#who is going to feed this world when we're gone

[mumblelard]

else or i had a dream within a dream dream last night and i wish i could throw my hands up, exasperated by the bogmonster's relentlessly cryptic babbling, but i have a good idea what they are on about, and we are nearing swallowed by a great fish time if i don't do something about it

the punks came over last night and we drank homemade four lokos and some assorted dollar bucket nonsense. we ate one unexpectedly good pizza and one unexpectedly bad pizza and talked about emo nights, diurnally promiscuous beavers, chipmunk kittens, trail's ends, trials, tribulations, and planned trips, dirt days, lost keys, pain thresholds, and the language of bureaucracy. it was a good night

[quicklikelight]

Saw a post just now that was like, how do you work full time and still have time for hobbies? And I think that's a great question to ask, as people navigating a world where increasingly our labor is entirely for the benefit of some faceless (or worse, incredibly public) billionaire and no one else.

I'm a person who takes my labor seriously, and I have had the pleasure and privilege of only working for non-profit or not-for-profit organizations throughout my adult career. I worked part-time for a regular corporation once for six months before I quit out of disgust, and I've worked for a couple of family-owned small businesses during college, but the overwhelming majority of my 12+ year career so far has been in a profit void, which does help.

Even still, I have colleagues at my big shiny non-profit who say, "Anne you have so many hobbies! How on earth do you have time for them?" And the key is,

If I don't make time for my personal passions, I'll die.

I'm not being dramatic. It isn't a joke. An intrinsic and necessary part of me -- the part that labors for love, that labors for the desire of it, for the enjoyment -- will die if I do not create time and space to do that labor. And without that love, that passionate hobby investment, the part of me that is left will not then decide, hey I should labor more for money! It will not decide, hey I should invest in my relationships! It will not decide, hey I should invest in myself as a human being! In my environment! In my community! In the world!

It will decide, if there is no time for joy in the world, I will not be in the world. I will doomscroll endlessly on my phone. I will watch re-runs of a beloved sitcom for 3 hours, exhausted on my sofa, and go to bed. I will show up to work still groggy from the day before, and I will be angry in meetings, and I will be exhausted from customer interactions, and I will either want to cry or I will have zero feelings at all as I enter yet another figure into another cell of the universal spreadsheet. I will not be my best self anywhere, for any reason, because my best self is dead.

People say things like, "I don't dream of labor," and I respect that. But a lot of labor is very good. It's work, to knit a sweater. It's work, to write a book. It's work, to raise a garden, or a goat, or a child. It's work to bake bread, and to sew pants, and to rebuild small engines. It's work to create, and that is--in my humble opinion--what we're here for. To spend all day idly eating grapes would drive a lot of us to the brink. The problem isn't labor--it's capital.

To make time for your hobbies means working intentionally to identify those passion projects as a necessary part of your reason for being on the earth. My job on this earth is not to assign training. My job on this earth is to create beauty, and write stories, and make clothes, and connect from my heart. When that truth is accepted, and you put in the effort to rebirth the part of you that died to capitalism, then it becomes very obvious that the relevant question isn't "how do I make time for hobbies."

The question is, "How do I ensure that my job does not take up all the mental and physical energy I have so that I can re-invest that energy into myself?"

A good place to start is to plan your days / weeks / months with an understanding of your mental/physical boundaries and just do that. There are ways to do this most effectively (collective bargaining, creating a schedule that honors the need for focus vs collaboration, bringing your hobbies to work and being open about how they make your work better) but the most important thing, in my opinion, is for you to understand that your full time job isn't you. It's not what makes you special or important in this world, and it's not what people will remember about you when you're gone, and it's not going to feed you if you stop showing up. So give it as little as you can comfortably get by with, preserve that precious energy, and put it into something that sets your soul alight.

When you invest in the labor that loves you back, that provides for you, that keeps you alive... you'll stop accepting a world in which you cannot dream of labor for fear of losing yourself.

And maybe, at the end, you'll have a sweater. :)

[xoxo-sarah]

Ms. Perfect

��a/n: this is an old idea that I had in the back of my notes app. Oops.

↝pairing: Daryl Dixon x fem!reader

↝warning: death, widow!Reader, apocalypse, mean! Daryl, swearing, not proofread

|| Disclaimer: I do not own Daryl, or any character from The Walking Dead. I only own y/n and any characters I create with my own brain. ||

↝⎙ 4.23.24

Daryl wasn't sure why he hated you so much. You were nice to everyone around you, even understanding. But the sight of you makes the blood in his veins boil.

It became a routine; you and him sniping at each other, digging up trauma neither of you really wanted to. He just got under your skin. Like now.

“Sorry, in case you haven' noticed, the world ain't all rainbows and sunshine anymore. We don't shit money to buy the newest thing. Life is different, Doll. Get used to it.” He drawled, his eyebrows scrunched together.

There he goes again.

You weren't even talking to or about him, but he had heard you. That had been enough for him to butt in, apparently.

Ever since you had stumbled your way into Daryl's group early on, Daryl had had it out for you. At the creek, he would be pointing out how your hair had to have been done recently. Your jewelry, clothes, how smooth your skin looked from the expensive moisturizers and night creams you had to use, your newly manicured nails- ignoring the dirt and blood underneath-, and the shine in your eyes. You didn't have the shine at first, but when you would hang out with Carol, you would smile, and the recent glazed look was gone.

Your eyes shone brightly like the stars in the countryside. Not that you would know. You probably never had the chance to see how bright the stars shone in the city.

You were unbothered by the people at the campsite, keeping to yourself. You didn't have to worry about anything when the world was built for your liking and convenience.

Daryl despised you and that god-awful rock on your finger that could feed him for probably 6 months to a year. He glared at the ring every chance he got—so much so that you eventually yanked it off, throwing it in the murky pond.

Even after leaving the campsite, you stayed with the group, arguing with Daryl along the way.

“I get it, you're used to having people do everything for you, but we're not always going to be with you, Princess. Sorry life now is so much different from your perfect life before.” For a quiet guy, he always had so much to say to you. All negative.

You bit your cheek, glancing from Maggie—who you were originally talking to—to the dirty man in front of you. "Yeah-I had the perfect life. I had the fiancé that I couldn't wait to marry. I had the apartment that I had the luxury to design with my mother, gushing about the difference wallpapers." You smiled at the memory. Your mother had been so happy for you. "I had the fluffy dog that had its own room. I had the dad who would always talk about playing catch with his future grandchild. I had the money where I didn't have to worry about anything in life." You didn't falter as you felt behind your eyes begin to burn. " I did, alright? I had the life that almost every little girl dreams about. But it was yanked out of my hands, like everyone else's. One day, I didn't wake up to my fiancé kissing me, or the smell of burnt toast-- cause he didn't know how to cook. I woke up to him nowhere in sight. Instead, I heard yelling outside the door, car horns honking outside of the windows. When I opened the door, I saw my neighbors with white eyes, growling and clawing at the skin of the man I was going to marry and grow old with. His screams will haunt me 'til the day I die. But you will not ever hear me feeling bad for myself. I did have the perfect life, but that doesn't matter now. So, get over -yourself-, cause I am just trying to survive just like you."

Daryl watched your eyes gloss over, your nostrils flare. You were rightfully pissed. And right. He hadn't heard you weep for your past-- ever. You had jumped right into survival mode as soon as he laid eyes on you. You had held your own too- most people called you a badass, Daryl wouldn't let himself verbally agree. With that, you turned and walked away. Maggie shuffled awkwardly, glancing from you to Daryl. She wore a disappointed frown.

Weeks. You ignored his existence for weeks, 2 weeks to be exact. Everytime he would go up to you, you would walk away. Even if you were in the middle to a conversation. The person you were talking to wouldn't mind, really. They would've known about your bitter back-and-forth. They wouldn't think anything of it.

Daryl just wishes you would give him a chance to at least try to apologize. After you had let your walls down and told him about what the end of the world was like for you, he felt bad - pathetic, even. He was so jealous about how you lived before the outbreak, he didn't care about how it had affected you. He should've.

The moonlight led him towards your house, his hands fidgeting. The streets were silent, everyone already in bed. He hadn't been able to sleep. The thought of you kept him up in a different way than before.

His knuckles hovered over your door. You had to be in bed. Was it worth it? You would probably be too tired to yell at him. He knocked.

It took a minute for the door to open. You stood, rubbing sleep from your eyes, a sleep frown on your face. At the sight in front of you, your hand dropped, your sleepy eyes immediately rolling in annoyance. "Oh my god-" You tried to close the door, but his boot caught it before it could close all the way. "Move your foot, Dixon."

"Listen." His eyes were pleading, something you weren't used to. You kept the door open when he reluctantly moved his boot. " 'm sorry."

You scoffed, Sure, you are."

" 'm serious. " He looked at the floor as he brought his hand up, turning it and showing his hand. "Not sure why I kept it." At the sight of your ring, tears bordered your eyes. Your head pressed against the side of the door as your body shook with a silent sob. Daryl didn't look at you. He let you grieve for whatever you wanted to in that moment. He let you have that moment. After your sobs died down, his calloused hand took yours, opening your hand and dropping the ring into your palm.

"You're a dick." You hiccupped.

"I know." 

•2021-2024 by xoxo-sarah on Tumblr•

•My work is not to be translated, copied, modified, and/or reposted on any other site without my permission. [I don't give permission!]

