#using long distance attacks once he can get some space

[snowyh2o]

I’ve convince myself that the Alastor’s 1 (one) job was to keep Adam busy and he fucked it up.

Also, people keep saying Alastor fights like an angel -> fights like he’s invincible, and I don’t see it? Dude’s fighting like he’ll be pancaked if he gets so much as a scrape. At least for the first half. And then he starts showing off and gets pancaked.

[pink-key]

How would Toby be with a romantic partner if he ever entered a relationship (like would he be toxic/romantic/etc??)

This will be long, buckle up, as I want to tackle multiple questions.

This is an x y/n headcanons visual thing.

Warning: Terrible writing. Might be slightly dark. Very very long

Firstly, all depends on the closeness you have with Toby.

🍨 Plaything

🍰 Congratulations, you got him interested in you. Maybe it's your overly humorous reaction to him running after you, while he was chaotically swinging his hatchets. Maybe you had a drastically different reaction to his previous victims.

🍰 Either way, he loves tormenting you; his morals are either absent or corrupt. He likes to scare you, looking into your window to your room at night, laughing and rambling nonsense once you notice him (doesn't matter which floor you live on; he can climb). He can inflict some minor or not so pain on you, especially during his episodes, from randomly swinging his weapons in anger or excitement to pushing you around. There is no particular aim in that; he just feels like it, or his mind is fogged by voices and emotions.

🍰 Contrary to popular belief, he isn't shy, he isn't easily embarrassed. He is loud, obnoxious; he will make his opinions known to you; he will comment on anything you do or any of your clothes, personal belongings, even your family. He is here to have fun, not to worry about your feelings. As long as you entertain him, he will keep you alive, driving you to madness.

🍰 He can and will find you anywhere, will make you look like an insane person to other people. He is good at hiding and is skilled at hurting physically and emotionally from a distance (throwing a rock in the head, displacing objects in the room to make one paranoid, etc.). A 2-meter-tall stalker running around with two axes after you? You're hilarious, y/n!

Coincidentally, his boss doesn't order him to kill you; maybe you don't disturb his work much, after all, he doesn't visit you all the time (his life doesn't revolve around you). Just the least when you expect him.

🍰Telling him he is disgusting or commenting his mental issues will result in an instant end, unless he would want to play a chasing game in the forest with you before that.

🍰 If you have an S/O, he will mock you for choosing such a pitiful person as a partner. Just hope he won't involve your S/O in your little games. He doesn't care about your personal life, but he sure knows how dear this relationship is to you.

🍨 "We are buddies, r-right?"

🍰 You somehow managed to survive his attacks, random outbursts, mood swings, threats and, for some reason, decided to befriend him.

Honestly, being his friend is the healthiest you can get and keep bits of your private space at the same time.

🍰 He, despite being insane, brainwashed, and amnesiac, starts to see you more than just an amusement park attraction as a cute little pet, not really an equal. Your relationship is a bit more than him having a blast using physical or mental torture on you. Your presence and personality are also fun, who knew?!

🍰 Maybe, would EVEN feel a slight parody of pity for you. Especially if you tell him your sad stories of your life. He is terrible at comforting, but if the stars align right, he can play his favorite cassettes to you with cheery songs or try to make jokes, but don't expect that to happen every time. Maybe a pat on the head would happen, usually, he would tell you to stop being sad as there are worse things to cry about.

🍰 He teases you and pranks you a lot. Doesn't matter what state you are in.

🍰 His idea of friendship is a bit twisted. You won't mind that he will destroy your belongings if he finds them annoying, right? You are friends! Friends don't hold grudges against each other! Or if he would hurt your family members or friends because they said or did something that triggered his aggression, right? Friends forgive each other! You don't mind sharing everything with him, from food to information, because friends don't keep secrets from each other!

🍰 There is a good part to this relationship. He is kinder to you. Perhaps, would bring you a cute little trinket or object stained in blood. Friends make gifts for each other! He would appreciate it if you would give him something. Be careful what you give him, as he interprets your gifts in his own way. New hoodie? Are you implying his tastes are bad? Are you mocking him?

🍰 This is also where you can shape your friendship into a seemingly normal one. Food is a safe option. Learn what he likes to convey to him that you care about him. The man needs kindness deep inside. It will confuse him; he might get angry at you, at the world without understanding why, but the long-term result is worth the risk.

🍰 If you are in danger, he might save you. Although you will bear the guilt of some hooligans being either deadly hurt or dead.

🍰 He is also more open to you. You can hold small conversations with him, discussing music, for example. However, if he is in one of his episodes or even just mood swings, he can snap, shout at you or just be mad at you for an unknown reason, while rambling something incomprehensible and leave you alone for a week or more. Violence isn't completely off the table either.

🍰 If you have an S/O (or just hangs out with friends), He can get jealous because you don't pay attention to him at that exact moment. He isn't always jealous, just sometimes. If he is in a terrible mood, might even hurt your S/O, he isn't shy at that stage to involve anyone in the mess. He can complain about your S/O. It's not advised to dispute him, as he can get angry at you. You are his friend! Why are you fighting him?

🍨 Obsessive

🍰 After a lot of talking, gifts and, if you were bold enough, light friendly physical touch, he is feeling smitten by you.

🍰 You notice weird signs of attention from him, he makes some sort of romantic gestures, but it comes off as creepy to you. For instance, he thought a fur coat is what you would like, but he didn't realise you need to work on the fur instead of giving it bloody to you.

🍰 He doesn't understand himself, his voices aren't helping him either, he is feeling hate then sickly love from one second to another. If he thinks too much about that, he twitches and tics more than usual, especially in your presence. He is more distant; he doesn't respond to you. He just sits there, shifting his eyes without focusing on anything, occasionally roughly turning to one of his auditory hallucinations.

🍰 You don't understand his ramblings or whispers, and now they are more disjointed than ever. He avoids you for a few months or even more. It worries you more than him being around you, as you're used to his presence by now. Who knows, maybe he got bored with you and just contemplates how brightly he could end your life.

🍰 He can't run from his feelings forever. As a snow during summer, he busts into your house and just dumps all his thoughts on you—just an incomprehensible jumble. You won't understand it right away until he grabs you by the shoulders and forces you into an embrace, then pushes you away, twitching, staring into your soul, waiting for your response. He doesn't say, but he already knows how you feel, even if he lies to himself. He is attentive and sensitive to human emotions, and he reads body language quite well.

🍰 You have a choice. If you deny his love, either one of things will happen. You die because he feels like it. You don't like him, if he kills you, he kills his feelings for you at the same time. Yet, there is a slim chance he can just forcefully make you like him, can lead to kidnapping, but you won't love him that way either, he would realize that, that's not right, and you are also dead in this scenario.

🍰 If you lie and accept his feelings, you won't last long, either. He notices all the slight restless movements around him, your discomfort, the way you look at him. He hates liars, so it's best to be honest and die quickly rather than slowly.

🍰 If you have a strong, twisted friendship and you learn how to talk to him, how to act when he is difficult to interact with, and you just find him with his bouquet of disorders and trauma charming in his own way, then you don't need to say much to him.

🍰 He doesn't know anything about relationships. He can come off as toxic, as his jealousy flies from low to high in a matter of moments. He is still a snappy, angry, insane serial killer, he just now sometimes apologizes if he was too rude to you. More gifts too, woo-hoo!

🍰 He is obsessive, but that also depends on a lot of circumstances. He wants to be around you as much as possible. Just your presence gives him some sort of emotional bliss when his thoughts are a bit less loud than usual. At the same time, his thoughts are chaotic and get under his skin, and he can disappear for some time. Or one of your words can trigger him; he can be violent or distant.

🍰 Dates with him are attempts to replicate what he sees in movies. He watched whatever old VHS he found in abandoned cabins or houses in the woods, so it's pretty vanilla and traditional, dare I say: eating ice cream together, watching movies, slowly dancing to some old music. He uses old pickup lines too if he feels particularly spicy.

🍰 He isn't touchy. He is touchy unless there is a sinister goal in mind or he wants to be annoying. Toby subconsciously associates touch with bullying or violence. You have to teach him to appreciate affection and kindness, and it will take you a lot of time.

🍰 Eventually, with a lot of pain he adjusts to your taction. He likes to sit next to you, shoulder pressed against yours, while resting his head on your shoulder or head, enjoying peace and silence, while you fidget with his fingers, occasionally placing brief kisses on bruises on his hand. He likes small touches. Once he learns what a surprise hug is, he abuses the life out of it. Be prepared to have mini-heart attacks when he screeches into your ear and hugs you from behind while you return from a small grocery trip back home. Other than that, his level of tactility remains the same.

🍰 His mask and goggles are also mental protection for him from the world. You notice that he takes them off when he is around you.

🍰 He is weak for compliments..even if he overthinks, in some instances, becomes angry or sad, whatever mood hits at the moment, but deep down he is squealing. He will hint at that in his own way by trying to compliment you. This is also important as at times he feels paranoid you are plotting something against him, so compliment him when you can.

🍰 Small acts, like maybe washing his bloody clothes or sewing them as they have a lot of holes, makes him intensely love you. He just stares at you, you just think he is probably hallucinating something.

🍰 Movies showed what women truly desire, so he is a gentleman, ..tries to be, so he would bring you flowers that he probably snatched from a nearby garden. Would keep the door for you, all that, his twitching, ticking, can make it unpredictable. If you're slammed by the said door on your side, trust him, he didn't mean it.

🍰 If you see him just lying down and doing nothing for days, don't try to extremely cheer him up or, goodness forbid, say "smile some more." Just be by his side, be patient. He will become cheery again soon.

🍰 He is jealous, he cares about your attention more than ever. So be careful how you act around your friends, family, or strangers if you want them to be at least alive by the morning.

🍰 His mind can be fogged by rage sometimes, so stay out of his way, he isn't in his head when he is like that.

🍰 Oh, if you have an S/O while he is in this state. No more of that S/O, maybe not you either. If anyone dares to flirt with you, no more of that person, either. You can beg Tobs to just end the lesson with a severe beating but good luck with that. He may switch his unstable bloodthirst onto you if you try too hard.

If you reach this, thank you for reading this war and peace, hope this all makes a bit of sense lmao.

[wreckedandpolemic]

bunny ears and devil horns - matty healy

(mdni) in which your halloween costume gets your boyfriend so riled up that he needs to remind you who you belong to. part of the white and gold universe and promptober75 2024. 2717 words.

You fix the devil horns on the top of your head, watching your reflection to centre them. The girl in the mirror smirks back at you, lips painted a shade of red that matches your lingerie. It’s scarcely more than scraps of lace, accentuating your figure with straps that criss-cross over your body. A garter holds up your sheer stockings, feet tucked into red-bottom stilettos.

Squeezing into the red vinyl minidress that completes your “costume” is more of a task than you’d expected, but the effect is perfect. You text Matty a picture of your outfit and what’s underneath, captioned happy halloween, daddy ;) do you like the dress better on or off? Matty’s response is immediate, flashing up his contact before you’ve even put your phone down. You let it ring for a moment, make him sweat a little before you pick up with an innocent little, “Hello?”

“Jesus fucking Christ, princess. Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

You giggle. “You know, this is why I call you an old man. You’re an old man with a weak heart, Matthew, and I’m going to inherit all your money when you die.”

“Behave yourself,” Matty teases. “You look gorgeous, princess. Have fun, be safe, don’t talk to any boys.” His grin is audible, and you groan.

“But what if they’re gonna give me free drinks?” you pout, half-jokingly wheedling.

“Especially not then,” Matty answers. “Should just let me drive up there instead. I can buy you much better booze than some grease-faced twenty-year-old boy, and I’m definitely better company.”

You laugh at how serious he sounds, his jealousy creeping in at the edges of his tone. “Oh, you wanna be the only man I’m using for his money, right? But it’s so fun, and they make it so easy.”

Matty practically growls, a low, frustrated noise filling your ear. “Will you behave? Such a slut, aren’t you, princess? Been too long since I’ve made you mine, huh?”

“You know I’m yours. Makes it more fun, letting them buy me drinks and think I’m gonna let them get anywhere before I tell them I have a real man waiting for me at home.”

He laughs, low and rich and sweet. “Music to my ears, princess. Have fun tonight, yeah? Call me when you’re home.”

“You sure? It’s gonna be past your bedtime.” Matty only scoffs, adding a soft I love you that makes you pout and long for him. “I love you too.”

You drink and dance your way through the evening, barely paying for anything and always slipping teasingly out of your suitors’ grasp. And it’s fun, it is, your head spinning joyfully as your friends pull you into the circle, but you miss Matty achingly, painfully conscious of the distance between you, how long it’ll be before you get to see him, have him, again.

Sure, it’s a little codependent, but you’ve never been so in love. A year ago, this would’ve been your ideal night, drunk and dancing and flirting to your heart’s content; now, though, all you want is to curl up in bed with your boyfriend and a vintage red. A little melancholy, you duck out early, barely making it to midnight and hoping you’ll still catch Matty once you’re home.

There’s an extra car in your driveway, but it’s too dark to make out the model or reg number, so you shrug and fumble with your keys to let yourself in. Coming face-to-face with Matty helping himself to coffee in your kitchen shocks you almost into sobriety, your knees practically buckling as you throw yourself into his arms. You press hungry, needy kisses over his face in a way that’s definitely indecent for your shared living space. “Hi, princess,” Matty grins.

“What are you doing here?” you laugh disbelievingly.

“Wanted to be waitin’ at home for you,” he smirks. “Make sure you remember what your real man feels like.”

You tilt your head knowingly. “You’re jealous,” you giggle. “Saw how hot I looked tonight and got mad that a bunch of silly boys were the only ones enjoying it, right?”

“Just wanna make sure everyone knows who you belong to, yeah?” You smirk, taking his hand and pulling him along to your bedroom. Matty slams you against the door as soon as it’s closed, kissing and licking and biting at your neck with abandon.

“Don’t I look pretty, Daddy?” you sigh, tilting your head to give him better access. “I want you to tell me how pretty I am, tell me everything you want to do to me,” you breathe, threading a hand into Matty’s curls and lifting his head. His eyes are black with lust when they meet yours, his lips swollen and spit-slick.

Groaning, he drops his hands to grab your ass, his gaze weighted and heavy. “You’re so fucking gorgeous, princess. So pretty for me, and only for me, yeah?” You nod feverishly. “Had to get off as soon as you hung up the phone, angel. God, this fucking dress. Couldn’t stop thinking about how gorgeous you’d look dancing, about bringing you home and getting on my knees, gettin’ you undressed and fucking you in just your belt and stockings.”

You moan, grinding against the bulge in his trousers; heat floods your body and drips into your panties, hunger gnawing between your thighs. “The shoes, too?” you tease, hooking one leg around him to press a stiletto heel against the back of his thigh.

“Shit, if you want,” Matty answers, lifting you off your feet and laying you on the bed. “So fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, half to himself. “D’you mind if I take a picture, princess? I just— y’so pretty, so perfect.”

Eagerly, you nod. “You’re so sweet, so good to me. Make me so happy,” you beam. “Y’gotta fuck me like a whore, though, okay? Maybe I was a bad girl tonight, drinking and flirting with boys to make them think they had a chance,” you say, a teasing pout playing on your lips. You toss your head wildly, posing provocatively for Matty’s camera.

“Such a dirty little girl,” he smirks. “You wanna get punished? Get that pathetic excuse for a dress off for me, okay, princess?” He’s still standing at the foot of your bed, camera poised, when you reach up at him.

“Can’t take it off on my own,” you say, biting your lip and rolling over. “S’too tight. I’m stuck,” you add, deliberately playing up the porn dialogue and arching your back. You moan happily when he straddles the backs of your thighs, his fingers warm as they find your zipper and tug gently.

Torturously slow, Matty unzips you, like you’re a gift wrapped up all for him. A stuttering gasp leaves his lips as he pulls the dress off you, grabbing your ass and kneading like he can’t resist. He spanks you harshly, and you arch greedily up into his touch. “This fucking ass drives me crazy, princess. You want me to fuck you there later?”

Your cunt throbs with need. “Please,” you moan into the sheets. “S’all yours, Daddy. Do whatever you want with me. But make me hurt first, okay? You gotta teach your little slut a lesson,” you add, smirking over your shoulder at him as his eyes go black with lust.

“So fuckin’ needy,” he scoffs, smacking the inside of your thigh. Sweet pleasure-pain arcs under your skin, hot and dizzying. “You want everyone to know who you belong to, hm? Gonna make you scream loud enough for the entire city to hear,” he smirks. Without even waiting for the instruction, you shift into your favourite position for him; face down, ass up and ready for whatever he wants to give. You knead a lace-clad breast in one hand, pinching and rolling your nipple through the thin fabric. “Jesus, y’fucking soaked through, princess,” Matty mutters, pulling your panties to the side and spitting on your dripping cunt.

You moan helplessly against your pillow, writhing greedily as you feel his spit dripping down your skin. “Daddy, please,” you beg. “M’so needy, so wet for you, I can’t wait any longer.” You gasp, entire body jolting as Matty leans down, licks a broad stripe over your cunt, kisses your clit.

“You can’t wait?” Matty says, mocking tone sending the need hammering in your veins into a fever pitch. “Greedy girl wants to get filled up and punished?” You moan out an affirmative, feeling his weight shift as he leans over to your bedside drawer and pulls out a toy. You hear him uncap a bottle of lube and slick up the toy, cunt clenching when he presses it gently against your hole. “You ready?”

“Please, Daddy. Please stop teasing. I can’t— fuckkk,” you cry, the suddenness of Matty slamming the toy into you sending liquid heat spiralling through your body. “Shit, yes,” you moan, breaking into a keening wail when he switches the toy on, the rabbit sending pulses of pleasure so intense at your clit that it nearly hurts.

“There you go, darling. All ready now, huh?” Without waiting for an answer, Matty brings his hand down to smack your ass hard. Every slap jolts the vibrator against your swollen clit, garbled whines falling pathetically from your lips. Your ass is flaming red and stinging as Matty brings his hand down again, pleasure coiling tight at the base of your spine. “Look so gorgeous all bruised up for me, princess. You’re matchin’ that pretty lace.” Your hips shift, at once desperately chasing pleasure and retreating from overstimulation.

Arching your back, you grind down against the vibrator, already melting into a slick puddle of need. “Daddy,” you whine, without even knowing what you’re pleading for. Pleasure winds itself tight through your body, your muscles tense and your head spinning.

Matty strokes the curve of your ass gently, smacks you hard, and you gasp, a high whine falling from your lips as the vibrator presses insistently against your clit. “Oh, sweet girl,” he sighs. “You gonna cum?” he coos, one hand sliding around to your front and gently cradling you. You nod helplessly, garbled whines falling from your lips. “Oh, baby. Go on, princess. Cum for me. You look so pretty when you cum, darling.”

One more hard slap to your inner thigh has you screaming, pitching headfirst into pure ecstasy. “Ohmygod, Daddy, yes!” you cry, face buried in the pillow as tears brim in your eyes. Pleasure clenches vice-tight around your organs, bordering on pain in your cunt where the vibrator still hammers against your sensitive nerves. Arousal drips down your legs, incoherent moans falling from your lips and heat licking in your belly.

Your cunt clenches as Matty pulls the toy free and you whine. “God, you’re so pretty,” he murmurs, leaning down to kiss your swollen clit. “You ready for Daddy to take what he needs, princess?”

You giggle breathlessly. “What do you need, Daddy?”

“Need to fuck this slutty little pussy, darling. Need to hear those pretty noises you make, fill you up, make sure you remember whose girl you are, alright?” Matty says, almost a moan.

“Please,” you breathe out, and the word’s barely left your lips before he’s inside you, your soaked cunt taking him greedily. Desire pulses heady between your legs, your back arching as you try desperately to fuck yourself back on him.

Matty’s nails dig into your hips, pain flaring where his body meets the sore flesh of your ass. “God, you feel so good, princess. Missed this sweet cunt so bad. Gonna fuck you ‘til you can’t remember your own name, beautiful,” he promises, slamming his hips hard against yours.

Whimpering softly, your eyes slip shut as Matty’s fingers trail slickly over your wet clit. “Wish we could just fucking stay like this forever,” you groan, dazed and swimming in pleasure with Matty buried to the hilt inside you. You can feel him nearly trembling with the effort of holding still. “Give it to me, Daddy,” you plead. “I need it. Need it so hard I can’t walk tomorrow.”

“Such a little cockslut, princess. Want Daddy to fuck you dumb, right?” You nod frantically, whining out affirmatives as he traces his thumb over your hip. “S’it okay if I turn you over, darling? Wanna kiss my sweet girl while I make her stupid for me.”

Even though you agree, a whine slips out of you when he pulls out, just for a second, to flip you over. He smiles softly down at you, adoring, brushes a stray piece of hair off your face. Pouting, you arch up towards Matty until he gives you what you want; a slow, deep kiss as he fills you exactly the same way. Ecstasy floods your body, Matty’s hips slamming hard against yours as he drips moans into your mouth. “That’s my good little girl,” he murmurs, kissing your neck. “Just gotta lay back and take it, okay, princess? Daddy’s gonna take good care of you.”

“So good to me,” you groan, locking your legs around his waist and pressing your heel into his back. Matty’s pained little moan falls straight to your cunt, pulses in your ears, slick, sweet noises filling the room. “Mmh, Daddy,” you whine, high and needy as he fucks into you.

Matty groans into your neck, sucks a bruise into soft skin. “My sweet girl,” he sighs, covering his mouth with yours. “Always so good for me, even when you’re a little slut,” he teases, circling your clit as you thrash under him.

Wild, erratic pleasure spills under your skin, your body precariously close to its end. “M’your little slut,” you moan, threading a hand through Matty’s curls and pulling him in for a kiss. “M’so close, Daddy, please!”

Smiling against your lips, Matty pinches your clit softly. “D’you deserve it, princess?” he asks, low and slightly dangerous. You bite your lip. “Nah, I didn’t think so either. Luckily for you, I’m feelin’ generous, angel. I’ll let you cum…” You bate your breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop. “If you beg for it,” he adds with a smirk.

“Please, Daddy,” you gasp. “Please let me cum, I need it. Need you, want you all the time, please,” you practically scream, dissolving into incoherent, wanton pleas as Matty fucks into you over and over.

Your pulse hammers between your thighs, cunt clenching desperately around him. “Go on, princess. Cum for Daddy. Soak my cock, yeah?”

He tweaks your nipple, kisses your pulse point, slams hard into you, and you break. Your body collapses in on itself, pleasure crumbling your muscles one by one as you moan out the only word you know; Daddy. Pure ecstasy wipes your mind clean, melts into a hot puddle between your legs, Matty’s body warm and grounding against yours.

You smile blithely up at him, scrunching your face when he pulls out. “Wanna paint these pretty tits, angel. You gonna let me?” Eagerly, you nod, arching your back to press your tits up towards him. Your eyes fall to his cock, slick with your arousal and drooling precum as he strokes himself. The column of Matty’s neck stretches beautifully as he throws his head back in pleasure, moaning sweetly. He chokes out your name as he comes, cum splashing across your tits.

“You wanna get one more picture?” you grin, and Matty nods with wide eyes, fumbling for his phone and breathing hard as he photographs you. You start to draw patterns in the mess across your chest, sucking your fingers into your mouth and cleaning his cum off them.

“Such a little cumslut, princess. Love how filthy you are,” Matty murmurs, leaning down to kiss you and moaning quietly at his own taste. There’s a subtle, almost imperceptible shift in his demeanour, then, and you catch the moment with both hands.

Smirking a little, you reach up to tug on his hair. “I saw that, Daddy. It’s okay, you got what you needed, can just be my good boy now. I’ll take care of you,” you promise, rolling on top of him and pressing your bodies together. The sticky mess of him smears between your chests, and you kiss him softly. “I’ll let you have whatever you want, Daddy. Just gotta say please.”

[butterr-bee]

WL!Winner Imagery Thoughts

Since the Wild Life finale was yesterday I thought I would share my thoughts on what the winner’s celestial symbolism should be in the form of a very long tumblr post, because what else do I have to do with my time?

Spoilers for the Wild Life SMP finale and winner + long post

Firstly a big congrats to Joel for winning!!! It's very deserved and he worked so hard for it, so GG!!

Like I said above, I’ve got some thoughts about what celestial body we should use to represent him as a winner and so I’m going to share them with whoever stumbles upon this.

[NOTE: Anything I say here is not meant to attack anyone who has different opinions or belittle anyone. I’m doing this for fun and to share my thoughts, not to hurt anyone's feelings. I love you all, do whatever you want forever.]

