#about how badly she wanted things to go back to how they were

[endless-ineffabilities]

Snapshots of Desire (a Chemical Override minishot)

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n: unanticipated yet again, and you all have this anon to thank!

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

Ewan finds himself in the throes of desire. For better or worse, it will always be you.

August (after the nocturnal file, and before part five)

That dream was driving him insane.

He had awoken in the wee hours of the morning, the sun not having yet risen, and succumbed to his depravities. There was no way he was going back to sleep after that.

At least he was having an early head start. He jumped in the shower right away, because he was restless, but mostly due to the fact that he had to clean himself up.

He had been covered in his desire for you, so to speak, his seed coating the surface of his lower stomach. He felt shame - what would you think if you saw him like that? Would you turn away in disgust?

Or would you watch?

You would purr, Whatcha got there, baby?

He would reply, I'm all ready for you, darling.

Would you use your soft, delicate fingers to pleasure him? They would look so pretty, squeezed around his...

Fuck. He was standing in front of the bathroom mirror, a towel haphazardly wrapped around his waist, thinking that maybe he needed to jump back in for another cold shower.

He took a deep breath, a piss poor attempt to quiet his thoughts. You still flooded his mind no matter how he tried to spin things.

For fuck's sake, he hasn't even kissed you yet, and you were already the one and only object of his lust.

Only two days, and then he will see you again.

Only two days. Damn it, he needed to get a grip.

December (during the 'chemistry read' in part six)

He knew it was you before he even turned your way. He didn't know why exactly. Maybe it was the particular swing in your step, the smell of your perfume, the shape of your body which he recognised even from the periphery.

This was a set up. His heart was lodged right in his throat, his mind going awry. He had not seen you since that night, and craved you so badly.

He often thought about it - what he would say when he sees you again. If he could even say anything. He was supposed to feel cold, wasn't he? It wouldn't be right for him to want you back.

You sat next to him. Well, at the farthest end of the couch.

He gave you a cursory glance. You looked nervous, your hands fiddling with the script pages on your lap.

Still so fucking beautiful. How could you not be?

"They're all in on it," he blurted out. That's it? That's the best you can do?

She's not everything. Not anymore.

Your responses were cautious, almost shy, as if you didn't want to annoy him. He realised how unpleasant he must be acting when you even offered to leave for his sake.

Please don't go, darling. He started to reach for you, but caught himself at the last moment. "Stay."

Stay forever.

January (just before part seven)

Ewan was grateful for the holiday season. Time spent with family. Time off from work. Time to regroup and hone his craft for his upcoming projects.

Time to be with you. When his family questioned why he wanted to head back to London so soon after Christmas, he told them he had work commitments.

Your arrangement had started just before he went back to Derby, and it was all he could think about since then.

It was unfair to you, and it was wrong. But you felt so right against him, beside him, underneath him. You felt so fucking good all the time.

He always left afterward, right when he sensed himself growing weak and those three words were at risk of spilling out of him.

Would they even mean anything to you? He can't let you win. Not this time.

When you would reach for him after sex, searching for comfort in his eyes, he would turn away and pretend not to notice.

Once, you rolled onto your side away from him, your body unmoving except for the slight, occasional trembling of your shoulders. Ewan could swear you were crying. Because of everything.

Because of him, and what he demanded from you.

Suddenly, he felt like breaking. Breaking everything in sight. Travelling back in time to that meeting in New York and breaking Bruce's fucking jaw. Breaking down and pulling you snug in his arms. He wanted to whisper sweetly in your ear, I'm sorry, darling. I'm sorry. I love you.

He stood from the bed, going through the motions of putting his clothes back on, each one like the lash of a whip. Don't leave, you idiot. Hold her.

"I have to go," he said, the words mechanical and meaningless. It was always that.

I'll call you.

This was great.

Sorry, but I have to be somewhere.

He felt hollow. If he had a heart, it was no longer in his chest, with how cruel he felt he was being.

If he still had a heart, he was leaving it with you.

March (the club scene in part ten)

Jenna held on to his arm as they walked the red carpet outside the nightclub. When the photographers had gotten their fill and they were finally cloaked in the shadows of the venue, she went off to find her friends.

She understood the arrangement, and played her part well. Ewan liked that she seemed just as irked with the whole thing. That she didn't expect more from him.

That she didn't expect anything real.

Ewan went through the motions, wading through the crowd and introducing himself to people whom he has only seen onscreen before. The elegant masks blurred together, none of them holding his interest for long. His mind was elsewhere, tethered to the entrance, waiting for you to arrive.

And then, there you were. His darling.

Ewan's breath caught in his throat. Your gown hugged your body in a way that made his pulse quicken. Your hair done up to perfection. Your smile was confident, your movements graceful.

You hadn't seen him yet.

You were the only one in the room, the only one who mattered.

