times. this is so complex. so much is going through my head. i love the screaming. THE STRINGS. she's a bad bad girl.

8-paper rings

stay stay stay is shaking. this is red. red is back. this is going to be so cute on tour. i want a paper ring. this is stay stay stay part 2. someone make me a paper ring. yee haw 🤠��this is such a fun song. i love the key change. so good. i want your dreary monday's. ID MARRY YOU WITH PAPER RINGS. INCANT. SHES IN FUCKING LOVE. LIKE SO IN LOVE.

9-cornelia street

this production. this is so simple but so powerful. this chorus. silence to the beat picking up. this is so cute. this isn't about joe. is it? wait. they almost broke up. and then they didn't. this such a beauty. omg i'm starting to tear up. this is good. wait it's not over. that bridge has the same tune as invisible. this is what everyone thought the album after 1989 would sound like. it's a more mature 1989. this is so deep

10-death by a thousand cuts

what's happening. the guitar. the pop. omg. this is the morning after a breakup. she's literally going through all the phases in love. omg. i don't know. this is a really pretty song. this is her facing the reality of what happened. this is giving me a thousand years vibes. idk why but it is. this is so good. i'll be alright. this is taking the spot for my favorite(sorry track 6)

11-london boy

this is literally already so good. this is joe's song. omg she's in love. DARLING I FANCY YOU. she's talking all about london. she's putting a fake british accent for some words or is that just me making it up? either way. this is so good. shout out to london. this might be my favorite production so far. it's different.

12-soon you'll get better(ft. the dixie chicks)

shit.

13-false god

what's with the sax. the sax is actually really nice. false god = a toxic relationship or the hard parts. this is a really good song. this is the coffee shop taylor i want. this is really good

14-you need to calm down

my ass is shaking again. damn it's 7 am. SHADE NEVER MADE ANYBODY LESS GAY. WE ALL GOT CROWNS YOU NEED TO CALM DOWN.

15-afterglow

this is mellow production with such amazing and complex lyrics. i love this. my heart dropped. this is so good. i love the flow of the pre chorus. this is a pretty chorus. this is the baby that wildest dreams and out of the woods had after 1989. this stripped back bridge with her vocals and just the drums this is going to be a favorite.

16- me!(feat. brendon urie of panic! at the disco)

i like the song. not my favorite. but the placement of the song within the album is def a plus. it's really fits where it's placed. is "hey kids spelling is fun!" in the final album version? let's see. it's coming.... THEY TOOK IT OUT. i actually liked that part. it was cute and made the song less serious and much more of a fun song. plus it fit with the lyrics in the bridge.

17-it's nice to have a friend

idk how to feel about the steel drums. tbd. this is a simple song. very taylor and a simple beat. i actually like that. come in trumpet. this is a very calming song. the chorus oohs are really nice.

18-daylight

oh this is nice. this is really nice. it's a self reflection. i sounded the good and trusted the wicked. that's deep. this is really good. a nice closer to the album. oh it's picking up. love is golden. this is good. a good good closer. i love this final chorus. step into the daylight and let it go. this voice note ending. it's so raw. and personal. and an insight.

final thoughts: this might her best work. lyrically and production wise. there's not a song i didn't like at first listen. i know there is one song (track 11) i probably won't listen to that much because of how emotional it made me.

my initial top 5:

1. death by a thousand cuts

2. i think he knows

3. afterglow

4. paper rings

5. the archer