#when someone asks me a genuine question i just can't do anything other than offer a genuine answer

[wannaeatramyeon]

Meeting Olly Wang for the First Time: Influence

G/N. Sort of soft. I did it anon!! Masterlists

In hindsight you could have been considered a bad influence except you felt bad for him. You like to think that you showed Olly Wang there was more to life than studying, there are some things that can't be taught through textbooks.

You taught him how to live, you gave him room to breathe.

But sometimes, when the nights are too silent and your brain is too loud, when you miss him so much it hurts, you would think that it was all your fault. You set him on this path.

It's stupid, of course. Your minor risk-taking and vices are nothing compared to what has happened since.

Still, it eats away at you.

.

.

It's entirely by chance that you meet.

You're not particularly studious, but empty pockets and a meagre allowance accompanied with bad weather means your options are limited.

In the library, tucked away in the corner is a boy.

Trying his best to read and study yet annoying teenagers continue to heckle him. Throwing balled up pieces of paper and calling out derisive comments.

"Fuck off," you snap, feeling kind hearted today and storming over. You drag one of them away by the hair.

"Hey! Get off-" He tries to wiggle out of your grasp.

"Leave him alone, assholes," you snarl, shoving him away.

The commotion is finally enough to draw the attention of the staff.

The teens are shooed out, throwing angry daggers your way.

"You're welcome by the way," You tell the boy in the corner and you think he mutters something about being able to take them on himself.

Narrowing your eyes, you yank his ear, "What did you just say?"

When he doesn't react, you let go. Huh?

He doesn't feel pain, he tells you, or to be honest, anything. And then when you continue glaring at him thinking that that's bullshit, he introduces himself as Olly Wang.

.

.

The first time he ditches class, as a middle-schooler, is with you. Just two kids wandering the streets of Gangdong. You, used to skipping the occasional days and class, and embracing freedom, while Olly fidgets next you.

His mouth, usually stretched too wide in a grin, is pulled down at the corners. Tense eyes behind glasses anxiously flickers from side to side.

"You think your parents are going to catch you?" You tease, slinging an arm around his shoulders.

"No." Olly doesn't sound convinced and you sigh.

"So what do you want to do?"

"Me?" he asks, blinking owlishly as if that's the first time someone has ever asked him that question.

You shrug off his weird response. "We can go the park. Shopping. Not that I have any money. Arcade-"

"Arcade!" he pipes up, then cowering and furtively glancing around him in case his parents are actually around.

Nevertheless, he spends hours and hours by your side; fighting each other, killing zombies, and racing cars. The sound of 8-bit music and bright flashing lights soon drown out his fears.

That day, Olly smiles genuinely along with you.

.

.

You first hear about Eli Jang a few weeks later.

Apparently he's fallen in with a new group of friends and this guy is the coolest person he has ever seen.

He's an orphan, he does whatever he want.

"Ok," you deadpan to each fact about this Eli Jang, growing more bored by the second.

Olly, oblivious to your reaction, continues fawning over him.

.

.

"Here, try it,"

You only offered the cigarette to stop him talking about Eli Jang. You've lost count of the times you've rolled your eyes.

Olly pauses, torn between wanting to impress you and not wanting to inhale the nasty smoke.

He gives in when he sees the playful glint in your eyes. His finger brushes yours as you pass it to him, and he places his lips where yours were just mere seconds ago.

"ACK!"

You giggle to yourself watching Olly hacking and sputtering.

You reach out to ruffle his hair once he calms and he peeks at you feeling his throat and cheeks burn.

.

.

"Why do you want to be like Eli?" you side-eye Olly, interrupting his ranting.

"I-" Olly starts, and then finds he can't say the words in your presence. He thinks Eli is the only one that makes him feel something but-

Deep down, when he's with you, he's not sure that's entirely true.

You misread his pause for something else.

You shrug, "I like you as you are."

.

.

"Want some?" you ask, shaking the bottle of soju at him.

Olly bites his lip, "Eli wouldn't-"

"Ugh!" You cut in rudely. "I've never met the guy and I feel like I know everything about him. Will you shut up about Eli?"

"But Eli-"

"I said shut up," you pull him by his stupid collar and yank his stupid lips to yours.

You consider blaming your actions on the alcohol even though you've barely taken a sip.

Olly stares at you, dazed, but there's a fire in his eyes.

"Ok." He agrees, then adds as he adjusts his glasses. "Only if you'll do that again."

You raise your eyebrows at his audacity. At this strange boy who was tucked away in the corner of the library.

"I thought you said you couldn't feel anything?"

Olly gives you a grin, different from his trademark open-mouthed one. It's almost a smirk. His gaze meets yours, determined and unwavering.

"I think I might have felt something then."

You lean in, at the same time as he does, meeting him halfway and kissing him again.

[gonzo-rella]

Headcanons: Being Nonbinary and a Thunderbolt*

MASTERLIST | AO3

Pride Month 2025 #1

Relationship(s): The Thunderbolts/New Avengers x nonbinary!reader (platonic)

Warnings: Mentions of dysphoria, mentions of transphobia, possible typos because I'm trying to be less perfectionist about my silly little headcanon posts. (Let me know if I need to add any)

(A/N: My first MCU fic! And, my first Pride Month 2025 fic. I used to be really into the MCU back in 2019, but then my love of and interest in it dwindled post-WandaVision. I've spent the past 5 years wanting to get back into the MCU, and it was Thunderbolts* that convinced me to finally do it. I rewatched the Cap movies and the Avengers movies and finally watched Black Widow and TFATWS. I'll (probably) do a full watch through of the whole MCU ready for Fantastic Four next month. But, yeah, I really fell in love with these movies again and I can't wait to write for these characters. I wanna do a fic where the reader is Hawkeye's adopted kid and they come out to him as nonbinary, particularly with the reader having this backstory. If you'd be interested in that, let me know! Also, I wanna write romantically for Bucky, particularly with an enby reader with that same backstory. I wanna be Bucky's lameass nonbinary partner genuinely. As always, requests are open! I have no idea what to write, really, I'll add the MCU to my fandom list when I've done a full catch-up.)

You’ll be happy to know that everyone on the team is cool with the whole nonbinary thing.

Mostly.

Alexei is a little confused but has the spirit.

Definitely ‘his/her pronouns are they/them!’ energy.

He is curious but not judgemental, and if anything he thinks it’s pretty cool.

Yelena, Bucky and Ava are normal about it and don’t treat it like a big deal.

At first Bob is clearly nervous about messing up how he refers to you, so you might have to reassure him that it’s fine for him to mess up as long as he tries his best.

On the opposite end of the spectrum is Walker, who, when you first meet him, can’t give less of a shit about offending you.

He doesn’t go out of his way to do it, and he isn’t malicious about it, but I can imagine him thinking ‘oh, great’ and rolling his eyes about it.

He doesn’t strike me as someone who has queer friends. Or friends. Especially after he bashed that guy’s head in.

He misgenders you and the only apology he offers is sarcastic and otherwise insincere because he’s got bigger things to worry about, like his wife leaving him.

Of course, Bucky, Ava and Yelena will all tell him to shut up and stop being a dick.

I adore my silly little idea of Ava and Yelena misgendering him to piss him off and see how he would like it, and it isn’t long until he concedes that it’d just be less of a headache to show you some basic respect and refer to you properly.

And, he will actually come to not be bothered by referring to you properly in the end.

I feel like Ava’s main way of showing support is by being a dick to people who are dicks to you about the gender thing.

Bucky knew you long before the whole Thunderbolts/New Avengers thing.

(TLDR: My headcanon is that, after Civil War, you lived in Wakanda after Steve busted you out of prison, which gave you a chance to get to know Bucky and vice versa)

When he first met you, all he knew about you was that you had stuck your neck out to save him, something for which he was grateful.

And, if you had Steve’s stamp of approval, that was more than enough for him.

The whole ‘nonbinary’ thing was unfamiliar to him.

He’d noticed how you were referred to by Steve and the others.

He took the approach of not questioning it, despite being confused.

Not asking about it became unavoidable when you grew closer.

One night, when you were both sitting around a fire in Wakanda, he very awkwardly asked you about it, and you had a long conversation about it.

After that, he understands well enough and he gets the hang of gendering you correctly in no time.

(I’d like to think you help explain other queer concepts to him).

If someone is a dick to you, he will stand up for you.

Whether or not you can handle things yourself, he takes it upon himself to have your back, like you had his, and like he always had Steve’s.

It’s in his nature to stick up for the little guy, you know?

I’d like to think that, after Bucky and the rest of the population is revived post-blip, you remain close to him.

You wind up being his best friend by default.

And, he does his own research on queer shit because he cares that much about you and being a good friend to you.

He doesn’t admit it or bring it up.

Even though you’re friends, he feels awkward about asking you things directly too much.

Either way, it’s clear he’s done his homework.

I’d like to think, as a congressman, he does what he can to advocate for queer people like you.

I feel like Valentina would try to encourage you to be the LGBTQ+ New Avenger.

Even though, y’know, there’s probably a few fruits in that basket if you get what I’m saying.

Her image of you is one of a corporate Pride poster child- someone who can appeal to a demographic, rather than an actual person.

She will try to parade you around like her token queer associate.

Hopefully, you’ll have none of it.

Bucky and Yelena will advocate for you.

They will tell you not to do anything you don’t want to do or otherwise feel uncomfortable doing.

There’s something so compelling about a superhero who is given the opportunity to be positive, visible, real-life representation for their community whilst also knowing they’ll have to be palatable in a way that likely sacrifices facets of their own identity and experiences.

I haven’t seen much of The Boys but that’s a storyline in that show I think.

If you exclusively use they/them pronouns, or pronouns that aren’t ‘they’, ‘she’ or ‘he’, Val definitely fucks up your pronouns a suspicious amount of times for someone who likes to appear like an ally.

If you use any pronouns, she will default to the pronouns of your AGAB with the occasional ‘they’ thrown in for good measure.

She really is one of those kinds of people, I fear; someone who isn’t queerphobic but is performative in her allyship.

If/when you’re feeling dysphoric, Yelena will be there to listen to you vent.

I love the idea that Yelena will warn everyone that you’re not feeling great, and Alexei will take it upon himself to hype you up.

“Heyyy, if it isn’t the most not-woman, not-man person I know!”

He claps you on the back and looks to Yelena for approval that he just did allyship right.

Again, he’s a little confused but he’s got the spirit.

If you seem down and you’re clearly withdrawing from the rest of the team, I can imagine Bob asking you if you’re okay and stumbling over some clumsy words of comfort.

I feel like Yelena, Bucky and Bob would be more observant than the rest of your teammates when it comes to realising you’re reacting negatively to gender stuff.

They’re the ones who will catch you looking at your reflection for a few seconds too long, or obsessively readjusting your clothes or your hair, or doomscrolling through anti-trans headlines.

If you seem to be way too caught up in it, they’ll ask you if you’re alright, or otherwise try to distract you with something else (even if it’s obvious they know something’s up).

Ava will pick up on a lot of things but she is far less likely to say anything.

It’s not that she doesn’t care; it’s that she doesn’t think it’s her place to say anything because she wouldn’t be your ‘go-to’.

If she notices that you’re doomscrolling, though, I’d like to think she snatches your phone off you without a word.

You have to be so visibly bad for John or Alexei to notice.

And, even then, they might not realise it’s a gender thing.

But, if Alexei knows what’s wrong, he’ll try his best to comfort you.

He’s paternal like that.

John won’t bother saying anything.

His version of being nice is the bare minimum of not making you feel any worse.

Quickfire round:

If you’re transmasc, Alexei will offer to take you to do some stereotypically masculine activities.

He may also let you win an arm wrestling contest to make you feel better.

(If you couldn’t tell, I love the idea of Alexei being paternal to you).

If you ever want/need to go shopping for gender-affirming clothes, Yelena will be happy to go with you because clothes and other forms of self-expression mean a lot to her.

If you bind, Yelena and Bucky are really good at picking up if you’re doing it unsafely.

They will pick up on if you seem dehydrated or if your body language shows some discomfort, especially if you’re someone who isn’t great at taking care of themself.

In summary, you have some good teammates who look out for you.

[pannman]

ACE ALASTOR WEEK DAY 2 ACE 4 ACE DAY

Ace Alastor x Ace Reader

CW: Alastor's fans getting out of hand, talk of murder and death threats, Alastor inner turmoil

You noticed Alastor had been much more stressed lately. Most people wouldn't be able to tell. But you weren't most people. You were his oldest friend. You grew up together in New Orleans back in a time when getting married was basically a standard. Luckily the two of you both died before you could get too old to get away with still being single. In your time of knowing him you'd seen your fair share of women (and some men) pursue Alastor. He never cared for it.

But now that he was an overlord in hell, he was far more desired. He had an entire crowd of adoring fangirls, fanboys, and fan somewhere in the middles. He hated it. And for some reason he held back on slaughtering them. Something about not wanting his numbers to go below Vox's. Vox was his biggest competitor. Unlike Alastor, Vox loved the attention. Relished in it.

To be fair Alastor did love attention. Just not... this kind of attention. And if you were being honest... neither did you. Though you kept that mostly to yourself. That was until Alastor had to come to you looking quite unlike himself. His hair was disheveled, his forehead sweaty, and his bow tie crooked. His fluffy deer ears were drawn back as he booked it into the hotel entrance slamming the door behind him

He breathed heavy as if he'd been running. You had never seen quite like this. Even worse when you looked down at his bare hoof. "Alastor.... where's your shoe?" You asked with genuine concern. "They took it" he muttered in exasperation. "What do you mean they took it?" You asked with confusion. "They took my shoe as a trophy!" He said.

"Who did!?!" You questioned. "Those blasted obsessed deviants! They've grown feral since the last time they saw me and this time they chased me down and didn't back off when I tried to scare them away. They ran me over and tried to rip anything they could off of me. They got away with my shoe. They were distracted in fighting over it and I managed to escape" he growled. Vaggie, Husk and Angel instantly roared with laughter. Niffty joined in enthusiastically. "HAHAHAHAHA-why are we laughing?"

"If you think that's so funny, I will gladly shut you all up" he threatened. You decided to get him out of there before someone ended up dead. You took him to his room where the two of you could talk more in private. "Hey, Alastor don't let those guys get to you. I'm sorry you had to go through that" you comforted him. "I wish I could smite all those degenerate fans where they stand for putting me in that position" he said. "Well you know me I don't mind condoning violence. I'll help keep Charlie from freaking out if you want" you offered. He shook his head

"It's not that easy... I can't just kill them" he replied. "But, why not? I know you don't want to lose viewers and they are technically your viewers but-" he cut you off. "-It's more than that. I've never told anyone this before... but being pursued by others makes me... uncomfortable. I get so uncomfortable I can't think sometimes I even freeze. I can't harness my anger like normal. All I want to do is get away. I don't feel the desire for others the way other people do. But I can't exactly tell anyone that. But I trust you" he admitted. Him saying he trusted you filled you with warmth. And you trusted him. "I feel exactly the same. I've been afraid to tell anyone as well. Why do you think I never married?" You revealed.

Suddenly his eyes lit up. "That's it!" He exclaimed. "Marriage!" He grew excited. "What about marriage?' You asked. "You and I get married. I become 'taken' as they say and hopefully that will get rid of at least SOME of those depraved lunatics!" He sounded hopeful. You had never thought about Alastor in that way and you had never considered the idea of a platonic marriage. "I'm sure you're head is spinning my dear, but let me just add this. If you agree I will split my power with you. After all marriage is a promise to share everything with the one you love. And in many ways I do love you. I love you more than any other friend I've ever had" he made a lot of sense

"Well if you give me some of your power I can use it to be 'jealous' and chase your potential suitors away." You suggested. He seemed to like that idea. "You'd do that for me?" He asked. "I'd do anything for you" you answered. That was his cue. All he needed to hear. He got down on one knee and conjured up the most beautiful ring you'd ever seen. He still looked like he'd went through actual hell but he looked up at you calmer than he'd been in a long time. "Y/n, my best friend I've ever had, will you marry me?"