When you approached him, he felt elated. You were taking time off. You both needed to figure things out. You couldn't be seen together. It just wouldn't work.

But there you were, seemingly drawn to him as he was to you. Walking towards him like a glowing mirage.

When you kissed him, he couldn't get enough. It didn't matter how many times you touched him or how often - it would never get old. He would always need more. His fingers would dig in the flesh of your hips, and he would crumble. Your tongue would slip past his lips, melding with his own, and he would cling to you like a vice.

He was an addict, and you were the substance.

Your dress was so fucking tight, it left little to the imagination, clinging to every dip and curve.

How easy it would be to lose control. To push you against the wall, lift the hem of your dress, and claim you in the shadows, away from the eyes of the masquerade.

No one would notice. No one would care.

The temptation was unbearable, your body practically begging for him to abandon his inhibitions.

But he couldn't, could he? Not there.

He almost felt like screaming when you were interrupted, even in the supposed privacy of the smoking room.

When he finally has you again, there will be no holding back.

Addicts need their fix, just as bodies crave warmth. Just as hearts thrive off of love.

Just as Ewan desires you.

[hawkinsschoolcounselor]

Mike declaring his "love" for El is what Henry has been waiting for.

Will, the well-intentioned selfless idiot that he is, has accidentally set in motion Henry's best chance to finally achieve his goals of...world domination? What exactly is he after, anyway?

El was on her way to becoming a stronger person. She faced her demons. She accepted her past mistakes that led to Henry's massacre, confronted Dr. Brenner and rejected his manipulations once and for all, and stopped seeing herself as Mike's idealized superhero girlfriend. It seemed that she was set to move past all of her biggest insecurities, which would allow her to face Henry without any mental weaknesses for him to exploit.

Then Will saw Mike moping about El. He couldn't handle Mike talking badly about himself. He wanted to let Mike know how he sees him, but, of course, he felt it wouldn't mean anything coming from him. So, he put El's name on everything, not even noticing how Mike's initial excited reaction at seeing the painting was dulled at Will crediting El with it. Nevertheless, Mike was overcome with emotion at someone seeing him exactly the way he always wished he would be seen. And, because of Will, he thinks it's how El sees him.

It remains curious that Mike and El never had an emotional conversation after they reunited. Yes, there was initially no time for that since they had to get back on the road to escape Sullivan. However, even with their need to plan what they needed to do to save Max, they could have talked. They were in that van fairly long considering it was daytime when El was rescued and night when they reached Surfer Boy Pizza. Perhaps they didn't want to talk in front of everyone else, though that didn't stop Will. They didn't really get a chance at that until everyone else was preparing for El's saltwater bath.

What may well have been a gentle breakup or, at the very least, an honest conversation about their relationship issues, instead was interrupted by Argyle. Indeed, Mike seemed eager to goof off with his blackout glasses and then seemed nervous when El took his hands with that "we need to talk" look. That conversation was their only chance to have a real talk, but they had no chance, and El was soon in the pizza freezer trying to save Max.

This brings us to the second part of Will's well-intentioned mistake. El is in danger. Henry managed to get the upper hand. El appeared to be dying. In an effort to give her strength, Will prompts Mike to talk to her. He's the heart. Mike had been hesitating, but he tells her he loves her. It's a bit unclear just what sort of effect this had on El, whether it helped or distracted her. However, she does eventually steel herself and, seeing that Max was about to be killed, summons the strength to fight back. Max is partially saved, but we never see Mike and El talk afterwards.

El is naturally rattled by Max's fate. She lost, and Max suffered for it. However, she makes no apparent attempts to find comfort or reassurance in Mike. Aside from the hospital room, she was quiet, going off on her own. The strong, determined, self-assured young woman she was growing into has fallen back into insecurity.

Meanwhile, Will has sacrificed his greatest desire for what he thinks will give Mike and El happiness. That will be Henry's opportunity.

Make no mistake: Henry knows that Will loves Mike. He had Will integrated into the hive mind. Brain scans showed that Will's mind was almost entirely taken over. He knows Will's every secret, and he also knows that Mike was the one who finally broke through to him in the shed. Mike trusts Will completely, and Will is able to sense Henry's presence.

Mike is the fly in the ointment, the spanner in the works. He's been far more of a problem for Henry than he even realizes. Mike is a problem for him. Will is a problem for him. Mike and Will together would be an even bigger problem.

In order to win, Henry needs three things to happen. First, isolate El. She is the only one who is capable of facing him one-on-one. She is stronger when she has something to fight for, something driving her to overcome the odds. If she doubts herself, he has a chance. He needs to take away her support system by either killing them or separating her from them.

Second, Mike needs to be taken out of the picture. Will was right. Mike is the leader, the heart. He knows how to rally an group of ordinary kids, now teens, to do things that should be well out of their abilities. Mike is caring, brave, and intelligent, but also very insecure. If he can get Mike doubting himself, then he won't be able to support El, Will, or anyone else.