[squinch-depraved]

priest schlatt I beg

we're not gonna talk about how long this took me to get to

happy national clergy appreciation day (in the u.s.) !! sorry if this sucks i was raised southern baptist and even then i sucked at christianity there's a reason i practice witchcraft now lol

hanging your head low as you ducked into the confessional wouldn't save you. sure, there was no one around to see you, but knowing that god had witnessed what you had done was reason enough to try and hide from the world as much as you could. but still you tucked yourself away into the corner of the booth, clutching your purse in your trembling hands.

religion was a something of a sore spot for you; growing up in a hyper-christian family was one way to ensure you didn't feel comfortable in a house of worship. you had always viewed god as an inevitable outcome, a fact that awaited you whenever you happened to reach the end of your journey here on earth. once you graduated high school and locked yourself into a four year program at a catholic college one state over, you came to realize that the reason you couldn't stand your religion wasn't because of overbearing relatives. no, it was the very idea of god himself. you found him sadistic, an egotistical prick who had nothing better to do than let horrible things happen to his creations. maybe it was true that most of the teachings you had heard were lost on you, that you didn't even make an effort to understand the lessons passed down for thousands of years. but so what? nobody had ever made an effort to understand you or what you were going through, why should you waste your energy extending that courtesy to a church that obviously didn't care about you?

but you know who did make you feel understood? the guys you had dated in the three years since you arrived at this prison. at least, for a few weeks, in the beginning. the first one was fine. he was the one who convinced you virginity was an outdated concept- which you still agreed with to this day, you decided. he was surprisingly "woke" about the whole religion thing, which was what drew you to him in the first place.

"my parents made me study here too," he sympathized. "i totally wish i could've gone on a mission trip instead of getting a degree. like, college will be here in a few years! those impoverished people might not, y'know? i just feel like god is totally calling me to go serve. like, 'troy, man, go feed those guys! tell them how cool i am!'" he stopped tossing a miniature foam basketball against your bedroom wall for a moment to look at you.

you smiled weakly at his sentiments and glanced up from your laptop to nod. "totally, troy."

turns out, (unsurprisingly) troy was a fucking douche. he stayed around just long enough to get into your pants a couple times, but then you caught him with the girl who lived in the dorm across from you, so he had to go. nobody ever found out who stole his clothes from the men's showers, but the videos of him streaking down the hallways while he ran to his room were sent around campus for months after that.

guys two and three were more painful than troy; you had actually grown attached to them. guy two lasted almost a year, and three was only a few months, but he felt special. and the half dozen guys you slept with while trying to get over them just added to the tally of sins you were keeping subconsciously.

so when your grades started to slip from depression in the winter of your junior year, and your counselor called you to her office for an appointment, it was no surprise that her words got under your skin as easily as they did. how could they not? getting students to go to church was part of her job. she was concerned that your grades were slipping because she hadn't seen you at mass in a long time, and the absence of the lord will do that to a young girl, you know.

so later that night, after drinking by yourself at a bar a few miles from the school, you stumbled into the church on campus and slunk into the confessional. realizing that the wooden box was incredibly uncomfortable, you winced and pulled off your heels, rubbing your feet gently as you waited to be listened to.

you shrieked quietly when a small lattice window on the wall next to you slid open. "oh, fuck... sorry! um, it's my turn, right?... yeah, i think so. okay, so, um. bless me father for i have... sinned? it's been, like," you paused as you counted back the time on your fingers. "almost two years since my last confession. oh, jeez, that makes me sound awful." you were hiccupping as you rambled, and you could have sworn you heard the faintest exhale of amusement if you weren't plastered.

"whatever, it's too late to stop now," you sighed, crossing your legs. "i let some guys sleep with me and now i'm all unpure and like. i'm supposed to show up here a couple times every week now but i don't wanna, i don't care enough about this whole god thing to waste the rest of my college life becoming a nun. i'm already worried i wasted three years coming here instead of a school where i could have felt like myself," you trailed off.

it was quiet for a moment before a gruff voice with a new york accent asked, "how many guys?"

you snorted. "9, i think," you said with a smirk, rolling your eyes.

the man on the other side of the panel felt his face heat up as he mumbled, "jesus." you couldn't hold in your laugh at how absurd this was. this was what you deserved for coming to confess at 2 in the morning.

"i know it's been a while since i've been here and all, but i'm pretty sure that's not what you're supposed to say," you giggled.

a chuckle was heard before he answered, "sorry. you're right, it's not. tell me more, what led you to sleeping with them?" at least now he was trying.

the two of you talked for about an hour, until it no longer felt like a confession and you were sure you had fallen for this priest you couldn't even see. eventually, he tried to dismiss you without giving you your penance, but something in your gut drove you to bring it up yourself.

he stepped out of the booth first, and you hesitated for a second before following him, freezing when you saw what he looked like. tall, scary, with gorgeous brown eyes framed by aviator glasses and fluffy chops adorning his cheeks. by some miracle, he also felt immobilized by his view of you hopping out of the wooden compartment- dress disheveled, fishnets ripped, heels in one hand and your purse slung over one shoulder. you were his worst nightmare, a temptation he simply could not resist. god had just placed a vulnerable young lamb like you in his midst; who was he to deny himself of the simple pleasures his lord had provided for him?

"father? father, my penance," you waved your hand in front of his face (after a bit of trying to get his attention), which had just gone dark. his eyes now looked hungry and cold.

"hmm?" he blinked and tilted his head towards you slightly. "oh. uhm," he let out a deep exhale, as if contemplating something. "y-y'know what? just come with me," he spoke gently, taking your hand and leading you to a back room with some spare furniture scattered about.

a part of you knew what was coming, and a different part of you never could have guessed the situation you were about to find yourself in. once you were alone in the room together, he pulled you close and pressed you against a wall, letting his hot breath waft over your neck as he bent down to whisper in your ear.

"god's telling me we should make it 10 men you've been with," he murmured, voice velvet smooth as it coated your eardrums. "so you can say at least one of them was a real man of the lord, hmm, doll?"

your breath, caught in your throat, sped up as he slowly, gently, tenderly took your wrists in one of his hands, bringing them to rest above your head. "father..."

"schlatt. my name's schlatt. but that's just a courtesy, hm? stick to callin' me father." you felt him smirk against your skin as he sunk his teeth into the flesh of your neck, drawing out a frantic moan from you.

"careful with your noises, angel, there's two other guys here tonight, and if we get caught, i'm gonna have to share you," schlatt warned. he used his other free hand to pull down the top of your dress, smiling greedily at the sight of your exposed breasts. "no bra?"

"i-it didn't go with the outfit," you tried to defend yourself, but he just shushed you and fondled your chest lovingly, like he really was just appreciating one of god's creations. pathetic noises spilled from your lips as you watched him admire you, a hypnotized look on your face.

"you're so beautiful, doll. wha's your name?" he asked, glancing up at your face to meet your gaze.

you stammered out your response and he repeated it, running over the name in his mind.

"pretty," he said simply. "i'm gonna make you feel good now, okay?" it was more of a statement than a question, and you nodded with a gulp as he knelt down and slid his head under your dress. you felt your pupils dilate as you leaned your head back against the wall and let your eyes fall closed. schlatt ripped a bigger hole into your fishnets and pulled your skimpy panties to the side, licking a long stripe up your folds and tracing circles with his tongue on your clit. it was hard to keep your whorish noises contained, but clamping your hand over your mouth did a good enough job.

he ate you until you were frantically scratching at his head through the fabric of your dress as you came all over his face, sobbing from how good you felt. you didn't even know it was possible to feel this euphoric, but here this priest was to show you how. once he was satisfied, he pulled away from your cunt and rose to tower over you again. he reached into his robes and opened them enough so that his crotch was visible. you watched as he pulled out his length, stunned at the size of it, and let him pick you up and position you around his waist.

"father, i'm scared, i don't know if it's gonna fit," you admitted guiltily. schlatt locked eyes with you while he replied.

"it's okay to be scared. but you have to do it anyways." with that, he slid into you, stretching you out more than you ever had been before. you bit onto him in an effort to keep quiet; his robes did a good job of muffling the sound. after a generous amount of time to let you get used to him, he started moving.

he was gentle at first, but gradually got rougher and rougher. there wasn't a moment where he wasn't focused on making you feel good. his eyes pierced through you as he rammed into you at a relentless pace, and the attention he was giving you didn't make you feel objectified like it did when the other guys fucked you. it made you feel divine, ethereal almost.

grunts and pants, along with the occasional squeal, were all that could be heard as he rolled his hips into you time and time again. he coaxed another orgasm out of you just with his cock, and once he felt like he had pleasured you enough, he sped up, now thrusting at a frenzied pace.

"when i tell you, you're gonna get on your knees and take me in your mouth, okay angel?" he instructed, out of breath. you nodded, eager to please.

"yes, father," you gasped as he reached deeper and deeper inside you with every thrust. schlatt's eyes rolled back slightly at the title and he went impossibly faster for a few seconds before speaking.

"n-now! now!" he ordered desperately. he set you down hurriedly and you slammed down onto your knees to take him in your mouth, letting him burrow deep into your throat before he finished with a loud groan and grabbed your hair roughly.

he remained in your throat for a moment while he caught his breath, sliding out once his chest had stopped heaving.

"there's your penance, doll. i better see you here for a 2 a.m. confession next monday as well, yeah? i think that's what the lord's callin' me to do," schlatt said as he buttoned his robes. you straightened your clothes as much as you could and looked up at him sheepishly.

"looking forward to it. but, uh, is there a back door i could leave through? because i do not want to walk through the church like this." you gestured to your outfit, tattered and wrinkled, and winced.

he chuckled and nodded. "yeah, i'll show you to it. maybe it could be our secret entrance," he joked.

"oh, of course. i'll knock three times whenever i need to be let in," you retort with a grin.

maybe coming to church wouldn't be so bad, after all.

[melkyt]

Lawlu as parents mmm, (mpreg Luffy vibes)

Luffy doesn't have any father figures in his early life, not even sure what dads do with a kid that is not dump on some island and ditch.

Shanks and his five seconds of fame that Luffy mentions every chance he gets dont count in this scenario, I love Shanks as a dad content, but his track record is spotty xd

Law as a Father is conflicted, scared, and happy at the same time. He had a loving biofather who treated them with kindness and still thinks that Cora made a great guardian despite their rough start together. So he tries to follow their example, so he would never leave his child, though he looks at how Luffy was raised and decides that he will be solely responsible for their kid.

Thats okay, he has a space on the polar tang for when it arrives, decorating with sunflowers and hearts so atleast the kiddo knows the symbols of both their parents, even if they never get the chance to meet Luffy for long.