There was no hesitation.

"Yes!"

[legendofmorons]

Yooooo happy 2 year anniversary!!! As for the fic bingo,

SOULMATE AU WITH LEGEND I AM ON MY HANDS AND KNEES PLEASE 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏

I'm so normal about him I promise

Thank you!!!

I'm al SO normal about Legend ;)

(Soul) Marked hearts

Pairing: Legend x reader

Rating: T

Summary: In a world where you have the most important thing your soulmate says to you, printed somewhere on your body... you realize the man you love (and have loved for years) is your soulmate.

Warnings: cursing

Other: If I missed anything, please let me know

-------

You sit by the fire, side by side with your long time friend Legend. Cool summer night breezes lazily pass by as the star shin above you.

The others sleep peacefully as your shift of watch drags on.

"You didn't have to take watch with me." You say to him.

Legend shrugs half heartedly. "You get bored."

"I do." You smile.

He snorts, elbowing you gently.

You just roll tour eyes, leaning against him. It's one of the many privileges you are afforded as someone close to him.

Legend wraps one arm around you, staring out at the stars as everyone else sleeps. He rests his hand on your arm, the metal of his rings cooler than his flesh.

It's easy, being here with him. The way your mind wanders to what a life with him might entail is... nothing new.

You soak up the warmth and ease that radiates off him. This is something reserved for you.

Legend is a sweetheart. Under the jaded attitude, he's still kind. He's earned the right to be jaded. But here? When it's just the two of you?

He is always more open with you like this. He's comfortable enough with you to be softer. Comfort enough to be affectionate.

"Did you ever find your soulmate?" He asks you. "I know you wanted to."

You laugh. "Not yet. I... don't know that I care, either. You know?"

"I do."

"Oh?" You prompt, "Is there someone you want to pursue, bunny boy?"

"That's not my name." Legend huffs. He gives you a playful glare, too.

You smile. "Answer the question."

"Maybe. It's... not important. I don't think I have a chance." Legend pulls you closer.

You lean with it, humming. "Why not?"

"I doubt I'm their soulmate. You know the world we live in." He gives a half shrug.

His tone is bitter, and he sounds genuinely resigned to a fate without whoever it is he is talking about.

You fall silent, searching the fire for answers as if it can reassure you. What are you supposed to say?

You can't let yourself hope he's talking about you.

The urge to reassure him is stringer than any jealousy you have over a man that isn't yours. You love him, you don't want him upset.

"Well... Fuck em." You offer and smile at him, "If they don't feel the same their a total fool."

"Really? That's all you got?" He huffs, raising one brow.

"Yep." You say, poping the 'p'.

Legend stares at you with unreadable eyes. He looks at you, searching for something but you can't say what.

He looks back to the stars.

You settle back down against him.

Legend rubs your arm with his hand where it rests, arm still around you like a promise.

You don't know what it's a promise of, just that it is.

Minutes pass, silent companionship a steady beat in your heart.

Legend finally asks, "If... I tell you something, you can't laugh at me. Okay?"

"I make no promises." You say immediately. "When people say that they tell me things that make me laugh."

"It's not a joke." Legend says.

His voice is firm, but his frame shakes slightly against you.

You frown, pulling out of his hold and sitting up on your own. You watch his face for any hint of what he wants to say.

"I'm listening." You tell him. "I won't laugh."

"Did you mean what you said, that I should tell them?" Legend asks, voice quiet and shaking.

You offer a nod.

He looks at you with a vulnerability you rarely see on him. He looks sea sick.

"Okay." He says, letting out a breath.

"Take your time." You soothe. "It's okay."

Legend nods weakly. He is looking directly into your eyes.

He takes a deep breath, setting his shoulders before he speaks.

"I don't care if you're my soulmate, I chose you. You're who I want at my side, as my partner, as my spouse if you want to get married." He says, voice firm even as he looks ready to run.

You let out a gasp.

He watches you, hands shaking as he fists them in his lap.

You know those words.

Those are the words that's are printed on one of your shoulder blades.

Legend said-

Oh.

"Fuck, man." You breathe out.

You want to laugh a little. You don't, but the surprise is there.

Legend flinches.

"It's really you, Link." You say in awe, "You're the one."

He blinks, confusion flitting across his face. "What?"

"It's your words on me. It's you!" You smile.

His breath catches. He knows those words. Those are the words printed on his sternum.

You're hugging him quickly, heart beating too fast as you knock your knee against his in the movement.

Legend hugs you back on reflex, sucking in a breath. "We're so stupid."

You laugh softly, setting your forehead on his shoulder. "We're soulmates."

"I'm glad it's you." Legend decides.

You grin, pulling away to look at him again. "How long can we go before the others realize we're together?"

"We're together now?" Legend asks with a smirk.

"Yes." You say, taking his hand in your own. "You're mine forever, bunny boy."

"Only if you're mine too."

"Good." You say, pulling his hand to up and pressing a kiss to it.

"Sap." He acusses. Then he gives you a smirk. "We could probably go for a week or two before they put it together."

You laugh, "Yeah?"

"Absolutely."

You lean against him again, setting your joined hands on your thigh. "This is nice."

He hums, "It is."

"For what it's worth... I chose you too, Link."

He smiles, face red. "Yeah?"

"Forever."

Legend hums once. "Forever sounds... great."

You smile up at him.

He means it, too. He knows he's prickly and he has bad days, but if you'll have him he'll stay with you. Forever.

[twst-aceofhearts]

Take A Break!

a/n: you can't stop me from loving ace :) also epel fic is next @waterthatsmoe just for u <3

tw: Yuu overworking themself

pairing: ace x gn!yuu

words: 1049

taglist: @luxaryllis @thegoldencontracts @waterthatsmoe

Ace had noticed how Yuu had been helping multiple people with anything they need. He didn’t say anything at first, but he slowly noticed how you started to neglect your own needs.

Yes, he’s a bit of a troublemaker, but he still looks out for his friends. From his conclusion, Yuu is putting too much stress on themself. So, like a good friend, he brought this up to them. When they brushed him off, he got a tad bit annoyed. Like the stubborn person Yuu was, they tried to convince him that they were perfectly fine.

The dark circles under their eyes said otherwise. Ace saw how Yuu had been cramming test material lately because they didn’t have any time for themself.

Ace doesn’t like to be pushy, but Yuu’s behavior was honestly starting to get to him. Nonetheless, he didn’t want to leave them alone.

“Dude, this is how you make yourself pass out. Are you trying to get yourself a trip to the nurse’s office? Man, just put the book down!” He scolds them, trying to take Yuu’s pencil away from them. They’ve been doing Proffesor Trein’s assignment for the past hour. Ace tried to offer some help again, but it was met with a hard no by Yuu.

“I swear, I can’t tell who’s more stubborn: you or Riddle…That says a lot!” Ace grumbled under his breath before sending a glare towards Yuu. He was going to help them one way or another.

“Nngh…I’m not getting help from someone who has lower grades than mine..” Yuu huffed, groggily trying to take their pencil back.

“Seriously?! You’re going to use that stupid reasoning?!” Ace was not impressed, holding the pencil higher out of Yuu’s reach. 

He scowls and looks away. “You’re not always this stubborn, you know?! You always help others and then you end up exhausting yourself. How many times have you overslept for class because you were pulling another all-nighter to study the night before?” He sighs, grabbing Yuu’s wrist and pulling it back down, stopping them from reaching for their pencil. “You’re not a machine, and you need to relax sometimes. Even Riddle does that every once in a while. So please, listen to me—just this once.”

Yuu stayed silent, their tensed shoulders slightly relaxing. They ceased their attempt to grab their pencil back, their hand falling limp in his grasp.

Ace sighs, slowly calming down. After all, anger wouldn’t solve the issue. “Look, I just want to help, Yuu. You need to get better at letting others assist you. If you don’t, you’ll get worse every time. You might even start developing anxiety if you keep putting so much pressure on yourself. It’s not healthy. It’s dangerous,” Ace frowns, his expression disapproving. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself because you’re being reckless.”

I…damn you and your..stupidly effective way of words…mmph..” Yuu huffed, pulling away their hand from his grasp, placing their hands on their lap. “...fine…I’ll take a break…”

Ace’s frown turns into a small smile. He slowly extends his hand, holding out their pencil to them. “See, that wasn’t so hard.”

He sits next to Yuu, crossing his arms over his chest and tilting his head to the side. “...if you don’t mind, can I ask you a question? It’s not about your horrible study habits, so don’t worry.”

“...shoot,” Yuu sighed, gently rubbing their tired eyes.

“Why do you try so hard to help others? I mean, you barely have time for yourself and you’re still trying to be there for others. You’re the kind of person who always puts other first; you barely think of your own well being. Why?” Ace’s eyes slowly trail over Yuu’s face. The dark circles under their eyes were a little concerning.

“...You want the short version or the long one?”

“The long version, please,” He nodded, genuinely wanting to know what was going on through Yuu’s mind.

“...Back in my world I didn’t really have anyone to look to for help. Or..anything at all. It’s just me. I was alone. No family, no friends—I don’t want other people to go through the same things I did…” Yuu trailed off near the end, their tone becoming more reserved and their voice lowering in volume.

Ace stares at you for a moment, before sighing inaudibly. “I didn’t know,” He gently places his hand on your shoulder, giving Yuu a warm smile. “But, you’re not alone now. You have friends, you have me,” he ruffles your hair fondly.

“...it’s unsettling when you’re not acting like a troublemaker—being all cheesy like this instead.” Yuu blinked, closing their eyes for a moment, then opening them before they fell asleep.

He lets out a light chuckle, poking your forehead. “Heh, but that’s why you like me, don’t you?” He smirked, his usual carefree smile returned.

“Ah there it is….wait, where’d you get that idea from?” Yuu narrowed eyes, feeling their cheeks heat up into an “unnoticeable” pink. 

He grins teasingly. “Well, you put up with me. And your face always turns pink when I’m being nice to you. Like now—it’s adorable~”

“I-...damn you…” 

“Hehe, I’m a little correct, huh?” He laughs again, pulling away slowly. “Just relax for now, okay? Don’t push yourself too hard.” 

Yuu sighed, too tired to care about his teasing remarks anymore at this point, standing up to sit on Ace’s bed.

Ace watched Yuu for a moment, before he followed behind them, sitting down next to Yuu. “Tired? If you are, you can take a little nap.”

Yuu nodded, thus leading to Ace gently laying Yuu down and tucking them into the covers. “After all this studying, you could use a small break. Besides, you look more tired than usual.”

Yuu let out a small hum, bringing their legs up and tucking their knees into their chest. “...Can you…” Yuu trailed off, feeling a sudden wave of shyness.

Ace smiled slightly, gently patting their head. “Yes, I’ll stay here until you’re asleep. Don’t worry about anything. Sweet dreams, idiot.”

Yuu let out a small huff. “The only idiot here is you…” They mumbled, burying their face into the pillow cover.

Ace laughed quietly, keeping a hand on Yuu’s head before he slowly started stroking their head. “Yeah, whatever….sleep well.”

credit to @cafekitsune for divider

[accio-sriracha]

On The Ministry's Galleon

A snippet of a Drarry WIP <3

Content warning: slightly smutty implications

Everyone please feel free to send me any number between 1 and 200 to get a snippet from a fic!!

This is #3 for @garden-of-runar

Description:

Harry has to make a late night call to his Auror partner Malfoy about a case they're working on.

One thing leads to another, and nothing would ever be the same between them again.

(Or: Harry accidentally teaches Malfoy how to have phone sex.)

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Harry gave a frustrated sigh, staring at the paperwork that sprawled the table in front of him.

"Can't anybody get anything done around here? You're honestly telling me that neither of them has turned in their reports? It's been weeks, Malfoy."

Harry's voice was sharp, coming out far harsher than he meant for it to.

Malfoy made a strange sound on the other end. There was a sudden static he couldn't quite place. It sounded almost like the noise a blanket would make being moved too close to the receiver.

Harry paused.

"Are you in bed right now, Malfoy? Merlin, I'm sorry. I should have realised I was going to wake you up calling you at this hour."

He checked the time again. It was much later than he thought. He'd been working for nearly four hours.

"I'll-er, I'll let you get back to sleep, then. I'll finish up what I can from here. Thanks for the help." 

He was just about to hang up when the static suddenly got louder.

"Wait-" Malfoy's voice was far away. There were more shuffling sounds, then his voice was right next to the phone again. "Wait. I'm sorry. You're fine. I wasn't sleeping. It's these... muggle devices. They won't listen from far away." 

Harry frowned. Malfoy's voice was edging back towards that strange pitch from before.

"Right... earlier you said you were... cooking?" 

Malfoy exhaled slowly. The sound crackled in Harry's ear. "I might have lied about that." 

Harry laughed quietly. "Why would you lie about what you're doing?" He asked, a mixture of curiosity and amusement.

His tone was light, but Malfoy's panic only grew in response. 

"No- no, I- I didn't-" He stumbled over his words, something Harry had never heard him do before.

Harry's laugh was louder this time, more genuine.

"Malfoy, it's fine. I'm not judging you or whatever it is you're worried about." 

"Right." Malfoy made another odd, strangled sound. "I have to go-" 

"Wait-" Harry called. "Wait, I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to pry. It's none of my business what you're doing."

He paused suddenly, remembering the sound of Draco's heavy breathing and edgy voice. That, and the fact that he was definitely lying in bed, caused another thought to pop unprompted into Harry's mind.

"Hang on... are you... are you with someone right now?" He asked.

"With someone?" Malfoy repeated distractedly. There was the sound of a drawer being rummaged through.

It took another moment longer before the question seemed to catch up with him.

"With- Salazar, Potter. I'm not some common whore." 

"I never said you were," Harry shot back, his laugh escaping him again without him meaning to.

He'd never laughed this much during a conversation with Malfoy... ever. 

"I'm just... I'm dealing with something at the moment and it's requiring more of my attention than I would like for it to." He cleared his throat, sounding awkward again.

This was strange for Harry. Never in all the years they'd known each other had Malfoy ever been awkward. 

"Do you need help?" Harry asked, frowning. "You seem... upset. Is there anything I can do?" 

It took a solid six seconds for Malfoy to reply.

"Please don't say that," he whispered. 

"Say what?" Harry asked. "Don't offer you help? I'm your partner, Malfoy. That's sort of what we do." 

Another strangled sound. 

"Potter-" His voice broke off. The phone made everything sound different than in person but Harry could still pick up the trace of panic. 

"Malfoy, tell me what you need." Harry sat up straighter in his chair, the beginnings of worry starting to spread through him. "Are you in trouble? Do you want me to come over?" 

"Oh, Merlin, please do not come over right now-" The words fell from his lips in a breathy sort of way, as if he'd been running a marathon and only just now had the chance to get some air. 

"Malfoy, tell me what's going on."

"I-" Malfoy broke off again. He made a sound in the back of his throat that Harry's couldn't quite make out. "Gods-" 

Harry's eyebrows pinched together. Everything about this was setting off all sorts of alarms in his mind. 

"Are you hurt? You sound hurt." Harry stood, collecting his things. "I'm coming over." 

"Wait-" Malfoy shouted suddenly, so loud Harry had to yank the phone back from his ear. "Wait- please. I-"

Harry could hear him swallow hard.

"I'm not hurt, I'm just... I'm just a little out of sorts at the moment. 