So far for each of the winners we have;

Sun - Grian

Stars - Scott

Moon - Pearl

Mars - Martyn (some people say Comet/Meteor but Mars is the most popular)

Earth - Scar

Pluto - Cleo (this depends on your personal headcanons as well but I like it, and this post isn’t about the intricacies of mine)

Now as funny as all of the “he should be car” jokes are (seriously they’re hilarious to me), I don't want to take away from his win by making it a joke, especially since we already have someone who isn’t fully accepted as a serious winner. (IDC if it was April Fools, Cleo you will always be a winner in my heart)

I’ve also seen a few people say Mars or Meteor, but this becomes confusing with Martyn’s symbolism and takes away from Joel’s win as well. I want to avoid that as much as possible because he deserves the same respect as the other winners.

Other ones I’ve seen are; Chariot, Supernova, White Dwarf, Shooting Star, Neutron Star, Jupiter, Mercury, and I’m sure there are more. None of these really stick for me so I’m going to go ahead and add to the list.

Usually, I’ve stayed out of discussions about winner symbolism in the past and left it up to the more brainy fans, but I have thought about what different players could be from time to time since I absolutely love space. When my older sibling said Venus it got my mental hamster going on its wheel.

Venus has been a popular planet in history for an incredibly long time and in many different cultures. It’s the second brightest object in the night sky (second to the Moon) and has a fascinating synodic cycle (how it moves through the sky). This movement causes it to get to a certain distance from the Sun to make it look like it’s disappearing from the sky for several days and then reappearing on the other side of it. Because of this, Venus can appear before sunrise in the morning or after sunset in the evening, but it never seems to reach the top of the sky. This has led to it being known by two other names, Morning Star and Evening Star. It also has many other names in different cultures and it wasn’t until the 13th century that it was given the name Venus, but I won't go into all of that today.

Venus has lots and lots of history around it mythologically, having been portrayed as both feminine and masculine and even as two figures at once. It’s known for representing love, war, beauty, and relationships—and it just isn’t quite right for Joel.

So after doing my extra research on Venus, I found that it wasn’t really the best fit (sorry Kat, not enough talk about family for it to cut it /hj). Even with the interesting parallel of Grian and Joel’s dynamic and how Venus goes from one side of the Sun and ends up on the other, it was too much of a stretch. I was going to stop here but then I got thinking about other planets and my mind wandered to the seventh planet from the sun.

You all know and love to make jokes about his name, Uranus! (a little pet peeve of mine, it’s pronounced your-un-us NOT your-anus)

Uranus is one of two Ice Giants and has the coldest planetary atmosphere in the Solar System. It’s named after the ancient Greek deity of the sky, the father of Kronos, but it has been argued that it has more mythological relevance with my favorite boy Prometheus. You know, the Titan that ticked off the gods by stealing fire for mortals and now has to have his liver eaten by eagles for eternity? Yeah, my boy.

This planet is known for being the planet of freedom and revolutionary vision. It represents the urge for change, the ability to visualize new possibilities, and “breaking through”. Much like how Joel was trying a new tactic for winning this season, Uranus is known symbolically for defying tradition and embracing change and originality.

So, it’s known for breakthroughs, extremes, innovation, and rebellion. Sounds about right for Joel, but I didn’t want to stop there. Doing more digging I looked for other similarities between the two of them.

A lot of what I found fit Joel’s character pretty well, but mostly from past seasons; eccentric, strange, unique, unpredictable, and untamed (although Joel is always strange /lh) but I was looking for something more current, something that was all about family. I did find the word wild used and referred to a few times though which was great.

My search was getting repetitive, everyone had the same things to say about Uranus’s symbolism and I was looking for someone to go more in-depth. But eventually, I made a breakthrough (how fitting)—the word “reformation”, which Oxford defines as “the action or process of reforming an institution or practice”. Bingo baby!

I looked further into this side of Uranus, the sort of things that use the wild aspects of this sort of personality in meaningful and productive ways. Lots of people were saying that negative expressions of Uranus include irresponsibility and rebelliousness without a cause—things that kept Joel from winning in the past—but I found someone who said this;

“Uranus asks us to adopt a humanitarian spirit and global mindset, allowing us to live as one unified being.”

This implies that to reach the positive expressions of Uranus—things like progressiveness, ingenuity, and enlightenment—a person under this planet would need to start looking beyond themselves as a singular goal and to care for and support others. To “live as one unified being” the way one might say a family should work together as a unit for the benefit of everyone involved. In other words, to use their eccentric and wild personality to help others as well as themself.

And what was Joel’s entire Wild Life PoV about? Dom Toretto Flipping his previous tactic of being an insane loner /j on its head and making friends by helping everyone else as well as himself. He used his wild nature and ability to commit to the bit to his advantage and won the whole series as the last green name, last yellow name, and last man standing.

So that is why I propose that we start using the planet Uranus to symbolize Joel’s victory—an equally wild and unpredictable symbol that can step up and help others to help himself.

Now, I know it doesn't fit the rhyme that’s been going around, but I can’t think of anything else that fits better and there's always next season for more rhyming words. (Grian did say see you next season, if it doesn't happen IDK what to say about your rhyme, shrug)

Also, not important to characterization but a fun bit of trivia anyway, Uranus was the sixth planet discovered by the ancient Greeks and Romans and it’s the seventh planet from the Sun. So regardless of whether you consider Joel the sixth or seventh winner, there’s a fun number coincidence.

Sorry if this doesn't make sense or fit, I wrote it all on minimal sleep and without my glasses. Also, I haven't watched all of Joel’s life series PoV yet so maybe someone with better qualifications should do this. Anyway, if you made it this far I love you and I wish you well. Have a doodle that I also did without my glasses for your patience and to maybe sway you some more.

[darylsdelts]

Disclaimer!: I am not a writer😭 I just wanna say stuff that I think about Daryl cuz it’s fun and he’s all I think about so that’s what this is.

I really believe that Daryl has anxiety. Like, it was super bad when he was a little kid, feeling like he could throw up or pass out any time he was in a social situation, it was more visible as a child with wobbly legs and shaky hands. Merle would just call him a pussy and tell him to grow up so over the years he learnt how to deal with it better, making it completely invisible to anyone else.

Once the apocalypse started it was kind of a blessing in disguise, it was just Daryl and his big brother so he pretty much forgot he even had anxiety. It wasn’t so bad at the quarry and the farm because he kept his distance. He’d go off on carol when she got too close because he got comfortable being alone and when others would invade his space he'd feel the old spike of nausea that reminds him who he really is, a coward like his brother told him.

during the time at the prison, he got closer to the group, in proximity and friendship wise. there wasn't much choice but he eased himself into talking to rick more instead of just taking orders without another word. He got closest to carol because somehow she seemed to understand him and she knew not to push and to give him space.

when merle returned, so did the old daryl, becoming more hostile and like a little puppy who does what merle says but he came to his senses eventually.

after getting stuck with Beth after the fall of the prison he came to realise that not everyone thinks hes some freak of nature. people can be good, some people are just good, beth was good, beth made daryl feel like he could be good, maybe he was good already.

beth dying set daryl back. whats the point of letting anyone get close if they die anyways? he still had carol though and she understood him.

arriving at alexandria, carol changed, shes smart. Daryl didnt change, the fact he was in a community with people playing happy families, which he never had, was a big enough change for him. This is when he’s oh so kindly reminded that hes still that little boy from the beginning. not having to deal with his anxious habits for such a long time has meant that he’d forgotten how. the amount of people trying to make him feel welcome and the way he felt trapped was too much to handle for him, he’d prefer to be out there.

he’s grateful for aaron, aaron NEEDS daryl to be out there. Daryl is not useless.

however, there are still plenty of times where he feels like he is. when occasional meetings are held, there have been many times where daryl has had to subtly leave, feeling the pit in his stomach grow too powerful, feeling like he could throw up from how anxious he is, he knows that that’s the telltale sign of his body about to have a panic attack and he’d rather die than be seen trying to manage that. sometimes he’d try to stay and get through it but carol notices the deep breaths he takes to try to calm himself and the way his fingernails have gone purple. it makes it so much worse when someone notices.

He knows it’s strange that he feels more at peace when killing walkers and spending time in the forest rather than being in a safe home with a warm bed but, he’s not used to that, he never had that and he doesn’t feel like he deserves it but he does, he’s been deserving of it way before the outbreak.

——————————————————————————

I might write a lil Drabble thing where the reader gets to know daryl and his nervous habits and they help him??

[billy-cockblock]

SWTD Theory

Still Wakes the Deep has been a huge brainworm for me the past few weeks, so I wanted to make a post with one of my takes. Someone’s probably thought of this already, but I can’t find anything about it, so here I go. 

I’m gonna take this time to shout out a little sub theory of mine that plays a bit of a part in my main point. 

For a little background, in populations of organisms, there are limiting factors on their growth and spread. Think of it as a series of funnels of different sizes: the rate of liquid that can flow through is going to be determined by the narrowest funnel. For example. if there’s a population that has ample food, space, and whatever else it needs, but has a restricted access to water, that water is going to limit how large that population could grow.

Before the Shape was dug up by the drill, it was probably dormant in the sea bed, doing its best to survive, the same as any other organism. Down where it was dark, wet, and cold, I think it had one main limiting factor: oxygen.

I don’t think the Shape can efficiently exchange gas underwater. Most of the untouched bodies Caz sees are only underwater, where an organism that thrives in air would struggle to access. Once it gets dug up and brought to air with plenty of organic matter to consume and grow with, its population explodes. When a limiting factor is removed, there’s nothing holding the population back any more until they hit a new limit. The Shape’s old limiting factor was removed, and it would only stop reproducing by running out of space to grow on the rig, running out of organic matter to use, or being killed (like, say, in a giant fiery explosion).

(I could go on and on about how the Shape potentially works, please feel free to ask me about it)

Now, I’ll get to my main theory:

I think Caz was dead the whole time.

Now, I don’t mean that in a “the whole game is in his head, none of it was real” way; I mean it in a “this man got Ethan Winters’ed” way. 

So, I started to do a little research into how tall oil rigs are to know how far Caz would have fallen off the helipad. I quickly learned there are many types of oil rigs and not every oil rig of the same type is the same size. I’m studying marine biology, not petroleum engineering like my brother, so I got tired of trying to guesstimate how tall the Bierra D’s helipad would be and attacked the problem with some simple math. 

Watching a video, I saw he fell for between 4-5 seconds; the acceleration due to gravity is 9.8m/s^2. Plugging that in a calculator while not accounting for air resistance to solve for distance gets me ~80-120m, depending on if I used the 4 or 5 second count, so I’ll guess around 100m. I’ve found many conflicting sources on what the tallest heights you can safely fall into water are, but I can safely tell you that 100m is much higher than any of them. 

Now, maybe the devs weren’t going with the mathematical exact timing it would take for a guy to fall off an oil rig, and didn’t mean for it to be implied that he fell from THAT high. Still, we can agree he fell from very high up, high enough to have likely ended in injury. Maybe he’d just fall on and break a leg? Maybe an arm or some ribs?

After falling off the rig, the last frame before Caz blacks out shows the water at the top of the screen, meaning he hits the water head-first. He may be wearing a hard hat (that somehow stays on his head through the whole ordeal since he clips his flashlight to it), but he still should have cracked his skull open or broken his neck. 

When they pull him out of the water, he’s cold and not breathing, which wouldn’t be unusual for a drowning victim in the North Sea in the dead of winter, but it would usually be a death sentence. They never explain how they dragged Caz out of the water, but it would presumably have taken a long time to get him out, and time is key when dealing with someone who isn’t breathing. The fact that he’s able to cough up water and start breathing on his own is a miracle, since it doesn’t sound like Brodie or Douglas do CPR when they bring him inside.

So, fall damage, head and/or spine injury, drowning, and hypothermia. By several different factors, Caz should be a very, very dead man. So why isn’t he?

My theory is that, somehow, somewhy, the infection from The Shape healed and brought him back to life. We know for a fact it has amazing generative properties, basically able to double, triple, quadruple the amount of tissue and organic matter in the crew’s bodies with no regard for conservation of mass, so what’s just a little regeneration of damaged tissues in a single body? Once Caz’s body gets someplace with better conditions suited to life (inside where it’s warm and there’s air), it just jumpstarts his body functions. The Shape’s presumably been dormant in the seafloor for a long time, so it could be able to go dormant and kinda “come back to life” as conditions change, similar to a tardigrade, and potentially pass this ability onto its hosts.

And Caz mentions how his head hurts a lot, especially when he gets close to the Shape. 

Now, this might seem like baseless conjecture, and y’all might say “That’s a good headcanon, but there’s no evidence that The Shape could bring people back to life!” to which I would say “Oh, but there might be!"

After the helicopter on the starboard side, we get a call from Bruce, who is actively drowning. Through his gasps, he tells us that O’Connor hurt his leg and couldn’t swim, presumably drowning. And guess who we see still kicking as we’re passing through the pontoon? My thought is that O’Connor couldn’t swim, drowned, and drifted to the bottom, landing on a part of the shape. Once Caz and Brodie start working in the legs and they drain, it exposes him to air and allows the shape to start growing again, assimilating him and bringing him back to life. 

Obviously, he’s not doing as well as Caz is. My thought was that, if Caz died as he was infected, the infection would’ve had to put a lot of its energy into bringing him back, not leaving much for itself to begin assimilating him into the Shape. Since O’Connor was in direct contact with the Shape, it could hook him up to its network to help supplement that loss. Caz, meanwhile, stays as far away from the stuff as he can and doesn’t even get anything to eat all day; guy's running on empty. He has small things where the Shape affects him, like the colors at the edge of his vision, but most of his hallucinations only happen after the Shape attacks him through O’Connor. Before, I’m pretty sure the largest incident (other than when he’s blacked out) is when we can barely hear Suze’s voice over the speakers when moving through the pontoon. It’s really only after getting attacked that he starts to hear her when he’s awake, near the Shape, or over phone calls. He only hears her clearly over the speakers in administration after he runs into the shape many times when he gets swept away in the flooding.

With my main evidence out of the way, I’ll also mention that Caz sees the “light at the end of the tunnel” from the end of the game in the oil flashes when he blacks out.

But hey, that’s just a theory. 

A GAME TH- I have received a cease and desist.

Man, this became a long read. Thanks for getting this far, and I hope you enjoyed!

[hotluncheddie]

For the lovely @sidekick-hero as part of @steddiesummerexchange

Using the prompt 'meet ugly' which was so fun and pushed me to do some new stuff! so thank you! i hope you enjoy!! 🫂

Ao3 | wc: 6.2k | rated: M | cw: panic attacks | tags: 90's AU, No Upside down, Meet-ugly, Platonic Hellcheer, Background Buckingham, Rockstar Eddie Munson, Yoga Instructor Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson needs a hug

₊✩‧₊

‘Munson, this, there’s nothing here man.’ His manager sighs, looking over Eddie’s scribbled notes. 

Eddie sucks another lungful of his cigarette. arms and legs crossed on the too soft office sofa, foot tapping. 

He knows. 

Of course he knows. 

It’s shit. 

All of it. 

Disjointed song ideas and cord progressions that don’t work outside of a shitty blue grass wannabe and the weird none metal bullshit that somehow got him here; that people keep insisting is grunge.

‘You have till mid June, ready for Lollapalooza in July. Label said so.’ And Jake is a good guy, a good manager, but Eddie wants to rip his skin off and never see this ugly fucking Chicago office building or anyone in it. Ever. Again. 

He wants to write. He wants to create, and perform. 

But he can’t. 

It all shit. There’s nothing here. 

-

He speeds down the interstate. Foot pressing on the accelerator, pressing steadily harder and harder. The speedometer ticking up 10mph, more, 20, more. 

‘Shit, fuck.’ Eddie curses, trying to light the cigarette at his lips. Lighter sparking but no quick catching flame, just the click and fizz, dead. ‘Stupid. Fucking.’ He sniffs, scrubbing at his eyes, tears leaving sticky tracks across his cheeks. 

‘FUCKER!’ He shouts, throwing the shitty bic lighter out of the passenger window, into the inky blackness, scrubbing at his eyes again. 

He can’t fucking see. He needs a fucking cigarette. 

He’s running out of gas, fast. Rain starting to fall, heavy and sleeting. His hissy fit can’t last forever, but the itch is still under his skin. Mind blank to anything that could be remotely useful. He’s so creatively drained it’s a joke. A mean fucking joke handed out by god himself. 

Because Eddie had his whole life to write that album. To pour his brain out and stick it together into a mangled beautiful little thing. 

And now he’s expected to do the same thing. In months. 

And he knows. He knows, it’s possible, and it’s been done, and he has thoughts and feeling and music left inside him. 

But it’s hard. And he’s scared. 

Eddie doesn’t think he’ll ever write another song again. Dry to the bone. Like his Dad always expected. Always knew. Knew he had nothing in him. Good for nothin’. 

Snot drips onto his top lip. He, he can’t see. ‘Fuck.’ He whispers - he. 

The lights of a gas station shine up ahead. 

Tiredness dripping down into his bones, suddenly. 

Eddie pulls off, parks off at the side. 

Punches the steering wheel till his knuckles go bloody. 

‘W-wayne ‘m sorry, I, I just can’t Wayne.’ Eddie stutters into the receiver. The distance between then crackling. Cold wind rattles the glass walls of the little gas station payphone. 

‘Ed’s? I need ya to take a breath for me kid.’ Wayne’s voice sounds deeper through the phone, more smoky. 

Eddie’s hands are shaking so hard he shoves one up under his armpit, can barely feel his fingers, tucking his elbow in close and squeezing. Stomping his feet, trying to ground himself into this time and space. He breaths in through his mouth and nose, shuddering as he tries to get as much air as possible into his frame. Blood pumping loud in his ears, and he still can’t fucking see. 

‘That’s it son, and again for me.’ Wayne says, in the same tone he says most things; calm and plain, for as long as Eddie can remember. 

He only heard his uncle raise his voice a couple of times, and never once over Eddie. It was always the disappointed looks that would get under his skin, keep him on the straight and narrow (or, not straight, and mostly narrow), kept him safe.

The main one that Eddie remembers, was when his dad came. 

His dad came to try and get him, take him home, wherever that was, whatever that meant. Wayne lost his shit, as much as Wayne can. Held his hunting gun too close to his dads heart and told him brother-in-law to ‘Get! Out!’ 

Eddie had hidden behind the arm of the sofa, crouched and only daring to peak over when he heard his dad huff, punching the doorframe once and stepping back to leave. ‘Fine, fine!’ He’d spat. ‘Don’t want the kid anyway.’ He glanced at Eddie then, a dark sort of indifference in his eyes. ‘Fucking useless.’

That darkness fills Eddie now, coating his lungs and stopping the air flowing through. His Dad’s right, he can’t be anything, not really. Doesn’t have it in him. 

Part of him is still there, cowering behind the couch. A coward, still now. Maybe always. 

‘You stop that right now Eddie y’hear? You might be yer Daddy’s son but you’re in no way him. Ain’t no way.’ Wayne says, stern. 

Eddie sobs, palm pressed across his eyes, fingers digging into his temple. ‘Fuck.’ He fucking, he just can’t. 

‘M’sorry Wayne. M’sorry. It’s so stupid but I nearly fucking killed him Wayne, if I wasn’t there he woulda’ got away, woulda’ got away fine.’ 

‘If you make one more excuse for that sack of shit Eddie I’m coming up there myself to talk it outa’ you.’ Wayne says. ‘You were a kid Ed, didn’t do nothin’ wrong other than trustin’ your own Daddy.’ Wayne’s voice softens, making sure Eddie’s still listening. ‘What happened wasn’t your fault kid.’ He says, like it’s final. 

‘Okay.’ Eddie takes a wet breath, shivering. ‘Yeah, okay Wayne, I hear ya.’ Closing his eyes, squeezing the receiver and rolling his forehead across the cool glass of the booth. 

‘You ring Chris for me now Ed, tell her you’ll be home soon. And I’ll ring tomorrow once ‘m off, leave you a message if you’re not in.’ Eddie sniffs again, a few more tears slipping down his cheeks. 

‘Ok Wayne.’ He agrees, it’s easier. He’s so tired. ‘Night.’ 

Eddie sneaks through the door, not sure if he wants a whole pity party right now. He kind of just wants to go to bed. 

Chrissys head pops up over the couch, looking at him with wide, wet eyes. 

Maybe he does want a little party, actually. He feels tears well in his lashes again. 

‘Hey Chris. I um, sorry for leaving. It uh, it’s bad again.’ He admits, voice cracking. 

‘Eddie.’ She soothes, coming around to him by the door and wrapping him in a hug. Holding him so tightly in her skinny arms. Too good for him. ‘I’m sitting with you while you ring the doctor tomorrow okay? And you’re coming to yoga with me Thursday.’ She says, wiping Eddie’s tears with her sleeve. ‘And I don’t want any buts mister.’ She mumbles darkly, squeezing his waist when Eddie snorts. 

‘Fine. I, fucking, anything to not feel like this anymore Chris.’ He sighs, he’s so tired. ‘Even fuckin’ yoga.’ And he knows she can hear his eyes roll but she just squeezes him again, humming. 

He buries his face in her neck. Taking deep breaths, till the shuddering goes away. 

-

They’re in the coffee shop below the yoga studio. Eddie’s anxious, already itching for another cigarette even though he finished his last one right before entering the cafe, not five minutes ago, shivering against the cold wind. He didn’t sleep last night, or get any words out, he just watched the shopping channel all curled up on the couch, biting his nails and wishing for something to come change him. 

But he’s here, as much as he doesn’t want to be. He trusts Chrissy, and the last call with the label about the very none negotiable schedule for a new song release in conjuncture with the tour has him ready to try anything. 

Even fucking yoga. 

‘I just don’t see how this is going he help Chrissy, it’s just breathing and shit.’ Eddie says loudly, stress making him obnoxious, the bell above the cafe door tinkling. ‘It’s not gonna help me get stronger. Plus it’s wrapped up in all that pseudoscience bullshit. Just trying to make money off unhappy people and their shit.’ He’s staring down and the flyer in his hand. They were on the counter and Chrissy had shoved it at his chest as she ordered. Probably a queue for him to shut up. 

‘Who the hell even is Stevie anyway?’ Eddie asks, flapping the paper around. It’s pink, with bold black writing and the outline of a striped flag in the corner. Hm. 

But no, gay yoga is still yoga, Eddie won’t be converted that easily. 

‘Chrissy, hey!’ Comes a deep voice from behind him, making Eddie jump. When he turns his arms fall limp at his sides. 

Golden skin and soft brown eyes. Hair that curls around his ears and sits on his head in a highlighted swoop; kinda messy, like he runs his fingers through it. Little gold hoop in his ear, neck covered in moles. Beautiful. 

They’re around the same height but this guy is broader, thick and sturdy with a layer of squish over his muscle, a layer of chest hair over his pecs, peaking out of his tank. He could suffocate Eddie with those thighs. Eddie could take great pride in holding all that bulk down, making him scre- 

‘Stevie! Hey!’ she beams. ‘Eddie meet Steve Harrington. And Stevie, this is Eddie Munson, my best friend.’ Chrissy say, introducing them and pulling the stranger into a side hug. 

Eddie can’t think straight. 

This, is Stevie?

The barista calls his name, Eddie coming back to himself to turn and grab his order. Plaster some kind of smile on his face in leu of an actual human greeting. 

Chrissys looking at him, smiling like she knows something. Knows more than Eddie does. 

He sips his tea. Doesn’t look at her. 

‘…Well nice to meet you man, I’ll see you both in there.’ Steve says, pointing his thumb towards the door. ‘just wanted to say hi. Gotta go prep some more pseudoscience bull before it all starts.’ He says, clapping. Smiling at Eddie like a fucking Stepford wife. Eddie gapes at him. Steve winks. 

Eddie’s mouth snaps shut. 

Slimy fucking guy. Eddie seethes, sipping his tea, watching Stevie leave. He looks like he could be the son of any of the record execs that’ve tried to fuck over Eddie’s music. Breathing down his neck to get another hit album, like Eddie has any control over that, can get himself to write anything like that again. Like he can handle the plans for a tour next spring, into the summer for festivals, said they want new songs to keep the fans interested. Fucking Steve looking at him like that, all spotless and put together and prefect and Eddie cannot fucking let this guy beat him. Not today. 

‘What does that look mean?’ Chrissy asks, amused. 

‘Means that I’m about to have the best fucking yoga session that guy has ever seen.’ Eddie says, still glaring at where Steve had just been. He hooks his arm through Chrissy’s and heads for the door. 

The studio is a renovated townhouse with hardwood floors and long windows. There’s a wall of mirrors and a bar across one wall, aerobics equipment stacked in the corner.

Eddie finds a spot with Chrissy nearer the back, but the rooms really not that big, he can see Steve’s set up at the front just fine. 