The relationship Law and Luffy have in Law's eyes is just some fun and a distraction when they both needed it most. So they ended up with a kid in the process, its fine. Law gets used to repeating its fine through the entire process of getting things ready for the child to be part of his life.

Then they arrive, a little ball of shine that resembles them both with bright pale eyes and a brighter smile.

Law is completely taken by their baby. He will spoil them and give them world!

Luffy does that stare of his when he is serious about something, an unwavering determination focused on the kid. It unnerves Law a little as they usually share everything, and he understand what Luffy is thinking better than he did when they met, but sometimes its hard to read Luffy's focused expressions. Especially now,

Law decides its best not to ask, he doesnt want to hear that Luffy thinks they should leave the child behind for its own sake. Worry gnawing at his mind, that he will have to do something drastic to keep the baby and that it will break the relationship he built with Luffy and the strawhats

The baby has to stay on the Sunny for a few weeks, and Law decides to stay there as well. He is determined not to leave the kid. Every waking moment he is carrying the baby arround, washing, feeding, anything he can do while Luffy recovers.

Running himself ragged in the process. He wants to be the best parent ever, and sleep or food doesn't factor into the equation when Law gets hyperfocused. He is a mess. Coming into the nursery on the Sunny with a yawn, just to look at their baby.

Luffy stops him before Law can go to pick them. Instead, forcing Law to take his bed in the room next door.

Law out like a light as soon as his head hits the pillow. When he wakes up, Luffy and the baby are gone. His mind immediately jumps to the worst-case scenario. They are both pirates, and a ship is no place for a baby. That's something Luffy said before, quoting Shanks. So Law is worried he didn't even get to say goodbye.

Law is not bothering to grab his hat, his sword, or even to put on shoes, slipping on the wood. He hears Luffy laughs and runs into the kitchen of the Sunny.

Much ot his relief and surprise, the baby is still there. Luffy is wearing one of those baby slings that let him move around hands free, chattering to the kid about what food Sanji is making, getting everything wrong, much to Sanji's annoyance, as he corrects his captain, determined that the baby knows for sure that cooking is an art!

Law pulling Luffy into a hug, something he only does when nobody is watching. Yet now he doesnt care because they are still there. Luffy chuckles and hugs him back. "Duh, we're still here Traffy" He ruffles Law's hair, the baby giggles where it is pressed between them.

Law after that mini panic at losing family once again, decides to talk to Luffy and what they are doing. That he is prepared fo take care of the kid on the polar tang and while its Luffy's choice in the end and not his, he would rather have the kid in his life then leave it on some island whete it might be safe. Might not have people after it just for being born, but Law would rather be able to protect their kid all on his own.

Luffy pouts, "Who said you gotta do things alone, Traffy?" Luffy holds their kid closer. He tells Law about how even though he dont care about it anymore, he remembers how he felt about being tossed out all the time as a kid and that it hurt not having a place to belong.

He remembers how much Ace hated his dad for leaving him with old man Garp. How Uta felt when Shanks left her.

Luffy aint gonna do that. The kid stays and they are gonna raise it with their crews, with their families and make sure it knowz that its loved!

Law smiles with a soft expression, tension leaving his body. They will have to deal with a lot of danger and shenanigans to protect their child in the future, but at least they will do it together.

[yuujispinkhair]

Separation Anxiety - Masterpost

Put your lips on my scars and teach me to love

When a ritual separates Sukuna from Yuuji, Sukuna is delighted to find that besides having his own body, there is also another gift handed to him: The brat has lost all his memories and is now the perfect little plaything to take home and manipulate. At least, that's the plan. But the King of Curses isn't prepared for the feelings that come along with being human again. And another complication is how cute the brat is when he has no idea who Sukuna is and, instead of hating him, treats him with genuine love and affection. So, without realizing it, Sukuna suddenly finds himself on a journey of learning how to be loved and how to love.

Sukuna x Yuuji | fluff + smut | Memory Loss AU | Overall warnings: 18+, smut, mentions of violence, dub-con (Yuuji has lost his memories, and Sukuna lies to him about being boyfriends) | All characters are of age | Minors don't interact

Playlist: Separation Anxiety

Chapter 01: Welcome to my cage, little lover

Chapter 02: You look into my eyes, you can't recognize my face. You're in my world now. You can stay, but you belong to me

Chapter 03: Your mind wants to leave, but you can't go. This is a happy house. We're happy here

Chapter 04: Do you feel safe out in the light? Or is this the place where monsters hide?

Chapter 05: This could be perfection. A venom dripping in your mouth. Singing like a siren. Love me while your wrists are bound

Chapter 06: I wanna feel you in my bones. I'm gonna tear into your soul. Desire, I'm hungry, and I hope you feed me

Chapter 07: I don't know what to do with your kiss on my neck. I want to steal your soul and hide you in my treasure chest

Chapter 08: Your love is scaring me. No one has ever cared for me as much as you do

Chapter 09: Put your lips on my scars and teach me to love

Chapter 10: I don't understand how your love can do what no one else can. Your love's got me looking so crazy right now

Chapter 11: Honey, you're Atlas in his sleeping. And when you move I'm moved

Chapter 12: If I told you where I've been, would you still call me baby?

Chapter 13: You've been my God and when you're gone I'm godless. But with my eyes closed I'm still dancing in your love

Chapter 14: I can't keep you in these arms, so I'll keep you in my mind

Chapter 15: We can meet in the middle, bodies and souls collide. Dance in the moonlight when all the stars align for you and I

If you would like to be tagged when I publish the chapters, please comment on this post or send me an ask. I will cross-post this fic on Tumblr and AO3 starting next week. I hope I can post a new chapter each week! I'm so excited!!

[luveline]

hello jade! i just want to say i absolutely adore your writing!! if you have the time, could we see some more grumpy steve in the zombie au? id love to see anything from before the college, i just miss that grumpy era! <3

thank you my love!! steve zombie au —you try to make sense of why steve is so grumpy. 1k, fem!reader

"No," Steve says. 

You sigh and turn away from him, hands braced either side of your face. Steve doesn't talk much, but when he does, his favourite word is no. 

"Why not?" you ask. 

"There's nothing left in Hawkins," he says, stepping with ease over a huge puddle of diesel, the expelled gas strong enough to make you feel nauseous. 

"There's, you know, our homes." 

"What's the point?" he asks. "I'm trying to be fair here. What's the point in going back when everyone is gone and half the town was burned to the ground?" 

You ease over the diesel puddle with much less ease, muttering expletives to yourself when your left foot sinks into the instep. Now you'll smell like diesel for the next week. Great. 

There isn't any point in going back home, but that doesn't mean you don't want to. There really is nothing there, half the town was on fire when you bolted, the Hawk, the school, anything that would catch. It was an organised arson by the escape group you and Steve were supposed to be in (or rather, just Steve, flame to draw the geeks attention. You hadn't known anyone who knew anyone that knew the plan, so you hadn't realised everybody was leaving until they were already gone, the sound of what must've been fifty cars departing northward your lone clue. 

You kick the floor as you and Steve step out of the road and back onto the dirt path beside it, hoping the grass and mud will soak up the acrid smell stuck to your shoe. You'd brought Hawkins up because you're still grieving. Because you want someone to talk to about what you've lost, and Steve isn't abiding. 

"What guarantee is it that the world isn't just as razed as Hawkins?" you ask without pep. 

"There's no point thinking about it that way. We keep moving or we die. We go home, we die. We need to keep going and if we're fast enough, we can catch up to the Hawkins group. It'll be safer when it isn't only the two of us." 

And you'll never have to speak to me again, you think morosely. 

Steve is handsome. He went to your high school, though that was, like, four years ago. He's not the kind of guy who wasted time with girls like you, you know that. You guess you'd been hoping he'd be nicer alone. 

"You're not how I remember you," you say. 

"I don't remember you," he says. 

"Why would you?" you ask. You pretend to mess with the zipper on your jacket rather than look in his direction, worried he'll meet your eye, and see the actual hurt in your expression. "I was nobody, and you were a jock. Everyone knows how that goes."

"It's not like that," he says. 

You bat a rogue insect away from your cold cheek. You hate the forest. "What's it like?" you ask. 

"It's not about what kind of person you were. I had a lot going on back then." 

"Like what?" 

"Like getting beat up so bad I had a concussion twice in the same year," he says. 

"Woah." You look at him through the corner of your eye. "You got beat up that bad twice?" 

Steve doesn't answer you. You continue following him, making your way across a big stretch of road, the next crop of buildings about twenty minutes away if you had to guess. The weather is brisk, the sun occluded by grey clouds, and the air smells like ash. The sky is a hazy shade of white.

"Wait, by Jonathan Byers?" 

"No, he's the one who didn't give me a concussion," Steve says contritely. 

"Oh. Hey, you don't have to look so down about it, Harrington, this is a good thing. I can trust you, now." 

"You didn't trust me? I've been feeding you for the past week." 

"Yeah, but you're a guy I don't really know. I was worried you might try to kill me and eat me in my sleep or something when the food ran out, but now I know you're bad at fights, I'm not so worried." 

"Fuck off," he says dryly. 

"I'm bad at fighting too, if you were wondering." 

"I wasn't." 

"Hmm. Who beat you up the third time? I know that jerk Hargrove got you." 

"Just some guy."

"Must've been an angry guy," you mumble, looking at him with your head tilted. 

Steve is an asshole often and unapologetically to you, but you don't think you want to hurt him. He's shown you that, while he sucks, he knows how to be nice. He makes sure the blankets are covering your shoulders before you fall asleep, and he gives you bigger portions if he hears your stomach grumbling. Plus, no guy so eager to find their best friend can be evil, you think. He must have a whole lot of love stored up. Or stored down. Deep down inside. 

"Stop staring at me," he says. 

"Okay." You stare at him some more. He has a nice nose. He has really nice eyes, kind of hooded and almond shaped at once, brown irises that look dark as tree bark as the sun goes down. "Well, I won't beat you up." 