Harry snorted. "Yeah, I kind of gathered that already, Malfoy. If you don't tell me what's going on in the next five seconds, I'm flooing over to check on you." 

There was another sound, something similar to a choked sob.

Harry grabbed his wand, slipping into his boots on the way to the fireplace. 

"I'm-" Malfoy let out a slow breath again. "I'm dealing with an... intimate issue at the moment, Potter." 

His voice was so quiet Harry almost didn't hear him.

Harry kept walking even as he replied, swinging his coat over his shoulders without breaking his stride. 

"What? What does that mean? Like private? Malfoy, I don't care about your privacy if it means you don't get help when you're injured." 

"I'm-" Malfoy groaned in frustration. "I'm in the middle of something I would really prefer you not to walk in on." He amended, sounding strained. "It's difficult enough being on a call with you, I would just very much appreciate if you would give me some privacy while I try to... sort this out." 

Harry shook his head even though he knew Malfoy couldn't see him.

"Not good enough. You're acting weird. I'm not hanging up until I know you're okay." 

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, Potter." Malfoy hissed, sounding closer to the phone again. "I'm... I was trying to get off before you called me, alright?" 

Harry froze mid-stride. It was a miracle he didn't drop the phone from his hand. 

He didn't reply, mostly out of shock, but partly because he didn't know what he would say if he could. 

[astracora]

EVER's Tool - Chapter 2

Characters: Poly!LADs x gn!mc (MC POV/Sylus POV/Zayne POV), Caleb x gn!mc

Warnings: Hurt/No Comfort, Angst, Talk of EVER Experiments and Torture, Violence, Gore, Spoilers for multiple anecdotes and all current story.

Word Count: 11028

Written: 28th January 2025

Notes: Established-relationship with gn!MC with all LADs, with my personal pov of the game and lil headcanons littered in. Unnamed MC, but using my personal MC's basic appearance and adjusted backstory. I take some liberties with what the game offers me. This took me too long, and then Caleb was released, and then I fell into the pit. Anyway, here we go. Chapters for this are gonna be way slower cause for some reason I made em... longer??? I dunno why I did this but hey. Anyway, um... enjoy?

Now Playing: As We Fall, by League of Legends

Masterlist AO3

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It is in one of the old labs, where Raincoat finds you later, as though he'd been looking for you.

He watches for a moment as you sit against a wall, hand extended out in front of you. Clenching the segmenting fingers, over and over. Trying to seek something out, you're just not sure what. Like there should be something there, grounding you.

"You good there?"

"Fine." You exhale, turning sharp eyes to him, as he raises his hands in mock defence.

"Hey, don't give me that look, I came to chat."

"I don't recall us being friends."

He bears a title like yours. You know that Raincoat is just a pseudonym, passed down. You don't know how many there have been, but he's certainly not the first. He definitely won't be the last. Until EVER no longer need killers at their beck and call, there will always be a Raincoat.

You do wonder, however, why they choose that name for his ilk. Was it a fashion favourite of the first one?

Easy to wipe blood off, you suppose.

You've never asked his name, you've never wanted to know. If anything happens, and he ends up on the list, it's easier if he's just another face. Someone whose history you don't know. Someone whose face gets lost in the static.

"Come on now, you're always such a grouch." He sits on the table in front of you, and that smug irritating smile ticks at the corner. It overlaps for a second, sharp canines, before it shatters. "I just wanted to ask if you'd dealt with the doctor yet."

"I don't fail my missions, Raincoat. Are you here just to ask stupid questions?"

"I told you, I came to chat. You're the most fun person to talk to in this place. Everyone else doesn't like bloody hands."

You snort despite yourself. You think of all the scientists with their sins on their shoulders, and the fear and dislike in their eyes when they see you or Raincoat. Like their torture is more palatable than your killing.

As though there aren't dead children in the shadows of EVER's growth.

"The feeling isn't mutual." You respond, but ease a little. Raincoat can't be trusted, he's manipulative, a trained liar, and he wants others to think him a fool. Still, if you keep an eye on his hands, you doubt you'll need to look too hard for a dagger coming.

Afterall, if you fail, someone like him will be sent for you, then after the doctor.

'Darling'

"Ouch, one day you'll want to talk to me."

"If that day comes, we have bigger problems to worry about."

He laughs but it's an empty, cool gesture. A feeling that holds no weight, that does not matter. Like so many feelings you experience in this place. Like everyone is behind a wall, and you're watching. Seeking something out. Something genuine.

"Look, I just wanted to know if you'd come across him yet-" Warm forest eyes, tears glimmering in them, wavering on the edge, "'cause I've run into him before."

"You have?"

"Yeah, they've had me keep an eye on him. Along with that scientist they keep sending to talk to him. Carl? Cartier? Whatever his name is, an old friend. I dunno why though, the guys never gonna convince Li to join."

You keep hearing it. He won't join, he won't join. Why wouldn't he join? Why would he suddenly join them now?

"What do you know about him?"

"Come on now, Unicorn, information is expensive."

You lean forwards, stretching claws out and glint sharp edges at the man, who raises his hands again. His laugh is still empty, but it verges on unsure. Like he isn't ready to test if you'll use it.

You don't want him to know you won't, not if you don't have to. Not unless the noose pulls around your throat.

"You really are their favourite hunting dog aren't you? Some people skills could go a long way."

"Like you? Smiling like a serpent in the grass? I don't need to lie to my targets. I just need to get rid of them."

"I bet holding your chain is a rough ride, do you often bite the hand that feeds you too?"

You want to cut his throat open, it is a clawing need at the bottom of your gut. Every EVER dog that pretends you're the only pet kept. Like he isn't aware that when his value runs dry, he will be put down, or left chained in a kennel in the cold until it claims him. You wonder if they're all so unaware of their lack of value. That a bottom line and a higher goal are all that matter. That whoever hands down your orders, is probably just as expendable.

You don't know what EVER want, they would never bother to tell you. You've heard stories, immortality and overwhelming power. You think it must be like every other organisation with more money and status than they know what to do with.

It is the knowledge that makes it easier. You have a job, when that job is over, you will finally be granted release from your chains. If it comes in the form of death, you think that will be more than you deserve.

"You can talk, or you can leave. You can also leave in chunks, that's your call." You snarl, pushing up from the ground, and walking past the man. Not before reaching out a claw and cutting through the end of his raincoat.

"Alright, alright." He sighs, looking down at his clothing, "Now I have to buy a new one."

"Don't you have like fifty of them? Why else would you have that stupid title?"

"I didn't pick it, did you pick Unicorn?"

No. You're waiting for the namesake to be accurate. Sword through your skull, quiet in your brain.

"And I know you didn't pick the other one-" This time you extend your dagger at him, pointed edge aiming for throat, teeth bared. Snarl burning through your throat. "Woah, I'm not gonna say it. I like my head attached."

You think of Leon as he purrs it at you, as he says it like you are his favourite doll. You think about the way you want to tear his head from his shoulders, to tear limb from limb, to watch him rot. Before you are removed from service, you will take the man with you. So that he can never turn your stomach or anyone else's again.

"Speak."

"I thought I wa- Ok, alright. Doctor Li isn't going to just roll over for EVER, whatever they're going to manipulate him with, it's big. I've seen him. He gives sweets to kids, eats most of them himself. One for you, two for me." Raincoat mimes, when he receives nothing but a raised brow, he continues, "He gets a sad look in his eyes whenever a cat runs away from him. I've seen him pull cat toys out of his pocket to try to get them to come over. Sometimes it works, sometimes… well. He gets real sad."

"So he's a soft heart, what does that matter? All hearts can break."

"He's moral. He abhors what Xander Science is doing, and he knows EVER owns them."

"I'm not hearing anything new."

You think about the man with the green eyes bending down in front of cats, extending his fingers, and frowning just slightly when the creature bolts. You think about him offering bonbons out of his pocket. You think about white lab coats and glasses pushed up as he smiles, as he tends to a jasmine.

There's something in your chest that stings and hurts in the cold. You think of frozen over petals, black ice and twisted shapes.

"He's living with three other people in a fancy house in Linkon."

That is new… Raincoat knows where he lives, but the information wasn't in the file?

"Where?"

"So I was right, they didn't tell you."

"What are you talking about?"

"No, nothing, just curious about the kind of information they give you, to let their favourite dog fulfill their hunt." You get the urge to sharpen your dagger on his bones. Chipping and carving through them.

The urge passes quickly enough, but the irritation at the smug smile does not. "They give me what I need to finish a job."

"No doubt about that, you have quite a record. I'll send you the address. You sure you want to go though? Taking someone from their home's quite a risk, maybe that's why they didn't share it. Easier to catch him coming out of work."

"I can catch him coming out of his home just as easily." It's not pride, or confidence. Not really. You fill your missions, you come home, you hand over a finished product. You are good at what you do. There is little doubt. It does not fill you with joy, to complete a job. It is simply to avoid punishment.

There are no fistbumps. No high-five. No congratulations…

No energetic voice telling you, you did good.

You aren't sure why you ever thought there would be.

"Alright." You watch Raincoat mess with his device for a moment, before he shrugs, "Don't say I didn't warn you."

"If a warning from you would save me, I hav-"

"Bigger problems to worry about, I get it. Have you ever had friends?"

You don't bother answering him, leaving the room, twirling the dagger.

How would you even know? Years all lost to static, memories scattered to the winds. You were told the only person that mattered to you was Caleb, and if that's true… you cannot even remember him.

Perhaps your affections held no weight, perhaps even you and Caleb were empty, like you and every other person in the compound. Was it so meaningless to have a picture of the two of you, that his presence means so little to the you now?

Dogs can be loving, so you don't think it's the chain around your throat that stops you…

There is little in EVER that is worth caring for… perhaps the you now, lost their only chance at feeling more than dim acceptance. Tired withdrawal.

A need to see the end, and pass over. Perhaps then you can see Caleb, and remember what it felt like to care.

If he can care back, and not look at bloodied hand and broken carapace in disgust.

Perhaps you should be relieved he's not around to see you, to see the blood splatter up the lab walls. You can't imagine anyone would look at EVER's dog and not sneer.

—-

The training room is too warm.

You've spent four hours testing the limits of the new EVOL's you've been fed. Teleporting through space, mindless music thrumming through the background. It is hard to reign them in, pain ripping through your flesh as you reach for something you can't fully control.

Resonance is a powerful tool, you've been told. It is instinctual, breathing, a part of you. Every EVOL that has been devoured by it, is like the clawed hand. Attached to you, grotesque, too distinct. Too alien to really understand.

The first time you had tried to pull lightning to your clawed fist, you had felt the ozone burn. Tearing through the carapace, pain ripping through the limb. Shattering and twisting through it, until you had lay on the ground. Shaking, vomiting and screaming from the pain of it.

Your residual limb twitching as they pulled you away from the scorched floor.

Trying to feel for the lightning through your attachment was like feeling through thick mud. It was not at the surface of your skin, like calling your resonance to your other hand was. It was weak and hard to grasp, and if you did not grasp correctly… too tightly.

To summon something that could burn through your skin, with flesh and blood, felt like a fool's task. You sacrificed three attachments to the electricity before you could hold it in palm. For a short period of time, then the pain spread out from your shoulder, down to your chest.

Your heart thudding, thumping, racing, then screaming in protest.

Breath short, broken, fleeting.

You shook it out, releasing your hold, pulling away from the EVOL that did not wish to be held. Not by you.

You weren't sure where it had once belonged, you just knew it was not yours.

Weeks had been spent trying to harness the second, dampening. A power that should have been able to weaken or suppress the EVOLs of those around you. Harder to grasp, like it was in direct conflict with your resonance. Fighting it everytime you summoned it to the forefront.

A caged beast that did not belong in your chest, nestled amongst your heart. Teeth and claws, unrestrained fury. It does not wish to be used, or called to heel. It demands more space in your heart than can be allowed.

It is an unruly and uncontrolled tool. Without great focus and peace, it is impossible to use for combat.

You had only ever used it once, successfully breaking sound amplification, bringing you to your knees. Head splitting with the pressure of it. It had felt, for a moment, like the EVOL had taken pity on you.

Alive and warm, before it faded back into the recesses. Refusing to return to your hand.

Without snapping its jaws at resonance with vicious glee.

The easiest to use was the time EVOL, a weak little thing. It's uses limited, like a child's gift. Bursts and flickers of a power that flitted like a butterfly.

You could use it to slow time around you for snapshots. Using it to move out of danger, flickering out of existence to flee. Only useable on yourself, or things you held in grasp.

It always listened, curled around your fingers like a small hand. Seeking out the heat of your flesh for comfort. Like if it did not behave, it would be left alone in the cold.

Against all, resonance continues to be the only form of power that feels like you. There are moments when you use it, that you can almost feel it respond like a vine seeking out something that is no longer there. Poking, prodding, out into space.

You think of ivy on the sides of buildings, growing eternally seeking out comfort in shade that is not there.

Unclear what it seeks, an answer you can't give, not with no memories and static in your senses…

You just know that when it meets the other EVOLs that settle in your body, it recoils as though they don't belong.

Like its instinct has been to eat, ravenous and starving, without checking its food was not toxic, and now it writhes in pain at the result.

If it is such a part of you, you're not sure what that says about who you are.

A hungry, desperate beast, perhaps. Seeking out a thing you can never find.

A poisoned dog in the woods, waiting for the pain to ebb away.

Perhaps both.

It is when you lose focus, teleporting into a wall, stumbling back with your hand against your head, that you feel the exhaustion finally catch back up with you.

Escaping sleep, running on fumes, caffeine and sugar. If EVER had wanted you to be a sufficient tool, you think they would have removed the need for sleep.

Erased illness.

Removed your capability for pain.

You hiss as you ease the ache in your forehead, leaning back against the offending wall and taking a deep inhale.

It is the struggle eternal. To sleep and regain your strength, to finish a job. To reduce the chances of failing, of finding out what is on the other end of failing a job for EVER… versus the knowledge of what awaits you in the dark of your own mind.

Broken images and pain you can't put into place. Nightmares of things you don't recognise. Feelings you can't hope to understand.

There is no escape in the land of dreams, no comforting space to find safe and happy. No place to walk to remind you of times when you might have had a hand to hold, or a smile to greet you. Your dreams do not offer you the memories of Caleb, do not recreate the smile he has in the lone photo.

Perhaps if they did, you would escape to them often.

The close call with the red eyed man played in your mind. The mist that grasped your limbs, the arms around your body. The protest in your ribs as his muscles worked. The ache. The awareness that your body was still fragile.

You think about being dragged, and caged, and taken somewhere else against your will.

Against electric shocks through your skin. Scalpels through your body.

Waking up with your chest opened up, the agony of awareness, and the horror of a body that did not feel like your own.

There is something about the devil you know, after all, and the devil you do not know, with his shining red eyes…

You would rather not find out what lies on the other end, it is hard to imagine anything worse, but the static and the fear of his growl of a voice, that tore through you like the lightning through your attachment, did not make you wish for the risk.

The knowledge and the awareness was something to shy from. It always brought the abstract reminder of pain and loss.

If it kept you off that table then you'd have to brave what your brain concocted.

Figures in the shadows, and voices on the edges of your consciousness.

—--

EVER are careful, Sylus knows this well. He's used to them hiding, he's used to hunting for each head of the hydra. Cutting it back and cauterising the wound. What he can reach. What he can grasp.

He feels, however, like he is chasing his tail. Like they can see him coming, and have begun to lead him to dead ends. To mysteries that he has no time to solve. Sanitariums, graveyards, old bases, laboratories that matter little in their grand scheme.

Laying out crumbs for him, letting him take pieces on the chess board, while keeping the win out of his hands.

He is not a stupid man, he is used to playing games that feel unwinnable. Immense power can often push down any enemy without hindrance.