Chrissy leave his side to go pay, and apparently flirt with the tall freckled girl who’s taking said payments. Standing in the corner with a clipboard and a laugh that ends in a snort. That must be Robin, Chrissys long time yoga crush, and by the way Robin playful taps Chrissy on the head with her pen, she’s not doing too badly. 

Looking around Eddie’s surprised that there’s other people like him, with tattoos and some more visible piercings. 

Older ladies with pink in their hair. A younger guy with a cane and a Prince shirt on. People of different sizes, colours, shapes.  

Steve is making his way around the room, talking to people, he knows most of them by name. 

It’s. It’s almost nice. 

But when Eddie looks at Steve all he sees are the jocks who spat on him in high-school. The rich kids who said they couldn’t be friends because their parents found out he lives in a trailer. People who look at him with awkward, dead eyed pity when he mentions his uncle but not his parents. 

Steve walks over, snapping Eddie out of his head. ‘Hey, so Chrissy knows how it goes. But Eddie, I want you to take it easy tonight, okay? First session means you should be careful.’ 

Eddie leans back on his palms, festered. ‘Don’t think I can handle it Steven?’ 

Steve doesn’t take the bate, neutral face barely twitching. ‘Have you done yoga before?’ 

‘No’ 

Steve crosses his arms. ’Then no, I don’t think you can handle it actually. Last thing I want is you disturbing my class because you pulled a muscle being dumb, kay?’ 

Eddie just grunts, smiling at him in a little closed lipped sneer. Jerking his head and clenching his jaw. 

Stevie just rolls his eyes, walks away. 

Eddie hates him. 

Fucking yoga. How hard could it fucking be…

Eddie muscles are burning. He takes it back he takes it back. 

But he can’t let Steve know. Can’t bare to see that smug little smirk on his face again. 

‘Stay here if you're comfortable. But, if you want a little push tonight’ Steve says to the room, eyes flashing to Eddie in warning. ‘Move with me.’ And he bends down to touch the floor, hands then coming away, held in place by his core. 

‘Fuck’ Eddie grunts, tries releasing his hands but he comes too close to toppling over. His palms are sweating and his hair is sticking to his neck. Fucking yoga… 

‘Just breathing and shit right Munson?’ Steve says as Eddie spaces out on his mat, session over. Eddie can see more thigh at the angle, up the stupid fucking shorts Steve’s wearing. A little patch of sweat on his tank, sticking to his chest hair. 

‘Whatever Harrington.’ He grunts, forcing himself to sit up. Not looking Steve in the eye. 

Everything hurts. Even his fucking brain hurts from trying to imagine the smooth lake that Steve talked about during the ending meditation. Eddie couldn’t seem to imagine his without a ghostly pirate ship bobbing in the middle of the water. 

Fucking yoga. 

-

‘I hate him.’ 

‘Yeah sure, next thing you’ll be pulling his pigtails’ Chrissy rolls her eyes. ‘You don’t even know him, and I heard how well you slept after the session, your snoring woke me up Ed’s. Don’t give up just because the teacher is hot.’

‘He is not hot!’ Eddie seethes. 

He is so hot. So, so incredibly hot. 

Chrissy raises one eyebrow. 

‘Fine. I’ll keep going. but I hate him. ‘ 

-

One session, a few weeks in, Eddie feels it.

He dips down, back bending, coming out of downwards dog. Flowing onto his palms and toes. He breaths, feels his blood flow in his veins and his lungs fill. Rising back up and feeling the stretch in his feet, in his shoulders and hips. He breaths through it, moving with himself, connected to himself. 

Mind blank, room gone, just him and his breath. The smooth voice of Steve telling them to repeat. Eddie does. His eyes close and his mind smooths out. He flows. 

He doesn’t look at Steve again. Misses the glint in his eye, noticing the space Eddie holds on his mat, the tensions that’s been released. Misses Steve’s smile. 

Eddie breathes in. A chord progression plays in his mind. 

He breaths out. It plays again. 

It works perfectly with that scribbled line he re read this afternoon. 

Eddie breaths in. 

He goes home and writes. 

-

Winter eventually thaws and Spring begins slowly, slush still gripping to the sidewalks as the sun peaks through thick clouds. 

Eddie continues to work on demos, that don’t quite hurt so much to look at anymore, and goes to yoga once a week.

Twice a week for a couple weeks now, while Chrissy is away visiting family. Eddie doesn’t want to disturb her too much by phoning. But he misses her, the apartment too quiet, and empty. 

He gets to class early. Kind of exited to feel the stretch in his muscles tonight, see if he can hit the lower warrior stance he’s been working on. Any excitement sifts into annoyance though, once he sees Steve, mingling, in a bright pink shirt and shorts that sit way too high up on his thighs. Eddie’s not a prude, but, does he really need to see so much leg hair and smooth inner thigh when he’s trying to work out? Trying to relax?

‘Ready to feel the burn Munson?’ Steve asks as he saunters past him, clicking on the boombox as he goes

‘Bite me Harrington, ‘m not in the mood.’ Eddie says. annoyed. Always annoyed that Steve is still as fucking handsome as last time. Always so annoyingly handsome. 

He misses Chrissy. 

He’s annoyed

Steve’s shorts are too fucking short… 

Steve’s smug smile does not go unnoticed when Eddie actually falls asleep during the wind down meditation. Steve had skipped the ending applause and instead ushered everyone out quietly, leaving Eddie to sleep for a solid 20 minutes while he packed up. 

Eddie has glared, not able to extend any gratitude to that being the best sleep he’s had all week, his cheeks bright red at being caught. But Steve’s smugness seemed to be thawing with the ice. A softness to his eyes as he bid Eddie goodnight; once Eddie had wrapped himself back up in his winter coat for the walk home. 

Eddie couldn’t help but say goodnight back. ‘See you next week Harrington’ Didn’t seem to sound so bitter anymore. 

-

Eddie watches Chrissy try and show Robin an old cheer move, somehow moving topics once Chrissy had added her money to the pot. Robin’s arms don’t seem to stay straight for long enough, too distracted so she looses form. Chrissy giggling and reaching over to grab her wrist and squeeze. 

‘You two been dating long?’ Steve asks, suddenly next to Eddie and joining him in watching the two girls dance around each other. Eddie gives him such a look of confusion and judgment that Steve puts his hands up in defence. 

‘I’m joking dude, Rob’s been crazy about her for months. Too bad she’s too chicken shit to ask her out.’ 

‘I know, I’m honestly just glad she’s real, Chris wouldn’t shut up about her.’ 

‘Tell her to make it obvious, would you? More obvious that she would expect, Robbie needs that.’ And Steve is smiling, eyes sparking as he looks at them. 

Eddie nods, and he doesn’t know why he feels the need to say what’s he’s going to, why he needs to explain. Why he feels like Steve needs to know, but.: ‘We uh, both swing away from each other on the ol’ spectrum, just so, so that we’re clear.’ 

And Steve is looking at him. At the side of Eddie’s head, because he refuses to see what kind of face Steve is making. 

‘That right?’ Steve says quietly. ‘Well, good to know.’ 

Eddie.. he. ‘Good?’ 

‘Yeah good.’ And Steve’s voice is soft. And Eddie still doesn’t know why but, he blushes. 

And Steve’s moving away and calling Robin to start the session. 

Eddie doesn’t look up from his mat. 

-

He can’t be in the apartment anymore. Going stir crazy, buzzing, trapped in his own head. Its too early, class doesn’t start yet. But Eddie needs out. 

Chrissy isn’t going tonight, working late. The weatherman said there might be a thunder storm in the early hours. the rain already started, pelting his windows and sending a deep swirling ache dripping through Eddie’s nervous system. 

It’s raining so hard he can barely see in front of him but he manages to slop to the studio in one piece, waterproof and face dripping all over the floor. 

It’s warm, once he’s through the doors, the now familiar soft yellow lighting and smell of hardwood greeting him. 

He can hear laughing from the usual room. Moving closer can hear Robin and Steve giggling about something. 

Eddie slips through the door, not really sure what to do but he’s almost ready to admit that he craves the soft light of the familiar yoga room. 

He slips through the door and the first crack of lightning snaps in the distance. 

Steve is in a head stand, giggling and telling robin to knock it off, whatever she’s said making him almost loose his balance. 

Upside down Eddie can see Steve’s back, his T-shirt up around his shoulders. 

There’s old raised lines of jagged scars all along the planes of skin and muscle. Sewn back together and healed all wonky. 

Eddie’s mouth is dry as he stares at them. The muscles moving under Steve’s skin, the softness at his hips. Eddie gulps. 

His dad setting the stupid boat house on fire, once he’d heard the sirens, not leaving enough room between himself and the gasoline. Throwing the lighter while he was off balance. The flames licking his arms and face. He told Eddie to run. Eddie did. 

Eddies mat slips from his fingers and smacks against the floor. Steve coming down from his position and turning around, shirt falling back and covering him. ‘Sorry, sorry.’ Eddie stammers, not sure what about. His hands are sweating. Steve, with skin like that. He’s not his Dad, he’s not. 

Eddie doesn’t even know if his Dad is out of prison. The lightning cracks again, closer. It was raining the day of the verdict, the courthouses grey brick so waterlogged it looked black. 

Eddie can barely look at him. Who even is this guy? 

‘Hey man, you okay?’ Steve asks, voice soft and Eddie needs to leave. He needs to leave. 

‘Water.’ Eddie slips back out of the room, into the hallway and he speed walks down the corridor to the water cooler. Thudding his shoulder into the wall next to it and sliding down into a crouch. Thunder claps and rattles its deep booming cry. 

His breath is shaky, a little too fast. When he closes his eyes he sees the black smoke and orange flames licking the forest skyline as he ran. Feet pumping and sweat dripping into his eyes. His dad told him to run. So he had. Leaving him there. 

Eddie can barely breathe. He’s already run for so long, the sirens faint and distant. His dad’s cold eyes on him in the hospital; burns unit. In court. Wayne dragging Eddie home in tears. Soaking wet. 

His head jerks and smacks the wall behind him. Pulling him back to the present. The wet slap of his hair against his cheek. Eddie can’t breath, his hands are shaking and, and. 

Steve is crouched in front of him, lips moving but Eddie can’t hear him over the blood rushing in his ears. 

Steve counts on his fingers; one, two, three. Holding them up for Eddie to see. Then his other hand reaches forward and pokes Eddie in the sternum over his slimy waterproof. Steve breaths in, fingers counting again. Steve hold it, fingers. He breaths out, fingers. 

For the next round Eddie follows, hands shaking and cupping over his ears. He breaths in, unable to hold it but he breaths everything in his lungs out. Does it again. Following the count of Steve’s fingers. He has a plaster over his thumb. Eddie wonders what happened. Eddie’s breaths in, holds it for three, breaths out. 

Eventually Eddie can breathe on his own, still shaky, but consistent. The thunder and lightning having moved off into the distance. 

Steve gets him a cup of water from the cooler, handing it over slowly and Eddie grips it in both hands. ‘You scared me there Munson.’ He says without heat. 

‘Yeah I, sorry.’ Eddie cheeks burn, it’s been, a long time since he’s had one like that. 

‘S’okay. I know these are pretty scary.’ Steve motions to his back, shifting to sit against the wall next to Eddie. Sad sort of smile pulling on his lips. 

Eddie panics. ‘No, no that. They’re, they’re not.’ Because they really aren’t. He just, he wasn’t expecting it. 

‘I’m kidding Eddie, you’re good.’ Steve says, smiling for real now, small wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. Those will look pretty as he ages, Eddie’s thinks. He nods. 

Steve nods back, eyes Eddie, flicking over his face. ‘You wanna do class tonight? I can take you home?’ 

‘Oh uh no.’ Eddie drains his water. ‘I mean no, I want to do class. It um, it helps.’ He stares into the little plastic water cup. 

But in his peripheral, Steve is smirking, smug as shit and Eddie tries to scowl. But he just ends up hiding his grin behind his hair. 

‘Let me give you a lift home after though, yeah?’ Steve asks, bumping their shoulders together. ‘Storm isn’t due to let up until tomorrow and I can’t have one of my best students getting sick.’ Steve says, standing up from the floor with an ease that Eddie still envy's. Holding his big hands out to haul Eddie up. 

It takes a second to reorient himself, Steve is, Steve is pretty strong. ‘Uh, thanks. Thank you, Steve.’ He manages, squeezing Steve’s fingers once. 

‘Don’t mention it.’ And Steve’s eyes are soft and kind and endless. 

Eddie pulls away. Slips down the corridor and back into the studio. 

Steve’s car is nice. A beemer that’s a few years out but it looks like he takes care of it. The interior cream and the leather soft, it’s tidy, and there’s an air freshener hanging from the mirror, a pinup of a sailor. Eddie flicks it, smirking. 

‘Gift from Robin. We used to uh, work at a sailor themed ice cream shop. The uniforms were, really somethin’.’ Steve says with a pained sigh, pulling into the street. 

Eddie smiles, aggressively forcing his mind away from Steve in any kind of sailor uniform, steering towards safer territory. 

‘Can I?’ He asks, motioning to Steve’s little box of tapes at his feet. 

‘Have at it man.’ Steve says, squinting slightly and turning up the speed on his wipers. 

Eddie picks the new Queen tape, Steve has a decent collection, a lot of pop and some 70s rock. Eddie nodding his head slightly to “innuendo”. 

He sneaks glances at Steve as he drives. His hand big and veined where it rests on the gear shift. There are raindrops stuck in his arm hairs and the bomber he slipped on is dark across the shoulders. He doesn’t really look anything like those record execs, or their sons, probably. His socks are mismatched and there’s a spot of stubble on his upper lip that he must’ve missed this morning. He runs a yoga studio and is aggressively accommodating when he teaches. He always learns clients names before the end of their first session and he loves his best friend. 

Eddie feels his fringe sticking to his forehead, half sweat half rain. The car windows are slightly misted and he blinks a few times to clear his eyes. ‘Thanks, uh, thank you. For the lift man. You really didn’t have to.’ 

Steve smiles at him, glancing away from the road. Some of his hair has tucked itself into the his little hoop earring, something in Eddie’s chest softening. ‘Do you want to talk about it? Earlier?’

Eddie, he doesn’t. Not really. 

‘It was raining the day my dad got sent to prison. Thunder and lightning by the time my uncle could got me home.’ Eddie settles on, voice thick.

‘Fuck, Eddie. I’m so sorry.’ 

‘’S fine. I’m, he wasn’t that great of a dad.’ Eddie huffs, he really doesn’t want to get into that. 

Steve glances at him, smile sad. ‘I’ll cheers to that man. But yeah, still.’ He shrugs. 

‘Thanks. Um, if you take a left here my place is just at the end.’ Eddie says, quietly, tired. 

They arrive at the base of his apartment, the rain hammering on the roof and blurring the glow of the yellow streetlight. Eddie moves for the door, hand on the mat between his knees. 

‘Oh hey, wait, uh.’ Steve says, moving in a little closer. 

He reaches out, fingertips brushing the soft skin below Eddie’s eye. ‘Eyelash.’ He murmurs, holding the little hair up for Eddie to see. ‘Make a wish.’ 

Eddie swallows, feels the ghost of tear tracks still crusted over his cheeks. A boy just touched his cheek. He sniffs.

When he was a kid and his dad remembered his birthday he’d get Eddie a slice of pie from the diner. Linda who worked there always managed to find a candle out back for him; squeezing his shoulder and giving Eddie a smile that only read a little bit like pity. His dad would tell him to make a wish and ask for money, or fame, or for Al to one day own a new Mustang. 

Eddie always wished for the same thing.

For something to change. 

Figured something had to give. 

Now Eddie thinks about it, again, and maybe evrything has changed. Maybe everything is exactly what it looks like, and he’s here, in the centre of it. And there are parts, parts that are quite beautiful. 

He breathes in, opening his eyes and watching the eyelash flutter away on his breath. Eddie wishes to be able to see it.

-

‘Mind if I touch you?’ Steve asks from behind Eddie. ‘You almost have it.’ 

Eddie starts, muscles shaking a little. ’Sure, sure Stevie.’ He whispers. 

Steve’s warm finger press gently under Eddie’s arm so he lifts it slightly. Then on his shoulders so they dip minutely lower. Finally his palms wrap around Eddie’s waist, twisting him so he’s facing forward more fully. 

Eddie breaths out the air he’d been holding, long and slow, sinking into the pose. 

‘That’s it. Perfect.’ Steve soothes and moves on to the next person. 

Eddie falls asleep that night with the phantom press of palms on his waist. 

-

It’s raining again, but, no thunder. On a Tuesday, the session that Chrissy and Robin can’t make. The session that only Eddie attends in his now comfortable bi-weekly yoga routine. 

The night that it’s also routine for Steve to drive Eddie home. 

Tonight Steve wore a long sleeve and track pants to class. It’s not that unusual but, it’s warmer out now. So, a little unusual for Steve really, who’s usually sweaty during class even with ice clinging to the windows. 

He’s quiet too, doesn’t roll his eyes at Eddie playing one of the handful of tapes that he’d squirrelled into the car for these short rides. Doesn’t bat Eddie’s hand away from the temperature dials, telling Eddie to zip his coat up if he’s so frail. 

Tonight Steve is just quiet, moving the class into child’s pose three times. Leaving the ending meditation in silence. His breath wavering on the classes final group goodnight. 

‘…Steve? Are you okay?’ Eddie finally asks, the quiet too suffocating, the downward pinch of Steve’s mouth making Eddie’s heart feel heavy and rotted. 

‘Hm? Yeah, I’m just. Bad day, scars itch.’ And Steve smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes. He looks almost sadder. 

‘Can, uh. How did? I mean, you don’t. But.’ Eddie stammers, he’s never been much good at comforting but if Steve needs someone to listen, he can do that. Wants to. 

Steve sighs, pulling up next to the sidewalk, Eddie’s apartment just at the end of the street, cutting the ignition so it’s just the two of them, and the rain. 

‘They’re from a car accident. When I was 18. I, shouldn’t have been driving, it was so stupid. I wasn’t drunk or anything just, upset. Had a fight with my Dad, bad one. This other car was driving, pulling up along side me. It was this asshole from my high-school asking to race. I said yes like an idiot. But I was so, so angry. At everything. I thought, winning maybe, winning and wiping that smug fucking look from his face. Would like, help?’ 

Eddie doesn’t really know what to say, or do. Steve is picking at the skin on his knuckles, the joints going red and raw. So Eddie takes his hand, holding his finger between both of his own; smoothing his thumb over its ridges. 

Steve sniffs, corner of his mouth tucking up, bottom lip wobbling. ‘Anyway, we’re driving way too fucking fast and then there are these kids, suddenly, biking on the road. And, and this asshole, he speeds up. Planned on running straight into them, I could see it in his, cold fucking eyes. And I just, I swerved. Went right into him. Better me than those kids u know?’ Steve runs his free hand through his hair, laughing in a way though could just as easily be a sob. ‘He got off without much of a scratch, but uh, my door crumpled against a tree and like, fucked up my back a load, got these scars and aches and stuff now. Didn’t get charged with anything, luckily. Those kids actually vouched for me, babysat them here and there and, now we’re actually friends, as much as they annoy the shit outa me.’ And Steve’s cheeks are red, wetness glistening in his lash line, threatening to spill. He sniffs again, scoffing and turning his head away. 

Eddie pulls their joined hands into his lap, so Steve turns back towards him again. He’s hunched; looks young, and scared, and tired. 

‘But, yeah. I dunno why I told you all that honestly but. I guess. Anger only gets you so far, usually somewhere stupid. That’s my, uh, my pro tip I guess. Harder to forgive but way better for you.’ 

The silence stretches again, more comfortable this times. Eddie runs his thumb over the downy hairs on Steve fingers, over the scar by his thumb. Massages his palms, digging fingers into sinew. 

‘You know, I hated you that first session.’ Eddie says, tired of the ache that Steve’s tears are causing in his ribs. Tired of being angry, tired of being scared. 

‘Yeah.’ Steve scoffs, rolling his eyes, grin stretching slow and sweet. Like it’s a good memory, a memory to savour. 

‘Yeah. Too fucking handsome for his own good this guy. And charming, and rightfully cocky; you’re good at your job Stevie. Really good, and it pissed me the fuck off.’ Eddie says, his own smile stretching.

And Steve laughs, a honking snoring ugly little thing and it makes Eddie heart swell, his cheeks flush and his cheeks hurt from smiling so big. 

Steve is looking at him, tears gone. 

‘You wanna go get something to eat? The diner around the corner does really good cheeseburgers? My treat?’ 

‘Yeah Eddie, I’d, um, I’d really like that.’ Steve says.

-

‘We’re going to get coffee, don’t wait up.’ Chrissy shouts at them, linking arms with Robin and pulling her down the street. 

Robin sends Steve one wild grin, honking a delighted snort of laughter and following Chrissy. 

‘Well.’ Eddie says at Steve who’s grinning like a loon. 

‘Home?’ Steve asks, twirling his keys on his finger. 

Eddie nods and get in, so used to the smell and the feel of the car now. The way Steve drives with one hand on the wheel, the other tapping on the window ledge or fiddling with the temperature or gesticulating as he talks. Eddie comfortable in the passenger, curled up in his sweater and squeezing the mat between his knees. Some rides home he realises he didn’t even take a glance out of the window, eyes set on Steve the whole time. 

‘Hey, do you want to come up?’ Eddie ask. 

‘Come up and do what?’ And Steve’s smiling at him, cocky and confident and sweet and Steve. 

Eddie leans forward, kissing the corner of Steve’s mouth, which is a little stubbly from his moustache coming in. Where he smirks and licks his lips before a difficult pose. He’s Steve Harrington, and Eddie kissed him. 

-

‘Hey Wayne.’ Eddie smiles, squeezing the receiver. 

‘Hey kid, you all packed.’ Wayne sounds tired but relaxed and Eddie nudges the box by his foot, full of merch ready to load in the van come morning. 

‘Yeah, just a few more bits, Steve just left so, got distracted.. you remember Steve, he my, the uh, the yoga instructor?’ Eddie asks, cheeks flushing. 

 ‘Mmm I ‘member Steve. You sweet on him boy?’ 

‘Yes Wayne, he is!’ Chrissy shouts as she walks past. 

Eddie jumps and almost hisses at her like a cat. She, where did she even come from?

Wayne’s smoky laughter draws Eddie back to the phone. ‘I. God Wayne are you 12?’ But that just makes him laugh more. 

‘I’m going okay? Love you old man, I’ll call when I can.’ 

‘Love ya too ed, be safe. I’ll come visit once you’re back. Wanna meet this Steve everyone keeps going on about.’ 

Eddie huffs but he can’t help smiling, imagining Steve and Wayne together. 

‘You deserve someone good Ed, ye understand?’ 

Eddie blinks, blinks back tears. The things he has around him now, the people, the tools, his music. What he’s been given. What he always wished for. 

‘Yeah, yeah Wayne, I think I do.’ 

₊✩‧₊

Tag list: @pearynice @scoops-aboy86 @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @cheesedoctor @chickensinrainboots

@marvel-ous-m @tangerinesteve

title form 'Today' but The Smashing Pumpkins

[bangtaninborderland]

MYG - Music To My Heart.

Part 2.

You knocked on his studio door, once, twice and then when he didn’t answer you knocked a much firmer third.

The door swung open, the older man grunting about not wanting to be disturbed, that is until he sees you. His frown evened out as his lips turned into a subtle smile.

“You came? Is everything okay?” He stepped aside, giving you the go-ahead to enter the room.

You sat down in his chair, which had been pushed into the far corner almost as if he wanted to distance himself from the computer. “I’m okay, you are not.”

He rolled his eyes closing the door, taking a seat on the couch opposite you. “I am, if Jimin called you then you should have ignored it.”

“He said you swore at him.” You raise your eyebrows, Yoongi was never one to raise his voice, he wouldn’t be afraid to use an insult or two but no one ever took it personally.

“I’m just stuck okay? You know what I get like whenever I have a block.” His gaze falls to his fingers as he picks the skin around the nail, something your recognised a long time ago as being something he did because of his anxiety.

You sighed walking over to him, sitting yourself in his lap. His hands ceased their silent attack on one another in favour of resting on your hips. “We talked about this yoon. You have to rest otherwise you’ll get burnt out.”

“It’s not like that this time, I nearly have it. I can feel it there I just don’t know how to bring those thoughts forward. I even tried meditating.” He defends himself, his voice cutely raising a pitch.

You but your lip in hopes of hiding your smile. “You tried meditating.”

“Jimin caught me and told me he would post it on Weverse if I didn’t go home.” He scowled.

You remember how jimin had been vague earlier on the details that prompted Yoongis' outburst. “That explains why he was so shady when he called me.”

“You have got to stop listening to any member in the maknae line, I swear they only exist to make you babysit me.” He laughs resting his head against your shoulder.