"Thanks," he says. He sounds less grumpy. You try to push it further. 

"I'm really sorry," you say, slowing your steps a touch. He slows to match you. "That someone hurt you like that. Twice. I know concussions aren't funny, that it must've sucked to recover from them." 

"I had a perforated eardrum," he says. "It hurt like hell. All of it did."

"I'm sorry," you say gently, offering him a sympathetic smile. 

He smiles back. "Not your fault," he says quietly. Then, louder, "Don't walk so slow. We need to be inside soon, the sun is setting." 

"Yes, sir," you say, saluting him sarcastically. 

He doesn't speak to you for half an hour. You don't mind so much, especially when, the next time you come across a puddle of diesel (someone seriously needs to learn how to syphon gas properly), he holds out a hand and helps you cross it, even though you could've easily walked around.

[emblemxeno]

Chapter 13 of Fates Revelation is a writing highlight for me.

Corrin: What's going on? They're both blaming each other for this carnage.

Azura: Of course. Kingdoms at war will always twist things to benefit themselves.

Ryoma and Xander-representative of Hoshido and Nohr as a whole-uphold the conflict and status quo of the world they live in. Even if it makes no sense, they accept that they're enemies and an enemy must have done something awful to harm the peace.

Even parts of their battle quotes and end of chapter dialogue emphasize this.

Ryoma: It doesn't matter, Kagero. Anyone who doesn't side with Hoshido is the enemy. What will you be?

Xander: Trust her? Don't be a fool. I won't listen to any more of your lies. You've chosen your side—opposite me. Prepare yourself, Camilla.

-

Xander: This isn't over! We'll fight to the very last man!

Ryoma: You won't see Hoshido waver! We'll fight until there's no one left!

Xander: Whoever retreats now admits defeat! Nohr will never lose to Hoshido.

Ryoma: This war will continue until we take our last breath!

They are unable to see any part of a conflict as something with them or against them. Nuance and rationality don't sit well in minds stubbornly steeped in years of animosity. War, hatred, and reinforcing the way things are is something both of them are willing to do, because they see no other path or choice for themselves.

Corrin and Azura meanwhile, actively disrupt their world views.

Corrin: ...You may be my brothers, but I won't go easy on you if you try to stop me! Come, everyone! ... Ryoma! Xander! Please, you both have to listen to me! We've defeated the real enemy—you don't need to fight each other now!

Azura: Ryoma, Xander... It wasn't Nohr or Hoshido who destroyed this town. It was done by the invisible forces that we just defeated. Now that they are gone, I will not allow any more senseless violence. I will sing my song as many times as necessary to restore peace. Do you still insist on fighting?

And it's not empty words or cries that fall on deaf ears. Corrin is strong. Her will is iron-clad, and she will ensure her vision of peace is made a reality, no matter who she makes an enemy of. Azura is strong as well. What she lacks in directing a path on her own, she makes up for with raw resilience and no qualms about using her song-something that risks her life-to end things on her terms.

They force their stubborn older brothers to look at things in a different perspective; to stop trying to hack and slash their lives away and consider a bigger threat to what and who they care about.

While they aren't swayed immediately, they're undoubtedly shaken. After that, it takes personal introspection and uncomfortable truths for each of them to swallow their pride and admit their ways are wrong, and to follow Corrin to end a senseless war.

And I love this exchange at the end as well:

Scarlet: Ryoma's talked my ears off about what happened to you as a kid. You sound like an idealistic brat to me. You want to bring peace to the world? Ha!

Corrin: There's nothing idealistic about ending this horrible war.

REJECT 👏🏽THE 👏🏽 STATUS 👏🏽 QUO 👏🏽!

Accusing others of being naive or idealistic for things like this, in my opinion, shows cowardice, or even ignorance; a life that's been beaten down by other upholders of a terrible state of the world until they agree.

Why is it naive to trust people? Why is it idealistic to want something like endless warring to stop?

We're fed a lie as children: "Life's unfair, you can't do anything about it." Says who!? Why accept that life is cruel and unyielding, when there's so much capacity for good in the world? Is life actually unchangeably unfair in its nature, or is it simply malefactors taking advantage of innocent people in order to rise up to slake their own greed?

Once terrible people get in power, they beat down any forms of resistance and feed this very same lie to them. Worse still, they can even convince the masses to discriminate, fight, and kill each other all so they can swoop in during the aftermath and reap the benefits. And people, at their lowest point, take solace in any explanation-no matter how untrue and no matter who it's coming from-in order to have some semblance of control or direction. That forms their new view of the world.

It takes people who haven't been exposed or raised to believe such nonsense (Corrin) and people who are wise enough to recognize the true problems of the world (Azura), to push against this normalized destruction between two innocent groups of people and direct their ire towards the actual oppressor (Anankos).

It's succint, but scathing. The word choice-in both JP and localization-is too deliberate to consider it a coincidence, I genuinely think it's a good criticism of how our modern world works as well. From a philisophical standpoint it is basic, but Fates as a whole also tackles issues of ignorance/discrimination, xenophobia, the boundaries and meanings of family, who defines justice, the belief of many versus the will of the few, embracing consequences instead of running away, and exploring the concept of leadership in general.

For a game this big, IMO, it meets the mark more often than not when considering the points it wants its audience to hear.

[raccoon-eyed-rebel]

Part 26

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Part 25 🟣 Part 27

A reverse harem vampire AU ft. Mikey, Marshall, August and Sherlock

Series summary: Somehow, you've managed to live with your boyfriend and his roommates for months before finding out they're vampires, but the real shock first comes when they find out you have a special quality. A quality the guys would love to make use of...

Warnings: Fluff, ongoing vampire shenanigans, angst, Mike being an idiot, feral!Walter.

Word count: 2k

A/N: Soooo we're back with another instalment of the vampyboys! We're not hating on jellybeans today, no worries! (Ain't that a relief?) Enjoy!

@geralts-yenn @deandoesthingstome @ellethespaceunicorn @summersong69 @mis-lil-red

@sillyrabbit81 @livisss @itsrubberbisquit @ktficworld @proud-aroace-beastie

@plaidcat4815 @wa-ni @lovemusicpart2 @lizzystuffsthings @manysecrets2020

@sarcasmoverlordxo

“Hey, Mikey…” Your voice came out hesitant and small. Not for any particular reason, other than an especially useless fear of rejection. “Would you please feed?”

“Oh, yeah, sure!” He sounded surprised, especially when you stopped him from going for your neck. “Ohhhhh, like that!” He grinned up at you while simultaneously pulling the hem of your shirt up. You let him take it off, barely noticing when he took off your bra as well.

“There’s one more thing I’d like you to do,” you muttered. You were so certain you wanted this, and so afraid Mike wouldn’t be okay with it…

“Anything, Sweetcheeks,” he said with a big smile while he wriggled his way down until his face was where it needed to be.

“I want you to leave the bite,” you whispered, stroking his cheek.

Mike moved back up, leaning his forehead against yours. “Are you for real?”

“Yeah,” you sighed. “More than anything. Don’t get me wrong, I want the others like that as well, even if they don’t know it yet—”

“They know,” he interrupted. “We’ve been talking about it, kinda… August complained that he wanted to mark you, and Sherlock countered that he wouldn’t let that happen unless he got a black-on-white promise from you that he’d get his turn, too. He was kind of aggressive about it. I— ehh… I really think we should let them know about this.”

“Wise words,” you mumbled. “I'm impressed.”

“I hope the offer to let me feed my favorite way still stands, though?” he asked, smiling at you like he was looking at his favorite thing in the whole world — which probably wasn't even too far from the truth.

“Why do you like that so much,” you wondered out loud. There had to be more to it than a simple love for boobs, right? You looked down at Mike, who looked up at you, his deep frown telling you he didn't appreciate the disturbance just as he was about to sink his teeth into you.

“I think by now we've established that I have severe abandonment issues,” Mike said. It sounded like he was joking, but you knew he wasn't. It was a silly coping mechanism, and you weren't going to accept that this time.

“Yeah, I noticed,” you said softly, running a hand through his unruly curls. “But we can't always accommodate those, Mikey. That wouldn't be healthy, either.”

“Are you suggesting I go to therapy?” Mike said, faking shock and indignation. Then, he smiled. “Great idea, Sweetcheeks. Which is why I scheduled an appointment immediately after I came back from… being gone, I guess? But the waitlist is kinda long, so… It'll be a while.”

“I'm proud of you,” you hummed as Mike finally got to start his dinner — well, snack. You immediately sensed his desire for closeness, intimacy and, just like last time, you — ‘boobs' and ‘blood' were actually very low on the list. You locked your fingers in his hair and sighed, almost with relief. There was no need to pull him closer: he took care of that for you just fine, wrapping his arms and legs around you in the most adorable, comfort-seeking way.

Suddenly, you were overwhelmed with Mike's need to be taken care of, stronger than anything he'd desired up until this point, and when you unclenched your fist to move your hand…

“No! Don’t let go of me.”

“I'm not letting go, silly,” you whispered, stroking his hair and the back of his head. You were about halfway on your way to realizing what had happened when you felt Mike's teeth retreat and he looked up at you with big eyes full of shock.

“I didn't say that out loud,” he stammered. “I know I didn't say that out loud, because I very specifically remember thinking I didn't want to say that out loud.”

“That's…” But you were out of bed before you could speak, with Mike at your side who was furiously knocking on a door at the end of… some hallway — you weren't even sure it was the same hallway your room was on. Mike had managed to put a shirt on you, but it was both inside out and backwards.

“Sher-lock, open this door! Now!” What was this door made of? Reinforced concrete? Mike was definitely slamming it hard enough to…

“What the devil is going on, Mike?” A disgruntled Charles appeared behind you. “Unless you somehow managed to accidentally almost kill her, I hardly think this can't wait until morning.”