This, however, is him looking for a hidden jewel, in a desert. The longer he takes, the further you get from him.

The colder his home grows.

The evening that the doctor and fish had returned, hollowed out and on the verge of cracking, he had watched them fracture in ways he wasn't sure he could fix.

The doctor had sequestered himself away, and when Sylus had investigated, he had been staring at documents on experimentations with wanderers. Xander Sciences stamped across the top. Trying to understand the lengths that had been followed to attach one of their limbs to you.

The fish had first lay in one of the larger bath tubs, head under water, embraced by the coldest he could find. Staring up at the ceiling. A heartbroken, cracked song had flowed from under the door frame. He normally loved to hear the fish and you sing… this… this felt like an elegy. Taking him back to bloodied swords and your figure chained in front of his haunted eyes.

Eventually Rafayel had pulled himself out of the water, sopping wet and trudged into the bedroom, finding his way to Sylus' side. Dripping over the covers and curling up on his chest. If his tears were muffled into his chest, he didn't mention it. Just soothed hands he hoped did not shake, down the lemurian's back. Humming under his breath.

Not an elegy, never in mourning, just one of the songs he'd heard you singing a hundred times. Just another thing that was as familiar to him as everything about you.

It should have been a relief to know you were alive, and in some ways it truly was, but he knew the fish was tired. Of being forgotten, of watching you leave. Of knowing you were not returning to his arms just yet.

An ache and pain that lit up the canvas for his art, but left him hollowed and hurting.

After the water had cooled Sylus' skin through his clothes, the hair sticking to Rafayel's face, as he looked up at the man, he retrieved a towel with his EVOL. Easing it over skin, and brushing through wet hair.

"They're coming back to us." He speaks, and it is more assured than he feels. It is as hopeful as it is a need. He cannot go another lifetime without you, neither can the Lemurian, not since having you. In every beautiful flaw. He will chase every life with you, but this one… This one is special. This one is a family and a home, he cannot give it up without being killed once and for all.

He will put this immortal body to use, the way it should be used.

Rafayel nods against him, not moving, and it is moments before he falls asleep.

Sylus wonders at the dreams of the fish, before he decides to chase his own slumber for once, unwilling to disturb the peace that is so rare.

Days later he is working through information. There is something to be said for each of his family members. Rafayel has connections that even he does not have access too, and while he is often tempted to ask, he doesn't want to pry when the fish is willingly digging into it to find any sight of your tail.

Zayne has talked to anyone with connections to EVER, looking into Xander Sciences, digging through all of the correspondence he has ever had for any hint. Though he had come up empty, without accepting offers that his conscience, and his morals can never live with.

Xavier, after healing, had returned to working. Using the Associations information, talking to your captain, seeking out information from people he could trust there. A disappearance was one thing, a return with EVER's mark upon your collar, and a wanderer limb attached to you, was easier for them to mobilise for.

Though Sylus was unsure how reliable they could be, considering you disappeared on a mission for them.

Luke and Kieran have been working double time, in a way he has not seen them move in quite some time. They fulfil orders, of course, but it is never with the kind of violent desperation he sees in them now. Like they have a timeframe, and if they can't beat it, they will fade away.

He thinks about Kieran carving crystals out of his skin, of never having enough time to live.

They know better than anyone what cruelty EVER can commit for their needs. He should not be surprised when they return, disappointed and dirty.

"Nothing there boss."

"We asked around too, no one saw anything."

They're despondent, he realises. Looking at the two as they move their masks to the side. They have taken to wearing the crow hoodies you bought them, more and more. He has debated pulling them off, so that he can wash them, perhaps in the laundry detergent you prefer. Like he's trying to soothe cats whose owner has not returned.

It's not the best thing to wear for jobs, but he doesn't want to watch the twins shrink in on themselves more. There is dirt smudged over Kieran's cheek, against one of his scars, and Sylus blinks and sees you.

Scars through your skin, twisting your lips when you smile.

It blurs into the blank, cold look he received days ago.

The chill in his heart has to be chased away by the wine he drinks from his glass, as he flicks the screen on his tablet. "They're not going to make it easy for us."

Kieran snorts, sitting on the edge of his desk, to stare down at the tablet, looking for something. Anything, Sylus thinks. Like if they look at what he's found, maybe something will click.

Maybe their experiences will mean something, now. Pain justified.

As though it were ever so easy.

"Any other places we can check on the list, boss?" Luke tilts his head, the hood slips further over his eyes.

They look tired, and worn, and hungry. "No, not until I've gone through this. Go get some sleep, and get some food out of the fridge. There should be plates to reheat."

Always now. Food cooked at speed, stuffed into fridges, waiting for spare time stolen from frantic searching.

He cannot remember the last time a meal was shared around a table. Laughter in the walls of his home.

He misses it more than he would ever be able to confess to another. At least not right now, when he has to be strong. Stronger, even, for those who are fighting alongside him.

"But boss-"

"It's an order, if you fall over out of exhaustion, you won't be able to do your jobs."

The two look at each other, sharing a world he can't begin to touch, let alone understand, before they return resigned. Frustration lurking under the edges, of a loyalty he isn't sure they realise they've offered him, and a tired relief, bled into gratitude.

He can keep sending them on more chases, but every piece he claims, every facility abandoned or worthless to EVER, has made him more aware that where he is searching, is not the answer.

While it is unlikely you lie in the heart of EVER's web, they have sequestered you somewhere he cannot see.

Sylus' eyes are many things, but blind? Never. He has always seen the things others could not, even if he has not wanted to. Even if it haunted him. Why now, he cannot seek his own greatest desire, perhaps a punishment for blood or sins. The result of being a monster that lives on the sins of others.

He can only find relief that two plates are missing when he checks on them, dead to the world and curled up in one of the bedrooms set aside for them.

He still cannot remember if it was your idea or his own.

As he cleans up the mess they have left, he receives a message from the fish.

'I think I have something, come here.'

Sylus is unsure if he's ever moved as quickly, as he does, when he pushes his bike past the limits of what even the N109 Zone would comfortably allow.

—----

"Look, I can't tell you everything."

"You need to tell me something."

"I'll tell you what I can!"

When he arrives, Sylus hears before he sees. Rafayel stood, arms crossed but dagger in hand, turning it this way and that. Eyes narrowing on a man stood in a raincoat.

Tacky, with a torn edge.

"Did you ruin this man's coat, fish?"

Rafayel looks up, huffs and shrugs loosely, "He must have had a run in with someone else."

The man in question raises his hands, placating, and careful, now that someone else has arrived. A smile that looks too relaxed, makes Sylus look at his hands. Steady, fingerprints gone.

"Yeah, I had a run in with this nasty dog in my neighbourhood. It's got the worst temper, no good handlers. Likes to snarl."

"And- I don't care. Tell him."

Sylus steps up next to the fish, red glistening eye focusing on the man. Seeing… nothing. Emptiness.

He hesitates. Humans are full of greed and desires. They burn with it, as alive as souls can be, even if they're twisted, corrupt little things. This one, is either the one most closest to their mortal image of purity, or as broken as they come.

"Name's Raincoat."

"Idiotic name, tell me what you need to tell me."

The man huffs through his nose, "Do all of you have the people skills of a dead goat?"

"Is that a comparison people often make?"

His hands return to his sides, shoved into too deep pockets, but his smile remains. It does not offer an ounce of comfort. Sylus has seen smiles like his on other faces. It accompanies a spear to the abdomen more often than it doesn't.

"I heard you're looking for that hunter-" Sylus steps forwards and this time the man jumps back a half step, "Woah, no need to menace, I don't know where they are, but I do know what they're after."

"You're an EVER dog, why would you tell us anything worthwhile?" Rafayel finally speaks, and Sylus watches as Raincoat's eyes go to the dagger in the man's hand. It is a small flick of eyes, before he returns to his smile.

The shortest moment, but he can see recognition. He knows the fish does as well, because he spins the dagger right in front of him, watching as the eyes follow the movement.

"You think I like another one like me lurking around? If I get deemed useless, that hunter of yours will tear my throat out with that fucked up hand of theirs. I've seen the corpses of people they've been sent to kill. I don't need that."

"Like EVER would be any kinder without them?"

"Like minimising the risks of being mauled by a wanderer are always smart."

Sylus notes the chill in Rafayel's eyes, the way his hand tightens a little on the dagger, watching the twitch at the talk of your arm. The one EVER stole from you. Twice.

He hopes your metal one, with the beautiful fish, is still somewhere. When he claims you back, he'll find it.

"What are they after then?"

"That doctor of yours. EVER think that with the assistance of your hunter, he'll finally agree to work with them."

They look at each other, and don't see the widening grin on Raincoat's face, "I've heard he's pretty moral, but he'd do anything for them, right? EVER think so anyway, and they're willing to wave them in front of his face, to find out."

Eyes turn back to him as he shrugs, miming dangling something from his hand, "And if it doesn't work, they'll just find other ways to make him useful. Heard they have some fucked up chips they use for some of their tools. Makes 'em real compliant."

"Why would we believe you?"

He laughs, like it couldn't matter less to him, like Sylus couldn't tear him apart himself. He should, and as he steps forward, a hand tightens around his wrist. Rafayel is facing Raincoat, eyes focused. It is a subtle movement, quick. His dagger spins to keep Raincoat's eyes on it. When Sylus is released, he eases the fury bubbling in his gut.

"You've been useful before, so I'll let you go, so you can be useful in the future. Alright? If you're lying-"

"I know, I know. You'll find me and murder me, your little family are fond of death threats, huh?"

When the man is gone, leaving the two stood in an alley, with Sylus feeling as though he has gained weight strapped to his back, "So we keep an eye on the doctor."

"I guess I'll be on bodyguard duty for once." Rafayel laughs, but it's tired and it's worn. Weighted by questions left unanswered.

Of images that Sylus can't stop trying to shake out of his mind.

EVER pinned to your throat, their leash around your neck, pulling until it snaps.

If they use you, to hurt Zayne, he knows when you come back to yourself, you will never forgive yourself. He has seen you sink into despair once before, he will not witness it again.

—---

Zayne feels as though he's going mad.

"You wish to guard me?"

"You can have me, or you can have Mephisto, maybe the twins. I can reasonably behave myself."

"Sylus, you cannot follow me around the hospital. You would draw far too much attention, and if I am truly a target, it will be more clear that you have some kind of inside information."

The leader of Onychinus stares him down, unwavering jewel eyes. He's used to the man being stubborn, Sylus does not waver from a goal, he has never halted his intentions, or paused in his journey.

Even though Zayne can see fraying edges, and a strength that wavers on the cusp of cracking.

"Then Mephisto will follow you around, ready to alert me."

It's the best he thinks he's going to get for a compromise. The bird at least, can somewhat blend into the surroundings. Perching outside his office perhaps. He doubts anyone will capture him inside of Akso Hospital. Still he's not sure there are limits to EVER's pull at this point.

If they have their hand in everything, he doesn't see how they can't cover up a doctor's disappearance.

His disappearance.

He has no intention to be reckless, and he finds Sylus' concern comforting. A reminder that even though he watched you flee from a café he has frequented with you, he is not holding his grief alone for once.

"I'll accept your pets supervision, but ensure he keeps a reasonably low profile." Accompanies his sigh of weak acceptance. There's little else he can do, if something happens to him… he will not be there to help you, nor will he be able to keep feeling the warmth of his home. He does not want to be the cause for more grief.

"Whatever you say, doctor." Sylus stands, motions for the robot bird that flutters over on metal feathers and rests on Zayne's shoulder. Ready, waiting. He tightens his hand around his work bag, nodding at the thing that he's still not sure has much of a will of its own.

Then he thinks of the times he has found you curled up asleep with Mephisto, and the bird's reluctance to leave the perch of your metal shoulder.

Just as attached as his master, Zayne thinks fondly.

Fingers drift over his cheekbones, pulling Zayne from his thoughts, as he focuses on the wavering heat of Sylus' eyes, "I'll be alright." He offers, as the man hesitates.

"You will, but if you're not-" Something is attached to behind his ear, though it is small and the sensation disappears almost immediately, "I'll find you regardless."

"We need to have a discussion over requesting access to hinge upon privacy."

"I told you before doctor, we have different boundaries for acceptability." The smirk is wide and self satisfied, but it is more confident than Zayne has seen Sylus for some time.

"Now get going, you have lives to save, my good doctor." His hand is raised for a kiss to be placed upon his palm, and then he is released. Mephisto kicking up to fly out ahead of him.

He has always walked the distance to the hospital, it is an easy journey, a moment to prepare himself for a long and hard day. It is never easy facing the path he has chosen for himself, despite his passion for it. Some days are full of pain, others joy.

Zayne has worked ever harder in the pursuit of easing his aching heart. He worries that his handle over his EVOL will begin to shatter, that his lack of control outside of what he would allow himself with his family, will spread to his work.

It is with an iron grip, that grows ever tighter, and the sunken set to his stature, that has allowed him to keep moving. 

He is only ten minutes into his walk, when he feels the prickling up the back of his neck, turning to erect a wall of ice in front of him. Steady hand pushing back against the jolt of lightning that touches the ice and fractures it, scorching where it lands.

He smells burning, and steps back, Mephisto screeches, before lightning arcs for the bird. Piercing a wing and sending him hurtling to the floor.

Before him is a vision he never wants to see again. That twisted carapace arm, with the lightning crackling and burning through it, leaving deep grooves with every spark. Your scars pulling at your lips as you focus mismatched eyes on him.

Cold, empty, devoid of anything.

Sylus had warned him… he hadn't been prepared to see it. When he'd seen you at the café you had been startled, alarmed. Human. Despite the lack of recognition.

Now, before him, dagger in your other hand, he sees nothing. Like you have shut down, broken off parts of the warmth of the person he knew, and stepped out a doll.

You look at the barrier, and he recognises the look. Calculating, ready. The lightning dissipates and you look back up at him, gold filtering into your gaze.

The resonance he can feel across from him is a familiar heat, like home. You place your hand on his barrier as he watches, one lip quirks pulling on the scars, before eyes narrow. "Doctor Li, I would appreciate you coming with me willingly. I have been informed not to damage the merchandise."

"A kind consideration, but I'd rather not hand myself over to EVER." He forces out, through a throat that feels too tight. Words tinged in a humour he doesn't feel. Like you're still you, like he's still making jokes with you. Dry wit and warm heart.

He pushes the barrier out, the ice pushing you back from him. Sharpening ice blades before him, holding them ready.

He watches, as your expression falters. It is like something filters through your cold eyes, a strange flicker of discomfort, before you refocus. He knows you well, has loved you for a long time, but this is a person he does not recognise. Not truly. Whatever lurks there, he isn't sure he can puzzle it out without time.

Which, as he watches your claw glow gold, he will not be offered easily.

"Very well, they will have to tolerate limbs in place."

It is said so flatly, that he feels the chill up his back. To be looked at by you, with nothing but tired acceptance. You who eased the pain out of his skin when the ice pierced it. You who saw warmth in him. You who gave him a safe place to let his control drop.

You who pulling him forwards in time.

Your hand pulls back, and before he can wonder at it, the claw sharpens, grows, and is pierced through the wall of ice, shattering it.

He shoots the shards of ice, backing up further. He can get back home, he thinks as he sends another flurry-

You dart forwards, blinking out of existence for a moment before you are before him, claw grabbing for his throat, and deflected with an icy blade.

It catches at the wrist of your carapace, the grotesque thing pulled back as you wince at the chill. The pain makes you smirk at him, fang peeking out under lip, and you dart forwards again, grabbing it in claw and snapping it. Before trying to headbutt him.

He shields his face with his arm, and pulls another barrier to keep you from slashing with the sharpened blade of claws.