You let him sit there for as long as he needs, his breathing grows quiet as does everything else in the room. You relax alongside him, your own head resting against his as you run your hand through his long black hair. After a while, you begin to hum, something you often did to occupy the space between you and him.

You almost fall off his lap as he sits up, pushing you off his lap. “What the fuck Yoongi?!” You shout throwing his shooky pillow at him.

“That hum.” He sits in his chair his fingers rushing across the keyboard as if his thought was going to escape him any minute. “What was that hum?”

You lean forward, a little confused. “I don’t know it was just something I made up as I went along.”

“Could you do it again but into the mic?”

“Min Yoongi if you want me to feature on your song that will be 5 million.”

“Won?” He asks, a hand coming up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“Dollars.” You giggle, tiptoeing over to him.

“Never gonna happen but I’ll let you braid my hair.” He extends a hand to which you shake playfully.

You shake your head in disbelief as you walk over to the microphone, waiting for him to signal the okay before humming the same tune. He had you do it a few more times before asking you to hum another one but this time quieter.

“I think I have an idea for some lyrics.” He explains to you, extending a hand to call you back to him.

You could see the earlier tension in his shoulders were no more. “I hope I helped.”

“You did Sweetheart. How about you go and get us some dinner and meet me at home in say an hour? I’ll get some lyrics recorded and meet you at home.”

You knew this was him gently explaining he needed his space to work and you were more than happy to give him that, he went to hand you his card as you slipped on your shoes but you declined. As much as you would both joke about it you always were equal. Of course, there were things he could afford to do that you couldn’t but you always did your best to contribute fairly.

On days like today when your Boyfriend was stressed and overwhelmed you liked to treat him the same way he, did you. You requested that the driver he had arranged to take you home stop at Yoojung Sikdang.

Yoongi had talked about wanting food there for months, it was always way too busy and it was an attraction that army would frequently visit, it being the restaurant bangtan had used during their debut days.

You had met the owner a few times, she knew who you were but no one else did which allowed you the ability to pick up yoongis favourite dish from the restaurant.

You got home pretty fast which is why you were surprised to see Yoongis shoes by the door. The sound of the refrigerator opening alerts you to his location.

You managed to slide off your shoes and carry the many boxes safely into the kitchen without dropping anything.

“Hey baby do you wa- you did not.” His eyes widen in disbelief as he focuses on the box’s logo.

“I thought you deserve an old comfort.”

“What did you get?” He practically throws the box open in excitement.

“black pork and stone pot bibimbap and grilled black pork belly.”

He swings around faster than you could comprehend, his lips colliding with yours as his hands grip into your hair. He traces your jaw with kisses, leaving a mark just below your ear.

“If I knew you’d react like that I would have gone months ago.” You laugh, feeding him a piece of pork.

“Aish don’t be a brat.” He accepts the food, mumbling about how good it tastes.

You both laughed before taking another bite of food. You watched the man silently, his face seemingly happy. “How did it sound in the end?”

“Like music to my heart.”

You can’t help but blush as he winks at you, a hand squeezing your thigh before turning back to his meal. His own shyness laid out as he laughed into his bony hands.

Yoongi wasn’t the easiest person, it took you a long time to understand him but you were thankful that you took the time to, you couldn’t imagine your life without the man. His random spurts of energy, his focus and dedication, his passion, the way he loves and the way he wants to be loved are all things you never thought you’d love about a person, funnily enough, they are all the things you love about him.

[mariamariquinha]

to kill your demons all over again - Cooper Abbott x f!reader

Summary: Cooper was just a neighbor. Just that: a neighbor.

Word count: 10.755

Warnings: I mean, all of them (hehe). But being serious now, that's, like, dark. Dark themed, in other words, which means that you guys can stop right here. It's totally 18+ content, with sexual themes, explicit violence, manipulation, kidnapping, cheating, mental issues, traumas, panic attacks, that kind of thing. Read at your own risk.

Author's note: I've never written anything this long, nor this severe. Maybe you think it's a little similar to the plot of Split, if you watched it? Yes, but it's Shyamalan's work with another Shyamalan's work, and anyone who knows the guy knows that he creates connected universes. That's not the case, it's just poetic license.

It is worth mentioning that I do not agree with anything I wrote, nor do I want to induce any type of harmful behavior. If there are sensitive topics, please DO NOT READ.

Not gonna share my opinion on the movie either, but if take a look at my blog, you'll see I'm one to write for the bad ones ;)

Josh Hartnett? Yes ma'am.

****

It was a strange, predatory feeling. You thought you were becoming paranoid, a little… too anxious. Someone gave you antidepressants, sleeping pills; you couldn't use any of those things, so it only made you more restless on some occasions.

It was on your morning runs that this happened, but it wasn't a rule for the time you spent outside the house. Sometimes, when you went to sleep at night, you stopped in front of your bedroom window and looked down: you saw the lawn, the neighbor's house, the street lit by street lamps. There, as you stared at every detail of your landscape, you felt as if someone was lurking, watching, stealing your sleep, and you ended up locking the window, closing the curtains, and staring at the ceiling into the night because you couldn’t keep your eyes closed for more than five minutes.

And it was like that, day after day after day, pushing your limits more and more, demanding that your lungs burn and your legs almost fail from exhaustion, begging that your physical tiredness would supply your waking mind and then you could actually rest.

You used to have panic syndrome – depression too, but treatable. That would put you on your toes most of the time, constantly reminding you of things from your past you exactly didn’t like to remember, and even if you knew that fear was irrational, sometimes you wondered if that paranoia wouldn’t come to you one day. Probably as a big hairy monster – probably as a deep, long wave of water, hitting you with enough force to knock you out, but not kill. 

Running, tiring yourself out… this was your long wave. You, precisely, taking control over something before it could kill you inside. 

Cooper was just someone you knew by chance. He was your neighbor along with his wife and two children; he was friendly, polite. You couldn't necessarily say you knew him beyond a 'good morning' or, once in a while, how the people collecting the trash were late by a day or two. You weren't one to talk much either, and he never forced long conversations.

The only times you spent more than five minutes in the same space was at the swimming gym, which was very close to the fire station where he worked.

You discovered this by chance too: suddenly you were getting out of the pool and he was there, usually doing his own private training, always very focused. It was a silent dance, in which you arrived at the same time, did the same things and probed each other's orbits without saying a word. The small talk on the sidewalk, the polite waves, the brief 'Merry Christmas' in December… All of this was there, in that neighborhood, limited to the distance of a yard between you. There, between the pools and the chlorine, the two of you only existed, always close but far away at the same time.

It was a simple routine. Again, casual. Definitely one of the few things that gave you a sense of reality and stability.

****

“You haven't been to the pool these days.”

That was an unusual situation, whether due to the question or the context. Mrs. Anderson, your neighbor, had thrown a birthday party for her granddaughter and invited you. You almost didn't go, but on a rare occasion you helped the girl cross the street and, apparently, the kid insisted on having you there.

You were sitting at one of the tables, snacking on a slice of strawberry cake and staring at the table unassumingly while the commotion happened around you; when you heard the question, you looked up in time to see Cooper standing in front of you.

“... I've been working a lot lately,” Which wasn’t a lie. 

He hummed, lowered his eyes to the plate in front of you and then raised them to your face again. 

“Show up there any day you can. It's not the same without you.”

“Oh?”

“I think it's a force of habit. I'm a bit… pragmatic, so to speak. I don't mean to sound weird, I just-”

“Likes routine.”

He gave you an airy smile, which you returned with a more friendly one.

“Me too. I’ll come back, as soon as I have the time. Just don’t ask me to run over some laps, I can’t take it.” 

“As long as you're there, I promise.”

And that was the thing, that… point that made you understand why Cooper, a person you barely knew, was someone you remembered. Because you looked back at your cake and unconsciously looked in the direction he had just left, only to find him looking back just like you were. Because it was that palpable feeling that he was one step away from telling you something but never did, and you were left waiting with more anxiety than usual.

You liked him, as company, but it would be impossible to say that it was because he talked a lot or showed a lot; on the contrary, Cooper understood your rhythm and just followed it. He was easy on the eyes, an active listener, as if he captured every crumb of word or gesture you offered him. He was kind enough to not use the side of the pool you were used to, although you suspected he also had his favorite side, and he was always visibly organized. 

It was a risk that you sometimes took, almost unconsciously: when you went to bed and didn't sleep, you tried to go through your day and sometimes stopped at the wave that Cooper gave you as soon as the two of you left the swimming gym, or at the his figure standing in your doorway as you turned the corner during your morning run.

Nothing extraordinarily invasive, nor absurdly explicit: it was just Cooper being Cooper, and that often left you feeling more consistently pleasant than any medicine you took.

****

It was an accident. It must have been, what, three, four in the morning? And once again, you were having a particular episode of insomnia, as familiar as going to bed that night. On some occasions, when sleep didn't seem to come at all, you occupied yourself with some household task that you didn't pay attention to during the day, such as cleaning the furniture or washing the dishes; that night, you chose to do the laundry.

So yes, it was an accident, even though the door to your laundry room was made entirely of glass, as was the window, and you had a full view of the window of the house next door, which belonged to Cooper. You had never looked there – ever. There was nothing to see. The time you spent in that laundry room was unusual, when everyone was already in bed and there was no sign of light or active life in the houses. You stayed there, listened to music, prepared a snack because you usually didn't eat dinner either.

You had already seen Cooper shirtless at least 15 times. He swam in the same place as you, it was more than natural that this was one of the clearest things about him. It wasn't a big deal, you clearly thought he was handsome but you never gave it a second thought, specifically.

As usual, you put the clothes in the washing machine, turned it on, and ran your eyes over the grass in your yard, then over the fence. Calmly, you leaned over the washing machine, stretched your neck in one way or another, closed your eyes, felt the physical fatigue throughout your body. When you opened your eyes again, you saw that a light on the other side had been turned on, and it was inevitable not to look.

He was serious, working with something you couldn't see through the window. Unlike the other moments, Cooper had strands of hair over his eyes, perhaps from the position of looking at the task at hand, and was still dressed while doing so. You kind of let yourself be looked at, and that wasn't an accident, you admitted that you knew what you were doing.

Then he stopped moving his hands. Calmly, he took them to the fabric of the shirt he was wearing and smelled the collar, then made some decision that made him start to unbutton it. There you should have stopped. He hadn't seen you yet, you could duck or just leave the room to avoid any embarrassment.

You remained there, standing still, and if possible, leaned further over the machine, pressing the fabric of your nightgown against your chest and stomach to have a clearer view. He wasn't muscular, but he was strong: dad body. He was visually robust, natural. And even if you hadn't gone that far, you just realized that it was easy to give in to going a little further; you could just feel a specific shiver down your spine when you saw him from behind, the extension of his back and the flexing of muscles as he did one thing or another.

Yes, you could consider it all an accident. You would say it was, if someone asked, even if the only person who could do that was Cooper, who when he saw you watching him from the other side, didn't hesitate for a second, and seemed like the type capable of keeping that secret.

He grinned, but didn't wave to show more than necessary about seeing you there. With patience almost in slow motion, Cooper mouthed 'go to bed' and it almost made you smile. Almost, of course, because that woke you up from your recklessness enough to make you stand up, running your hands through the straps of your camisole as if you were exposed.

He looked at you openly from where he was, tilting his head to the side.

You waited for something to happen, let him analyze you however he wanted, and then he turned off the light and only his shadow seemed visible there before it disappeared completely. 

Suddenly, it was just you and your reflection in the window glass. Suddenly, it was your eyes darkened, your hands on the thin straps that help cover your sensitive breasts, your mouth partially open. God, your nipples were fucking erect – did he see that?

An accident. Your wet panties and hot body were just that: a fucking accident.

****

It was a chill down my spine; someone sniffing the back of your neck, almost but not quite touching your shoulder, or that familiar feeling of not wanting to close your eyes in the shower for fear of what might appear when you opened them.

You didn't sleep a wink for more than two hours that night. It wasn't the insomnia, or the feeling of being chased: it was just the idea that if you looked out onto your lawn and looked up a little, you'd find Cooper there, in that window, looking back. Before, when you weren't yet clean, you could chalk it up to some hallucination, but you were sure it wasn't. The sensation, the vision, his look… Everything was too palpable for something just illusory.

You touched yourself in the morning – after your regular run, after tiring yourself out and not feeling that sensible tingling sensation going away. You didn't even look in the direction of his house, but, again, it was as if the whole journey was a long race against something other than prey, but the kind of thing that didn't leave your head. 

In the shower, you closed your eyes, and the idea of being watched was replaced by the expectation of being observed by him. Your fingers ran through your hair, all the way down to your neck and you stopped there. Would you really do that? Would you close your eyes and think not just about that night, but about all the other times you interacted with Cooper? 

Your fingers brushed your breasts and you shivered at the idea of his hands touching it instead of yours. Of his rough, crispy palms, a result of his hard work, splayed all over your skin and marking each centimeter of it with a grip or a touch or a pinch. You wanted him to do that, – imagined that Cooper would transition between being soft and rough – to be demanding, to tell you what to do. You pinched one of your nipples; the moan you let out was sinful, indulgent. The coolness of the tiles didn’t do much to ground you, but you managed to have some leverage before placing your feet at the edge of the bathtub, using your other hand to pass through your belly and navel, all the way to your fluttering pussy. 

Everything was extremely hot, chilling, like shocks of pleasure passing through your body. Your clit was so sensitive when you touched it, so at the mercy of the mere idea of ​​having him there, in front of you, maybe between both of your legs, smiling against your skin before sinking his tongue into you. A long, single lick from your entrance to your clit, gathering your juices to test firsthand what you were feeling. You replicated the process: you penetrated two fingers, then slid them up, finding your sensitive nerves, and a relieved sigh came out of your mouth. 

The cool water from the shower didn't ease the fire inside you, nor did your impetuous mission to satisfy yourself with that image in your head. You rolled a nipple between the two of you, pinched it lightly again, and stuck your fingers inside you again, your hips moving as you reached more and more of your spongy spot. Would he let you get on top? Would he instruct you to bounce, or would he ask you to continue that slow torture of feeling him everywhere, seeking the sensation little by little? 

It was enough at that moment, but in the long run you would want more. Like in the pool, when he came out of the water after you and you could see, even if discreetly, the shape of his penis. How come you never paid attention to that before? How can you never notice that it could be big and explicitly ideal to fit inside you? You licked your lips at the thought of sucking him; he would make you get on your knees, he would gladly order you to do it even if you were going to do it anyway. Would he hold your head, thread his fingers in your hair and control your speed? Would it make you choke?

Your orgasm washed over you like a wave; it made your legs shake, your eyes squint and your teeth sink into the flesh of your lower lip. 

You didn't say his name, you wouldn't admit it verbally. In your head, however, when you opened your eyes and didn't feel like you were being placed under observation or some kind of paranoia, you realized that you missed being analyzed, stared at, watched… But by Cooper.

That was a secret you were willing to keep.

****

Your strokes were firm, strong, fast; you let the water pass through you in a strong, definitive way. You walked more laps than usual, maybe out of tension or maybe because you hadn't seen it since you arrived at the gym, as usual.

You eventually stopped. Calmly, you lifted your head out of the water, both hands on the concrete edge of the pool. You took off your goggles, then your cap; you took a breather little by little, like when you were running, staring at the fixed point of the locker room door. Drops of water dripped and ran down your face, and your open mouth burned your throat. You could taste chlorine, the same drops dripping onto your lips and, consequently, your tongue. 

A pair of feet stopped in front of him at a reasonable distance; from the feet you went to the fabric of the shorts, which was familiar, and then to the rest of the crouched body until you found Cooper, completely dry and shirtless, looking at you with that same friendly smile as always.

You gulped, since you could hide it behind you being out of breath and not on how your throat suddenly got really dry. 

“Did you start without me?” 

“I…” You blinked up at him. “I think you're the one who's late.”

His smile got even wider while he nodded along. 

“I had to deal with some things. Nothing serious, but I ended up waking up a little later. I had a long night.” 

The reminder made you not know what to say, so you just let out a brief 'ah' and continued looking at his face, waiting for him to say something more or make that 'accident' something to talk about between you. Cooper weighed that silence masterfully, measuring the length of your attentive face to your lips and your neck, which moved with each dry swallow you took to catch your breath.

This wasn't making your life any easier.

“It looks like your training was harder today.”

That was unusual, but you should have known better than to expect him to act the same way after that show. He actually seemed to be testing you, seeing how you would react. Perhaps your forced neutrality was frustrating him a little; perhaps he expected you to insinuate yourself again at the first opportunity you got.

You looked around the pool, shrugged.

“I have insomnia. Some nights are worse than others.”

“Ah. I see.”

Then you very calmly went to the stairs and left the pool, feeling him behind you, walking towards you. Suddenly your swimsuit started to bother you; suddenly, when he stopped in front of you, you felt pinned to the ground by the look he was giving you, and then everything itched, to the point where you couldn’t stay still. 

“Did it tire you?” His voice was low, secretive. You licked your lips, shook your head in confusion. 

“... What?”

“Swimming. Was it enough to tire you from your night without sleep?” 

“Not a lot.”

His face went from soft to concerned, almost in a mocking way, but you knew better than thinking he was trying to make fun of you. 

“This is unfortunate. You need to rest at the right times, it could be bad for your health if you continue at this pace,” He tilted his head to the side, measuring your face one more time, especially when you snorted. 

“Oh, I’m aware,” You nodded. “Been trying to have a proper sleep since-”

You stopped talking, but he didn't stop paying attention, much less showing that he was waiting for an answer. That feeling of being watched came again, only with more force. With every second of silence on his part, his ears began to hear the beating of his heart, thump-thump-thump-thump-thump, and his hands began to shake and a lump formed in his throat. You remembered the accident, your sister's face; just the idea of ​​the justification for what was going to come out of your mouth took you back to years ago, because suddenly you had forgotten why you didn't talk about it with people. That's how it started. It was always so… sinuous, as if your head had grown three, four times larger, and then your floor would open up and you wouldn't move.

Why did you do that? Why did you think it would make sense to talk about something you've never talked about before? Why did Cooper make you feel comfortable enough to do it?

You grabbed the skin of your chest tightly, digging your nails in there as the grip only intensified. With blurred vision, you tried to speak and, again, you were overcome by a wave that suffocated you, and suddenly your sister was there in front of you, agonizing and bleeding, and the feeling of a cold night with a salty breeze invaded you.

When you no longer felt strength in your legs (when you saw yourself falling to the side), you were almost sure you saw Cooper smiling at the scene, but before you could process that too, you had already blacked out.

****

That was a big one. Your usual doctor was at the hospital and spoke to the emergency doctor who treated you, you were able to hear the conversation. Cooper wasn't around: you remembered seeing him at some point underneath, as if he was carrying you, but since you woke up in the hospital bed, you hadn't seen him anymore. You were still in your swimsuit. From afar, you heard Dr. Tuckerson talk about an 'isolated case' and the other doctor said something about 'medication reassessment', and that made you even more uncomfortable.

You squirmed on the bed, looking away to where they had placed an IV in your arm, then to the sheet they used to cover you. Why an IV?  

“How do you feel?” Dr. Tuckerson came closer, so you snapped your head at him with a deep frown. 

“Why is-”

“We ran some tests and you’re dehydrated,” He elaborated, doing as much as sitting at the edge of the bed. His face was always like that: serene, very thin, with very blue and very penetrating, condescending eyes. “So? Are you feeling okay?”

“... Yes.”

He nodded. 

“Apparently you haven't been eating or sleeping well, which may have influenced the intensity of this episode. Last time we reported one like this, it was a-”

“A year ago, yeah,” You adjusted yourself on the mattress, using one hand to pass all over your face and sighing in defeat. “I don't know what happened.”

Again, a nod. 

“We’re investigating. It was probably a very vivid memory, which also has to do with your current lifestyle. I know it's been difficult for you, but have you done what we agreed? Every time we talk, you say that your adaptation with people has been smooth. Was there anything different in the last few days that may have induced some type of stress in you?” 

Stress wasn't exactly the word, but you didn't think that incident had anything to do with Cooper. Maybe you should be more incisive with the paranoia issue, saying that it stressed you mentally and could be an aggravating factor?

“No,” You shook your head. “I don’t… it’s been normal.”

“Right.”

Unlike other times, Dr. Tuckerson didn't write down anything you said, although you felt like his notebook was nearby. He just stood there, quiet, hands resting in his lap as he stared into your face. It wasn't like with Cooper; his gaze was neither inviting nor receptive, it was more… inspective, like he was trying to press an answer out of you even if he wasn’t asking anything. 

“Your neighbor brought your things,” Then he broke the silence, opening that stupid notebook and going through the small pages. “Cooper. He said you two were at the swimming gym when it happened.” 

“... Ah.”

“Would he be an example of how things are going well?”

You considered his face for a moment, weighted all of your interactions, last night… Then shrugged. 

“I think so. We go to the same gym, we talk sometimes.”

“And what were you talking about when you passed out?”

“My lack of sleep, I guess.”

He hummed, then checked his notebook again – you watched it closely. 

“And he is… how? In general, do you talk about these things? Is he polite, does he hit on you?”

“Why are you asking me that?”

You didn't sound defensive, and honestly, that question was one of genuine curiosity. What, after all, did Cooper have to do with anything? What was Dr. Tuckerson's interest in him, that he was just a play and had no influence on his mental state? Sure, you two had that moment, and you certainly wouldn't talk about it with your psychiatrist, but just as Dr. Tuckerson knew you, you knew how to recognize some of his mannerisms, and that seemed like another worry that he didn't want to share with you.

He sighed, closed the notebook and stared you down. 

“We've never talked about him before. I believe it's a casual thing, like conversations between neighbors or something, but don't you find Cooper familiar? Like a… father, maybe?”

You knew what he was getting at, and you both knew it was something else that was bothering you. Father problems were a normal thing, but you certainly never associated your interests, platonic or sexual, with what that figure represented for you. Still, denying this was like denying a lifetime of knowledge that only Dr. Tuckerson had; even if it were true, it would be very pathetic to admit it.

“I'm not implying anything, right? I just want you to be careful. Cooper is a nice guy, very helpful. It’s important to have this type of contact, even if it’s brief, but you don’t do anything just because. It can be worse.” 

He saw the ring on Cooper's finger – you had seen it countless times, too, just like you saw Rachel and their children. It wasn't the time or the place, but maybe it was the time and the place for a reality check. 

“Okay.”

“Good,” He smiled, placing a hand on top of yours. “You're going to stay here for a while, just until you stabilize a little more. Maybe you'll spend the night. If you need anything, ask them to call me, okay?”

“Mm-hm.”

He left and, as soon as you were alone in that hospital room, you felt an elephant's foot pressed against your chest, and an uncontrollable urge to cry.

****

The feeling of sleeping in the hospital was like having all that paranoia tripled. It was like that when the accident happened, all eyes on you, all the time monitoring you. The silence, however, helped you relax more; medicines too – especially medicines. It was a heavy sleep, without dreams or nightmares, just your eyes closed and the sense of resting.

Maybe that was why you remembered very little about who took you home. You remembered Dr. Tuckerson being there, and probably what sounded like Cooper's voice, but you couldn't be sure. What you did know is that she was put in a car and, naturally, taken home.

****

“Easy there… here you go.”

Cooper felt lucky, but he wasn't going to use it as an advantage; he would hate to see himself as lazy. After so long, it wouldn't be that way that he would take the next step.

You were a bit of an idiot; almost pathetic. At least that's how people made you out to be, including that Dr. Tuckerson, who certainly had more than just a professional interest in you. Who wouldn't, after all? Cooper wasn't one to have such inclinations, but you were all physically organized, attractive, young… With a head like that, you were the perfect combination – easy prey.

He would have made up his mind with you long before, but you were a neighbor, so he had more time to consider making that decision. When he finally decided, which was around the time you started looking at him for longer, he spent time thinking about how he would start and, sometimes, trained on other people to be decisive when your turn would come.

When he laid you down on your bed, he ran the idea through his head: it would go with your thighs first. Thighs that were spread out on the mattress, uncovered by the fabric of your summer shorts, marked by your intense desire to disappear with those morning runs. Cooper looked over them carefully, checked that you were actually almost asleep again before running his fingertips over the inside of them.

Then it would go to the belly. It was always a part he thought about, because either he would go all over the torso or just use fat and skin. Maybe he would go with the torso, but then he would work on the chest, then the arms; would leave the head.

He never thought much about these things conditionally; he had Rachel, and that was enough. He was only human enough to recognize the sexual attraction he had for you, and when he found out what you were like, a little sentimental, the kind who would think about how you would be more obedient as a wife, how you wouldn't question anything, how easy you would be to manage. He particularly would get hard just thinking about it.