Marshall appeared next to Charles, with an equally unhappily surprised look on his face. “What did you do now?” His eyes dropped to your chest, where they rested for much longer than what you considered appropriate. He kept his gaze locked on you for so long, that you looked down yourself. Mike, in his infinite wisdom, had put you in a white shirt, that now showed two very obvious red dots at boob-height, and you watched Marshall as he clearly summoned every shred of restraint in his broad, imposing body to keep himself from dragging you back to his room — or maybe even just taking you right here, you weren't quite sure.

“I'm considering ‘right here’,” he growled at you.

“Am I stating the obvious when I say it would not be appreciated?” Sherlock said from the doorway as he dodged Mike's fist, which he’d still been slamming into the wooden door with nearly unperceivable speed and strength. “Might I inquire as to Mike, what the fuck?” For God knows what reason, hearing Sherlock swear was hot.

“She heard my thoughts,” Mike said breathlessly.

“Were you feeding?” Charles said, taking Mike's quick nod for an answer. “Well, there's your—”

“Mike doesn't hear thoughts, Charles,” Marshall reminded him quietly. “I do.”

“And you're sure it was a thought?” Sherlock asked carefully.

Mike nodded furiously. “Hell yeah. And not something I was even planning on saying out loud. So. That's Marshall's gift, right? She heard my thoughts using his gift while I was feeding. That's weird, right?”

“Uncommon? Yes,” Sherlock said with amusement to his voice. “Weird? Not particularly. Apparently, she has an aptitude for the gift.” He turned to you. “We might see if we could train it, if you're interested. Tomorrow. Now, please leave. I’d like to get back to bed.”

“I thought you didn't need to sleep,” you said with a smile.

“Oh, I don't think we interrupted his sleep, Sweetcheeks,” Mike said while his normal smile widened into a cheeky grin. Was he implying… The mental image of Sherlock, ehm… taking care of himself was almost too much.

“Mike…” you started, intending to tell him to stop joking, but as you watched Sherlock’s cheeks, which were suddenly flushed… Mike was right. That was… unexpected.

“Darling, I—” He stammered the words so softly you barely heard him.

“Goodnight, Sherlock,” you said with a smile. He wouldn't be apologizing for another damn thing. Not something as mundane as this. Not on your watch.

Sherlock was gone before you blinked, and Charles was nowhere in sight anymore, either. That left just you and Mike, and a once more very intense-looking Marshall in the otherwise empty hallway.

A heavy hand closed around your throat — not squeezing, just… holding you. The other, you saw from the corner of your eye — held Mike pinned to the wall.

“I don't care,” he said, his voice a deep, threatening growl, “that he gets laid three times for every single chance I get. I really don't.” Sure didn't sound like he didn't care… “But this is the second time he's paraded you around like this — bleeding and wet… Is that for him, love? Because he likes to spend his time sucking on your tits?” His hand moved from your throat to your chest, where he brutally squeezed the boob Mike had used as a juice box. You winced when he put his fingers directly over the bite. “Is it sore? I bet he didn't take care of that bite the way he knows he should before he rushed you out of his room, now did he?”

He pulled your shirt up with one hand, still pinning Mike to the wall with the other, and sealed his mouth over your nipple, covering the wounds Mike's teeth had left, and he ran his tongue over both marks with great care. Mike squirmed against the wall while he watched, powerless in Marshall's tight grasp. For the first time since the ambush, you took the time to take a good look at the way Marshall was holding him, and you noticed his feet didn't touch the floor.

“Mike,” he growled when he took his mouth off your breast again. “If you do this to me one more fucking time, I'm going to ask August for the keys to the" — he side-eyed you for a split second — “basement, where I'll chain you to the goddamn wall, and then I'll fuck her right in front of your eyes, understood?” Ehh, did you have a say in this? Not that what you'd be saying wouldn't be ‘yes, please', but still. It was nice to be consulted every now and again.

When Mike's feet hit the floor again, he grinned at Marshall. Bold choice, if you were perfectly honest. You probably would have gone with ‘cowering in fear of what he'd do to you', but alright. “Don’t threaten me with a good time,” he said casually before walking off, leaving you standing there with Marshall.

“Punk,” Marshall muttered under his breath before smiling at you and turning around.

“What's in the basement, Marshall?” you said as he started to walk away. “Marshall! What's. in. the. basement?”

He was already gone, of course — as was Mike — and you were standing in the unfamiliar-looking hallway all by yourself, telling yourself that it was physically impossible for the hallway to become longer the longer you looked at it. Mike hadn't picked one of the doors you saw, so you had to be in a different part of the house. A different floor, maybe.

“I'll take you back to Mike,” Sherlock's voice sounded softly behind you. “It's a bit of a maze, especially in the beginning.” He silently asked for permission to carry you, which you granted him, and within seconds you were at the right door.

Sherlock knocked before you could. “Girlfriend delivery,” he said, waiting for Mike to reply before he opened the door — probably a wise decision. You could never be certain what you'd find where Mike was concerned.

“Mike,” you said as you crawled into bed with him again and Sherlock left the room. “What's in the basement?”

“A wine cellar,” Mike said, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Some storage…”

“Mike!” you hissed.

“Now, if someone told you August had the keys to a special room in the basement of this house — as Marshall did — what would your very first guess be?” he teased.

“Sex dungeon,” you blurted out without thinking about it for so much as a second. On top of that being so completely on brand for August, it was also the only thing that would remotely make sense considering the conversation that had just taken place.

Mike grinned from ear to ear. “Duh. It's not technically his, by the way,” Mike told you. “And, before you ask, yes there are restraints that we — or… Me, specifically, apparently,” — he glared at you — “can't break. Why you wanna tie me up, babe?”

“Because I think it would be so fun to watch you squirm, especially since you’ll know exactly what I’ll so desperately want to do to you,” you said with an evil smile. Mike groaned — it was the sweetest sound on the planet, as far as you were concerned.

“You’re mean,” he muttered as he snuggled into your side, pulling the covers tight around him. “And Marshall is mean, too.”

“Why is he mean?” Your mouth morphed into a sweet smile involuntarily. “Because of the threats he made back there?”

“No, that sounded like a perfectly exciting night, actually.” Mike grinned up at you. “His stupid gift ruined my snack.”

[roopnavarro]

Spotting Misogyny in the Mad Max Fandom: A Handy Guide

What IS Misogyny

Pull up any Mad Max Facebook group, the comments section on the official Furiosa marketing posts, or the comments section on any Furiosa video on YouTube. You'll find whiners screeching things like "boohoo we can't even have Max in Mad Max BECAUSE OF WOKE." You'll see them blaming the movie's modest box office returns on the fact that the movie has an "ICKY GIRL PROTAGONIST WITH COOTIES." If you get really unlucky when seeing misogynistic content, you might even find some really gross dirty AI deepfake pics of ATJ or Charlize as Furiosa.

What is NOT Misogyny

An artist drew some characters that aren't Furiosa. AND/OR The fandom likes some male characters from Furiosa. If you feel the need to consider this misogyny, consider the following points: 1. Waffles vs. pancakes. If someone says "I love waffles!" it's absurd to read into that message and assume it carries the hidden meaning of "I hate pancakes!" If someone draws some male characters from "Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga," it's equally absurd to assume they're doing this as a malicious and misogynistic act against Furiosa. ALSO If you think "No Furiosa in this pic = misogyny," then do you think "No Big Jilly, Fang, or other POC character in fan art = racist"? I'm guessing no. Because that would be silly. And probably because you're just morally grandstanding and slinging bad-faith accusations as a way to justify your temper tantrum about not getting free content of your blorbo. ----- 2. Everyone making fan art for "Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga" is someone who saw the movie and was passionate about it, despite it being an under-marketed movie that didn't strike gold at the box office. Most of us didn't have any IRL friends that saw the movie. For those of us who followed the hype (or lack thereof) leading up to the film, there was a bunch of backlash from actual misogynists over the film just straight-up existing. (Like all those manbaby whiners on the gamergate grifter side of YouTube) . And it's not like the fandom is riding a cultural tidal wave — the people making fan art are genuinely expressing their love for the film and its universe. We're not farming internet points or drawing these "popular male characters" for some nefarious purpose. Some people just happen to attach to different characters. Does that bother you? Learn to blacklist tags. ----- 3. If you wanna go fight misogyny in the MM fandom, go over to Facebook and Reddit and get into an internet slapfight with one of the many middle-aged neckbeards screaming shit like "MAD MAX HAS GONE WOKE REEEEEEE." But nah, it's probably easier to send shitty anon asks to artists, isn't it? What do you think you're doing? Do you think you're owed an apology because someone made high-effort fan art, but without your blorbo? Do you think you're creating some kind of positive change in the world or the fandom by whinging anonymously in the ask box of an artist? ----- 4. There's plenty of content of Furiosa (the character.) Aside from there being, y'know, a whole damn movie dedicated to her, she was pretty much Tumblr's darling from 2015-2016, and remains a popular character for art and fic. Yay! That's great! Go feast on those! Every artist in this fandom is not obligated to feed you. We all have our fixations. And if you want that content so damn badly, make it yourself or pay someone to. ----- 5. Also, if you feel the need to go through someone's blog to see if they've reblogged enough Furiosa to pass your litmus test, you're being a weirdo. Stop it. Get some help. What are you, a cop? Do you think you can just pull random artists over and go through their reblogs to determine their "guilt" or "innocence," with regards to your accusations? It's as if you're a highway patrol officer checking out someone's history of traffic violations when determining whether to issue them a speeding ticket.

-----

So there you have it. TL;DR, it's some deeply terminally online clown behavior to attach moral weight to how many ATJ gifs and Furiosa drawings someone has on their blogs. Quit slinging bad-faith assumptions at fellow members of the fandom.

[mumblelard]

busted yu pai extra long type seven hundred or good friday cairns

we rested in an old mansion that had been closed up for the season. there were no linens on the beds, but i found a kids fleece blanket wadded up in the back of closet. a favorite hiding place perhaps. i slept on the bare mattress, folded up in the old blanket. in the middle of the night, i felt someone next to me, but i was too tired to find out who it was. in the morning, the dogs found us

[rosie-kairi]

*Walks in with a slushie* hey so after I sent that ask it made me come up with a whole idea I've come to call the Ghost AU:

Picture this, Ephemer and Brain are the only ones from the original 5 to rebuild keyblade society and live actual lives growing up getting married, becoming masters, and having kids. Yet despite that they're both weighed down by the guilt and despair believing they abandoned their friends to die when escaping the digital daybreak town.