Zayne has to fight you, he realises, something he has never done in this life. You have practiced how to resonate with him, had trial matches, practiced fighting with him, never against him.

Never pushed his EVOL past what you believed was safe, worried at the edges at any pain he has felt, even as you willingly eased it with your power or your touch.

He has never known you to want to risk him like you do now, pushing and clawing at his barrier. Edging him on. As you shoot lightning, with a wince he notes, he finds the logical part of his brain wondering how. Before he runs.

Ice blades flung behind him, a flurry of snow kicking up, he races back the way he came. Before he collides with a solid form, as you stand right before him. Claw grabbing his neck and tightening your grip. He grabs the wrist, freezing where he touches, watching as you hesitate.

Flinching as the chill hardens and cracks, before you squeeze. It is not the familiar touch of resonance he is used to, as the gold seeps up your claw, and into his own skin. It pulls at the ice, hardening its grip. Strengthening it. With none of the warmth of the EVOL he is used to.

It burns back up his skin, sending the ice back the way it came, pushing through his skin. He gasps as it spreads, fights back the cry he wants to let out as the ice turns black and pierces through his arm.

He distantly hears Mephisto squawk, the flutter of feathers, before the sound quietens.

The gold glow of your eyes intensifies, sharpening to points as you squeeze around his throat, the agony of his arm spreads up to his shoulder, as you cut off his airways. "A power you can't control…" Through the haze of his eyes, as he grows dizzy and numb, he sees the spark of something. Guilt. Pain. Understanding? "Go to sleep, Doctor Li."

A flash of red, and the force of a hurricane flings you from him. Sending him to the floor, knees colliding hard with the ground, and hand not frozen barely catching him. He gasps, wheezing to pull oxygen back into his lungs, to ease the ice in his limb. Relieved when it begins to skitter back. Pulling out of his limb.

He is rounded as Sylus stands before him, "Really now doctor, seconds after my warning?" A relief, an assurance that he will not have to hurt you without someone to keep him steady.

That there is a better chance together, than alone.

Even if his lungs struggle to pull oxygen in for his brain to function again.

"Come on now Kitten, you should know better. Only scratch people who want it."

—----

You're falling.

Surrounded by nothing but pitch black.

There is no answer to how long you fall, you cannot see around you.

You're falling.

You reach out, grasping for something. Anything. To stop the hurtling. You feel sick. Agony. Like your body is covered in wounds. Barely holding itself together.

A flash of light and you see your metal hand, grasping. It catches on a ledge, and the light filters through, a lone wisp. It bobs next to your hand, tiny and gold and weak. It dances like a firefly, dancing over your fingers as you dangle.

You try to reach with your other hand but it does not move, like it is locked to your side. Too heavy to use.

As you tense the hand you can use, a little painted fish swims over it, over to your fingers. It twirls around each metal joint, seeking something.

You don't think it finds it, because it jumps as though leaving water. Swimming away. Your hand opens as though you need to grab it.

You need to grab it.

If it leaves, you'll never see it again.

You can't lose him.

The motion causes your hand to open, and as you watch the firefly of light die slowly… the metal turns to claws. Unnatural and broken. Grotesque and black. Scales replacing metal.

It is the last thing you see before the darkness greets you again, and you fall.

Slamming into a ground that knocks all the air out of your lungs.

It is cold that greets you, an icy expanse against the wounded skin of your back. Your claw twitches at your side. Pain shooting through your body that does not respond. Useless and worthless.

It cannot serve you, or anyone.

There is nothing to gain from this body.

Only your claw can move, only your claw can make you worth something.

You are a tool that will be discarded once they realise how very little you matter.

In the darkness the caw of a crow rattles your brain, the sound too loud to be flying over you. Your senses fractured and struggling to make sense of the lack of sight.

It is the first sound you have heard, other than your struggling lungs, with your claw you pull yourself over onto your stomach, and as you do. Blinding lights hit your eyes.

The flash of light lasts a moment, but it is enough to wound your eyes. Intense and harsh. As you blink, trying to force the retina burn to ease, you feel a hand reach for your cheek.

Through the blinking lights and the hazy vision, you see a light behind the back of a head. Eyes gazing into yours.

With each blink the colours flicker.

Red.

Purple.

Pink.

Green.

Blue.

Before your claw reaches out, desperate, shaking. The eyes turn, look at the twisted thing attached to you, before the hand pushes you away, pulling back. A hiss of disgust.

A violent rejection…

And you fall again.

—----

You have been pushed to complete this mission before you are ready. There is no rest, when you have a leash so tight around your neck you can feel the air leave your lungs.

You stare at the man before you, who guards his lover with the snarl of a dragon guarding a treasure. As he gasps to right himself. Trembling as your EVOL's influence stops ripping through his limbs.

At least there is something to be learned. Now if you could just deal with the red eyed man.

"Come on now Kitten, you should know better. Only scratch people who want it."

It grates at you. Kitten. Kitten. Kitten.

"Stop calling me that." You snarl at him. It is not something you are prone to feeling, a violent feeling under your skin, on a job. You have become good at locking back the feelings to complete a mission. You are good at getting through them. At not feeling.

Why do these two have any impact on you? The people they spend time with? Why does your mind fracture through the feelings you cannot name?

"You never used to complain, is sweetie better? Beloved?"

It rattles at you, fierce and violent. Your brain tumbling through the darkness, seeking out a ledge to grasp.

So you rush him, dagger aimed for his throat.

It does not land, brushed aside with a careful hand, before you stab forwards again.

Again.

Again.

Wild and furious and desperate.

Your movements are easily deflected, and when he aims a punch you dart back. Staring at him. Forcing yourself to ease. You have to control it.

You have a target.

Electric and scalpel. If you can't finish, you will feel them again. The reminder of your worthless body on the awareness of agony.

EVER can do worse to you. You cannot give them a reason to.

"You are not my target." You manage to speak, correcting your grip on your dagger, flexing the claw at your side. "Stand aside, I would rather not kill anyone I do not need to."

It's bitten off and harsh, tinged in all the fury you cannot seem to pull back to heel.

Red eyes narrow at you, as the man adjusts his cuffs, moving to stand in front of the doctor, who pulls himself up a little. Breathing easier. "I won't let anyone hurt him, not even you Kitten, and this isn't you."

"I told you-"

You barely get it out before the mist grabs your arm, tugging you forwards and down. So you snarl, and throw yourself at him like the dog you've been called too many times.

Fangs bared, dagger out, and claw extended.

You slash at his face, kick out at his leg, when his EVOL grasps at you, you force it to shatter to the gold running over your skin. Though it never dissipates for long. A hand grasps the wrist of your claw, tightening against where the ice still has you frozen. Squeezing enough to crack it, and you let out a gasp of pain.

Red eyes turn to it, the damage in front of his eyes, and you stab into his chest with the dagger when he does. He releases you for a moment but grabs the wrist holding the dagger, eyes wild and canines bared.

He pushes himself further into the blade, staring down at you.

"The hell are you doing? Do you want to die?"

He barks a laugh, advancing, hand tightening so your bones creak, "When I die, it won't be the person in front of me doing it."

You push the dagger in, growling when he winces in response, "You say that now-"

A shiver runs up your back as the red flares. As his one eye glows.

The world sinks away for a moment. Leaving that pinpoint of red.

Devour.

Only you-

Devour him.

And this flower-

Devou-

"Get out of my head." You snarl, the gold shattering him back. You reach up for your head, stumbling back, leaving the dagger in his chest. The world tilts at an angle, and you slip to the floor.

It crackles and it stings, and the world turns to static. Your surroundings are in technicolour, before dimming into grey.

There's flowers fluttering in the breeze, before they scatter and become nothing but ash.

He pulls the dagger out of his chest, looking at you as you force yourself to your knees. You watch him hold it, like it's precious. Like it matters, rather than throwing it aside.

The man handles it with care, as he places it on the ground. "I do wish Rafayel hadn't taught you to use that, sometimes. Sharp little thing."

You turn eyes to him, scrambling back like a cornered cat, daring not to blink, as you will your mind to steady, to focus. To do something other than fracture.

The devil you don't know. The failure that awaits you.

You extend your hand, the lightning arcing, but rattling through your bones. You bite off the pain, relieved when his advancements stop, moving out of the way of your uncontrolled desperation.

The doctor has recovered mostly, standing, "Sylus, we need to get them somewhere safe."

"I know, doctor."

You stare up as the red eyes approach, as they waver on the edge of softening, before gleaming once again, "Let's get you fixed, kitten."

Fixed.

Fixed.

Arm replaced, body broken, mind fractured.

EVER wanted to fix you. Make you better.

You can't be fixed.

The hand grasps at your arm, pulling you up, stumbling against his chest. You don't struggle, caught in the gleam of red, seeing the swirling colours.

Answers you can't grasp.

The red is all you can see, the static bleeding into an abyss.

There is a whisper on the edges of your mind, husky and deep, warm and ready.

'Tell me you want me.'

Heat against your neck, teeth and tongue. A shiver down your spine, warmth against limbs. Thighs grasped in a tight hold as a growl warms the edges of your soul.

'Tell me you feel good.'

A gasp, a moan of satisfaction. The feeling of tumbling over the edge, but being caught. The answer on the tip of your tongue.

'Say my name, kitten.'

A mantra that resounds around you. A song sung through the fog. Music that lights the sky.

'Do you love me?'

Warmth in chest, a small flutter of life. An affirmation of everything that matters.

The scalpel in hand. The claw at your hand. The questions that have no answers.

The static.

"Get-" The beast roars to life, its jaws snapping as you reach for it, desperate.

"Out-" Tears on your cheeks, it curls around your broken heart.

"Of-" It's head rears, guarding you from the agony of the abyss.

"My-" The silver filtering over your skin, the creature serving you willingly.

"Head!"

You snarl with it, pushing him back. Watching the pain in his face, the silver skittering through his skin, like poison in veins. He falls, and he slumps. You hear the gnash of teeth, the growl.

You push further.

Forcing him down, hand on shoulder now as he is pushed to his knees.

Your heart twitches, and hurts, and aches. Resonance fleeing from you as the beast hungers and snaps and bites at the bit to pull the mist into its maw.

"Sylus!"

The ice that is flung at you, melts before touching you, as the beast whose leash you do not hold turns its attention to the doctor.

You can feel the shaking, through your legs, into your arm. It is only the claw that does not tremble, that does not feel like it will shatter at a touch.

Releasing the man, you turn to the doctor. Catching for a moment, the agony in red eyes as hands reach out, seeking you, but weakly grasping at air as you force agonised limbs to respond.

Your claw grabbing the doctor's hand as he winces. As the dampener rips part of him out of his reach.

You know your resonance is part of you, instinctual and like the blood in your veins. To have it torn out even for a moment… would be agony.

It is the weak guilt, of a heart that trembles against the beast squeezing it, that eases the grip so you do not bruise the doctor's skin this time.

As you fight nausea.

As you command your body to be the tool it was made to be.

As you pull the doctor with you into the jump, leaving the heartbroken cry of a name you don't recognise behind as red eyes shut.

When you finally skid to a stop, the pain too much to fight through, the new scarring up your arm from where lightning damaging blood vessels, and the beast finally releasing its grasp. You stumble into open space. Releasing the doctor for a moment.

It is too much, too many things that you cannot fully control, too many sensations in your head that hurt.

Too many thoughts and too many feelings.

Agony, and loss. Loss that tears into your stomach and tears out your innards. The guilt grows and weighs down your shoulders, reminding you of the pain in red, and the shivering under hand when you had placed it on shoulder.

A job was a job, you tried to remind yourself. It was a move to be made. If you did not, worse awaited you than the hurt you could inflict on others.

You think.

It does not feel as sure as it once did, as you force your body to behave. To listen, to pay attention to you. You have to keep moving.

The doctor recovers from the dampening slowly, "What was that?" He forces, "Sylus-"

"He'll live." You snap, reaching over to pull the man closer by the wrist, "Phone." Your hand extends, and it is at that moment you remember your dagger. Discarded on the ground, in the hands of a man you do not know.

It is shock that recognises the feeling you have, like a lump is in your throat. Grief. You have lost something precious, and you will never get it back. The only thing you owned and cared about, with its familiar carved symbols and the weight in your hand like something you could trust. A tether to something that reminded you, you had something to value.

Gone.

A piece of you is gone.

Hurt is what makes you tug the doctor closer, a raw wound you cannot salve, "Phone, now."

He hands it over, and you would give him credit for his steady expression, the look on his face that does not feed into fear.

So he is not a pathetic scientist like the others, then? Able to hold your gaze for as long as you can bear to hold anyone's. Not flinching at you, not trembling.

If he were not on the list, perhaps he would be one of the more pleasant scientists to get prodded by.

You crush the thing in your hand, throwing it away, before tugging him forward.

He sets his feet, making you feel as though you are pulling against a wall.

"Doctor Li," You hiss through teeth, desperate to get back, to find a dark room and hide in it. To not have to think for a moment, about hazy red and angry sensations of agony, "I will knock you out and drag you, if I have to."

The Doctor watches you, calculating for a moment. You can almost guess the process. Is it worth it to run? Can he fight? You hope the show of strength with dampening his EVOL will convince him otherwise.

He does not have to know you don't think you can do that again. Not for a very long time.

Maybe not ever.

You hope never again.

Pained red, and shivering skin.

"Alright." He exhales, allowing it as you pull him towards you this time. You jump, several more times, before the both of you stumble into the white halls of the EVER compound.

The familiar smell of, what you hope is, antiseptic and disinfectant doing nothing to calm the raging vortex inside of you.

"Follow me, if you run, I'll break a leg." You snap, releasing his arm like it burns you. Truthfully the sensation of touching anyone is at odds with the way you have lived these few months.

You don't want to think about the feeling of his neck under your hand for a very long time. Even if you can already see the bruise forming under his skin.

"Do you often threaten your prisoners?"

"You're the first one. I normally just kill my targets."

He scoffs, it would almost sound like a laugh, if he didn't sound so disgusted. You shouldn't be surprised that he is horrified by what you've said. A normal person should be. Let alone the so-called doctor with the heart of gold.

You lead him to Leon's lab, relieved to see the man is there for the first time in your memory. If only to be done, to wash your hands, to curl up and burn the memories off your skin. You can see the static on the corners of your vision. Flickering like a ghost you can't quite get into your line of sight.

Haunted.

You're just not sure which unknown grief is causing it.

"Little bomb-"

There's a noise of disgust behind you, as the doctor walks in front of you. Like he is half shielding you. It's a strange thing, to be looking up at the back of the head of a man who you have strangled. Tried to freeze. Whose lover you just brought to knees and made hurt.

"Doctor Li?"

The familiarity of Leon is a relief. He is easy to handle, he is a man who your emotional capacity can recognise. Disgust, hatred, violence need to tear, all very familiar. He is almost safe, in the kind of way the knowledge of a snake's venom is safe.

"Mission completed, can I go?" You snap, pulling away from the two. Itching to throw the claw away from you.

"You need to see medical." Leon notes, looking down at the new scarring up your arm, the blood on your hand, "You're not normally this sloppy, little bomb. Issues?"

"I did my job, didn't I?"

"If a tool breaks-"

"It'll be replaced." You snap back, then look at the doctor, "Have fun committing crimes against nature, Doctor Li.."

The Doctor's eyes narrow, cold, but he's looking past you, not at you. "I assure you, I will not be assisting EVER."

You want to laugh at him, the idea is laudable. Truly. Experience has taught you, however, that if EVER cannot use someone, they will break them. The fear of the punishment can often keep at bay.

What they cannot instil with fear… well you've heard the stories of mind control. You're not yet sure what is worse. To serve them willingly, or to lose your mind to become a true mindless tool.