But that wasn't the case; there was no other solution. Cooper had already found relief in the possibility of dying and for you it would also be the end of a fight. He would still be doing you a favor, by God, and that was the right thing to do.

You shifted in bed, opening your eyes again. He continued sitting there, observing your face, seeing how your state of almost sleep made you so soft and smiling more than usual.

“You’re here,” You mumbled, a hand going straight to his face. 

“I am,” He said back. 

“Why?”

“I brought you back from the hospital, remember?”

You frowned for a moment, then groaned. It was clear that you were navigating between reality and whatever effect that drug had on you. 

“I thought I was dreaming.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm-hm. Like the other day, when I…” You were dozing off again, but then your hand fell from his face to his covered leg. That made you open your eyes again. “When I dreamed about you.”

“Did you dream of me?” His question came with an amused tone: not because it wasn’t obvious before that you felt the same way, but the way you just nodded like a puppy, looking up at him as if begging for some attention. 

Cooper almost admitted that he did it too, with you; that after that small moment between you two, he took himself in hand with the possibility of doing whatever he wanted with you, that you were giving him this out, that you wouldn’t give him so much work. So responsive, so… attentive. 

“You shouldn't do that, or tell me that. What should I do with you now, huh?” 

But you didn't respond because, again, you went back to sleep. Cooper stopped smiling immediately – he stared at your expressionless face for a while, as if waiting for you to wake up, and when you didn't, he got up to look around your room.

Remembering Dr. Tuckerson, he thought he could take him out of the game. The guy was a psychiatrist, he had that clinical look of someone who knew everything, and that irritated Cooper. You weren't like that, you were lost, unfocused, uninterested in people. The only time he saw you interested was in himself, and that was a satisfying feeling. 

Looking around your room, he took in the sunlight coming in through the window, hitting your things. He got up and went to a small bookshelf with some books; then he ran his eyes down their spines like he did last time, noticed the titles, and gently pulled out the two that were so familiar and checked the small equipment he had installed there. If he had more time, Cooper would change the batteries, but he didn't want to risk it because, despite being asleep, you were still there and he would hate having to improvise with you.

Then Cooper came out, gave you one last look and closed the door behind him.

“Soon,” He thought to himself, heading towards your stairs. 

It was the kind of thing he couldn't wait to happen.

****

You woke up in a dark room. It was your bedroom, and you realized that you were wearing the same clothes as the day before. You were a little dizzy, your head hurt, so you felt around the room for your things and almost dragged yourself to the bathroom. You had four missed calls from your mother; in the texts, somewhat affectionate words asking about your condition, and finally a warning that she would come over at the weekend to check on you.

You just replied with a brief 'ok' and got into the shower. It took a long time, you were a little out of your orbit: if you tried hard, you would still smell the chlorine from the pool.

While going downstairs to prepare something to eat, Dr. Tuckerson called and asked if you were okay. It was almost 8 pm. You said yes, and mentioned that you were still a little drowsy, so you would heat up some soup left over from another day and go back to sleep.

He asked if you wanted him to come by. You said it wasn’t necessary.

You took a large aspirin in your mouth, took the bowl of soup out of the fridge and didn't want to transfer it to a deep plate, you just stuck it open in the microwave and stood there in front, staring at the light coming from inside, heavily winking while massaging your temple.

A noise came from the back door, and it was the first time you acted quickly since you woke up. You waited, without saying a word, for yet another noise, but instead you received another text from an unknown number.

It’s Cooper

Can I come in?

And looking back, you should have said no. Really, you should never have said a simple yes to him, but you did because you were unbalanced and, at that time, you were clearly drugged. You went there, shuffled down the dark hallway without turning on any lights, and at the back, in the discrete light of the night, Cooper was standing with both hands in his pockets.

“Cooper? What are you doing here this late?” You mumbled, looking both ways when you should’ve asked why he came by through the back door. 

“I wanted to know if you're okay. Dr. Tuckerson asked me to bring you home and since you slept all day… How are you?” 

Dr. Tuckerson hadn't mentioned anything about this help from Cooper, but perhaps he was just more concerned about how you were at that moment and the details were left for later. You accepted his friendly smile and let him enter.

“I’m better. The medicine they gave me knocked me out, I'm particularly tired,” You said, walking back to the kitchen with him on your heels. 

“Could they send you a few more doses, huh? To help you sleep at night.”

“It's a shame they don't make it as easy for someone diagnosed with panic syndrome and post-depression, right?”

He didn't say anything, so you went back to the kitchen and hoped he was at least behind or close by. You continued with your back turned, took the soup out of the microwave and gently placed your fingertip in it to check the temperature. Warm. On point.

“I didn't know that's what you had,” He offered softly, leaning over your counter as you sat opposite him, the two of you facing each other.

There wasn't much point in hiding it. You wanted to, but Cooper had saved you from a huge problem: if you had been alone there, or if it had happened to someone else, maybe you would have had more than the aftereffect of a good sleeping pill. You still considered, though, rotating the spoon in the soup for a while staring at it.

“I was in a car accident with my sister when we were younger. I never fully recovered from that.” 

“We don't need to talk about it if you don't want to.”

“No! No, I…” You looked up at him. “I think it's more than fair for me to be honest with you in this regard. I kind of passed out in front of you and made you take me to the hospital.” 

“You didn't make me do anything, these things happen. I'm a firefighter, that's basically what I do.”

“Still,” You pressed. “Thank you.”

He stared at you for a while and you stared back; it was as if he knew something you didn't, something that made a light of mischief shine in his eyes. Then, after a discreet spoonful of soup, you remembered why you could be like this, or why it was convenient for him to show up at your house at night.

Your cheeks warmed, just as your neck. 

“So you remember,” Cooper murmured. 

“Sorry for that.”

“Why?”

“Well, because you’re married, for starters,” Your collected tone wasn't enough to convince him, which should have been a warning because his argument alone should have ended the conversation.

You didn't tell him to leave either; again, you didn't even deny him entering your house. It was kind of late, Cooper came in the back door and… Damn, shouldn't he be with his wife and kids?

The mention of his marriage didn’t do a thing, then. He nodded, accepted what you said, but didn’t make a movement to create some distance or break eye contact. He smiled softly at you, wandered your face with his eyes. 

“I was married last night too.”

“... I know.”

“So do you regret it?”

Yes, and that was one of the rare occasions where that should be the right answer, but you still didn’t say it. You glared at him, turned to your soup and sipped another spoon. 

“You said you dreamed of me.”

“I did.”

“What happened in that dream?” 

“Cooper-”

“I want to know. Tell me, please.”

Cooper was magnetic, skilled with words and polite. That line Dr. Tuckerson had said, the reminder that you should be careful, it was all in the back of your head, but looking at Cooper in that moment excluded that entire narrative. Suddenly he wasn't a risk, suddenly you wanted to open up to him (in more ways than just the metaphorical one) and that made you fold without even realizing it.

“I-” And before you could keep going, he had one hand in your bowl, discreetly pushing it to the side to have more access to you. “I dreamed that you were in my bedroom.”

“How?”

“How…?”

“How did I end up there?”

“I don’t know, you were just… there.”

He hummed, then used the small space between you to slide his hands over the counter, his fingertips brushing your knuckles. His head was down, focused on your fingers, and you didn't know if you could breathe. You should stop it there, demand that he leave, but nothing would come out; you acted like someone under a spell.

“I know how I would end up there,” Cooper raised his eyes, locking it with yours. “You would wear one of your satin nightgowns, just like the one you wore when you watched me. I don't think we would stop at that show, because you would seduce me.”

His index finger traced a squiggle on the back of your hand. You couldn't move, you couldn't react. Your tiredness and everything else were completely replaced by the same fire in that laundry room, in the shower when you masturbated thinking about him, and you leaned into the feeling without even thinking twice.

“It's not really a dream, don't you think? Because you could have just opened that door and I would have come here if you asked me.”

“... Is that why you came here tonight?”

Cooper smiled openly. 

“I came here to check.”

“Check what?”

You knew exactly what you imagined under that shower: the expression that would probably be on Cooper's face, how he would touch you. Maybe it was the context of the hospital, the way he saw you, because when he touched your face, a hand covering your cheek and your ear, it was like a caress. The first kiss was a long peck, just to test the waters. He pulled away a little, his breath hitting your face, and before your lips could cool, Cooper came closer again and gave you another, this time longer. His mouth was soft, cool; with a slightly unshaven beard, it was a contrast between his lips and the rough hair on his face. It was sensual. When he tilted his head to the side just a little, just enough to handle you and fit into that kiss better, you almost moaned, either because of the sensation or because you wanted him to go faster, to take you for himself right there.

You couldn’t remember the last time you kissed someone; not even a date. Your life was kind of empty in that aspect, which you accepted because you weren't an easy person. Not with Cooper. Cooper barely knew you and didn't seem any less interested in you after what he witnessed. He massaged your tongue with his eagerly, as if he wanted to consume you just as you wanted to be consumed, and that wasn't the kind of thing solved with a fertile imagination.

The counter started to be an impediment when the kiss cooled a little. He looked at that thing separating both of you as if it were offensive, but he didn't break the touch.

“Do you want to-”

“Mm-hm.” 

It seemed like every last bit of tiredness and insecurity on your part had gone as soon as he gave you that smile.

****

He knew you would taste delicious, just as he hoped you would be completely responsive. It was a fact: you needed command, guidance, and he was sure that Dr. Tuckerson wasted a lot of time being the nice guy while trying to be in the position he was in at that moment.

Cooper asked you to take off your shorts, along with your panties. He had time, Rachel and the kids were with her mother for a visit, but he was thirstier than expected. You obeyed so beautifully; you opened your legs as he wanted, exposed yourself to him and… God, you had such a beautiful pussy, so wet and ready for him. He didn't resist. He calmly took off his shirt, placed it on the coffee table and stopped you from taking off yours. Not yet, he said, I want you to trust me. And again, you trusted. Blindly. Not for a moment did you suspect his presence there, or that it would be stupid to think that that asshole psychiatrist of yours would ever place him as someone who would take care of you.

He wanted to feel that immaculate skin on his, so he lowered himself between your legs and let his face pass over your thighs, as well as the palms of his hands, tracing each muscle, each part, imagining the magic of when the cut would pass right there, at the junction of your thigh and your pussy, and everything would be palpable. Cooper nibbled on the meat, heard you hiss and smiled before kissing the area. He had something to do, he couldn't forget that, so he discreetly lowered his lips to your entrance, where he sank in, never to leave again. 

You had a taste of perdition, of pure desire. He grunted when, as he sucked your clit very slowly, he felt your fingers pull his hair, without guiding him but letting your nails scratch his scalp. He ran his tongue between your entrance and your sensitive spot; he had to give up the grip he had on your thighs to open you up and press one or two fingers inside, but it was worth it, because as soon as he found a rhythm, your sighs did it for him. 

Cooper rutted against the upholstery of his sofa; he was getting hard as a stone. As he became more anxious and excited, he accelerated the movements of his fingers because he wanted you to cum in his mouth, he wanted to feel more of your flavor before he felt you squeezing against his cock. He couldn’t help desiring you as much as he did at that moment: the prospect of having that control over yourself made it for him. 

Your orgasm was intense, almost spectacular. Cooper thought you were a virgin, but your pussy had been used, that's for sure. He lamented as he licked his lips and drained the rest of your juices, when he got up to undo his belt and pants and saw you there, with big horny eyes, without any support until he arrived. 

“You can take it off now,” He murmured, not leaning down for another kiss because he wanted to see it all. 

Your torso was a different situation and he knew that, hence the interest. It was easy to get your mother to tell you what had happened when you moved, conveying in certain details that you were fucked up in the head because your father was mentally ill with homicidal tendencies. As you exposed yourself in the low light of the living room, Cooper saw the scars that adorned just below your breasts, with one that crossed the area of ​​your ribs that he could always see if he passed by, when swimming or when you wore certain outfits in your morning runs.

It was the last prize, the icing on the cake. You were so immersed in what was happening that you didn't notice him noticing the marks, not even when he ran his hand over them. When he raised his palms to massage your breasts (when he felt, again, the thin skin that surrounded them and squeezed them), he felt like he could cum right there, in his own pants, watching you squirm and bite your lower lip.

Sensible, very sensible. 

He reached down and ran his tongue over a nipple, but this time he watched your reaction. He suddenly decided that he would want you conscious when he was going to use that part, to see how you would react, to test how much your face would contort before you passed out from the pain. Yes, he thought, the legs would come second then, and the breasts first.

“... Cooper,” You sighed between gasps when he kept going, a hand on the back of his neck to stop him. “I want you to fuck me.”

“Don't you think you can handle one more? Just one more?” Cooper asked, sucking the nipple between his lips before cooling it off with a soft breath. “You're so tight, honey. I don't want you to get hurt.” 

It was the right thing to do, to say; his eyes even turned dark with excitement at that. He smiled satisfied, then went back to work, going between sucking them and kissing them tightly, sometimes even pinching them. You would squirm, moan, gasp, sigh – all the while rabbiting your hips to get closer to his crotch, then brace him between your legs. 

You didn't know how strong he was there, which was an advantage, but a warning for him to be careful. A little more effort and you could dominate him. But you wouldn’t do it – you were too busy pushing your chest up against his mouth, taking all he was giving you. 

Cooper unconsciously looked up and saw the camera he had right on his ceiling, one you knew because you installed it yourself. Your mother said it was an exaggeration; it was right there that he almost thought about killing her. She was just like his mother and you didn't deserve that.

The thought made him suddenly angry. He felt his body boil with irritation, which made him blink a few times and feel his breathing become heavy; Cooper didn't touch himself if you noticed that, but then he was seeing red and couldn't stop.

He pulled away from you and looked over you. He took in his body with his eyes, then his confused face, and all he could hear or see or feel was his mother, right there in his ear, saying all the things that were wrong with him, or the slaps he got, the hair pulling, the cuts. 

“Coo-”

Your neck was softer than he thought, but your legs were as strong as his assumption. You tried to push him away with your knees as soon as he leaned over you and grabbed your neck with both hands, not pushing but squeezing. You began to struggle beneath him, hitting him in the face, arms, chest; if he hadn't dealt with it before, if you were the first, maybe he wouldn't have been able to, but he had strength and he could dominate you.

Your mouth started to open with lack of air and you tried to scream, but nothing came out. Typical. He liked it that way, when there was a fight, a debate, when he needed to press a little harder or put more weight on top. Cooper felt strands of hair fall under his eyes, but he didn't lose focus: he looked into your eyes, which were now scared and desperate, then finally took the next step he had been waiting for for so long. A feeling of satiety passed over him as he began to see your face give way, as did your strength. Little by little, amidst your alert body, your slaps lost their strength, as did your scratches and pushes. He didn't give in until he saw you take one last breath of suffocation, and he held on for a while longer until you actually passed out.

Cooper sighed with relief when he saw his body finally passed out. He moved away a little to loosen the grip on his neck and your touch on his torso, then he got off the sofa, fastened his pants and belt, and stretched his back.

He looked at his wristwatch, then tentatively looked through the living room window to see if there was anyone on the street. Then, calmly, he went to the camera wiring and, with the help of a chair, removed it from the ceiling of the room. He dressed you again: panties, shirt and shorts. He would have to go with his car, but he already expected that. The backyard cameras had already been discarded, so it wouldn't be a problem, but it would have to be quick.

Just in case, as soon as he put you in the trunk, he applied an additional dose of tranquilizer, so you wouldn't wake up until you got where you were supposed to be. He put you in the trunk, caressed your face and closed it.

****

Why do you think he didn't kill you?

You wanted to tell her that he just didn't kill you because he didn't have time, or because it would be inconvenient because you were a neighbor, or that he just wanted to torture you, but she already knew that; Dr. Josephine knew Cooper better than anyone else. So you stayed quiet, shrugged your shoulders, and she wrote something down in her notebook like Dr. Tuckerson usually did.

When you woke up, you felt so dizzy that you thought you were going to vomit. You didn't, however, because you felt very strong and tight restraints on your wrists, which were tied above your head. There was no way to move much: there was space, but you were placed in a sitting position and the grip was strong enough that you couldn't even get up. You tried, of course; you pulled until you felt your shoulder hurt, until you saw that either you could undo it or you wouldn't be able to get out of there.

It was like a basement, but there wasn't much in it. You saw some concrete counters and an iron table; on the ceiling, a hook similar to those used in a butch-

No. No, no, no, no, no, no.

A feeling of despair passed over you and you began to scream, while you tried incessantly to free yourself. This couldn't be happening. Your heart was in your mouth, beating against your chest, suffocating you. The muscles in your arms and shoulders creaked against the strength of that binding, your legs struggled for nothing, and you began to cry uncontrollably as you felt a wave of panic consume you. It wasn't the usual familiar feeling, no; it was something primal, instinctive, strong. You didn't just think you were going to die, you knew you were going to die.

You stopped after about fifteen minutes. The floor was rough and began to hurt the soles of your feet; you stayed there, leaning against the wall, suffocating in your own fear, trying not to lose control even though you had already lost it immediately.

How did he find you?

You began to get the impression that Dr. Josephine was studying you more than studying Cooper, and you needed Dr. Tuckerson's reassurance to understand that she was trying to help you.

It took almost an hour, perhaps, for him to appear there. By that time, when your tears had already dried and you were feeling your body dehydrated with sweat, you were staring at a fixed point in the room: a small window, or just a square with glass on the wall, high up, almost covered by a piece of cardboard. The noise made you look directly at that door and…

“It didn't look like him. I mean, it was him but… It was different.”

“How different?”

He had a cocky demeanor, despite appearing somewhat stiff in his gait. As you watched him calmly enter the room, passing by you as if you weren't even there, you shrank against the wall as best you could, feeling your entire body stiffen in pure fear. That was a familiar feeling, the fear – seeing someone in front of you who intended to hurt you was familiar territory.

Cooper (or the Butcher) must have known this, because he took advantage of this tension to continue there, probably looking for something while ignoring you. Tears began to form in your eyes again, but instinctively you held them back; your breathing became labored and uneven again.

He then looked at you with the same friendly smile as every other time, except for his eyes, which were empty and dark. In his hand, he had a knife: small, like a pocket knife. Later you would discover it was an oyster shucker.

“I tried to make it as comfortable as possible for you, hon,” His voice was weirdly livid, and he didn’t even flinch when you tried to kick him away when he crouched down in front of you. “Not familiar? I think it is. For me it is, at least. Although it would be selfish of me to make this comfortable just for me, so maybe I should accommodate you too.” 

Once, as a child, your father had cut you with a hunting knife. He didn't even hunt, you didn't even know where it had come from, but you were avoiding a stab to your sister and ended up being grazed, right in the rib region, below the chest. It was the first of many, but it was a feeling that was not easily forgotten.

Cooper stuck that knife in your leg. Without even hesitating, that easy, fast. You couldn't scream, despite the latent pain, but you opened your mouth to try to express something, which you also couldn't. He used that time to analyze your contorting face and streaming tears; probably studied how you would react, what you would do.

“Damn, did I do it the wrong way? Did he just cut it and not stick it in? Tsk,” Cooper tilted his head to the side, searching for your face. “Sorry for that. I'm also the type to cut it, but only after it's already dead. If I do it beforehand it makes a mess.”

You had already heard a lot about the Butcher and, despite that memory being the last thing that crossed your mind at that moment, you kept going through the pain if you had missed any sign in Cooper, besides the fact of your obvious stupidity of having sex with him. There wasn't – there just wasn't. He was a normal guy, with a normal life and a normal family, but at that moment he was sticking a knife in his leg and telling him how he prefers to kill a victim. You would be next. You, with that almost irreversible pain burning in your thigh, would suffer torture before being cut into pieces.

“Why don't you talk to me? You liked talking to me so much before.”

A small grunt of pain left your throat, along with the labored sound of your panting as you tried to get used to the sensation. You still hadn't looked him in the face properly after the stabbing; when he did, he had a worried, sickly frown on his face.

“Here we are, hi…” He smiled. “You are a very strong woman, yes ma'am. Very different from what your mother told me.”

You snapped into action, knife in you or not. 

“The fuck you did to my mother?” You snarked, and that made him lose his psycho smile for the sake of a dark expression, as if you just spit on his face by the mention of her. 

“I didn't do anything. I wanted to, but I didn't, because she's nothing more than a cunt. She came to my house and told Rachel everything. I know who you are because of her.” 

Heavens, Rachel… the children… Did they know what a man he was? The things he did? Were they safe?

Cooper saw your expression change as if you were reacting to what he said about your mother, because he shook his head again in disapproval. Out of the blue, he took hold of your jaw harshly and got you close to his face. 

“Where's your sister?”

More tears began to form on your face and no matter how much you tried to free yourself from his touch, Cooper tightened his grip on the juncture of your bones, with another of the familiar pains of a life of abuse. Not her, please, you thought, even if there was nothing he could do, even if it was just you who he wanted. You didn't ask yourself why; you didn't want to speculate what would make him choose you, because the answer was obvious. You were easy, approachable. Nothing in your life was stable, you had no one. With a mother who bordered on narcissism with a big good and a little encouragement, you ended up underneath him, having erotic dreams and being subjected to the condition he wanted to impose on you, which was exactly that: submissive, new flesh.

No one would miss you if he killed you – when he killed you. 

“I looked at the records. I know she died because her leg was cut off in the accident and you stood there, doing nothing. You let her die,” He breathed against your face, your cheeks drowning in tears and your gasps coming alongside pants. “And I'm going to do the same thing. I'm going to send you in pieces to go to the same hole as her.” 

Again, you tried to move away from his grip, but all it did was intensify the pain in your shoulders and the searing one in your leg. Cooper let go of you, the back of your head hitting the wall. 

He stood up, looking over at you and you couldn't lift your head to look back. 

“That knife is in your vein, and if you try to take it out, you'll bleed like her. That's why I'm not going to take it off, understand? Because I want you to stay alive for now.” 

Cooper turned his back; he would leave. He would leave and you would stay there, agonizing, feeling every inch of your body burn with tension, fear and pain. You cried again, this time with more intensity, and suddenly your arms went soft with giving up.

“... I don’t want to.”

You saw him stop, look at you over his shoulder. 

“I don't want to die. What did I do to you?” 

He threw his head back, squeezed his eyes shut – again, bothered by you. You thought that he would kill you right there, just because you asked that, but it took you so much strength to do so that it was just inevitable, so you asked for an answer. 

Why didn't he kill you?

Because he knew that if he killed you, he would heal your pain, and he wasn't willing to help you. When he said he would make you find your sister, a feeling of relief passed through you: that you would no longer have a nightmare, that you would be able to rest, that you would be able to ask for forgiveness. Forgive me for leaving you there. Forgive me for not knowing what to do. Forgive me for not protecting you.

It was a reaction of desperation and protection, Dr. Tuckerson would later say. That your brain had processed that you were going to die anyway, so it would take the step of accepting your fate and giving him a sense of comfort with what you had available.

“You need to find your peace, just like me. Your mother did this for you, she put me on your path and this is how it will be. I will relieve you of your pain, just as I intend to relieve myself of mine.” 

You looked him in the eyes, with as much rigidity and seriousness as you could manage. You gulped, licked your dry lips. 

“... One daughter has already been taken from her, and you will take the other. Who do you think you are to do this?” 

Cooper considered you with narrowed eyes. 

“It won't be on your terms.”

“So fuck you, you piece of shit.” 

Little did you know, but that smile and those words would be the last things that would connect you to Cooper.

****

You were there for a week. It almost killed you.

He didn't show up: he wouldn't give you water, food, or let you go to the bathroom. You smelled like piss.

You had already surrendered the points, you already knew it was the end of you. That deep down, even if people helped you, you were destined to die as your father wanted you to die: left in some corner, dirty, injured, defeated.

You had a fever: the cut became infected. The circulation in your arms was impaired due to the position you were in and you sometimes had small lapses, like reflexes, and tried to pull them down or simply let them go.

It was there, in the agony of waiting for your death, that you had time to think about the matter, and these would be the details you would tell Dr. Josephine when they needed you again. That your paranoia about being watched was because Cooper was watching you, that the sleepless nights, pretending to be insomnia, were reflections of the invasions he made in your home. That he took away your peace, little by little, while smiling at your conversations and interacting as if he were just a good neighbor.

“You had asked me that time why he hadn't killed me,” You said, the two of you walking in the patio of that hospital, both hands behind your back. “I think it was because he wanted me to suffer what he suffered.”

And then Dr. Josephine considered that with a certain regret, stopped walking and made you stop too, resting a hand on your shoulder.

“He thought you were just like him.” 

And maybe you were? There, sitting in that dark room, waiting for your death, you thought about all the anger you felt when you stuck that sliver of car bodywork into your father's chest, how ecstatic it was to free yourself from the demons that imprisoned you.