So at the end of their lives all they want is to reunite with their lost friends. When they die Brain and Ephemer do find each other in the afterlife (or the final world) and they're so happy and they missed each other soooooo muuuuuch. Except there's one problem, they can't find the others. So they go searching the afterlife to find them.

This eventually leads them to Strelitzia who goes on to explain that actually they're all still alive. Ven, Skuld, and Lauriam ended up in roughly the same time period just spread apart from each other but worse than that they're all in a pretty bad situation. Determined to right their wrongs Eph and Brain go back to the mortal world to take care of their unfinished business. But of course, being spirits they can't directly affect or interact with anything so they can only do so much.

Ephemer goes in search of Ventus and Brain for Lauriam, and then they plan on finding Skuld together. Ephemer unfortunately finds Ven in the clutches of Xehanort and is helpless to stop the neo shadows from ganging up on him. He reads Xehanorts heart and tries to whisper in his ear this is wrong, you know this isn't right he's just a little boy please don't. Whether Eph recognizes Xehanort as his descendant or not is up to you (personally i think it should be riku but we're not talking about that) but fails to stop the split and can only watch in horror as Ven is ripped apart and left in a cationic state on the near brink of death.

Desperate to save him Ephemer searches for a light strong enough to help, and guess who he finds? On the night of Sora's birth as his heart makes its way to the destiny islands Ephemer guides him to Ven and asks for his help knowing that a pure light will give Ven time to regather his strength. You can also imagine his surprise when he sees Ven dropped off at Eraqus' residence. The only real way for Ephemer to interact with the wayfinders is to go in their dreams and ask them to look after Ven and succeed where he failed. His messages are cryptic on purpose to keep Ven's true identity safe but also forge the subliminal suggestion to keep the younger keyblade wielder safe. And then Ven decides to journey on his own and Ephemer would've had a heart attack if he wasn't already dead and tries and fails to get Ven to go back to LoD. Only to regret that when he sees Eraqus draw the keyblade he once wielded and left to Brain be turned on Ven (it's a real good thing Brain wasn't here for this because ghost or not things would've gone from bad to worse seeing his grandson pull a stunt like that).

All the subliminal messaging pays off when Terra and Aqua go all out to protect Ven but it's still not enough. Ephemer tries to stop Ven from sacrificing his heart in the meta battle pleading for him to stop but if he couldn't stop Ven at 11 he wasn't going to have much luck with him at 16. When the battle draws to a close all Ephemer can do to stop Ven from fully fading away is to once again guide him to a heart that will keep him safe. He whispers to Sora's heart take him and protect him and over the next 10 years visit his dreams encouraging Sora to be strong and save him which unintentionally feeds into his savior complex (whoops).

Meanwhile Brain successfully locates a much older Lauriam but is unable to stop him from becoming a Nobody (and as a ghost he tries to throw hands with Luxu who he clocks instantly but he's dead so all he can do is yell insults and curses). Brain can only communicate with Marluxia when he's standing in front of a mirror or a reflective surface it's the only time he's visible and can get Marluxia to hear him. He keeps trying to get him to remember who he is, a dandelion, a union leader, a keyblade wielder. He tries to apologize over and over for failing to help him when he needed it. For giving Lauriam hope of finding his sister and then not following through with his promise to help find her.

This obviously does not go well for Marluxia too ashamed to fully face what he has become and what he has done. His heart is in turmoil and anytime Strelitzia is mentioned has him storming away or breaking the surface Brain is reflected in. This all comes to a head in CO, where Brain keeps trying and failing to get Lauriam to wake up and stop his schemes, and even though Ven's heart is currently with Roxas at that time the bond is still there and it's the closest Brain has gotten to getting through to Marluxia. But all it does is bring more anger and despair so instead of waking up he buries himself deeper and succumbs to darkness fighting Sora.

Now Ephemer and Brain truly feel like they've messed up. Ven's heart is damaged and not in his body, Marluxia is gone but Lauriam didn't show up in the afterlife so they didn't get him back, and they still haven't found any sign of Skuld. Standing in the CoW even though Ven is asleep and can't hear or feel them the boys can't help but marvel at how big he is now, they smooth down his hair and readjust his jacket and cup his cheek and even though neither can actually feel anything it just feels so good to see him again. Occasionally they both enter his dreams just to check on him and make sure he's okay but they can't bring themselves to actually talk to him.

They realize Ven is likely the key to bringing their lost friends fully back so they split up once again this time Brain trails Xigbar to see what plans he has while Ephemer tracks down Ven's heart and has the talk from the previous ask with Roxas so when Sora wakes up Ven will be safe.

When Marluxia comes back and meets Sora it's much more intense. Even though Sora doesn't remember he now has Ven's heart and his presence is reaching out trying to connect with Lauriam deep inside. Ephemer is still whispering to Sora to free him, bring him back over his shoulder which just confuses Sora. And when trying to unleash the power of waking Ephemer can directly speak with Sora guiding him through the process to release Ven's healed heart. Both Ven and Eph thank Sora for keeping him safe all these years but Sora won't remember that part.

It all comes to a head in the keyblade graveyard where both Eph and Brain try to use their keyblades to divert deadly attacks just off course enough to miss giving the others but mostly Ven more openings to attack. When Marluxia is defeated for a final time he finally remembers everything and the gold bleeds to blue and he smiles and cries realizing that he didn't completely fail and sincerely thanks Sora for "protecting him" which he doesn't understand.

Then the big attack happens with all the keyblades getting launched and Ephemer appearing proper he lends his strength to Sora and again thanks him for "keeping him safe" which just confuses Sora even more (weirdo cryptic guys never explaining anything to him story of his life).

So in the end they finally managed to save Ven so one day two more to go. They now have to find Lauriam all over again because Streli confirmed he's still not dead and he finally got his heart back so he's all complete and continue their search for Skuld. Unfortunately, 5 very unwanted individuals materialize outta nowhere 4 of which should not look like no time has passed for them at all. So despite being departed souls Ephemer and Brain ready themselves to try and stop old enemies from hurting their friends, they somehow have to find a way to make more direct contact and likely jog some old painful memories.

How the rest of this plays out depends entirely on what holes Missing Link and KH IV fills going forward.

Ephemer and Brain when the Nightmare is never-ending.

FR that sounds like it would suck soooo bad for these guys. Universe just does NOT want them to win.

[filthyjoetini]

Stumblin' In

a/n: Well...it's been...a while. heh. Sorry. I've been going through a lot. On here (the accusations...) as well as in life. Latter keeps me busy to no end. It's exhausting...but I'm back. beta-reader, editor, partner in crime: @barfightzanddiscolightz

warnings: mentions of previous injury, rpf, fem!reader, cuteness overload

wordcount: 2.2k

part 1 - part 2 - part 4

Part 3

You let yourself fall face down on the sofa with a loud sigh. The last few days had been nothing short of exhausting. Your back and neck still hurt, and the concussion had caused some nightmarish migraines that had left you unable to work. So, you spent your days in your dark living room, accompanied by your two cats, Freya and Kiro. Freya, a chubby lady with a moustache who you had had to put on a diet, was sitting on the back of your sofa, silently judging you. Kiro, your long-haired void of a cat, sat next to you, purring in your ear.

When you had come home from the hospital almost a week ago, they had greeted you with loud, screaming meows as if they had been starving. Your dad had been looking after them, cuddling them and feeding them generously. You also knew that he had given each of them a little treat every time before he left. So much for starving. Total drama queens - Both of them. But that's just Freya and Kiro, you wouldn't trade them for any other cats in the world.

Today had been your first day back at work and you wished you hadn’t gone. Your migraines had stopped the day before, but your body was still killing you. Groaning, you pushed yourself up to sit properly on your sofa, your legs sprawled out on its long chaise longue. You took a blanket from the basket beside it and pulled it neatly over your legs. Kiro immediately took this as an invitation to plop down between your legs. You were about to open one of your newly ordered books when your phone buzzed. A new message.

Huffing annoyedly, you picked up your phone from where it lay beside you to check who had the audacity to disturb your precious reading time.

It was Joe. Forgotten were your pain and shitty mood.

He hadn't texted you in days and, not wanting to appear desperate, you hadn't texted him either. That's just the way you were, constantly thinking that you were annoying people with your presence.

Pushing the negative thoughts to the back of your mind and grinning to yourself, you quickly unlocked your phone and read his message.

Bambi on ice! How are you?

You rolled your eyes at his new name for you. You got it, you're a klutz.

Hello to you too, Joe... I'm fine. How are you?

I'm good. Very busy. That's why I haven't texted you the last few days. I'm sorry about that.

Oh... you don't have to apologise. It's fine.

No. I don't want you to get the wrong impression. I'm working abroad at the moment, and I only have internet when I'm back in my temporary home. And then I get flooded with messages and things to check as soon as my phone connects to the internet. I didn't mean to forget about you.

You read the last sentence he wrote not once, but twice... no screw it, five times. You'd be lying if you said it didn't affect you. The slight pink tint to your cheeks betrayed you and you were glad no one was around to point it out. You had to change the subject. This is too much lovey-dovey bullshit. You were not ready for this... yet.

How are you supposed to do your hacking without internet? Must be difficult.

Perfect.

All Joe did was send a series of eyeroll emojis that made you giggle.

It's a top-secret mission, you know. We're doing it the old-fashioned way. Infiltrate and then destroy. 😉

All right there, soldier. Top secret. Got it.

But I'll be back in four days!

Amazing! Quick in and out then?

Yeah...something like that. Hey... I was wondering if you were up for that date you owe me when I get back?

You stared at his question and the blush crept back into your cheeks. Here you were again. Back to the subject you had hoped to avoid, at least for a little while longer.