One gives the weak hope of escape, you suppose.

"Can you go get the cot before you leave? We don't have any spare rooms for you yet, Doctor, so I'm sure you'll be fine staying in the lab for now."

"I've slept in worse places." He bites off, though there is little change to his expression. The term ice queen suits him, you think. He must be furious, you're sure he is, or at least thinking of ways he can escape. Instead he simply is observing.

You turn your attention back to Leon, raising a brow at his command, but not moving.

His sigh is long suffering, like he should never have expected anything else when you do not respond to him, and he walks off, "I'll get it then shall I?"

"Probably." You spit back, glaring at his back.

"You've been summoned to meeting room four, when you're done here, little bomb."

The exhaustion sinks deeper into your bones. If whoever gives Leon orders has summoned you, it means the chance to run is further out of grasp. The need to lick your wounds, and try to fix the weight on your back will not come soon.

You feel the burning in your eyes for a moment, before you remember there is someone else looking at you. You narrow eyes at Doctor Li, expecting him to look away, instead his warm green eyes soften. In a way that disturbs something in your chest.

"What?"

"Zayne."

"Excuse me?"

"My name is Zayne." You know that. You want to say. It was in his file. You're familiar with the basic details of his profile.

'To you, I'm just Zayne.'

Your vision crackles, glitching, before you shake your head violently. "Yeah, sure. Whatever." You bite off, stepping back and away, before he can speak to you more. You watch his hand extend, worry in his gaze, that you can't meet because the green makes the static worse.

You manage little else, before you flee. A scared creature, startled by a loud noise. You care little about the scientists who watch you race past them, before you slow and you stumble, and you step through hallways that feel like they stretch forever.

As you try to swallow back bile, and think of anything but agonised red and soft green.

You're done, you're done and you never have to see either man again.

You cannot be found here, and you can just let the feelings lie forgotten.

You can forget the voices and the eyes, you can leave them behind.

You can be the familiar you. Even if there is blood on your hands.

—---

The meeting room is cold. Like most of the compound. When you enter, an older man smiles at you.

You are not well versed in other's expressions, but you feel a chill at his. Like there is something sharp about it. You have not talked to Professor Lucius before, he is a man that commands deep respect, or fear, from those around him however.

You have seen him occasionally, though he is akin to a ghost. Drifting through halls when he has something to do, but otherwise unconcerned with those around him.

Today he stares at you with cool, unwavering eyes. It is not the kind of cool that the Doctor- Zayne has, you note. Calm and steady. It is the kind of cool that reminds you of a snake.

Watchful and venomous.

You do not want to be in this room.

"Ah, Unicorn." It bites at you, reminds you that you are here in a capacity of no control. "I've heard you have achieved a great many tasks for EVER, in your time here."

Unsure how to respond, you offer a nod. It is the first time anyone has acknowledged you, the time you have spent, the work you have done.

Should you feel proud? The feeling is closer to shame, you think.

Seen in a way you do not wish to be.

"Thanks to all of your efforts, we have seen fit to reward you."

"A reward?" Shock moves your mouth before your brain and rationale can remind you that he holds power over your position.

Relief keeps you steady when he does not immediately demand your silence, "Come in."

The door opens, and you first feel fear. The unknown of his words and his actions, make you wonder if this is a cruel trick.

That your reward will be a shot to the head, but maybe that would be a relief.

That your reward will be another limb replaced, to make you a better weapon.

That your reward will be the solitary or the torture or the heart held while still in your chest.

It is a man who enters, sharp black uniform and a hat tilted low over his eyes, before he pushes it back. So you can see pink and purple.

You have seen his face countlessly. Smiling back at you from a silent frame. Warm eyes, and what you think might be love, if you could ever remember. He is familiar to you in a way that only a picture can be.

If asked what he sounded like, you could never answer, but you think you could describe him to anyone, perfectly, down to the very last detail.

Your heart squeezes, like one of the scientists has it in their grip. You fear if you move it will crush under the weight.

There is noise in your ears, the crackling that is becoming too familiar. Your throat is tight and sore, and your lungs will not offer you air as they should. You waver on the edge of unconsciousness. Brain weak and starved.

He steps up before you and smiles as he steadies you with his left hand, "Hey Pipsqueak. I'm home."

[primofate]

I know this is stupid but hear me out. I reread your Somewhere you can't follow fic and the Scaramouche one somehow reminds me of Taylor Swift's unreleased song "I'd Lie". The song now hits diff after reading the fic. If you don't know the song, please please please listen to it even just once most of all the chorus part and you'll get what I mean.😭

The early days of Taylor Swift was my teenage soundtrack.

In particular, for the song "I'd Lie" teenage me found myself listening to it over and over again because I had a crush on someone who always kept pining for someone else, and I was always there to help him.

The rest of my angsty love story under the cut

He, let's call him Rex, had somehow taken a liking to people who were usually my friends, or at least my acquaintances.

He would write notes to them and I would be the messenger. Mind you, we were probsbly like 15 or 16 at this point.

One particular time, I had asked my friend Jamie if she was interested in Rex, because Rex had enlisted me to send love notes to her. Jamie flat out said no, she was interested in someone else at that point. I still gave her the note, and I told her that Rex is interested in her. She never responded to those notes.

I told Rex, in a very gentle manner, that she wasn't interested "You might want to try elsewhere..."

He understood immediately. "That's okay, I can keep trying,"

The next few days Jamie had complained to me about how Rex was showing up in her class and offering to carry her things, or asking if she was free to hang out.

Jamie wasn't the first person I witnessed reject Rex. At this point I really didn't get it. Why did girls not give him a chance? He was cute. He was smart. He was a gentleman. He was nice. He was upfront about his intentions. He was really good at drawing. He played the guitar. He had a kind sister.

I cried because lil ole me felt that he deserved much more than just girls rejecting him left and right. I cried because, hi, I'm right here. I know you. I knew his favourite colours even though he didn't tell me. Knew that he was sometimes annoyed by his sister. Knew when his birthday was. Knew that he wanted to be an artist. Knew that he had several dreams in store.

Then one day, I got the news that I was moving away.

I cried again. But I cried because of the friendships I was going to lose and the life that I was leaving behind. Not just because of him.

I told my closest girlfriends, and we cried together.

In art class, Rex came up to me and asked "You've been absent on and off, what's up with that?"

I didn't tell him that we were busy packing for the big move. I just told him it was family stuff.

"Oh. Well, we need a partner in art today. I'll draw you," we were supposed to do portraits today.

I was genuinely surprised because Jamie was in that class. So were some other girls he used to be interested in, and even then, his friends were also in the class. Why had he chosen me?

In fact I remember asking him "What about *his friends name*? It doesn't look like he has a partner,"

"Tsk, he'll live,"

I didn't say anything, but for the next hour or so, he spent it silent, sketching my features. Looking up once in a while to look at me and check if he was getting my features right.

When he finished, he signed the sketch off and handed it over to me. "Here you go, don't lose it," then packed up and left.

I don't have that sketch anymore, but to this day, in my mind's eye, it still is the most beautiful portrait of me, and probably the only sketch of me that will ever be drawn.

When it was finally announced to the class by my homeroom teacher that I was leaving in the next few weeks, not even finishing the school year, Rex yet again came up to me and asked questions.

Where are you going?

Are you ever coming back?

Why didn't you tell me earlier?

But everybody else was asking the same thing, so I didn't think much of it.

Until I got a text message from him at night.

"Are you free at some point? Let's go shopping, I'll get you something you like,"

In the deepest parts of my mind something clicked, but I also told myself I was probably just imagining it.

I replied with the truth, I said it was too busy at home packing and sorting things out.

"What time do you get to school? I'll meet you by the curve and walk with you," in tagalog "Sabay na tayo," he tried to keep the question really casual, but I think I was getting the hint at this point.

I was stuck. Do I let him do this and enjoy the attention for the last few days? Or do I nip it in the bud in fear of falling too hard at the wrong time?

I decided to stay neutral. I decided to pretend I didn't know what he was up to, but I did, because this is exactly what he did to all the girls he liked before.

I didn't tell him what time I usually got to school. I merely said my mom actually walks me to the gate.

"That's okay, I'll still walk with you,"

I just told him we can walk together if he happens to see me.

In the next few days he continues to send me messages after school, asking about mundane things like what things do I like. What color. What toys. He asked more about where I was going. If I was coming back. The what ifs.

In actual school he didn't really interact with me that much, but that was also because I spent a lot more time being whisked away by my friends.

At some point in between all of that he managed to catch me on the way to school. My mom had been there and probably raised an eyebrow when he approached me and said we could walk together. He said hi to my mom and continued talking to me.

It was then that I noticed a small whale plushie keychain on his bag. I thought it was cute and without thinking I grabbed it and squeezed it.

"You like it?" He asked.

"It's cute," I said.

On my last day of school he handed me that same plush and said I could keep it. "But you have to give it back to me when you come back,"

He wouldn't let go of it until I promised.

He texted me a lot that night. Asking what time my flight was. If he could see me off at the airport. If I could continue texting him even when I'm away.

I said I would try my best.

We were just kids, and we both fell out of touch when things got busy.

I never spoke to him again, but those memories are still very clear in my mind.

So all that angst that I post? Some of it is probably pulled from my various memories that I'm thankful for. That, or it was inspired by Taylor Swift hehehehe.

:)

[burning-academia-if]

RO's reaction to a low self esteem MC who says "I can't understand why you'd love me. I don't deserve it."

This feels like the sequel to this ask

Rook: There's a long, deep seated silence which wraps around the both of you. He presses his lips together, trying to find the words, trying not to fiddle with a bracelet or ring or necklace and show how the words struck wrong.

"It's strange to hear you say that. I spent so long thinking the same thing about you." His smile is pained. "I...don't want us to think about each other that way."

Beck: Yes, he could sense the sentiment in some of the ways you acted around him. The flash of guilt whenever he made dinner or whenever he let you pick what the two of you would watch for the night or even when he'd come pick you up from your classes. Each kindness he offered was not a soothing balm but a knife twisting deep into your gut.

He takes your hands, pressing a kiss to them and murmuring, "I could you a list. I could say a million reasons right now, and I can say it over and over again, until you can bring yourself to believe it."

Rhea: Ice cuts into her veins, flashes of others telling her the same. Of all the ways those relationships fell apart in the end replays in her head like an endless theater. She won't let it be the same here. She doesn't want this to fall apart with you.

Her voice is careful, trying to find the words, "I love you because I feel the most myself with you. And I want you to know, even if you don't believe, you're deserving of love. Not just mine, but of others as well."

Does it get through to you? Does it mean anything? She doesn't know, but she'll repeat herself until it does.

Zoe: "Huh?" Is the first thing that comes to Zoe, which isn't the best response given the situation of your words. It catches them off guard, and they're not sure they have the words. All they can do is reach for you, finding your hands.

They give them a squeeze, swallowing, "I mean, I'm the most average person alive and I feel the same way, sometimes. But I think, I'd feel a lot worse if you weren't here. So even if it's hard to believe, you make me happy. And I want you around."

They hope the halts and fumbling of their words doesn't undercut their sentiment. They squeeze your hand again, desperate for their feelings to get through.

Lars: "What, you don't trust my judgement?" His voice isn't as sharp as it usual is, nor is the frown he sends your way. "And anyway, there's no such thing as deserving someone. I love you because I made the choice to and I want to. Simple as."

He doesn't know what you want to hear or what you need to hear, or if you even wanted a response in the first place. Still, he doesn't like the wound in your eyes or the way you weigh yourself against the rest of the whole world.

???: "What do you deserve then, Little Moon?" Their eyes search yours, the question genuine as it is sharp. They've been in your head, heard the endless thoughts which berated you daily from morning to night. Knew every way in which you'd made yourself small and undeserving.

In a world like this, they understood the damage done. And they knew every way in which it had damaged you. It would not be simple words which would fix this, they knew. "I'm not good, and if you don't deserve me, than what is it you think you deserve?"

If they could just get you to question it, then maybe, one day, these feelings will start to fade away.

[yan-lorkai]

Maybe plat!soft!Yan Riddle hcs with a shy, timid and skittish mouse beastman darling in the same form as him?

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: This is so cute 🥺. When I first saw the gameplays, bcz the game is not available on my country, Riddle was my favorite character and writing this remind me why. Hope you like it, anonie!

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Warnings: Platonic yandere, stalking, toxic friendship, humiliation, mutilation threats, slightly dezumaning.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Maybe Ignyhide, maybe Savanaclaw. You guessed, trying to think what kind of dorm would be best for someone like you, so quiet, so shy, avoiding looking at people as you stand in front of the mirror and await your fate. Your ears moving involuntarily as the seconds pass and the mirror echoes: Heartslabyu.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Heartslabyu. The Queen of Hearts' dorm. A dorm in which there are few beastsmen, a dorm in which everyone seems to look at you and your mouse ears or tail move, uncomfortable with the attention.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Life in this dorm is restless and several times a day, you often find yourself hiding from Riddle Rosehearts, your dorm leader, who seems to find pleasure in teasing you and offering you headpats (It's his favorite excuse to pet your ears). And truly you can't get mad at him for that, Riddle has those sparkles in his eyes whenever he can touch your soft ears or hear you squeak in surprise. And really this is better than be collared like your others classmates and friends.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ You catch his attention and only because of this fact do you become friends. Maybe you're good playing croquette or have an easy time dealing with the flamingos and hedgehogs, maybe it was your laugh or the delicate way you paint the roses red. Thing is, as soon as you catch his attention, Riddle starts investigating everything he can about you. Your likes, your dislikes, favorite food, etc.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ You and Riddle have a strange friendship - if you can call whatever that is a friendship, of course. Mainly pre overblot Riddle who likes to punish you in a different way when you get one of the rules wrong; he sentences you to spend the whole day by his side, it would almost seem like a normal date between friends if he didn't threaten to cut off your tail if you leave him even for an instant.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ And you, fearful and shy, give in, not wanting to find out if this is all a bluff or something real. Even more so when he could do worse than that, locking you in a cage and treating you like his little mouse. One for only him to see and care for.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Pre overblot Riddle has high expectations for everyone, but they're even higher when it comes to you. He wants you to always have the best grades, to always behave well, to participate in the same club as him and to have respectable friends who don't influence you wrongly. He acts towards you like his mother acts towards him. And it's terrible and suffocating, and you can't do anything but listen to him if you want to keep your ears and tail in place, no one would believe he threatened you in any way. He respectable, the example of what an exemplary student should be.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Riddle likes to put you in the spotlight when you don't listen to him. Do you want to run away from him so much? Do you wish so much that he wasn't around? Okay, then he won't be there for you, not even to help you when you freeze on stage and the audience just keeps staring at you, laughing, whispering about you and your failed attempt of speech. Plus he will still be there to ask you several questions, questions that he knows you don't know the answer to.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Your panicked expression is something he treasures after all.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Post overblot Riddle is genuinely softer, listening to everything you have to say and apologizing for everything he caused you, for the fear, the humiliation and the punishments. If you wish, as tradition demands, he will even bow to you as a sign of respect. He bow till his face is touching the floor, if that's what you want.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Post overblot Riddle knows he hurt you, he knows you haven't completely forgiven him for what he did and he's more than willing to rectify his mistakes. He doesn't know how to do that yet so he asks Trey for advice and he's trying every day to regain your trust somehow.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ He start small: handing you a cup of tea early in the morning, sharing his notes with you, helping you overcome your shyness and how to you express yourself more, letting you get away with it if you break any rules and protecting you from possible bullies who like to make fun of you because of your mousey features.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Forgive him or not, Riddle will not leave your life. He is determined to be your friend and your friend he will be one way or another.