Then you smiled, in what felt like the last bit of your life energy, and thought that dying meant having the pleasure of knowing that if there was an afterlife, you knew that your father would be there too, and that no one would agonize in it function of his mind anymore. 

And when they found you, in the midst of a shock from the infection, you felt your head was light with the idea that if they didn't, you could agree with Cooper and take comfort in the idea that your mother really gave you one more gift: the chance to kill your demons once again.

****

[godsfavoritescientist]

Drabble request: post-canon "happy" ending for Bill & Ford, but find some way to imply that something super fucked up is going on just beneath the surface. Mind control, dream bubble fantasy, idk, dealer's choice, just something messed up.

Fragments of what was once Earth drift through the empty vacuum of space. They sit together on a summoned-up couch, watching it all float by. Ford fidgets with his brand new eye-shaped gold cufflinks. His ornately-embroidered sleeves are drenched in blood.

The henchmaniacs are busy elsewhere, expanding their reign of benevolent terror to the outer reaches of the galaxy. This mostly entails eating space rocks and crashing planets into eachother. For the first time since Ford accepted Bill’s offer, they’ve had time to really sit down and chat.

Bill throws an arm over Ford’s shoulder. “Lemme tell you something, Sixer. It doesn’t really matter how necessary it was–and believe me, it was necessary! What matters more is that it was the most fun you’ll ever have! Now that you’re immortal, I won’t sugarcoat it: Earth’s entire existence is a blip in the grand scheme of things. It was like a really dry log: destined to be burned!” He pats Ford on the back. “So don’t let me catch you moping about it.”

“I’m not moping,” Ford bristles, leaning away from Bill’s touch. “I’m contemplating.”

“Hah! Contemplating! You hear this guy?” Bill asks an imaginary audience, gesturing at Ford with his thumb. “Well contemplate this: we’ve got ultimate power over the entire multiverse. You might as well be a god. You can spend an eternity studying everything that ever was and ever will be. This is a sweet deal no matter how you spin it!”

Ford makes a noncommital sound. “That very well may be true, and I am grateful to you, but… human emotion is not so easy to logic away, I’m afraid. I want to move on as easily as you did, but…” he shrugs helplessly. “It’s just hard to believe it’s gone.”

Bill pats him on the back. “A little bit of shock is normal! Took me a few weeks to work through. Of course, I was brand new to the third dimension too, so it shouldn’t take quite that long for you. But humans are more emotional than shapes, so I’ll be patient! Don’t say I never did anything for ‘ya.”

Ford doesn’t meet his eyes. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it. Now! You know what helps me when I’m like this? A good distraction! There’s bound to be dozens of my enemies tracking us down right now–it’s not exactly hard to miss a whole planet blowing up. So we’d better get a head start on things, attack first before any of them can put us on the defensiv-” Bill squints at something approaching from the distance. “Hey, what’s that?”

Ford looks up sharply. It takes a few seconds to spot it, but as it gets closer, it’s unmistakable: a steely-gray entirely flat object, no more than two feet wide and long, flying towards them.

Once it’s right between them, it slows to a stop. From above, it’s clearly shaped like a 2D spacecraft, except that all four walls are enclosed, not just the perimeter.

A stick-thin door opens up, and out floats a dozen multicolored geometric shapes, all with skin covering their bodies from above and below, not just around their perimeter.

For the first time in eons, Bill is too stunned to speak a single word.

The leader of the group, a irregularly-shaped silver isoceles triangle, speaks first. “It’s you! It’s really you! We were starting to think you died in the aftermath of our dimension’s death. But the energy signals we’ve been following over the past week… we knew it couldn’t be anyone else.”

Bill’s voice is very quiet, and much less echoey than usual, as he says, “I thought you all died. I made sure you all died.”

The little silver triangle laughs. “Nope! The cleverest of us were able to escape. Your destruction only took the lives of those unwilling to change, unwilling to adapt to the higher dimensions. And the lives we’ve led since then have been so much better than anything our homeworld could have ever offered to us. We owe you a great deal.”

As he listens to this, Bill glows brighter and brighter and brighter, until he’s glowing the brightest that he’s ever been. “I knew it! I knew the worthy ones would live, I knew there was a way out for ones like you!”

He turns to Ford with a brilliant gleam in his eye. “Ford, these are survivors from my home dimension! Do you know how long it’s been? At least a trillion years! These guys are persistent. More than worthy of joining the gang, right Ford?”

Ford looks just as overjoyed as Bill. “Absolutely—but this is incredible! Liberating my dimension didn’t just give me an eternity at your side, but it’s also allowed these shapes to finally find you!” He shakes his head in wonder. “This whole time, you were right, Bill. You were right about everything. If our first act as joint-rulers of the multiverse can accomplish something of this scope, then there’s nothing we can’t accomplish together.”

Bill embraces Ford in a hug that sends them both twirling through outerspace. “Isn’t it exhilirating? Being free from all those stupid little ties to a planet that’ll be dead and gone in the blink of an eye?”

Ford nods wholeheartedly. “There’s a whole multiverse out there for the taking. You’ve finally made me see that.”

He lets go of Bill, and looks back at the handful of shapes floating nearby. “You must have so many questions. I know I do. But I’ll let you catch up with Bill, first.”

Bill zooms back to face the shapes. “Boy do I ever!!! How long do you guys live now that you’ve adapted yourselves to a three-dimensional world, because we’re gonna be here for a while.”

The group settles in for a very long chat, exchanging stories and ideas and many cups of tea. And way off in the distance, far out of Bill’s line of sight, his little world’s edge glimmers with the iridescence of a soap bubble.

[colderdrafts]

12 - Tomorrow

Underground visitor, gn reader x monster (male drider). Sfw. First Previous Next

It should be around here, shouldn't it?

You stretch your back with a sigh, sore from standing bent forward for a bit too long. You've been wandering around the forest outside Dren’s home for a while now, scanning the ground for your lost device. It’s a hazzle pushing past bushes and leaf litter, remnants of the storm’s destruction not helping matters.

"A little black square with a dark 'skreen'," Dren repeats to himself for the third time, voice balancing uncertainty like he believes this is an elaborate prank. Still, he’s adamant to assist your pursuit, moving through his own forest space. He blows some of his unruly black locks out of his face when leaning down. "And it allows you to talk to someone at once, despite not being in their vicinity?"

"Yep," you call over your shoulder, jumping over some heavy fallen branches. "Very handy, if I do say so myself."

Dren hums in agreement.

There's a loud crash from his direction, and you spin on your heel at the sudden sound.

You find Dren casually hurling timber of a fallen tree further into the woods to get a better look at the bushes crushed underneath it. He picks up another large log with his front legs, seemingly unaware of his startling you, gets his arms under it, and simply throws it aside with a low grunt of effort.

You can’t resist admiring his casual strength for a moment. The perfect sync between the two halves of his body, despite them being put together in such a strange way, are like two separate creatures working together as a unit.

Dren looks up from the lumber he’s been toiling with, catching your eye. There’s a certain knowing warmth in his expression, and it makes you briefly wonder if he was showing off on purpose.

You distract yourself by looking back to your own bushes.

"Damn, give me a heart attack, would you?" you laugh, busying yourself by moving away branches. "What did those poor trees do to you?"

"I would prefer not to," Dren replies simply, grabbing and throwing aside another fallen log. "And they got in my wa – ah, oops. Apologies, critter."

There’s a frantic rustling and movement from something low on the forest floor. Seems his lumbering startled a brown ground-dwelling bird from it's hide in the underbrush. It flaps it's wings from the scare with a shriek, darting left, then right, then settling for the nearest exit being between Dren’s legs, under his abdomen, and then out on the open path.

Dren patiently stands very still while the bird figures out how to ‘escape’ him. It quickly seeks shelter in the deeper forest.

"Careful over there, 'Scary'," you tease him, watching the poor creature go. "We’re not out here to disturb the wildlife."

"I did apologize," Dren chuckles, re-starting his previous task.

You smile fondly, and return to your own patch.

The area you’re in should be around the place where you first appeared when the Darkness yanked you, if your ability to estimate distance is still functional. You had a palm on a tree, and from there you spotted the rocky entrance to the cave – it should be around here somewhere. You grin as another loud crash follows Dren’s part of the objective. He’s as destructive as the storm at this point.

It takes a while, combing the forest floor with shared effort. You cover as many bases as you can, desperation pushing you past the boundaries of your initial estimations. No dice. Perhaps it’s ambitious to think you’d be able to locate a small phone in an entire forest.

Perhaps it’s ambitious to think it’ll allow you to leave, something inside your mind purrs.

You stubbornly ignore both the thought, and the aching in your heart that comes along with it. The annoying pressure, however, remains.

The path you followed when you were walking home that fateful night isn’t exactly as you remember, but again, this is not where you used to be. You suppress a humored snort when yet another soft thud comes from the forest – yet halt, when you realize the sound didn’t come from Dren’s direction.

Careful.

Right after, you hear the unmistakable sound of footsteps approaching. And judging from the sound of the gait, it’s someone walking on two legs.

You look around, and true enough, further down the path you spot a sole individual calmly walking towards you. Anxiety spikes in you at the sight. There’s no way the stranger haven’t heard you rustling about, and now, they’ve seen you too. From this distance you spot canine features of the stranger’s face, and a furry body clad in protective leather.

You quietly look her in the eye at her approach, hesitant to call for Dren to put him and his young in a dangerous spot. And for all you know, your paranoia is completely unneeded.

The wolf-person approaches, eyeing you. Her face is relaxed, and no teeth bares when she speaks.

“Why are you out here on your own, sentry?” the wolf asks in a clear voice, stopping a generous few meters from you. You note a sharp spear attached to her back, the point glinting slightly in the dwindling sunlight.

“I’m not,” you inform the wolf.

“They’re not,” Dren reaffirms, appearing from between the trees. He swiftly steps to your side, not taking his eyes off the wolf you’re talking to. He chitters lowly. “Isn’t it a little early for you to be out and about?”

The wolf immediately focuses on him, subtly taking a wary step back. “Isn’t it a little late for you?” she counters.

Dren hisses. “Not quite yet.”

The adversary attitude is slightly concerning. As much as Dren is solitary, he usually at least maintains a polite demeanor when talking to other common-folk. That he deliberately has cast it away in favor of beefing himself up a bit tells you this is not just any common-folk.

You’d probably do well to get out of this interaction as soon as possible.

“You should leave,” you tell the wolf, trying your best to sound disarming. “We don’t want any trouble.”

“Neither do I,” the wolf replies, looking at you. “I was just out for a walk when I heard you scurrying about. Not often we see your kind around here.”

“I get that a lot,” you grumble. You nod toward the road. “Now you’ve seen me. You can go now.”

“That I have,” she agrees. She eyes Dren. “Lucky one, eh? Are you-”

“Leave,” Dren cuts her off with a snarl, not so subtly letting the wolf know his patience is running thin.

You pause to look at him and find his eyes hardened, subtly brandishing his fangs. You’ve not seen him like this since the clash with Morgan. You can almost feel the vibrations in the air from his lower body searching for any indication of an attack.

You slowly step closer to him – you know he can feel you coming – and place your palm against the side of his waist. His warmth is there immediately, but it doesn’t travel through you as usual. Dren doesn’t remove his eyes from the wolf.

“-looking for something?” the wolf continues regardless, watching your attempt to calm her adversary. She plants her feet slightly apart, like preparing to bolt.

“What’s it to you?” you ask, trying to sound calm. Better keep things smooth while the wolf is still here.

“Nothing. Just curious,” the wolf replies cautiously. “And I’ve found this thing. It smells like you, so I put two and two together.”

The wolf carefully reaches into a pocket with her other palm out, a placating gesture. And, of course, she pull back out your black ‘skreen’, holding it with two clawed fingers like it could burn her if she's not careful.

Drat.

“This is what you’re looking for, isn’t it?” the wolf asks, sounding almost like a statement. She could probably spot the way your eyes widened at the sight of it.

There’s no point lying. That is, indeed, a thing you very much need.

“It is,” you reply as casually as you can. “I lost it a while ago.”

“Give it back,” Dren demands. “It doesn't belong to you.”

“Well, it doesn't belong to you either, by the looks of it,” the wolf growls back at him. She focuses on you. “It belongs to the sentry. So. I’ll make you a deal. I’ll give it back no trouble, and you make sure your custodian lets me leave this forest alive?”

Alive? What? Does she honestly think that – well. A look at your companion, and supposedly it’d make sense for her to think that she maybe won’t. It still surprises you just how easily violent this world can get. But why even approach you then?

He’s not my- is in the front of your mind for a reply, but perhaps it’s better shut off for now. The wolf assumes you have any inkling of control over Dren’s actions, and that might work to your advantage here. As far as you know him, Dren doesn't want to fight either, he’s just determined to show he’s well prepared in case things were to escalate. Perhaps you can utilize that advantage so they don’t.

“Alright. Give me my device, and you can go,” you state, gently squeezing Dren’s side. You’re not sure if you’re apologizing for, or asking for permission to speak on his behalf. “I promise.”

The wolf observes you for a second, assessing your words. Supposedly deciding to trust them, she casually throws the phone to you. You manage to catch it.

“I’ll be on my way, then,” the wolf says. “Done deal.”

She casts one last glance back at you, before swiftly retreating into the deeper woods.

You can feel Dren’s leg pressing against your back. You lean against his side and put your hand on it, feeling the rough hairs there underneath your palm.

“You alright?” you ask lowly.

Dren is quiet a moment, staring at the hastily retreating back of the wolf. He huffs. “No. I do not like their kind, and I especially do not like them this close to my home.”

“That was a hunter, wasn’t it?” you say. You hesitate a moment. “What do you think she was doing here?”

“Scouting,” Dren growls. “Common-folk like her don’t go far from their homes for pleasantries.”

You could choose to hope that a pleasant walk to take in the brown and red hues of fall in this forest would be motivation enough for the wolf. But even you know that's probably naive.

“I have a guess as to what they’re scouting for,” you mutter, looking up at your companion.

Dren gives a short nod, still looking dead ahead. “You’d be correct.”

And curse your correctness, because here you are, having just let a new potential threat to Dren’s existence go on its merry way.

Should you have let him take care of it instead?

Dren keeps staring in the direction to wolf left, waiting a minute until she's completely out of view. He takes a deep breath, and leans down to gently press his face against your cheek momentarily. You lean back into him, reveling in his comforting warmth in the cool air around you.

“I’m sorry. Should I not have – should you just have -” you ask, without finishing the sentence.

“No,” Dren replies quickly. “There’s no need to fight today if it can be avoided. I will deal with this at another time.” He sighs, and gently nudges you to change the tone a bit. “But we got your skreen, did we not?”

“My ‘skreen’,” you echo him, smiling while holding it up for display. “Yeah. We did.”

You press the power button momentarily. Nothing happens. Either it’s out of power, or the rain and laying in the cold, wet dirt for who knows how long has simply done enough damage to break it.

Dren zeroes in on the strange device in your hands, squinting and blinking in succession. It’s as if he's trying to get it to tell him its secrets.

"What an odd little thing," he muses. Then he looks at you and smiles. "The ‘skreen’ as well, I suppose."

You snort, and playfully push at his furred shoulder. "Very funny. But this is awesome! Maybe now I actually have a better shot at getting this whole Darkness business attracted to this place again."

"And how will this work?” Dren asks, intrigued. “Will you be able to catch the Darkness with this object of yours?"

His question makes you pause. Truthfully, you hadn’t thought too far ahead on that aspect of your plan. You’d mainly focused on getting a starting point. Yet now the device rests easily in your palm, and so far nothing has happened.

"I'm not really sure," you admit. "My idea was like - waving it around and hope something happens. ‘Darkness grows in the spaces between us’, so maybe if I create one point for magic and one without..? You know, me and the phone on one end, this whole shabbang of a world on the other?” you continue, feeling the weight of your words crumbling the already paper-thin plan.

You take a second to adjust to the feeling. Dren patiently watches you think things through.

“In hindsight, probably not? Then maybe it would have happened by now," you ponder, turning the phone over in your hands. "So what am I missing?"

Perhaps you got too caught up in a potential easy fix to think it the whole way through. Why should this work any differently than you just being here, without any magic in you?

Dren thinks for a beat, frowning. He gets the same expression when he tries to remember something he’s read. "I’m still not well-versed in this – but the harpy also said magic is quite simple. Perhaps it’s just as you said. Maybe we need to cultivate a space where it can grow. Between us," Dren thinks out loud. “Magic and non-magic. Like you and me.”

"What you mean like - the two of us?” you ask. “You want to help me?"

"If I can," Dren nods. “She said your skreen is completely non-magic? And it’s in a place it’s not supposed to be in. It’s an outlier in this world. Something that’s bound to attract attention.”

“So if we try and generate a space, and have the pho-screen as, what, some sort of a lure?”

“Maybe?” Dren says. “We could give it a try.”

“I thought you said magic’s dangerous,” you argue. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“Well, I will not do anything beyond my natural abilities,” Dren reassures you. “I’m not the strongest, but perhaps I can – nudge, a reaction a bit.”

“How?”

“I’ll do what I would normally do,” Dren says. “But I will not tie anything together. I promised I would never deliberately use my ability with you, and this is not my intend here.”

No strings attached. Do you trust it’ll stay that way?

“Alright,” you say assuredly, showing the thought down. “If you think it’ll work.”

“Truthfully, I have no idea. But working or not, you will feel it,” Dren warns. He’s wringing his hands again. “It will only affect you.”

“I know,” you say, remembering the harpy’s words. You’re not sure you understand exactly what Dren aims to do, considering the natural limits to his abilities. But you do understand he wouldn’t do anything if he didn’t feel both of you could handle it. He's had odd ideas before. Might as well indulge him in this one. “Well. It’s worth a shot.”

Later you’re back outside the entrance to the cave – away from prying eyes – and Dren has directed you to stand a few paces away from him. The phone is placed in the middle. Seem the idea is to take it very literally, and using it to symbolize the space between you.

It almost feels a little silly, standing around to do this sort of odd improvised ritual. But worst case, nothing happens, and you're back to square one. Might as well check all bases. The cool air gently blows through the trees, and you glance at the place where you planted your flowers. A thought of how they might be doing down there in the dirt passes.

“Ready?” Dren asks, perhaps noting your momentary distraction.

“Yeah,” you reply. “Go ahead.”

Dren closes his eyes, and you can hear him chittering, claws working on the ground, sensing the air all around him. He steps in place for a bit, like trying to find a proper spot to hold on to. You stand to attention, suddenly feeling a little anxious as you wait in silence.

Dren opens his eyes suddenly, settling on something, and juts forward, completely locking his focus on you.

He catches your eye with a vivid stare that drills into you, so intense you simply can't tear your eyes away from it. His eyes are like four black holes, eager to swallow you in your entirety.

You feel a shift in the temperature as something warm slowly, slowly creeps up over your arms and gently flows through your skin, comforting and familiar. It’s Dren’s influence, you realize, the extend of what he can do. It makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, a tingling sensation all over. It’s very much unlike the unpleasant experience you had with a certain other person who did something similar.

“Dren-” you breathe softly, feeling the warmth traveling through your bones, and you find you mostly just want it to keep going.

He purrs in response, and you stare into his eyes and find nothing there but pure contentment, enjoying being able to feel you so intimately. Then you can feel a want to go further, get closer, get inside, and a pain, a struggle, trying to hold himself back. You’re reaching for him as much as he is you, and the space between you is almost maddening, churning with need from forced separation.

“Don’t,” Dren hisses suddenly, and you realize you’ve taken a few steps toward him. You didn't even notice when you started moving. “Don’t come any closer.”

Your vision gets blurry as you suddenly get woozy, just feeling the sensation of Dren’s whole being intertwining with yours.

Dren says something again, and you can’t make it out. His voice seems fuzzy and obstructed, like listening through heavy glass. It takes another second to realize that you didn’t see his mouth moving. Dren wasn’t the one trying to speak.

Something wraps around you limbs, and there’s a scurrying of movement all around you, almost like a noise of rapid steps through water. Suddenly it’s hard to breathe, a dizzying and suffocating cloud surrounding you. There’s a stranger there, an outlier, something that doesn’t fit, and I want to get to it, tie it down, I want to understand it, I want to have it, see it, hear it, feel it, love it, make it mine -

It’s quiet.

And it’s dark. You don’t remember closing your eyes, but you do dare open them again.

There, in the space between you and Dren, on top of the phone, is a small, black void. It gently flows and sways, independent of the wind.

It’s like a hole in the air itself. The complete opposite of taking up space.

The sight makes your brain hurt and you gasp in surprise. In an instant it’s gone, as is Dren’s warmth, and you find yourself shivering from the sudden cold that claws its way through you, gripping tight.

No, no, no, no, something inside you squeals like in a panic. No!

Dren’s breathing heavily, closing and opening his fists, his legs stepping in place, agitated. “No,” he mutters to himself, gritting his teeth. He rubs his face with his hands in distress. “No.”

“Dren-?” you call out warily, still staring at the spot where the thing vanished. Your legs feel wobbly, and you support yourself with a hand on a tree. The tightness in your chest increases tenfold and you hiss in pain. “Are you okay?”

Dren looks up at you through his fingers, focusing on calming his breath. “Yes,” he whispers.

You keep your eyes on the spot the void vanished. “Whatever you did - I- I think it worked.”

“Yes,” Dren says again. He swallows hard. “I think it did, too.”

“But – what the hell was that other thing?” you voice feels hoarse. “That wasn’t you, was it?”

“I-” Dren begins. “I don’t think so? It didn’t feel like it.”

Is that just what interacting with darkness feels like? It didn’t exactly feel like Morgan, either. But you most certainly feel them now. You put your hand over your chest and breathe deeply, waiting for it to settle.

“Why did you stop?” you ask once you’ve calmed a bit.

“I – I wasn’t ready, yet,” Dren replies. “It was a test, and now we know we can do it. But I felt like – like I was throwing you away. I want to plan when we do it for real.” He fidgets with his hands, settling down to your eye level with a huff. “This is not going to be easy.”

You cautiously approach the phone lying in the grass, staring at the innocent looking thing. Nothing about it suggests right now it has just acted like some sort of artifact of the human world, helping you gain access to darkness. Still, you carefully step around it like it’s firework that hasn’t gone off as it should.

“Seems you can do that kind of magic, after all,” you tease him gently, settling down next to him and leaning against his side.

Dren breathes out in relief, wrapping a pedipalp around your middle and pulling you to him. He hesitates. “I don’t know what I did. I thought I just connected with you without – tying, anything.”

“Whatever it was, it worked. We created the space we needed,” you reassure him, idly running your hand over the appendage around your stomach.

“We did,” he agrees quietly.

"Dren?” you say.

“Yes?”

You look up at him. “Do you have any idea what an actual fucking genius you are?"

His face slightly flushes from the sudden compliment. He waves you off. "Come now, I just-"

"Nope,” you state, reaching for him. He obliges and leans down, and you cup his face, staring him in the eye. “Actual genius, right there. Doing magic on the fly like that. You figured this whole thing out. And, you read non-fiction for fun."

Dren laughs softly, carefully putting his palms over your hands on his face. "I am a nerd.”

You grin, leaning your forehead against his. "Damn right you're a nerd."

You can feel his mandibles brushing across your cheek as he leans in further, settling with his arms over your shoulders. There’s an odd pull in your face then, heat in your cheeks of anticipation at the subtle movement, like you were expecting a kiss.

"Now we know it works – when will we do this?" Dren asks calmly. It doesn’t seem he’s noticed. “When will we try this out?”

"Well - whenever we can, I guess?" you ponder, absentmindedly running a thumb over his cheek. "I mean -"

That would be it, wouldn’t it? You still for a moment, indulging in his warmth like a reassurance.

"Tomorrow?" Dren suggests helpfully, gently squeezing you. "I will not stop you if you wish to go at once, but if you'll indulge me for one last evening, I would love to keep you for a bit. Even though I know it selfish," he chuckles. "But it's up to you."

"Tomorrow," you repeat, holding him a little tighter. In some way, ‘tomorrow’ doesn't sound very pleasant either. "Yeah. Sounds good."

Back at the cave you take a seat in front of the fireplace in the now-finished woven chair. Dren settles on your right.

"I'm sorry you went through all this trouble to craft this and now I won’t even be able to use it much," you sigh, gesturing at the item. It’s very comfortable. "But I'm grateful none the less."

Dren smiles at you, but it doesn’t really reach his eyes. "It's alright. Maybe I can trade it come spring."

"Or maybe you'll find someone else who can make use of it," you joke suggestively, elbowing his side in an attempt to lighten the mood. It’s your joke, but even you feel it doesn’t really alleviate anything.

Dren politely let’s it pass without acknowledging it. He focuses on the fireplace, and you watch as the light dances in his black eyes. "Maybe."