While you had agreed to go on a date with him, your motivation was more to please him and get off the hook so you could get inside your house. You were knackered and just wanted to rest. Days had passed, and you had been beating yourself up about agreeing. You weren't dating at the moment. You found contentment in the way your life was going. Nevertheless, you had promised him, and breaking a promise was not your style.

Swallowing hard, you let your fingers tap out your response.

Sure! Just let me know when and where and I'll be there 😊

Great! Can't wait!

Me either!

Listen, I gotta go now. Duty calls! Text soon?

Of course! Good luck with your mission.

Thanks! Bye, darling xx

Bye Joe xx

---

Fuck. You had an official date. With Joe. You needed to tell a certain someone.

"Brother in Christ. How are you?"

Of course, your best friend would pick up like that. You pushed yourself up a little, which made your legs move, much to Kiro's displeasure. The cat glared at you, and you quickly apologised with a kiss to his head.

"I'm fine...guess what!", you tried her, gnawing on your bottom lip.

"You finally managed to put your summer clothes in the basement?" she guessed.

"Well, yeah...but that's not what I wanted you to guess.", you snorted and then blurted it out: "I-have-a-date."

"What?"

"I HAVE A DATE!”, you repeated, almost shouting. Since your neighbours were all half deaf anyway, you didn't care that you had just raised your voice.

“Ouch, don’t yell at m- WAIT! You?! Have a date?!”, she sputtered.

"Yes!”, you replied in a breezy voice.

"With who?"

"Joe.", you replied so quietly that she almost didn't hear it, but her gasp gave her away.

"Joe. As in 'your knight in a beige cable-knit jumper'-Joe?"

"Yes!”, you squeaked out, earning a glare from both your cats.

"Holy shit, babes! This is like one of those romance films we sometimes watch on film night.”, she gushed, clearly very excited for you.

"Ugh, yeah. I know.”, you groaned. "I need your help. I don't have anything to wear!"

"Lies! Your wardrobe is bursting at the seams."

Which was true, but she didn't have to expose you like that.

"I know. Can you help me put together an outfit? I will repay you fabulously!"

"Ahhh... just deduct it from the mountain of drinks-debt I owe you. I'll be there in 20 minutes!"

"Wait! The date's not even se-", you started, but she had already hung up. Typical her.

18 minutes later your doorbell rang and there she stood in all her 'hair in a messy bun, oversized jumper, leggings with a questionable stain and the oldest trainers she could find' glory. Her face was sporting a huge grin.

"You look absolutely insane." you pointed out as soon as you opened the door, chuckling. She snorted and pushed past you, heading for your room. You quickly followed, knowing full well that without you, she'd start pulling out pieces of clothing from your closet and throwing them on your bed.

---

She had been rummaging through your wardrobe for almost two hours now and had mentioned that you had 'too many things' at least 20 times, accompanied by an eyeroll, whilst you made yourself comfortable on your bed. Your cats had decided to join you for a while, but the mess she was making was too much for them and they went back to the living room.

She was standing on one of the shelves in the closet, trying to get to the top shelf. It was the most hilarious thing you had ever seen, you had to snap a picture. Without thinking, you sent it to Joe.

Who’s that?

My best friend. She’s a madwoman.

I can see that, and I see how she’s your bestie. You both like to put yourselves in dangerous situations. I bet she’s pulled a Humpty Dumpty before as well.

You snorted at his text, earning a raised eyebrow from your friend who was still standing in your wardrobe. When she saw you were on your phone, she gasped and jumped out of the wardrobe. She quickly made her way over to you.

"Who are you texting?", she demanded, her eyes narrowing.

"Nobody."

"Bullshit.”, she claimed, holding out her hand to you. "Give me the phone."

"No.”, you giggled, trying to crawl away from her, but to no avail. She was very quick and snatched the phone out of your fingers. Her eyes went wide.

"BITCH! Stop sending pictures of me to your boyfriend!"

"He's not my boyfriend!", you argued, snorting and laughing at the face she was making.

"He better be after your date...", she muttered, tossing your phone back at you, which you almost caught with your face. "I've got your outfit."

With a huge grin, she walked back over to your wardrobe and picked up a few stray clothes. Then she laid them out orderly on your bed. It was perfect. Totally you. Totally the opposite of Joe. You'd stick out like a sore thumb.

“Thanks babe.”, you smiled, pushing yourself off the bed and engulfing her in a tight hug.

"Anytime, love.”, she grinned into your hair and returned your hug with an even tighter one.

"Coffee and biscuits?", you asked her as you pulled away and her face lit up all over again. She didn't even answer your question but ran off to the kitchen.

"You better have chocolate chip cookies!", you heard her yell, knowing she'd already opened your cupboard where you stored your sweets. When you heard her excited squeak, you knew she had found them. Shaking your head at her antics, you made your way to the kitchen to join her. You wouldn't trade her for anything in the world, either.

---

When your best friend left, it was already dark outside. You opted for a light dinner which consisted of a piece of sourdough bread, half a tomato, a handful of shredded cheddar cheese and three green olives. Everything was neatly arranged on the plate. Girl Dinner was served.

Walking over to the sofa to read for the second time that evening, you placed your plate on the small table in front of it, sat down and draped a blanket over yourself. Picking up the plate, you leaned back against the headrest and popped an olive into your mouth. Freya and Kiro soon joined you and tried to beg you for some of the sourdough. Kiro was particularly persistent, but so were you. When they finally realised you weren't going to give in, Kiro trotted off to sulk under one of your chairs and Freya retreated to her place on the headrest.

You were just about to open your book when your phone again alerted you to a new message. Thinking it was your best friend letting you know she had gotten home, you leaned forward to grab your phone. But it wasn't your best friend. Joe had texted you again.

Did you have dinner?

Uh... yeah. Why?

Oh, just checking. What are you doing?

I wanted to read, but a certain someone keeps interrupting.

Oh! My apologies. What are you reading?

This. *attachment*

Ooh. This looks interesting. What's it about?

Instead of telling him, you took a picture of the summary on the back.

It sounds very interesting. I'll stop bothering you now. Go read!

You're not bothering me, Joe.

Your last message stayed unread, and you frowned at your phone. After a couple of moments, you put your phone aside and finally started reading where you had left off.

---

You were about to take a sip of the tea you had made yourself an hour into reading when your phone beeped again. You wondered who it was. It certainly wasn't your best friend. She had let you know that she had arrived home shortly after Joe had dropped the conversation. You had a hunch, though.

Turning your phone around, you saw that Joe had sent you a picture. With a gentle tap to the screen, you enlarged the photo. It was a book, but not just any book. It was the same book you were reading. Smiling to yourself, you tapped on the picture again and added a heart reaction to it.

Then another message from Joe.

Now we can have our own little book club.

Those nine words instantly made your heart flutter.

Just the two of us?

Yep.

Count me in...

Brilliant! I was hoping you'd say yes. It'd be a shitty book club if I was on my own.

Yep. The discussions would be very one-sided.

And boring. OK, I'll let you read. I'm sure you're way ahead of me. I just got it and I gotta catch up so we can discuss it on our date.

I'd love that. Talk later?

Of course we will. Happy reading! Bye, darling xx

You too! Bye Joe xx

Grinning from ear to ear, you put your phone down and picked up your book up again. You’d never been happier that you had so mindlessly agreed to a date before.

---

Taglist:

@ohmeg @daleyeahson @lma1986 @palomahasenteredthechat @mandyjo8719 @aysheashea @littledemon-lilith @freakymunson @sidthedollface2 @i-wont-run-this-time @miserybeans @kylakins88 @thehillzhaveeyez @punctualhowell @icallhimjoey @ghostinthebackofyourhead @siriuslysmoking @cancankiki @definitionwanderlust @1paire2vans @theonewiththecrackedmind @fromasgardandback @captainonaboat @josephquinnsfreckles @emilyslutface @alessxa

there's still some spots left on the taglist :)

[steveshairychest]

tw: mentions of death

Eddie will forever be grateful that he got a second chance but now he's starting to feel the consequences of his immortality.

Steve's old enough to be his dad now. His hair is almost completely grey at 45; he says the stress of babysitting 6 kids really sped up the process. Eddie still thinks he's the most beautiful person alive, he's aging like fine wine right before his eyes and he's so glad that he gets to spend every second of his immortal life with Steve.

He just wished they'd grow old together.

Dustin's kids think it's weird that their dad is friends with someone who's only just 'freshly 21' but Eddie thinks it's weird that they've never questioned why the man they've known since they were infants hasn't aged a day. He's starting to realise that children are very oblivious, especially if you bring gifts everytime you visit.

He still DMs for the party except now their children join in too. They like to remind Eddie that his rules are very outdated. He gets a disappointed frown from one of his friends when he kills their kid's character just because they annoyed him.

He thought explaining his eternal youth to his friend's kids was going to be the hardest part but he was wrong.

The hardest part was watching all his friends die.

It never got easier. He held their hands, whispered words of comfort as he listened to their hearts slowly stop. He cursed his abilities in these moments; wished he couldn't smell the illness in their blood and hear their hearts get weaker and weaker as they grew older.

Steve went sooner than he expected.

It came on so suddenly, he had no time to prepare himself, no time to figure out a way to go with him.

"See the world for me." Steve whispers to him. He's smiling, he's fucking dying and he has the audacity to smile at Eddie.

"I don't want to live in a world without you." Eddie's voice cracks and he scoots his chair closer so that he can gently rest his head on Steve's stomach. Steve weakly plays with his hair, that stupid smile still on his face.

"Always so dramatic." Steve traces Eddie's face, runs his fingers over his eyes, his nose, his lips, the scar on the side of his face from the bats; something that feels like a lifetime ago. "I love you, Eds, I won't be mad if you find someone else. Just make sure you visit and tell me about them." Eddie's sobbing now, his body shaking as he cries and grips Steve's hand tighter. He can hear it. He can fucking hear his heart slow. It's a sound he'll never be able to forget.

"My heart belongs to you... in this life.. and the next." And then he's gone.