[slyandthefamilybook]

they're not dismissed because they live in "the bad country" they're dismissed because any solution they might pose, for the vast majority of them at least, will fundamentally involve preserving the state apparatus of israel, which is an inherently oppressive force. the two state solution is not justice. don't twist this into a call for the murder of the israeli population. that is explicitly not the goal. it is a demand to dismantle the fucking government system of a settler state that has spent 75 years committing genocide. if your leftism was worth anything you would believe that israel should be abolished. if you don't, your allyship is shallow and will only lead to electing people who will still do genocide, but with better pr so you can go back to ignoring it. if you really give a shit, genuinely ask yourself if the solution you have in mind would actually stop the genocide of Palestinian people, or if it would just slow it down a little, and answer the question honestly. if you can't do that, fuck off

HA

I predicted this. I saved this to my drafts 3 days ago

here's that response

there are a lot of people who seem to think that peace would be bad because it would involve Palestinians cooperating with the Israeli government. They believe the government should be spurned at every moment. Any action taken by the Israeli government is inherently one-sided and therefore it's categorically impossible to reach an agreement that's mutually beneficial and respects the dignity and autonomy of Palestinians

I hear this a lot in discussion of the UN Partition Plans. "Oh, so you want victims of violence to just roll over for their oppressors? You can't just steal someone's land and then offer it back to them!" To which my response is always "this is better?". Can you honestly look me in the eye and say that whatever lopsided colonial apartheid agreement you're imagining would've been made in 1948 would've been worse than the situation we have now?

It displays a really limited understanding of how geopolitics works. Countries aren't just a government and a set of borders. A country is also a people and a mechanism through which that people can interact with other peoples. You can't just point at a country and say "they're doing bad things, we should get rid of them". That's how America has functioned for the past 150 years and I thought we all decided that was bad. Dismantling a country doesn't solve your problems, it just creates new ones. "Burn it all down and start over" won't bring back the dead. It won't honor their deaths or make them any more worthwhile

Every time Hamas attacks Israel, Israel gets stronger. The right thrives off of conflict. It's why they don't want to give people free healthcare. When people suffer, it strengthens their positions. Every time Israel is attacked it generates more support for the military, in the people and in the Knesset. The IDF gets more soldiers, more rifles, more tanks. It drives the Overton Window further to the right. The Israeli government starts borrowing more money from the US, starts getting sent more foreign aid, further entrenching their economic dependency. The only reason Netanyahu has stayed in power for so long is because Israel keeps getting attacked. Israel gets hundreds of millions in military aid from the US, a country that has made killing people a science. You're not going to defeat them in open battle. People have been trying for 75 years with no success

I dislike the Israeli state as much as I dislike every state (which is a not-insignificant amount). But I also understand that states are massive webs of economy, policy, international trade, and agreements and treaties. If every member of the Israeli government stepped down tomorrow with no plan, the country would be thrown into chaos and millions would die. You can't say you want to destroy the apparatus of a country that is currently at war, while also claiming you want its citizens to be safe. That's not how that works. You claim that the majority of Israeli leftists want a two-state solution (something I don't believe I've ever said I support), but if that the case you don't have to throw your weight behind those people! There are also leftists who want anarchism, and a no-state solution. There's a vast diversity of thought and pretending that there isn't doesn't help anyone

I notice that in your decrial of people who are actually trying to help, you don't offer an alternative solution. You say you want to dismantle the Israeli state, but how do you plan to do that? I assume from your tone that you're not yourself Israeli, so how do you plan to affect change? You can pressure whoever is the leader of your country to stop sending aid to Israel, but Israel has a domestic economy as well. The worst you'll do is send them into a depression. And if you are somehow successful in cutting of Israel at the windpipe, what will you do when people begin to starve? When people are kicked to the curb because they lost their job? Will you be proud of yourself for sending 9.5 million people into a humanitarian crisis? Does your plan to end suffering involve making other people suffer instead?

We live in a statist world. As much as you or I dislike it, that's the reality we have. You can aspire to a better system, you can set your sights on a world in which there are no states, no governments, no militaries, and no borders. But you can't work within that framework before it's applicable. You can't eat raw cookie dough because you want it to eventually become a cookie. Liberalism won't save us, but it might stop the bleeding

[the-way-astray]

what is going on

let me take you back to half a week ago, when this first started.

it all starts with a simple notification. i click on it, thinking it's an innocent ask, or perhaps an anon wanting to pick a fight with me. i am a notorious keefe hater in this fandom, after all. let's see what the anons have to throw at me this time. if only that small, innocent, little me from four days ago had known. the notification was nothing short of a snake, hiding in the grass, waiting to strike.

it was alayda. she'd dared me to write something *horrified gasp* positive about keefe. she thought me, a notorious keefe hater, couldn't possibly have anything nice to say about my least favorite guy? well, i'd show her. i typed out a truly magnificent pro keefe essay, if i do say so myself. tumblr fought me the entire time, trying to delete half of it, but i persevered, and eventually posted it.

i had no idea what was coming for me. over the next few hours, i began to get truly heinous asks, questioning my commitment to my keefe hatred, and generally slandering my reputation. at the time, i'd thought this was as bad as it could get. but, oh. oh, no, no, no. as edaline ruewen said, "hindsight is a dangerous game". now i know that it could get worse than i could possibly even begin to imagine. and it did.

that same day, i got the ask. the one that changed everything. i responded in horrified horror, terrified terror, because i knew everything was about to change. and the next day, it appeared that other anons had followed in the first anon's footsteps. it was decided that me and keefe would be an enemies-to-lovers romance. our ship name was to be strieefe. an anon went to the official poll blog, @/do-you-ship-this-book-couple. i changed my ask box title to "KEEFE WOULD NOT LIKE ME" and got an anon about it. they started going to katie's ask box.

the debate ramped up. more people became aware. people, both anon and not, began to choose sides. i began offering badly drawn sketches to people who sided against this atrocious excuse for a ship. i should probably be making those instead of typing this out. whoopsie. i fought the anons that disagreed with me with a desperation akin to a rat caught in a trap, but my thrashing appeared to only attract more unhinged anons.

i then got my first anon that made a genuine attempt to explain why this horrible ship could theoretically work. they were wrong, of course, but i appreciate the effort. as i've explained countless times, the real relationship me and keefe would have if he were real would be one-sided hatred. i would hate him with a passion that can't be adequately described by the english language, and he'd be entirely unaware of my existence.

then! a miracle! an anon sent an ask to quil about strieefe, and i can only assume they wanted quil to analyze why we'd be good together. but quil, i never should've doubted quil. the response was a fantastically constructed analysis on why i was right about how i'd have one-sided rage toward keefe. but my delight dimmed significantly when i saw that fin, someone whom i'd previously trusted, had thrown his support behind this awful ship and even drawn fanart of me and keefe. i swiftly demoted him from the spot he had previously shared with max: "favorite fintanposter".

the anons got more unhinged. i began to be shipped with non-keefe main cast characters, sometimes monogamously, sometimes not. i bravely faced the assault, tearing the anons' arguments to shreds with my logical explanations as to why i would not be a good fit for any of them. this led to me posting a poll at the insistence of one anon, which is still open.

just as the waters were looking significantly less treacherous, just as it seemed i may make it to shore without drowning, a new development occurred. i got an ask from alayda, who as you may remember, is the one that started all this. this is entirely her fault. i'd expected maybe a heartfelt apology, perhaps a plea for forgiveness. but no. her ask was but an ominous warning, one i could not make sense of. i pondered the meaning as i stared at it. and then. horror upon horrors, it appeared in my inbox. i read through it in horrified horror, and my rickety little boat was once more swept out to sea.

it was a fanfic. a terribly written, horribly wattpad-ified, y/n-ish fanfic. i tore it to shreds thoroughly, taking pleasure as the scraps of the work of the one who had brought all this sorrow upon me fell in loose tatters all around me. i dusted off my hands and left it at that.

but it continued. even as i type this out, there is a part two to that horrific fanfic sitting in my inbox, which alayda is pestering me to post. there's also a part one to another anon fanfic, which is written relatively well, which arguably makes it even worse than alayda's. then there's yet another poem written about me and keefe by emelin, which also sits in my inbox, gathering dust as i attempt to piece the broken shards of my sanity back together.

all this to say, join the correct side of this debate. we have badly drawn sketches and braincells. be on the right side of history.

[mbti-notes]

Anon wrote: Hi,I’m an INFJ, 29. I have a question about developing friendships when struggling with low self-worth/shame/social difficulties. There’s a woman I work with who’s very easy to get along with. She’s extremely friendly, approachable and always giving out invites to people. She often invites me for short walks after work or to go to the cinema together on the weekends. I enjoy her company and learn a lot from her. But I fear I don’t have as much to offer her as she does me.

Maybe because she has many qualities I admire and a lot of meaningful life experiences, and I don’t have anything like that, so my shame often takes a hold of me and prevents me from being fully myself and genuine – I constantly worry about whether I’ll have something to say or if what I say will be interesting. She’s often the one guiding the conversation; there are a lot of silences, where I’m worried about what to say next and she’s always the one to fill them because my mind goes blank.

I’m confused as to why she keeps putting out invites even though I’m not a great conversationalist. I keep accepting because I like being with her, but sometimes feel that it’s selfish of me to do so because my shame/low self-worth is holding me back from fully present with her. On some level, I understand I might be projecting my own self-worth issues onto her, unable to see what she sees in me.

I’m worried she invites me only out of convenience (we both have no partner/children, we work together in close proximity, etc.). What reasons could there be for people to give someone like me a chance, when my social troubles are so evident? Perhaps I could just ask her, maybe it’d give me a more objective view of myself, but I don’t know if it's okay.

I guess I’m wondering if it’s okay to have relationships with others with such a glaring lack of self-worth. Should I work on myself first to an acceptable level before attempting to be with people? Is it right to be putting myself out there even though I feel like I’m unable to give them as much as they give me?

--------------------

IMO, those aren't the right questions to ask. The right question to ask is: Why are you unable/unwilling to give as much as others? This would lead you more efficiently to the heart of the matter.

I'm not here to tell people what to do or convince them to change their ways. I present factual information/research to people who already have a strong desire to improve. Do you have the desire? If so, tell me what you've done to work on yourself so far? What plans have you made? What progress have you achieved? Are there points of failure that need analyzing by an objective third party?

If you had come at the problem from this angle, then I would feel confident in your desire to improve. But it sounds like you're still trying to unconsciously dodge the problem rather than solve it. If you care about improving, there are some things you need to understand:

(1) Regarding Insecurity

I don't have the power to read her mind for you. Constantly questioning people's intentions is a common sign of insecurity. You ask me about her "motivations", presumably because you want some kind of guarantee that she actually likes you. This is not how you handle insecurity. This is a manifestation of Ti loop, which is unhealthy.

There are no guarantees in life. If you're waiting around for one, you'll spend a lifetime in waiting. At some point, you just have to trust people, or else the relationship can't go anywhere.

Have you considered the possibility that she understands what it's like to have self-worth/shame issues, so she has empathy? Have you considered the possibility that someone could see you not for your worst but for what you could be at your best? Why is it that I know you have these issues yet I don't shun you or hate you?

(2) Regarding Shame

Not everyone thinks like you. Yes, there is projection happening. You look down upon yourself, but it doesn't mean other people do, too. It seems whenever you are presented with concrete proof that she likes you, you instantly doubt it and think the worst of her. Isn't it tiring, even insulting, to always think the worst of people, especially when they've done nothing but try to make you feel good, welcome, and included? Have you reflected on why you have this habit of distorting the facts?

Yes, low self-worth and shame have a negative effect on how you perceive people. But where does the low self-worth and shame come from? Shame is a healthy emotion that everyone feels on occasion. However, shame becomes toxic when there is no reasonable basis for it. Thus, ask yourself what prompts you to take shame to extremes. Your task is to improve your emotional intelligence so that you can tell the difference between healthy and unhealthy shame, and then learn to disregard/disarm the unhealthy kind.

(3) Regarding Anxiety

Toxic shame is a common contributing factor to social anxiety. Social anxiety can make people very closed-off and too fearful (of being judged) to develop relationships properly. Lacking a healthy social life and strong social support system, social anxiety often manifests in tandem with other mental health issues, such as: withdrawal; loneliness; depression; personality disorders; addictions.

If social anxiety is serious enough to interfere with living your life as fully as you hope to, then it veers into "disorder" territory. For example, it's clear you want a relationship with this person, or meaningful relationships in general, but psychological obstacles keep holding you back. If you suspect that you have full-blown social anxiety disorder, it is best to get professional help for it.

It is normal to feel anxious when you believe something might threaten your survival or well-being. However, just as shame can be taken to extremes, anxiety "disorder" means you have a tendency to misinterpret threats, overreact to threats, or invent threats where there are none.

I don't know this person you're interacting with except for what you have told me. From my perspective, there is absolutely nothing in your description to indicate that she is someone to fear. In fact, I'd be happy to know someone like that. She seems like a kind person.

Of course, this is no guarantee that she will never ever be put off by anything you do. If you're looking for that sort of guarantee, then you have a problem of unrealistic expectations.

How am I to really know what offends you until I cross some of your lines, and vice versa? Disagreements are normal. When you take a relationship deeper, you are bound to run into points of conflict. It is not a reason to get anxious but rather an opportunity for two people to get to know each other better, through proper communication.

It is unclear why you approach relationships in such an anxious way. Social anxiety means you blow relationship threats out of proportion and perceive every problem as life-or-death. You need to change this attitude if you hope to have meaningful relationships with people. It might help to learn about attachment styles and how to change old relationship patterns.

(4) Regarding Avoidance

Anxiety isn't cured by avoidance. People who suffer social anxiety often choose to avoid social interaction, for what they claim to be "safety" or "comfort" or "ethical" reasons. Taken to extremes, these excuses can gradually morph into avoidant personality disorder.

When you avoid socializing, it means: i) you lose every opportunity to hone and sharpen your social skills, and ii) you lose out on meaningful life experiences that would help you build a stronger sense of self, from which to have more to offer/contribute.

Avoidance produces a vicious cycle of feeling worse and worse about yourself because of feeling more and more socially incompetent. For INFJs, with Fe higher in the stack, it means type development stops.

How do you think self-worth should be improved? People build their sense of self through their successes but also their failures. The answer to being bad at relationships isn't to withdraw into a mental cage. The best way to improve your social skills is through making social mistakes and then learning from them, which means you have to challenge yourself to invest fully and see things through.

(5) Regarding Rejection

Having such a dire fear of being judged means you have a lot to learn about drawing healthy emotional boundaries. This topic comes up often, so you can read previous posts about it.

The shame is your issue, and if your friend is capable of drawing healthy boundaries, she doesn't take on your problems as her own. It doesn't have anything to do with her, so why should she have a strong opinion about it, other than to be a good friend and care about it because you care about it?

It's like, before you can feel comfortable and confident enough to proceed, you want people to sign an ironclad contract stating that they will never ever judge you or never ever reject you. Is this reasonable? Aren't you just wanting a slave at that point?

It's fine to have low self-worth and shame, really. They're just feelings. What matters most is how you react. It isn't shame that destroys relationships, rather, the problem comes when you allow shame to hijack you to the point of sabotaging relationships.

People who suffer from toxic shame externalize it and believe that the problem lies out there, in others' judgments and criticisms. That's not the case. You're actually afraid of what others think about you because you don't want them to trigger all the bad things YOU already think about yourself.

Yes, there are jerks and bullies in this world, but this isn't that sort of situation, is it? In this situation, the problem isn't people out there being legitimately scary. The problem lies in how unforgiving you are of yourself. Your friend sounds like an understanding and accepting person, so I doubt she would judge you as harshly as you judge yourself. But that doesn't even matter in the grand scheme of things.