A silence settles over the living room for a moment. Usually conversation flows so naturally in his company, but seemingly you both find yourselves at a loss for words.

"You look tired all the time," you tell him eventually, just to say something. “I’m worried about you, you know.”

"Well, you needn’t worry, but I am tired," he replies, humored. "My body is merely preparing for the next coming time. It’s completely normal."

He sounds reassuring, but a lingering thought remains with you. Mainly having to do with who you encountered in the woods today. Supposedly your plan will work, but you’re leaving Dren behind in a state more risky than when he first found you. A gnawing guilt forces you to address it.

You grab his hand and squeeze it. “Dren what are you going to do – about the hunter and-”

“Do not concern yourself with this,” Dren says immediately, almost startling you. He looks at you intently. “This is not your issue. I’ve dealt with this before, and I can do so again.”

You pause and look into him for a moment. He’s being very genuine – he truly doesn’t believe you should fight his battles.

But there’s something else there, a subtle fear that rings so deeply into his very being, something you know he’s been fighting his entire life. And it’s about to happen again. And he doesn’t have any assurance, again, to what the outcome of all of this will be.

Still, he’s adamant that you should go. It’s almost infuriating.

You sigh. “But-”

“No. I am too fond of you to force you into any more danger of my world,” he says seriously. “Tomorrow, we will summon darkness again. You will interact with it, and you will go back home.”

“Dren,” you say patiently, equally serious. “I brought this hunter here. If they try to get to you-”

He smiles then, a fondness over your protectiveness. It stops you dead in your tracks.

“They will always try to get to me,” he says, a little softer. “They would have found me sooner or later, no matter where I went. This particular individual would have come all the same, had you been here or not. Do not take this guilt when it’s not yours to carry. Me and mine will be fine.”

He sounds so certain. But you’re not sure who he’s trying to convince.

You glance down and find one of his hands is now on your waist. You don’t know what else to do, so you simply let yourself fall into him, reaching your arms around the space where his torso meets the abdomen, your face leaning against his chest.

Dren envelops you at once. “Sweetness-” he sighs.

You share a moment of calm, listening to his gentle chittering, feeling his arms around you, breathing in his reassuring earthy scent. Then, you feel him take a deep breath before he reaches down, grabs onto your legs with his pedipalps and promptly lifts you off the ground.

“Woah, hey!” you laugh, shifting your grip and adjust your arms around his shoulders instead, when suddenly he starts walking. “Where are we going?”

“We’re going for a walk,” Dren mutters. His voice is warm on your neck, and he gently squeezes you. “Or, well. I’ll be walking. You’ll just - be here.”

“My favorite place to be,” you joke. He hums in response.

Dren brings you to the blue cave once again, the twinkling lights on the side of the cave shining like small stars.

“Hold on,” he warns, before he grabs hold of the side of the wall and starts climbing.

You let out a startled noise at the sudden movement, and hang onto Dren a little tighter.

“Almost there,” Dren reassures you with a chuckle. You get the feeling he’s enjoying this.

He doesn't stop there, bringing you up the far wall and stretches again, reaching for the roof. There’s a sudden pull in your body as your world’s is turned around. You’re upside down.

“Dren,” you protest, feeling the blood rush to you head. “Hey-!”

He turns you around and settles you over his chest, him hanging upside down, using the strings around him like a makeshift hammock. You’re lying flat against his chest, your legs dangling freely over the space where his torso and abdomen meet.

“Is this alright?” Dren teases once you’ve settled a little better. His hands are on your thighs, a reminder he’s not going to let you fall.

“A little warning might’ve been appreciated,” you grunt, eyeing the very hard rock of the cave floor below. Then you stare at the annoying arachnid looking up at you with bemused wonder in his eyes, and you unfortunately can’t find it in yourself to be mad at him. Just like he probably planned.

You give in easily, and lean down to rest against him again, and his hands travel up over your back, securing you there.

“But yeah. This is very much okay,” you sigh, feeling his warmth once again.

“I’ve always wanted to do this,” Dren admits quietly, almost embarrassed. “I hope you don’t mind.”

“No, no,” you placate quickly. You reach your arms up to reach the back of his head, running your fingers through the unruly mess that is his hair. “No. It’s nice.”

He hums in delight at the attention.

You don’t know how long you lie there in the silence, just enjoying the quiet moment. A lot has happened, hasn't it? You've been her for a little over a week, and barely graced the surface of everything in this world. If anyone is looking for you back home, what will you tell them when you get back?

How could you ever explain what's brought you here? But if Darkness got you here in the first place, who's to say it won't get you back again someday?

Maybe you'd want it to. Then there's a churning inside you, and it turns to 'maybe not'.

“Hey, Dren?” you call out softly after a while.

His response is a chitter and a very deep breath. It would seem he’s fast asleep.

You suppress a laugh, leaving him to his rest. Your brainstorming can wait. “Sleep tight.”

You close your eyes to give in to the moment you’re sharing with him. But you don’t sleep right away. Partially, maybe, it’s because you want to remain here, awake to experience this fully. Another part, unwelcome and annoyingly clawing at the back of your mind, says it wouldn’t be wise to drift off just yet.

And why not? It’s late, you probably should get some sleep. Stubbornly, you lean your face into the crook of Dren’s neck. Still, try as you might to cling to the comforting heat radiating off of him, it’s not quite enough. Something demands your attention, and you once again find your peace broken.

Maybe it’s the disturbance from earlier that’s been amplifying the pain in your heart. Maybe it’s the way you’ve been trying to ignore it. Maybe it’s just getting stronger.

Or maybe it just knows you're going away soon. You can almost smell them.

"I'm going," you whisper to no one through gritted teeth, taking refuge in the warmth of the body you’re resting on. "And you can't stop me."

Don't, something inside you says. Don't. Please don't.

From the arms around your back to the chest rising and falling under your chin and to the faint pull on your heart, you can't tell who's asking this of you.

There’s a disturbance in your body, and you try to focus on shutting it down, anything to alleviate the maddening pressure inside of you. You feel clammy and cold, like a fever is coming on, anxious and restless. Like your body is anticipating something will go terribly wrong, despite you being tucked away in Dren’s arms, as safe as you can possibly get.

You look at the face next to you, sleeping peacefully, and lean in, pressing your forehead against his and enjoying the low purr that escapes him as you do so.

Fuck, tomorrow is going to be the roughest day of your life, isn't it? The fact that you wouldn't wake up to hearing his voice or being able to indulge in his warmth anymore? The thought makes your heart ache, the dull pull of your parasite alongside the pain of losing someone who’s grown so close to you. You brush a strand of his unruly black hair out of his face, staring at the four closed eyelids. Almost like you want him to wake up so you can talk for a little more, just bask in his presence while you still can.

How selfish. He’s nearing hibernation and needs his rest. He’s going to miss you as much as you’ll miss him, and you shouldn’t make it harder than it needs to be.

You carefully unravel yourself from his arms, silently apologizing as he stirs slightly.

Move, you think. I need to move. Get a clear head again before you’ll be able to fully rest.

“Dren?” you say, leaning back to look at his sleeping face. “Could you let me down?”

He doesn’t respond, so you gently cup his face, watching his mandibles click together as you do.

“Could you let me down?” you ask again, nudging him.

One of his eyes finally cracks open to take you in. Then, the three others follow. He blinks in succession, bleary. “Hmm?”

“I’m getting a little restless. I think I’ll go get some water,” you elaborate. “But you’ll need to let me down.”

Dren closes his eyes again and, with a groan, grips around your stomach with his front legs. He gingerly lifts you off of him, rolls over, stretches toward the ground, and places you on the floor.

He retreats back under the ceiling. “Let me know when you’re done,” he yawns.

A second later, his breathing evens out.

Slowing down, huh? The guy is close to a full stop. Good thing he’s still able to recognize you.

You get going. If anything, a brisk walk should help clear your head.

You reach the lake shortly after, letting the sights of the glinting lanterns sparkling in the dark water, the sounds of gentle droplets and flow wash over you. You sigh, and lean down to wash up a bit.

The cool water brings some clarity. The gnawing anxiety seems a little lesser now that you’ve given your flight-response something to work with, but it’s still there. Why didn’t Dren’s presence calm it this time? You were literally right on top of him.

Something’s wrong.

“Yeah, no shit,” you grumble, splashing some more water on your face.

It’s not enough. I need to move.

And go where? It’s in the middle of the night.

Still, walking feels right, right now. Perhaps you should take the last opportunity you have to do some exploration. You've somewhat learned the back and forth between the places you mostly frequent, but this system is huge - you're honestly curious to see what else Dren hides in these walls.

You huff, picking back up a lantern to continue. Yeah, that’s better. Just gotta keep moving.

[skylarmoon71]

Human Optimus Prime (Transformers) - (AU) Oneshot

"The war is over, you don't have to keep looking out for me." 

You watched the Autobot above you, his optics blinked, and he shifted on his feet. Not sure how to respond to your words. 

"You can't be certain the danger is over." 

Through all the battles, life was finally settling down.

Most of the Decepticons were gone, the ones that survived were in hiding. Far too smart to try and plan another attack. Some of the Autobots that were still alive were doing the same. You felt like you'd watch so much of them die. Jazz, Ratchet, you never really recovered. 

You suppose that was the reason Optimus felt the need to be constantly with you. Bumblebee was with Sam, enjoying his life. Peacefully. The remainder of Autobots were all leading very different lives from when they first started. Whenever there was a threat, they lend a hand to the government, but in the meantime, they were just relaxing. Something they hadn't gotten a chance to do fully since they crashed to earth that night. 

For some reason, Optimus took it upon himself to look out for you. So every once in a while he'd stop by to see how you were going, what you were up to. Being a sophomore in college, you were thankful that you were spending more time now on your studies to pursue your profession. In high school it was just one disaster after the next. Now, you could unravel and focus on regular things that college students stressed over, like midterms.

"I think I can handle any danger that comes, I've made it this far haven't I." You were sitting at the edge of the hill, just looking down at the city. When he buzzed by to check on you, he'd ride you to this spot, and the both of you would chat about everything.

You used to look forward to it, but now it was just an unwanted reminder. The main reason behind your refusal for his protection was the fact that your feelings for him had never gone away. In high school, you always thought it was a little crush. 

He was a giant robot who came from another planet and lived for who knows how long. You had no idea why you even fell for him. But the more you were around him, the deeper your feelings got. 

Two years of knowing him you finally confessed exactly how you felt, and his response was that although he was flattered, he could not return them. You cried for a week, but eventually got over it. Surprisingly you were able to salvage a friendship.

That was years ago though. You were on your way to start a life, one that obviously he didn't want to be a part of, at least not the way you wanted. You figured if you were ever to move on, you needed to start making an effort to get some distance. His constant visits weren't making it any easier.

"Is that the true reason you wish for me to stop watching over you?" 

His statement made your shoulder tense slightly. 

"What other reason would there be? " 

You needed to change the subject quickly.

"You can have a life here Optimus. All the other Autobots have, so can you. How are you going to do that if you're always around me."

"You are a part of my life." 

You clench your fists, refusing to let those words play with your heart.

"I can't be, at least not anymore." 

When you looked back at him, he looked a bit sullen at what you said.

"Optimus I..I lied all those years ago. I-I haven't gotten over what you said, or how I feel about you. I think it just got worse as the years went by. I'm in love with you Optimus..." 

You swallowed, because you knew for a fact that you were about to be rejected for the second time. 

"But I think if you just give me space...I'll find a way to stop feeling this way. So please just..don't come by anymore. For your sake, and mine." 

You stood from your spot, and Optimus was just staring at you. He didn't speak, didn't say anything. You didn't need words though. It was clear how he felt. 

"I want to go home." 

You didn't look him in the eyes, you really couldn't. He must have realized that you didn't want to talk about it any longer. With a short nod, he shifted back into a semi. You opened the door, hopping in and closing the door. 

As you sat there, you forced yourself not to cry. When he was gone, and you were back at your apartment, you would have plenty of time to do that. So you stayed silent, watching the trees and buildings as Optimus took off.

~~

"Optimus, are you alright. You look a bit distracted. " 

Sam's words caught him off guard, and he lowered his head at the male. The other autobots in the area stared. Even Bumblebee looked curious. It wasn't often that they saw their leader that way. He'd always been the one with a solution for every problem. Yet he looked like he was struggling with whatever issue he was going through.

"I believe I have...gained feelings for a human." 

Sam's eyes popped open, and from the side he could see Ironhide and Sideswipe high five. Crosshairs just sighed, running a hand over his face.

"Aww you sad sap, I knew that chick was bad news. "

Bumblebee's optics glowed. A song blasting from his speakers.

"Can you feel the love tonight."

Optimus just sighed, and Bumblebee titled his head. 

"What's up doc, you look a bit under the weather."

Sam could only manage a small smile. No matter how many years pass, Bumblebee's use of the radio always amused him.

"I'm a little surprised, I guess I always knew there was something between you two. I see the way she looks at you when she thinks no one is watching." 

Sam's comment gained a look from Optimus Prime.

"How long has she been giving me those looks?"

Sam now looked a bit nervous. 

"Uhh, I'm not sure if I'm the right person to ask about this stuff. Maybe you should just tell her how you feel and.."

"It's pointless. A relationship with a human, with (Y/N), it's impossible. She's a child and I'm a soldier. "

"She's not a child." Sam said it with so much defiance. "She's not a kid anymore, maybe that's why you're so blind. You're still treating her like a kid. She's a woman, Optimus. She should have a say, it shouldn't just be your decision."

"And as for your other problem, I think I have a solution for that as well." Ironhide pipped in.

"A solution.." 

Optimus asked with uncertainty. Ironhide didn't say much more, in seconds he was reverting back to a car. "Let's go, I've been waiting years to show you this!" It didn't take much convincing, they were all interested now.

*****

"A new professor in the department?" 

You nod at your friend, sipping from your coffee.

"Staff has been a bit overpowered. I only heard because I tutor in the evenings. The guy is starting today. Hope he isn't a douchebag like Mr. Renaldo. " 

You mutter.

"I hope he's a hottie, bet you I'd get an A on every assignment." 

You giggle, nodding your head. As strong as you were trying to appear, your conversation was still running over in your head. It irked you more that he just left, you weren't rejected this time, but you might as well have been, his inability to say anything felt far worse. 

"Did he really think I was gonna sit around waiting for him forever." 

He must have known deep down that you never got over him. This whole time it felt like he was unintentionally manipulating you. He didn't want a relationship, but you couldn't be with anyone else with how much you felt for him. Both options left you alone, unhappy.

As you stepped into your class, your new professor was already there. His back was turned, and he was scribbling his name on the board. You could see some of the females in your class swooning. You weren't blind, even from the back you could tell he was probably attractive.

You took a seat, watching the name he wrote out.

"Orion Pax. "

Kind of strange, but who were you to judge. It sounded a bit familiar though, like you'd heard it somewhere before.

When he turned, he was sporting a broad smile, that probably gave a few of the women a heart defect. All he was doing was smiling and you could physically feel the charm sparking off him. Dirty blond hair, emerald eyes, strong jaw, broad shoulders. The guy was a freaking thirst trap.

"You all can call me Mr. Pax. I'll be the substitute Anthropology professor. This department has been under a lot of strain, I'll be lending a hand. Please feel free to ask me any questions." When the girl behind you raised her hands, you could already anticipate the question she was about to ask. She crossed her legs, batting her lashes seductively. 

"Mr. Pax, just wondering, I've been falling behind and it would mean a lot  if I could maybe work it off with some.." 

She paused, licking her lips and leaning forward, purposely pushing her cleavage together. 

"Extra credit." 

You rolled your eyes, and your friend at the side of you sent a small snicker, making kissy faces.

"Why of course, Mr. Renaldo told me all about you." 

He reached over, picking up a thick stack of sheets, dropping it on the desk in front of her. 

"These practice tests should help get you up to speed. Anyone else?" you almost burst out laughing at the bewildered look on her face.

"Well if they aren't anymore questions, let's begin." 

You kind of liked his style. He was a thot destroyer, you could respect that.

With a disgruntled huff, she pulled out her books and you giggled, reaching a taking out your own as Mr. Pax started up the projector. 

"Open your books to page 51, Folklore. This is a topic that I think some of you may enjoy. We've all heard stories of Bigfoot, or the Lochness monster. These may be theories created by very creative minds, but there are some things out there that we may not all understand. Possibly even beings from another earth, wouldn't that be interesting." 

When he said it, you could have imagined it, but his eyes seem to land right on you. 

You shifted a little in your seat, dropping your eyes to your book. You could still feel it, his green eyes boring into you. Your grip tightened on your pen, and you released a shaky breath.

"What the hell.." 

Optimus was the only one who'd ever made you breathless with just one look. So why was this stranger emitting the same energy of the Autobot you were so hopelessly in love with.

For the remainder of the class, you tried not to react. At certain points he'd walk down the aisle when he was making a point. You kept your head down, eyes on the page. For a moment, he stopped, leaning over to see your notes.

"What language is that?" 

Your head raised slowly, and you cursed when you realized what he was staring at. Through the days you spent with the Autobots, you picked up on some Cybertronian. Optimus even taught you some words and a few letters. Unintentionally, you'd scribbled out Optimus's name on the side of your notes. You flipped the page, letting out a nervous laugh. 

"N-Nothing it's just a little doddle. S-Sorry about that. I-I have a really short attention span. "

"Are you implying that my class is boring?"

"N-No! Of course not I was just-"

"I guess since it's so boring, you won't mind staying back to do a little extra work." 

You could hear the little laughs from some of the students behind you.

"Am I clear?"

You nod. "Yes sir." So maybe you were wrong, he was a douche after all. You hated the smug smile he was now wearing as he looked at you.

"Mothertrucker."

So the class pushed on. Thankfully, this was your only class for the day. Unfortunately, you would have to spend it with Mr. Douche.

"I'll text you later, let me know how it goes with Mr. Pax." 

Your friend winked at you as she left, and all you could manage was a groan. He was gathering his files. "I have to drop these into my office, care to join?"

It wasn't a request, you knew that. So you just picked up your bag and followed him down the hall. 

The entire time you stayed behind him, determined to avoid eye contact or conversation. When you got to the door, he opened it. 

"After you." 

With a fake smile, you entered, and He followed right after. The clicking of his lock is what made your eyes narrow. You turned to him in question.

"I apologize for embarrassing you in front of the class, but I needed to ensure that we were alone. "

Just great, not only was he a douche, but he was a freaking creep too.

"Listen, you're cute and all, but I'm not interested. Don't even try blackmailing me. My grades are spotless. I'm not gonna be some booty call. If that's all I'll just be going." 

You gripped your bag on your shoulder, heading for the door. His arm took your wrist, and you dropped your bag, ready to fight if necessary.

"You don't understand." 

The blue light that circled around his eyes made your own grow wide. You clenched your fists. 

"Decepticon!!" 

Yanking your hand back, you raised your fists, firing a punch at his face. He jumped back in surprise, and you used the distraction to grab something to chug at him. 

The lamp on his desk seemed like a good choice. You ripped it off the desk, throwing it, and he dodged, raising his hands as you tried to run for the door. All you had a chance to do was place them on the lock, somehow he was behind you, and your breath quickened in fear. His hands came down on the door, caging you there, and you froze.

"I suppose I should be proud, you do handle yourself very fairly well." 

The change of his voice made you shiver. He sounded strangely like...

"Optimus..." 

You whisper. He just let out a soft chuckle, and when your eyes connected, that's when you knew. His orbs were still glowing a brilliant blue, the same sapphire light you'd seen for years.

"How...what..why are you..you're voice is.." 

You could barely get an actual sentence out, and he smiled at you. 

No wonder the name sounded so familiar, he'd told you about it once. He still had you pressed into the door. His hand came down, resting on your cheek.

"It seems even in death, Ratchet has been looking out for us. When he was still with us, he was looking into getting us to blend in with humans. He wanted us to be protected, especially when we were being hunted by the government."

"So he..he found a way to turn you human?"

"Yes, with the help of my lifeforce, Ratchet has modified a device to assist us. Ironhide had kept it for this very moment. He wanted us to use it when the war was finally over. So we could live in peace. "

He gestured to the watch on his wrist, and you blinked. Up close it seemed like a regular accessory, but as you leaned in closer, you could make out the blue light that mirrored the one in his eyes. The watch seems to be almost fused with his skin.

"Woah..." 

It was crazy, you would have never guessed.

"That's amazing, e-even your voice sounds different. You sound so..so.."

"American." 

He smirked.

"I suppose that was another advantage to his technology. "

"But how come you're teaching here! You need a degree and references and college."

"I'm very versed at manipulating data (Y/N)."

Right, he was an alien robot after all.

"Anthropology, it's a topic that mirrors the studies I did back on Cybertron. It reminds a little of my home. I downloaded everything on the subject into my drive so I could teach efficiently."

There was still the most glaring question.

"Why do all this. I-I thought I was pretty clear yesterday Optimus. I-I can't move on if you're always here. I'm done chasing after you. Now you're here at my college. Are you really that heartless! Why can't you just let me-" 

He leaned in, and you gaped when his lips pressed to your own. You struggled for a moment, trying to push him off, but he was stronger. You hated this, how easily he was able to make you feel so much. Closing your eyes, you gave in.

When you felt his tongue parting your lips, you responded, leaning tentatively into his body. He sighed, tightening his grip on your wrist as he kept your bound to the door. How do you walk away when his kiss felt like your own personal heaven. 

The minute his tongue touched yours, your knees almost buckled. Gosh, how many times did you imagine kissing Optimus. Who were you kidding, there was absolutely no way you could forget about him. Your free hand slipped into his hair, and you tugged, earning an appreciative groan from him. When he finally retracted, you were panting, and a bit confused.

Why did he even kiss you?

"I realized that up until now I've been doing what I can to keep you at a distance. It wasn't because I didn't return your feelings (Y/N). Through our years together, I've always felt drawn to you. I choose to ignore it because I know that I could not have a future with you. As an autobot, I cannot give you what you deserve. "

So this whole time he was just scared.

"It may be hard for you to accept my apology, even after I've hurt you so much for so long, but I would like a chance to be a part of your life (Y/N). I'd like to be in your future, if you'll have me."

He didn't even have to ask.

"Of course I'll have you Optimus, that's all I've ever wanted. " 

He caresses your cheek, and you're smiling a bit bashfully.

"How did you learn to you know..kiss like that.." 

He's now wearing a sly grin. 

"Instinct I suppose." 

When his thumb brushes your lower lip, you quiver, closing your eyes. You want nothing more than his lips back on your own. 

"Back in class, I was sure you'd figure me out. When our eyes connected you gave me that look, one I've seen you wear many times. I finally understand what it means. How foolish that I didn't realize sooner." 

You blush. So you weren't imagining that either. It's almost like you felt him way before you put the pieces together.

"W-We're going to have to be careful at school though. It'll be bad if someone caught us like this." 

You're saying this in hopes that he'll let you go so you can get your heart to stop racing. If he kisses you again, you might not have the will to stop.

"I'm a very careful person," He says smoothly.

"Optimus we-"

"It's Mr. Pax." 

You glare at him, and he's still smirking at you.

"Please, there's no way you're getting me to say that. "

"Really?" 

He says that it's almost like a challenge. This time when he moves in, his lips rest on neck, you pull in a breath, a bit surprised at the move.

"O-O-Optimus I'm serious we can't.." 

He nibbles at your skin, and you can't even bring yourself to finish the sentence. Now he's leaving open mouth kisses, and you're trembling.

"You smell amazing, taste even better.." 

He mumbles on your flesh. 

Your chest is rising with every quick strum of your heartbeat, and you try pushing your thighs together to elevate the pressure. But that just encourages him to lean closer, pushing his leg between your thighs. Where the hell did this side of him come from. He uses his hand to tilt your head to gain better access to your neck, and you moan when his kisses become a bit more determined. There will definitely be marks when he's done. 

"M-Mr. Pax.." 

You stammer out. He stops, pulling back with a grin.

"Was that so hard?" 

You're about to yell at him for his recklessness, but he kisses you once again. With a sigh of defeat, you fold. There's no use pretending you don't love everything he's doing. That's how it's always been.

A future with Optimus, you can't wait. 