Eddie's ears ring and he knows he's causing a scene, knows that screaming Steve's name won't magically drag him back from whatever place he's gone to, but he can't stop. He has to be forcefully dragged out of the room which is a struggle because Eddie is stronger than the average human.

He hates the silence, hates that he'll never hear the calming, steady beat of his lovers heart. He doesn't sleep for weeks, it feels wrong to sleep in their bed without Steve. He doesn't eat, can't even bring himself to open the fridge and drink the last bit of blood Steve had put aside for him.

It gets to a point where Dustin's oldest kid, Julie, comes to visit and finds him curled up on the floor, hunger so bad he's unable to move, to speak.

"Steve wouldn't want this." She chides and force feeds him the blood from the fridge. He doesn't know when Dustin told her about him, doesn't really care at that point. All he can do is sob weakly as Steve's blood fills his mouth and brings him back from the edge. "Come on. We're going to visit dad."

Dustin's in a retirement home now.

He'd gone downhill after his wife died and the kids had their own lives, they didn't have time to look after him 24/7. Eddie would have taken him in if he'd known, but he's been in a state of limbo for 2 months now. He'd collapsed on the kitchen floor a week ago and would have stayed there if Julie hadn't shown up, his body can withstand neglect a lot better than he thought.

He's missed Robin's 70th birthday.

He's missed the birth of Mike and El's 4th grand kid.

He's missed the release of Will's final book in his series.

He's missed so much life while mourning Steve. He didn't realise so much could happen in just 2 months.

"Hey, dad, I've brought a visitor." Julie says softly, making sure not to startle Dustin. He's sitting on the small lounge next to the window, an old fantasy book in his hands, and seeing him sit there brings back memories of when they were younger. When Dustin used to come by Steve's house just to be near Eddie, to remind himself that Eddie was okay. They'd sit in the bay window in Steve's lounge room and read together for hours. Steve would walk by and flick the lamp on for them because they wouldn't even notice that the sun had set.

He can still see that little kid in the old man in front of him, he's hidden under the wrinkles and grey hair, but when his eyes light up and his smile takes over his face, Eddie sees the kid that he risked his life for. "Eddie!"

Julie leaves them to talk, says that she'll grab them all a cup of coffee. Eddie declines. He hasn't been able to drink coffee since Steve died. It reminds him too much of waking up to quiet humming from the kitchen and coffee flavoured kisses.

Dustin scolds Eddie for neglecting himself, for not calling him or coming to see him so that they could mourn together. It feels strange to be scolded by someone that you used to babysit.

"He told me to move on." Eddie says quietly, bitterly. "But I don't think I'll ever be able to forget him."

"You don't have to forget him." Dustin scoots closer to Eddie on the cramped lounge and makes him look him in the eyes. "You're going to be around for a long time, Eds. You can't be that stereotypical vampire that mourns his long lost love for centuries."

"Maybe I want to."

"Steve would strangle me when I see him next if I let you do that."

When I see him next.

That makes Eddie ache. Will he ever get to see Steve again? Can he even die? He doesn't want Dustin to leave him too but he knows Steve is probably lonely wherever he is. He never liked being on his own for very long.

Eddie leans against his friend's shoulder and sighs shakily. He doesn't want to cry again. He's tired of crying. "I feel hollow, Dustin. I think Steve took a part of me with him."

"He was always quite greedy when it came to you."

Eddie smiles for the first time in 2 months. "He was, wasn't he. He always stole your time with me." He playfully jabbed Dustin in the side and it felt good to laugh with him, to smile and see the familiar twinkle of joy in his friend's eyes.

When they stop laughing and the room fills with a comfortable silence, Eddie asks quietly, "Do you really think you'll see him again?"

Dustin hums and leans back into the lounge, a knowing smile on his lips. "You'll see him again, Eddie. I know it."

Eddie scoffs with a smile. "Why? Because you're old and wise?"

"Precisely."

Eddie knows Dustin is just saying what he wants to hear, what he thinks he needs to move on with his life, but a small part of himself hopes it's true.

He hopes that after he's seen the world, he'll be able to tell Steve all about it.

[mad3lyncline]

𝑰 𝑾𝑨𝑺 / 𝑰 𝑨𝑴 𝑺𝑬𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑪𝑬 𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑺 – 𝑷𝑨𝑹𝑻 𝑻𝑾𝑶 . more starters taken from the 2021 album 'i was / i am' by noah kahan . adjust pronouns as necessary !

𝒃𝒂𝒅 𝒍𝒖𝒄𝒌

what if i told you that i got sober ?

i got older ; i got that tattoo off my shoulder .

i'm strong again . i'm fun again .

would you love me then ?

what if i'm failing or mentally ill , would you call me crazy ?

would you let me in ?

i told you that my whole life , could have sworn i would die young .

i'm bad luck .

you know that i spend long nights , brain fried , talking too much .

i'm a booze bag , do bad , burnout dead drunk .

it's not your fault that my brain is vacant .

the world is trash and my dumb ass just got completely wasted .

you washed your hands of all my sins .

have i lost you then ?

sometimes i hate it , my lack of patience .

sometimes love feels like a noun in some new foreign language .

now my heart is bent and worn so thin .

if you look back and you hate my past , know i'm doing everything that i can .

i'm doing everything that i can .

if you look back and can't stand my ass , i swear i'm doing everything that i can .

𝒈𝒐𝒅𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕

there's no way out of an angry crowd without stepping on some toes .

they'll scream your name 'til the lights go out then they'll feed you to the wolves .

it's hard to say who you'll be when they let those big red curtains close .

you know this , 'cause you told me so .

i bet you forgot black heels in the summertime .

honey , now you got a look that i don't recognize .

to know me is to hate me is to hate what i've become .

it's to watch me as i'm falling from that ladder's last rung .

it's to feel bad like a secret that you can't keep in .

i'm not the way i was .

were you freed within ?

are you tethered in your doubt ?

have you breathed it in 'til it's medicine that you cannot live without ?

'cause you came back home a fuckin' alien , and we're stuck here on the ground .

call your mom back , kid , before the high comes down .

it's a hole i can't fill ; it's a curse i can't break .

i gave my soul to it and i cannot be reclaimed .

i was younger then .

𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖

yes , i'm a mess now .

i haven't heard from you in weeks ; you must have left town .

i can't go back now .

all that i have now are those feelings i felt .

no one else can bring them back out .

i've been trying to find a silver lining , but i can't .

now that i can't hold you , i wish that i had tried to do more not to lose you .

the second you left , the voice in my head screamed " what did i do ? "

now you're gone and all i want is someone like you .

i'm stuck like a grave in the space that you left .

[ty-bayonet-betteridge]

trick or treat!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

hiiiii friend. you like traffic life right? i hope you do and that im not misremembering that. here's a rewrite of the first and only chapter of a queerplatonic Galaxy Duo AU that i abandoned and want to go back to

Freezing to death hurts a lot less this time, Pearl thought. Maybe because I've gotten so close before.

She wasn't sure if she'd been there for ten minutes or ten days. The stench of smoke and gunpowder still clung to the inside of her nose, but she didn't know if she was imagining it in her grief. Was this grief? She didn't know.

He's gone.

She was still too shell-shocked to process more than a little bit of the world at a time. The scattered sensations filled in her world slowly, an almost pointillist picture of her surroundings. She was on her hands and knees. Her knees were wet and cold. So were her hands. She could feel them scuffed in dirt as well. The snow. She was in the snow. She was freezing cold; her hoodie was thin and torn in places.

When Scott had shut her out, she'd found comfort in tormenting him. She'd replaced the warmth of his embrace with the chill of the ice, the electricity of his touch with the tingling of frostbite setting in. It had become her protection against a world that did not care. But now, her security blanket did nothing to shield her. It was killing her.

She needed a hug. She hadn't had a hug in a long time, not since before the soulmates, when she... where was she before? She must have been there with Scott, because she could faintly remember what he was like before he started being so cold to her. But the details were gone. The only thing that had shown her affection in recent memory was the wolves.

The wolves.

Were they still alive? She didn't hear them over the sound of Scott's last words or her own scream filling her ears like thick tar. Were they far enough away from the blast? She wanted to look for them, but she didn't want to open her eyes. Seeing his body once was enough; the explosion hadn't made what was left of him pretty.

She felt empty. She had thought she'd known what loneliness was like, but clearly she was wrong, because now she could feel a physical gap in her soul, an aching wound where there used to be him. The drip-feed of his pain, his sorrow, his love, all of it was gone. She'd told herself she wanted to be rid of him, but actually losing the connection felt like losing a sense.

I should be dead, she thought dimly. She'd seen soulmates die before; it happened instantly. She remembered how Etho's body had contorted in the air, his bones shattering against nothing as Joel slammed into the earth. She remembered how Martyn's cries for help had cut off the instant Cleo's neck snapped against the tree, axe still buried in their back. When Scott had exploded, she should have done the same.

Maybe she had. Maybe the agony she was feeling now was all one eternal moment, the instant between when he died and when she would. More torture inflicted on her by an actively malicious universe.

"Pearl?" someone said quietly.

It was Scott's voice. She laughed, high and thin and hollow. "Oh. I am dead."

"Death doesn't matter for us anymore," he said. "Not quite like it used to."

"Either I'm dead or I'm losing my mind," she said. "Because you're dead."

"I am," he said. "So are you. But we're still here."

She heard the crunching of boots against snow as he walked over and sat down next to her. "So what comes next for you?" he asked, with a gentleness she'd never heard directed towards her before.

"I sit here and I freeze," she said. "I think it's what I deserve."

"I don't agree," he said. "Why do you think that?"

"Because they're dead," she said. "You and Cleo and Martyn and Ren and Grian and Scar and Etho and Impulse and BDubs and anyone who was nice to me for even a second. They're all dead, mostly because of me." Her tears felt hot against her face, though she was sure they froze when they hit the icy ground. "Ren was right. There's something wicked within me. "

"Maybe," he said. "But I don't think that makes the rest not worth saving."

They were both quiet.

"Can I hug you?" he said. "I missed you."