At the end of the day, people are going to think what they think, feel what they feel, believe what they want to believe, like what they like, hate what they hate, and decide how they decide... which is their right and their business - not yours (i.e. boundaries).

When it comes to self-worth, what matters most is what YOU think, feel, and believe about yourself. And is that not fully under your control? On what rational basis is there for you to judge yourself so negatively and harshly? Low self-worth isn't resolved by avoiding reminders of it, rather, it is resolved through self-acceptance. You won't be able to escape crippling fear of rejection until the day comes when you finally learn how to stop rejecting yourself.

[creatingblackcharacters]

What do you think makes y'all not say anything?

Often if I don't say something, it's because I'm not in that particular fandom and don't want to give any engagement to that person because I find it incredibly distasteful. Either that or it's not the original artist posting the image and I can't find them.

Why do you think your peers are comfortable with what they're doing?

I'm not sure, but usually if it's someone I know or is inside my space I point it out and give constructive feedback. I wonder if it's purposeful ignorance, sort of like how people pretend to be bad at chores to get away with it?

Why is it so safe to be antiblack in these fan spaces?

I think people feel comfortable being anti Black when creators and artists don't shut that shit down.

If it's just ignorance, why is educating oneself not a priority when it is offered?

Probably because people don't want to face the fact their behavior isn't okay. It reminds me of a toddler who doesn't want to admit they broke something so they blame it on the pets.

Does it not bother you?

It bothers me immensely! But I don't often see these things, usually only finding them when scrolling Google images or on Pinterest whenever I'm looking for references. In which case I don't know who the artist is and feel too disappointed in humanity to go searching for them.

What is the boundary to where you feel you would be bothered enough to speak up?

If it's someone within my space, someone I know through mutuals, common friends, or someone I have interacted with prior I would confront them. Based on that interaction I'll either help or give up on them.

I also feel like it depends on the severity, if it's something a little more subtle I'm more likely to privately DM and say "hey, you should probably fix [x]"

But if it's an egregious error such as skin lightening or white-washing features I'm more likely to comment publicly and encourage my friends to speak up as well.

Am I asking the wrong questions?

I think you're asking the right questions, but I think a lot of people also don't want to answer them truthfully. Or with their names attached (I can't help but feel uneasy about my name being attached but I know it's an opportunity for me to grow if my viewpoint is inappropriate or inaccurate)

What questions should I be asking, and what exactly do you think the answers would be to those questions?

I think the question that is missing is, "Why are creators allowing their fans and fan spaces to be anti-Black and not protecting their own fans?"

In my opinion, creators have to protect their minority groups in their fan spaces. If you let one nazi in a bar, it'll become a nazi bar, y'know?

I don't think creators are fully at fault for everything their fan spaces do, but I do think they have a responsibility to shut down shit and point out that they don't stand for that.

If people who have the power and strength speak up and make it cringey and shameful to be anti-Black, then people will follow suit. I think people who white wash are super cringe. Like what are you??? Afraid of melanin? Go get skin cancer, stinky. /Silly

Genuine question- why do you need to be in a fandom to call out racism if you see it there?

What happens when it's the creator who is also racist, especially when they are comfortable with the fan base that is on the same page? What will be the creator's motivation to change if their fan base is okay with their behavior in exchange for their content?

I agree about the creators, yes. More questions to consider: If the creator allows Nazis into their bar, yes it's a Nazi bar. But if the other patrons know Nazis attend this bar uncalled out, and still go to it knowing full well that they're not the ones in danger if they say nothing... What makes them not a participating Nazi? Because they have power too, more than they think, and aren't using it!

Also you shouldn't joke about cancer 😅

[cerenemuxse]

it's finally here 💥

the ClipperCrash part from this thing

"You're the heart of the Wonderbolts, and we would not be a team without you." - REALLY wished there were moments that displayed this behavior (and expanded on the Wonderbolts since that's what RD seemed to have going on for herself for half of the series). Only time i can think of was in Newbie Dash, when he comforts her about the nickname situation after the stunt she pulled. (not my favorite episode but i'll take what i can get xd)

But when you compare him to Spitfire, Soarin having this trait makes sense, and this phrase sounds like something genuine from RD.

throughout the entire issue (Friends Forever Issue #36, my beloved), RD isn't fangirling over the Wonderbolts like she did in Newbie Dash. she's got a great casual relationship with them from the looks of things.

"Spitfire? I mean, yes' ma'am!" - She immediately called Spitfire by her name instead of addressing her as "ma'am" like usual before fixing up her mistake. There has definitely been some development between RD and the Wonderbolts since Newbie Dash.

On the same page, Spitfire establishes that Soarin has respect for RD. That he's more likely to listen to her than to Spitfire.

"Soarin respects you. He'll listen to you."

It's definitely just my biased getting in the way but something about the way these two interact clicks to me as "potential romance." Not "current romantic interest" (hardcore "please don't actually make it canon/refuses to think its part of the main series" believer here. to me, ships are better when NOT canon, hehe xd), but a potential future romantic interest. so little interactions between these two but there's always something to offer, something to expand on.

ANYWAYS

once RD finally finds Soarin, he says this

"Crash? Make that beat up... and embarrassed." - Embarrassed? as in because you're the Second in Command? or is because it happened in front of someone that your Captain claims that you respect?

and its from this point that Soarin's stubbornness kicks in. He refuses to listen, the complete opposite of what Spitfire claimed. He's so persistent in proving his worth of being a Wonderbolt but my question is, How is it meant to prove his worth of being a Wonderbolt? Did he really think twice about it? I think not.

And this is where RD comes in. After a good while of being with his own thoughts (who knows what the hell he was thinking during those deliveries. can't be anything good though), someone interferes with them and gets to the bottom of it.

"No, he's not sure!" - Rainbow Dash EXPLICITLY says that he isn't sure, and its not just about this particular delivery. it expands to the whole situation. this is the second time she tries to stop him but seeing how stubborn he's being, she decides to join him instead.

but JUST to check, she asks him again. he's response?

I find this part of their dynamic interesting. I know that they're outside of their workplace but I haven't seen RD address Soarin as his position, like she would automatically do with Spitfire. Could this be because they have a closer relationship? Or is this an indicator about Soarin's personality, establishing that he's "the heart of the Wonderbolts."

and that's the thing. what exactly did RD mean by that? Comparing him to the other Wonderbolts, Soarin's the most openly compassionate of them all. With what little voice lines we get of him, Soarin has displayed this trait a few times, particularely in "Rarity Investigates!"

As Second in Command and what we've gotten from Spitfire as a Captain, you'd think Soarin would've taken further or stricter action in Rarity Investigates. But no, he didn't.

Instead, he gave RD the chance to prove herself innocent whereas the others would've downright kicked her out. They were pretty insistent with their accusations whereas Soarin just kept questioning her. He was more focused on getting an answer, not punishing RD because doing so wouldn't have resolved the issue. he's more think first than act first.

and to me, that's what i think RD means. Soarin is that part of the Wonderbolts that is desperately needed. they need someone who's more willingly understanding, and RD was the one to recognize that BECAUSE she was shown this. she TELLS him this which she didn't need to do.

RD could've just approached this the aggressive way. Force Soarin to come back down but she doesn't do that. She gives him space to talk about how he's feeling and what he feels like every now and then.

SIDE NOTE: I find it interesting that RD hides that she was pretty insecure when she was younger. She just goes with Soarin's statement that she was naturally gifted as if being a decent flyer was never a problem for her. She doesn't give context that could take the spotlight away from him any longer than she should. Soarin later finds out in a later issue where Windy Whistles and Bow Hothoof point out that RD had stage fright at a very young age. He doesn't get upset about it. He basically goes "Well, I wasn't!" to which RD didn't find amusing. ("Not cool, Soarin!")

it can easily be brushed off as "He's a Wonderbolt. Ofc, RD would do such a thing. She doesn't want to look bad and potentially be kicked out," but I think not. The vibes, the dialogue, and the interactions say otherwise. She's talking to him as a friend, not as a colleague.

HELL, she went out of her way to mail Spitfire with an update about the situation. From what they say, it sounds like Rainbow was the one to tell Spitfire to come over. REMEMBER, at the beginning, Spitfire states that she doesn't think its a good idea for her to confront him BECAUSE she's part of the problem.

No one's ASKED Rainbow Dash to do this but she does it anyways. She went through with it because she knew that Soarin needed to hear it from Spitfire. To see Spitfire show that she did care.

from this point onward, this is my HC. again, feel free to ignore

THIS is what starts the ball rolling from Soarin's side. this is what got him to pin after Rainbow Dash. She gave him the space he needed to express his struggles with imposter syndrome and his self-confidence. He was able to open up for once because this was someone he's respected. Yet this person he respected treated him like a friend. She didn't treat him like an idol or Second in Command.

And that's what got to him.

In my HC, post-Newbie Dash, they establish that they're friends. And this he tends to forget because again, this is someone he respect, but also because of their roles. I have this whole HC for how the WBs ranks works but basically, RD is in a low entry rank. not the lowest one but still pretty low, while Soarin is in the higest rank.

Which gives him reason to question if he should be pursuing RD. While dating another WB isn't forbidden, it is heavily discouraged.

another point is their age gap. Soarin is 5yrs older than her in my HC. They're 28 and 23 respectively. He thinks that those ages shouldn't be together. that life experiences between both were very different to one another.

other reasons are being thrown in his face. Seeing how RD's interaction with Zephyr Breeze went down was a big pointer as RD expressed how uncomfortable the experience was. From there, he chose to not to pursue her for the time being.

Twilight's ascension was also another reason, as in how RD was taking in the new changes, which wasn't too well. RD has a hardest time with it, compared to the other girls. She was lonely again, and it hitting much harder this time than before she met Twilight. She needed time to process these changes. The timing just wasn't right for Soarin to try and pursue a relationship with her. Instead, he supports her. HE provides a space of comfort for her, just like she did all those years ago.

there's ANOTHER big reason but its very spoilerly to my ClipperCrash storyline XD so that's all you get from me <3

that's my two cents on them. the absolute worst. fuck them /aff

[undercoverpan]

Say what you mean (I can't, sorry)

"Why didn't you make me tea when I was sick?"

The room they're in is quiet. Spider isn't looking at him, rather, he's staring at his cup of water as he sits down in one of the cold, metal chairs the RDA had left behind. Jake's place within the four walls is at the small counter, leaning other it with his elbows as he grips a piece of bone, whittling it into a bead. Neither face the other.

"What?" He asks, resuming with his carving. Spider glances at him from the corner of his eyes, catching the dismissive tone, and thinks of shutting his mouth. Just dropping the conversation. But with a second glance, he catches amber on the man's songchord, and thins his lips. Proof of his place within the family is reflected in that insignificant amber, the same blood that courses through his veins now. How he hated his blood; how he wonders why and how Jake could cherish it. His blood beckons him to speak, rushing to his cheeks as he opens his mouth again.

"When I was sick, you never made me tea." 

Jake regards his words in the way you might regard the core of an eaten Yovo fruit. Past its sweet flesh, what is it worth? The seeds may be cultivated by Eywa, but not necessarily the Na'vi. By Jake. But Spider wants to be valued beyond his metaphorical and literal flesh. 

"Did you want some tea?" He offers; and Spider stills. His rational mind, the one that never made any effort to shield him from the less rational parts of himself that dwelled within his heart, tells him that that is what he wants. Tea. He's asked for tea and he's being offered tea. He associates that part of his thoughts with cowardice and willful ignorance, because this isn't what he wants. 

"No, not right now. Back then, when I was a kid. You used to make the others tea; but never me. Why?" He presses, and though he shows great restraint with the emotions seeping through his teeth like blood through a white bandage, it is still as palpable and intrusive as the past comparison. Jake pauses, turns, and looks at Spider. He feels microscopic beneath his intense gaze, like an insect, like a yerik, like prey and insignificance all at once. Their relationship is one of commensalism, maybe parasitism if you push it. Spider certainly is.

"That's because you rarely got sick. Also, Norm wanted to keep you away from Na'vi foods and drink when you got sick–" he starts and Spider feels shame welling up in his throat like bile. Embarrassment. "No. Not that. Why didn't you make me tea?" He says. It's simple, a simple question. But below the surface, it's a heavy; loaded question. It's not stupid, or petty, or childish; it is a plea. A plea for understanding, a plea for please don't make me really say it.

"I never thought to make you tea. I…I thought you liked making your own tea." He offers instead an odd olive branch of sorts. Spider tightens his grip on his cup. "I always wanted someone to make me tea. It–, I like my tea, but I've never compared it to anything else. I don't know if I'm doing it right; I don't know what tea is supposed to taste like." He says, admits with some embarrassment and hesitance. Jake takes a breath; it feels like he's taking the air straight from Spider's lungs.

"Is it so bad, not knowing what tea is if you like what you make?" 

He asks. 

"Is it so bad that I want you to make me tea?" Spider counters. Jake sighs and Spider feels ridiculous. An 8 year old tugging at someone's sleeve, saying come look, I hit it right in the middle this time! I carved it myself! I wove it myself! I saw this and thought of you! I learned how to do this today! I made this for you!

"It's not that I don't want to make you tea, Spider, I promise. It's just…" he hesitates, searching for something inside himself, something more genuine than he wants to be right now. "...With the kids, and Neytiri, and the rest of the clan, I was just so busy." 

Spider feels something in him deflate, filled with some delusional hope that because he is part of 'the kids' and 'the clan' he'd get tea, but he wasn't. Never was, never will be. He bites his lip, hunching over like Jake punched him in the stomach and with the pain in his chest, he might've.

"Okay." He says, tersely. He doesn't dare meet his gaze. Doesn't want to imagine what he'd find in that golden eyed gaze.

"Spider…" He trails, reaches a big blue hand towards Spider in some kind of attempt at comfort. It's a cruel thing, reaching when you've made it clear you have no intention of holding. Featherlight touches grace him occasionally, but he wants the real thing. He wants somebody to care in the same way a father was. Anyone, anyone at all.

"It was stupid to ask," he says, standing up, "Sorry. It's stupid–, I'm stupid–,"  He rushes out of the room, water forgotten, eyes red rimmed and body stiff, trapped in rigor mortis. His body is tense, reeling from some kind of impact. He grits his teeth as he makes it to his little bedroom. He opens and closes the door behind him, a quiet click as it shuts behind him. His room, small and usually suffocating, is his sanctuary.

Sanctuary.  His uturu from the rest of the world, when it all became too much. And it's so stupid and he's so stupid because it's just tea. It's just tea, it's something he can make on his own, it's something he doesn't necessarily love; it was such a stupid and petty and desperate thing to ask. He feels like there are bugs under his skin, he wants to rip them all out. 

Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid

He feels hot tears down his cheeks. Embarrassing.

He sinks to the floor, knees tucked beneath his chin. He heaves.

The room blurs, turning into a muddled sea of colours in his vision. His head is cold against the hard floor as sobs wrack his built frame. And yet, from the corner of his eye, he spots something. It's in a brown can, a familiar one. He reaches out his hand and touches cold metal, pulling it from beneath his bed. 

It's one of the better drinks the RDA makes. Coffee flavoured energy drink, a favourite amongst the science guys. He always thought it tasted like dung, the bitterness juxtaposed awfully with the artificial sweetness. But when it's in a chipped mug, topped with copious amounts of whipped cream and chocolate, it's good. When it's shared around a campfire with Quaritch, it's good. When it's put into a microwave and subsequently blows up said microwave, it's good. 

He ignores the warning labels and drinks it down. It's good.

_________

Spider not asking what he rlly wants <333 turning to an unhealthy imitation of what he truly desires <333 he cant ask his dad for affection or why he feels unloved, he like frfr