[katemagic]

okay once again time for some cherry magic th thoughts lmao but I'm thinking about the show's emphasis on comfort and how it's really interesting in the context of a character whose main deal (so far) is being in unrequited love with achi

bc I think it's so easy to get swept up in how we do hear karan's thoughts and therefore specifically how a;ldkfja;lkds wild his behavior is re: achi (researching cakes for a month!! buying bespoke pajamas for achi to wear at some point!! perfecting cooking eggs to make him breakfast one day!!) that it's sometimes hard to remember that, at least at this point in the story, if we remove all that and just look at his actual behavior towards achi he really.... isn't being intense or weird at all? what makes achi uncomfortable isn't karan's behavior in and of itself, it's that he knows the intention behind it which, yes, admittedly is very intense and uhaul-y

but it really is only when achi hears something he shouldn't that he feels that discomfort. like for example in this week's episode, achi reflects at the start on how he's getting comfortable with karan and feeling really happy in his presence (and we as the viewer can interpret that he's becoming aware and comfortable with liking him romantically, even if he says in that scene that he's not really sure what his feelings fully mean yet) but when he hears karan like "ah married life <3", THAT'S when he freaks out and puts distance between them. which makes sense looking at it from achi's perspective and understanding that his brain is a Complex Space (and I have additional thoughts about achi's perspective on events lmao that I should probably put in a different post) and also understanding like... it is an intense thing!! karan has a lot of intense feelings given they have not even been on a date yet and literally seem to have even only started regularly speaking recently al;jdksk;lad but it's also not something achi is supposed to know, because karan ISN'T actually being forward with him about his feelings at all with him or, IMO, crossing any lines

like the reason karan invites achi to stay with him at the end of ep 1 isn't motivated by anything sinister- we see him thinking in his head like "it'll probably take him an hour to get home, then he has to shower, and he won't get a good night's sleep" and that's why he asks him. he literally even treats saying goodnight to achi and lowering his sleep mask as some kind of transgression to be forgiven? like at every single turn in the show he is so worried about making achi uncomfortable and feels immense guilt over it when he perceives that he has made achi uncomfortable- we don't see his thoughts when they're directed to kiss during the game at the restaurant, but he doesn't look particularly thrilled (bless tay tawan for his perfect unreadable karan expressions) and he stops it as soon as he can tell achi is afraid (and says "please excuse me" in his head before kissing achi's forehead instead). he even feels guilty for defending achi against the guys trying to attack him in episode 3, chastising himself for inserting himself into achi's business and, again, for making him uncomfortable. in episode 5, he sees how he's being jealous and unfair and, again, immediately chastises himself for thinking those thoughts. while doing my ~research for this post I truly was kind of shocked at how frequently karan uses the word uncomfortable to talk about how he perceives himself as making achi feel, and it's a really sad aspect to the show, but also very interesting one

...alright this is long let me put the rest under a cut lmao

like I think it's a really fascinating thing about his character, that he does really care about achi's comfort beyond all else and is CONSTANTLY beating himself up when he feels he's crossed a line. after the kiss dare thing which literally is in no way his fault, he feels awful about how scared achi looked and says that he's the person who makes achi feel the most uncomfortable, and apologizes in his head to achi for falling for him because if he hadn't, achi wouldn't be uncomfortable, and like... that is so fucking sad!!! he's literally punishing himself for his thoughts that he isn't even acting on and the love he feels that he can't control. and honestly I am fascinated by the show including him saying "no guy would be comfortable kissing another guy" in the rooftop scene after the game- it's clearly a way to make the situation less weird and sort of give achi an out, IMO, to not have to discuss it or make it a thing like yeah!! of course no guy would want to do that!! but it is interesting in terms of the show not shying away from homophobia being a thing (and I have a LOT of thoughts about how a lot of karan's reaction to his feelings and behaviors towards achi and how extremely cautious he is could be read as having to do with internalized homophobia but this is already SO long lmao) and also how, again, he emphasizes comfort in his response

but I think the thing that is extremely sweet is that despite alllllll of achi's reservations and insecurities and stresses in the start w/r/t karan's feelings for him, when he hears karan feeling awful about making achi uncomfortable at the end of ep 2, he tells him about his inexperience and explicitly tells him that he isn't uncomfortable with the idea of kissing him. he admits something that he at the very least thinks makes him Uncool to the person he thinks is the most perfect guy in the world just because it clearly feels so wrong to him that karan feels guilt over something he shouldn't feel guilty for, because I do think on some level achi does realize that what's making him uncomfortable isn't really anything outward that karan is doing. at the end of episode 3 when karan puts distance between them by not sitting by him on the bus, achi again recognizes that karan's doing it because he thinks he's made achi uncomfortable, contemplates whether he IS actually uncomfortable, and realizes that he isn't. that he's actually very happy that karan sees him and cares for him and views him in this incredibly loving light that achi doesn't view himself. and so, similar to the end of episode 2, he takes a step towards him and tells karan to sit by him and they have that whole lovely moment, and I think this shows a lot of bravery on achi's part too, and a lot of care for him as well. achi is genuinely the person who makes the most moves which is FASCINATING to me.

I could go On and On but there's just this wonderful repeated emphasis on both of their parts to not want to make each other feel bad or uncomfortable and doing all of these little things to take care of each other, and how they're both being very brave despite having reasons not to be because they care about each other that much, and that is simply very beautiful to me and I feel a lot of things about it!!

[destinygoldenstar]

My Evil Arin AU Prediction (Fully Expecting To Be Wrong)

So Arin, caught up in Sora’s lie, believes in the false hope that he has his abilities starting to be figured out. That with Lloyds, Sora’s, and his own minds support, he can be a valuable ninja and be a great asset to the mission to get Kai and Bonzle back.

My prediction of this is that Ras and the gang come up with a plan to revive the blood moon to get the other elemental masters freed. So the ninja after realizing this plan have to return to the dragons to come up with a way to save Kai and Bonzle.

But oh no, Egalt (sorry I still can’t spell his name) still things Arin isn’t good enough.

Arin is by no means arrogant of his own abilities after his success, (that’d be very OOC in my opinion), but he is more trusting in himself and blindly optimistic that he has more of this figured out than he actually does.

He tries to prove this, but no matter what he does, he just can’t get it right.

Even Lloyd starts to get confused. But, you know, Arin could do it, so he has faith in the kid that practice will make perfect.

There could even be a scene where Lloyd tells Arin about his experience of getting possessed by Morro (maybe Euphrasia is also in this scene to give her character development), and how his own master, Master Wu, set him up for something so impossible that Morro became twisted jaded and arrogant in himself to achieve something he couldn’t.

Lloyd is saying this as a warning for Arin. While he by no means thinks Arin is acting the same way Morro was, he had the paranoia that he could. And Lloyd totally knows he isn’t setting Arin up for something impossible. He saw Arin get better and be able to do his tricks. So it’s not an impossible standard. Totally not.

Then there’s Sora, who is trying to keep her distance from Arin, who doesn’t know why. The guilt of what she’s done is killing her, and it’s cost her some sleep knowing that either route she could take could potentially end her friendship with Arin. Keep the lie and watch Arin meet his downfall, or tell him the truth and crush his spirits for good.

After all, she was the one person who since the very beginning believed in Arin. Even when no one else did.

And then she didn’t.

She can’t ever take that betrayal back.

Then, you know, she’s learning Spinjitsu. But Arin isn’t completely bothered by it so long as he’s got his own thing going too.

Arin is obviously hurt by her distance, unsure if there was something he did wrong. But maybe there’s a scene where he pours his heart out to her about their friendship, how their belief in each other is something nothing can undo, and how no matter what is bothering her, she should know very well how forgiving he is.

So she’s ready to be honest and tell him-

And then one of the generals of the villain faction attacks them (and whoever else you want to say is here). For now I’m gonna say Jordana, but anyone can take this slot.

And in this fight, Sora gets knocked down, and Arin is ready to defend her using his object Spinjitsu…

But he fails.

And Jordana reveals to Arin, against Sora’s consent, that Sora lied to him and used her own tech to move that object in that fight. She really taunts it in that his best friend and companion never believed in him and was lying to him the whole time.

How does Jordana know this? Idk maybe she found out in a scene before this.

Arin is obviously so devastated that he’s zoned out and unable to defend himself.

Sora, enraged from Jordana having zero respect, protects Arin and does Spinjitsu for the first time.

Jordana is forced to retreat at Sora’s power, part of that has to do with her anger. And once she’s gone, Sora cools off and tries to help Arin. She doesn’t even care or process that she did Spinjitsu, she’s more concerned about her friend.

But Arin is just… blank. Spaced out. He should be furious at Sora, yell at her and express how absolutely betrayed he feels…

But instead, nothing comes out of him. His feelings towards Sora, or the fight, or everything else is replaced by… nothing. And Sora now being able to do what he can while he’s still him is just icing on the cake that Arin is basically nothing now.

Blah blah, in some other points of the season they can learn more about the elemental masters and the wolf masks and the reveal of Ras’s master.

But Arin is mostly just a spaced out person in the way of all of this, it seems.

Lloyd obviously chews out Sora for her stunt and lying about it, but it’s clear she’s very much aware of the damage she’s done and wants to figure out how to apologize and make it right. She doesn’t know how though with Arin’s condition. Lloyd is quick to forgive her so long as she’s willing to try this apology towards Arin.

Lloyd is also trying to help Arin the best he can. It doesn’t matter to him that Arin doesn’t have anything figured out yet. Lloyd himself didn’t, even when his destiny was written in stone. Arin is just… a late bloomer, shall we say.

This doesn’t help Arin, and even tries to get Lloyd to tell him the ‘truth’. That he is a failure of a ninja. He can’t even help with beating Ras. He can’t even find his own parents…

But Lloyd still refuses to call Arin a failure.

That’s a shred of hope that Arin has that maybe the voices in his head, and Ras, are wrong. As long as his idol believes in him.

Maybe he even expressed how much he misses his birth parents. He misses the life he had before the merge. Even everything made sense. Maybe then he could be a kid DREAMING about these big things and not having to think those dreams would ever come true. That was the simple life.

Then there’s the mission to save Kai and Bonzle. And stop Ras and the others. A plan that’s so tight on the ninjas end that they NEED this to go PERFECTLY. Otherwise, a lot could go wrong.

As such, Lloyd makes the call to leave Arin out of the field part of the mission. Instead he’s gonna be working in the back on comms or something.

Arin tries to convince the others that he wants to be out there and help save Kai, but there’s no convincing the others. They all have agreed to leaving Arin behind for his own good. Especially Lloyd. He lost Kai to this and Kai was a professional. He can’t drag Arin into this and lose him too, if a vision of his is correct. (Maybe he sees Ras grabbing Arin’s hand or something, and he’s come to the conclusion that Ras would use Arin as a sacrifice too)

So they leave, and Arin is stuck on comms.

But eventually, seeing one of them get knocked down hard, Arin decides to refuse the order to stay in place. He goes on the field anyway, ready to prove himself and help the ninja as a ninja.

So far, the plan on the ninjas end is going very smoothly. They got Bonzle out and are ready to get Kai out too, and they’re fending off the villains pretty good…

But then Arin interferes, trying to help. You can decide exactly what he does, Im not sure.

Point is, that because of Arin’s actions, and specifically that, everything goes wrong.

More of the elemental masters get out, (probably using Euphrasia as one of the sacrifices), and not only that, but they are unable to get Kai out of there.

They try hard, very hard, but ultimately… they fail.

Four of the elemental masters get out, and they’re ready for the last one when Lloyd realizes Arin is here and Arin is the cause of this disaster.

Not only were they not able to save Kai, Lloyds beloved surrogate brother, but they also now lost others too (whoever you want to imagine got sacrificed. Pick two more characters you think did alongside Kai and Euphrasia). And it’s all Arin’s fault.

So in a bit of rage and unable to think straight (also from his own mental health issues making him irrational), Lloyd lashes out at Arin.

Arin ruined everything.

Arin didn’t listen to him.

Arin should’ve stayed behind.

Arin doesn’t know what he’s doing out here.

Arin is a failure.

And as soon as that last one gets said out loud, Lloyd snaps out of his rage and realizes what he’s done.

He just confirmed all of Arin’s insecurities. That everyone who said Arin was a failure and a terrible ninja were correct. That absolutely nobody believes in him to do the right thing.

Lloyd IMMEDIATELY regrets it. He immediately tries to take it back! He didn’t mean it! He’s sorry! They’re gonna figure something out! He’s so sorry-

And then Ras gets behind them and knocks away Lloyd. After a short fight, Lloyd becomes the last sacrifice for the spell, all while Lloyd is begging and screaming for Arin.

Arin is obviously devastated by what he’s heard and can’t even process the situation. All the elemental masters are freed and it’s his fault. His idol is gone and it’s his fault.

The very idol that said to his face that he was not good enough.

…was he even an idol anymore?

Arin kneels down to Ras in surrender, ready to be defeated. But he becomes surprised when Ras instead shows pity towards the kid.

Instead, Ras offers Arin a way to find his parents. To go back to his old life and not worry about any of these people who never believed in him.

All he has to do is join Ras and help him out. In exchange, he would spare him and his parents. He even offers the wolf mask to help Arin reach his full potential and become the powerful fighter he saw in him.

And with nothing else left, Arin accepts this deal, allowing himself to be corrupted by the mask.

Almost immediately, his insecurities vanished and are replaced with a sense of purpose, of belonging, of power. With nothing holding him back.

He decides to commit to going rogue and finding his parents with this power. He doesn’t care if Ras wins or loses so long as Arin gets what he wants.

With Arin leaving and now on the dark side, Sora, who I guess was knocked out during the fight or something, realizes what has happened.

It’s not hard to imagine her bawling her eyes out and realizing she just lost her best friend. Maybe she even blames herself.

For the remainder of the season, Arin is just kinda along for the ride with Ras’s forces and the master taking a liking to him and helping him control his new abilities. Maybe he’s able to do the object Spinjitsu without much issue thanks to the mask power. But like I said, Arin doesn’t really care about these villains and their plans, so he’s not concerned which side wins, so long as he gets what he wants.

I’m going to say that Sora, making an army with whoever is remaining, sets up one last fight to rescue the sacrificed ninja.

And TLDR, they win and they’re all fine.

I mean, it’s Ninjago, what do you expect?

The only notable thing is that at some point of this fight, Sora is cornered and most certainly going to get a killing blow by someone, but Arin stops them to ‘focus priority on something more important’.

Even evil, Arin can’t bring anyone, especially not himself, to kill his best friend.

It’s short, but it’s enough that after the fight, Sora says that she knows Arin is still in there and there may be a way to save him in the future.

She doesn’t know how yet, but with her power is a strong responsibility to use it properly this time, and she’s making it her own personal mission to get Arin back. No matter how hard the road of struggle and training is, and no matter how long it takes.

Then of course she has to explain to the others, especially Lloyd, that Arin has turned to the dark side.

Lloyd is the most hurt by this, for obvious reasons.

He failed his student.

He can imagine Wu’s ghost shaking his head in disappointment in Lloyd.

From here on, (season three), Lloyd kinda changes as a mentor. He’s still caring towards the kids, but he’s much stricter on them and very cryptic and demanding of them. Kinda like how Wu was in the first couple of seasons of the main show. It’s obviously taxing on the others. But they also kinda understand how paranoid Lloyd is that he’ll fail another person.

With Ras’s forces defeated and the main members scattered, (whoever you want to say is alive or dead), Arin is alone with a bind of his own to Ras’s master guiding him.

Arin becomes a rogue wanderer searching for answers on where his parents are. And while he doesn’t resort to killing, he still will not let anyone get in his way or let him feel that despair of failure ever again. Not even the ninja.

I expect this to be totally wrong. As I said, I don’t think this theory will come true at all. At most I expect Arin to be turned good again and fixed after like one episode. Whereas this AU theory has Arin’s villainy be expanded further into Dragons Rising where Arin becomes a reoccurring antagonist. But while a villain and having seen a villain origin story unfold, we the audience are still routing for Arin anyway in a pretty twisted kind of way. I don’t know, I thought that’d be an interesting angle instead of ‘And then he became a heartless monster’

[dullgecko]

Hello again - I return with yet another idea that was going to be a short little thing that turned into a much longer thing because I am apparently incapable of being concise when it comes to making my favourite goblin be very sad and reluctant to accept help from the people who love him :)

So. The Bad Kids are out fighting some sort of monster and things go south for Riz really quickly at the end of the fight. He gets the fear spell cast on him and then immediately gets knocked down to zero hp. He can’t run away and his body goes into a full panic attack which makes him fail two death saves instantly and then before anyone can get close enough to heal him, he gets caught in the radius of another spell which fully kills him.

He was expecting to wake up and see his dad, but Pok was off on a job so no one was around to help calm him down. And because time moves weirdly in heaven, what was a maximum of twelve seconds in real life felt like hours for Riz and he was panicking the whole time, knowing he was dead but also feeling like he was going to die again somehow. He didn’t immediately register Kristen’s healing magic when it came to bring him back because he was so convinced it was a second layer of death coming for him. He actually tried to resist it and failed because he was panicking so much he couldn’t concentrate, which was very good because it meant Kristen was able to bring him back.

When he came to, his fear response kicked in straight away and he sprinted off to try and hide. Gorgug managed to catch him and luckily even after getting pretty hurt during the fight was still able to withstand the biting and clawing that came with holding a terrified goblin (Fabian was also on hand to try and catch Riz if he escaped from Gorgug). It took a long time to convince Riz that he was safe, and even then there was nothing anyone could do to try and convince him to sleep that night because of how on edge he was.

The next time Riz has a panic attack was also not pleasant for anyone. He was in the school library with Adaine and Gorgug doing some research for a group project when something set him off (looking back, no one is quite sure what it was that triggered it). The panic made him unable to breathe properly and he felt like he was dying, and normally Adaine or whoever was around would tell him that he wasn’t and they would help him remember how to breathe again and it would be okay. But last time he felt like this, he had actually died and nearly stayed dead, so he wasn’t exaggerating when he said he felt like he was dying, and that just made him hyperventilate more to the point that he did end up passing out for a few seconds, which really sent him spiralling. It was just as well Gorgug was also there because seeing Riz in this state was making Adaine freak out too so Gorgug told her to update the group and then go and get Jawbone.

Fig showed up almost instantly and wanted to use the sleep spell to give Riz a chance to calm down. Luckily Jawbone arrived just in time to stop that idea - Riz already felt like he was dying, knocking him out for several hours was not going to help right now. While Jawbone knew that all of the kids were worried about Riz, having them hovering around was clearly making Riz more anxious, so he asked all of them apart from Kristen to give them some space, and Kristen was only able to stay because Riz knew she could bring him back if he did die again,

It took a very long time, but Jawbone eventually helped Riz through a long series of panic attacks, and once he had confirmation from Riz, he let the others come back (they had of course been only a few feet around the corner - enough distance to give Riz some privacy, but close enough that they could get back to him quickly if needed).

Even without any actual meetings with Riz, Jawbone had been building up a file of notes and observations about Riz. Confidentiality was obviously important and he would never share anything his students told him unless he thought they were at risk. However, a two hour long string of near constant panic attacks where Riz had briefly passed out from hyperventilating three separate times, and had in itself been triggered by a panic attack was a serious enough incident that Jawbone called Sklonda in a professional capacity to tell her that Riz needed more help than he felt qualified to give. He gave her a few trusted contacts to have a look at, and promised her that Aguefort had good insurance for mental health treatment so money wasn’t going to be a problem.

Simply bringing up the idea of therapy a few days later sent Riz into another series of panic attacks, but he did eventually agree. Step one had to be to undo the damage done by the previous “therapist” that had seen Riz after Pok died. Step two was breaking the panic attack spirals. Step three was working out what else had to be dealt with and in what order, because surprisingly repressing every bad experience was not good for him.

Riz slowly gets better at managing his anxiety. Getting diagnosed with a whole bunch of stuff including autism, adhd, c-ptsd, and ocd definitely helps because he has a much better idea of what is making him anxious and what he can do about that - if it’s an autism thing he probably needs somewhere quiet and dark where he can read about his special interests, if it’s an adhd thing he may need to run off some excess energy to calm down, if it’s a ptsd thing something has probably triggered him, if it’s an ocd thing he can try to manage the compulsions. One day when he was very overwhelmed and everything was bad at the same time, Adaine sat with him in his office and they made a little clue board to work out what he could do in a given situation. He keeps a photo of it in his pocket that he can refer to when he’s away from his desk.

Panic attacks remain a huge trigger for him, along with mirrors and having anything on or around his neck, but finally knowing why he does certain things makes it a lot easier to accept/ask for help and get through day-to-day life.

I love reading these so much dont stop. The only problem is they're so good i cant find anything to add because *gestures* perfect.

You get an A+ in submission, which is something both normal to want and possible to acheive.

[foxingpeculiar]

Elden Ring/SotE:

So, it's well recognized that there's a late-game difficulty spike in Elden Ring. I can tell you the exact moment that it happens. It's the fucking Draconic Tree Sentinel guy outside Maliketh's boss room.

Castle Sol wasn't that bad. When Niall summoned in his little friends, I was like "oh yeah, THAT's why you suck so hard," but I was able to take the two of them out pretty quickly, and I remember enough about fighting him that I knew to bait the jump and dodge around the follow-up and I got him in three, so okay.

Did Volcano Manor next. Because I did the Red Letter, I could've gone right to Rykard, but I wanted to do the manor properly, so I did--beat the Godskin, finished Rya's quest (did not kill her--she left to go do her own thing in the east). Rykard was pretty easy--a little bit of careful dodging and I got him in one. And then, just for good measure, went and met Patches at the Shaded Castle (I forgot he dies in this one--the only Soulsborne where he does, unless you actively kill him, I think), then went in and fought Elemer of the Briar again and absolutely greased him this time.

So then, I finished Mountaintops of the Giants without too much trouble. The Godskin double fight in the Spiritcaller Cave was a little much, but I told myself "it's fine, I'll come back in a few levels." And nothing else was giving me that much of a headache. The Giant-Conquering Hero's Grave wasn't bad, I got the Rivers of Blood from the NPC invader outside the First Church of Marika, found the invisible bridge to the Heretic's Rise--things were going well.

Then I got to Faram Azula. Which is definitely a little tougher of an area, but still, nothing too egregious. The worst part was that bit where the wounded dragon is spreading lightning everywhere and you have to cross the bridge to get to him without getting pecked to death by the six birds between you on the way. And all that took was some careful sorcery and a little planning. The Crucible Knight in FA is a bitch and a half, but I cheesed him by jumping down to a platform near the site of grace that he couldn't follow to and just zapping him with ranged magic. Finished Alexander's questline (fighting him was embarrassingly easy, the poor fellow) and beat the invader Bernahl. Did basically everything except Placidusax--found stuff I definitely did not find on previous playthroughs. Even the Godskin Duo fight wasn't that bad--summoned Bernahl before i killed him, used a couple of sleep pots, and it only took two tries.

Then I come to that fucking mounted asshole. And he killed me. A lot. After a handful of tries, I finally got him by basically gitting gud and learning to dodge his attacks and pepper him with Night Comet in the spaces in between, maybe hit him with a Transient Moonlight if I was close enough. Stay on the weapon side, keep careful distance, pick your moments. Okay, hard, but doable.

Then I get to Maliketh himself. And hoo boy. He took probably a dozen or so tries? Half the time, I'd get in there and before I could properly even do anything, I'd get stun-locked into a combo and die. Eventually I cottoned on to getting a pillar between me and him before trying to summon the Mimic Tear, which helped. Once that was doable, had no problem getting through the Beast Clergyman phase. But that second phase--he's kind of glass cannon, but DAMN. he's fast, and hits like a fucking truck. The only way I eventually made it through was basically good RNG--the Mimic Tear survived long enough into the second phase that I could pepper him with enough spells to whittle him down to almost nothing before she died. And then I managed to keep enough distance that I could take him the rest of the way, even with his full attention on me. Made it happen, but goddamn.

I can use Rennala's Full Moon now, which is fun. It takes a minute to cast, which is a downside, but regularly is doing over 1K damage when it hits. Part of that is because I finally traded in the Demi-Human Queen Staff for the Carian Royal Scepter (currently at +9), which boosts Moon sorceries, as I understand it. And I just got my first Somber Ancient Dragon Smithing Stone, which means I can take either that or Moonveil to +10 now.

But, jeez-louise. I mean, I'm still doing better than I did last time, but the game has officially stopped fucking around now. So I guess next, a quick stop in Jarburg to finish Jar Bairn and Diallos's quests. I think everybody else is as far as I can take them--finished Varre and Nepheli/Kenneth, and beat the Great Jar's knights. I think that'll take care of all the questlines except Millicent. And Edgar/Irina--I forgot to go back and talk to Edgar after killing the Misbegotten Warrior and now he's not at Castle Morne or on the Bridge by Irinia's corpse, so I think I locked myself out of that one, but whatever. The only downside is, because you get a Shabriri Grape out of that, I don't know if I can finish Hyetta either. (And I'm still one curse shy of getting Dung Eater's Mending Rune, but I'll find it at some point. Also, still have to go meet Goldmask in the Ashen Capital, I suppose, but that shouldn't be too bad.)

And then it's on to the Consecrated Snowfield and the Haligtree. And then Moghwyn Palace and the DLC. And... for the first time in this playthrough, I'm a little nervous, but we'll make it happen.