Finally, Will has always been special to Henry. We don't yet know why, exactly, but Henry targeted Will from the start. Even after Will was rescued, Henry tried again a year later to bring Will into his control. It could be that he hates losing that much, or it could be that Will has some yet to be revealed asset that Henry needs. Their mental connection, at the very least, is a huge liability for Henry, but it has also been an asset for him in the past.

It seems to reason that any plan of Henry's needs to address these three, and I think it fits with what we know so far.

El seems to largely be isolated. She's apparently in hiding, which is likely since she's essentially a fugitive from the government. This would eventually take its toll on anyone, but El is also a teenager with a lifetime of trauma. She saw her best friend die. She has to hide from hostile forces while trying to protect the world from literal monsters. Over time, the stress could make her snap. Henry just has to keep her busy and away from the others.

We know that Holly is targeted by Henry, and Karen may end up in the hospital with severe injuries. This could very well be a calculated plan by Henry to get Mike out of the way. Killing Mike would probably enrage El to the point of her becoming too big of a threat, and it would also make it difficult to bring Will back under his control. Instead, he can target Mike's family to sow enough doubt in him to force him out of the picture. At the very least, he can distract Mike from being able to support the others if he's worried about his family, instead.

This would leave Will vulnerable, as well. We have reason to believe that Will has flashbacks/visions, possibly right away in episode 1. It's reasonable to think that the others could worry about Will being a spy for Henry again. Mike would trust him, but the others might think it'd be safer for Will to be away from the action, so Henry would be unable to use him. Rejection is a fear of Will's, not only from Mike, but in general. He wouldn't take it well if his friends saw him as a tool of the enemy. If Mike were to be too caught up in his own head to reassure Will, or, worse, start to see reason to doubt Will, himself, then Will could fall into a downward spiral. Will loves Mike. Needs him. Any rejection from Mike is painful to him. He may try to pretend that he's moved on, but feelings like those don't just go away. This would give Henry an opportunity to tempt him or outright possess him again.

Of course, we know that Henry will ultimately lose. This is all just how I feel he will try to attack what I see as his biggest obstacles to victory. Any thoughts?

[sweetestlamb]

I Wanna do Bad Things to You

Authors note: honestly I was losing interest a bit and the second couple still has me in a chokehold but today's episode ate devoured and licked the plate clean. I have a million things I need to do right now but I wrote this instead🤷🏾‍♀️💃🏾

None of his fantasies could have ever prepared him for the vision Seok-ryu makes breathing hard beneath him, her cheeks flushed and her lips swollen from their kissing.

Thoughts about her aren't new to him. Dirty thoughts about her are not new either. He's been locking his door since he first realized that his feelings for her were different from his feelings for Mo-eum.

He never dreamed about holding her hand, or kissing her or undressing her.

No. Those bad thoughts were reserved for one person and now she's under him staring up at him like she's having very similar thoughts and his thoughts are multiplying by the minute.

"What are you thinking about?"

'Giving you a hickie.'

But he only says that to himself in the safety of his mind because saying that out loud terrifies him and makes his palms too moist.

"Choiseung." She demands his attention again, as if he's not already too fixated on her.

"I'd.... rather not say." He whispers instead, leaning down to hide his face in the curve of her neck before he even realizes his mistake.

She grumbles underneath him but he melts at her hand settling in his hair, her fingers running through the thick strands. Nobody's ever caressed him like this before. He has the fight the moan that wants to escape.

"You're already breaking your promise."

That gets his attention and he shifts away, pining her with her eyes.

"What? What do you mean? What did I do?" He wants to fix whatever it is immediately, he can't handle another argument with her his heart felt like it would burst.

She seems stunned by his seriousness before she collects herself, "You said you wouldn't hide anything from me again. I want to know what you're thinking, whatever is making you look at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you're starving."

Her and these food analogies. But she's not wrong, he feels like he has been starving for years waiting, longing and wishing. Starved for her attention, her favour and her love.

"I'm hungry."

His eyes widen at the sudden announcement especially considering that they just ate, but maybe he can go outside and see if the store is still open and get her something to--

"Where are you going?" She huffs at him as he tries to detangle their limbs.

"You said that you're hun-

"Are you a virgin?"

He freezes and his brain short circuits before he can remind his lungs how to work and breathe again.

"Are you insane why would you ask me that?!"

"Woah. Look how red you got! Am I right? You're a virgin? Am I going to be your first?"

He stares at her slack mouthed before his competitiveness kicks in, she's always been the one to bring this petty immature side out of him.

Far too easily he grips both of her wrists in his hand and pins her hands to the bed over her head. She flails in his tight grip but he watches with fascination as her cheeks pinken and her eyes dilute.

Interesting.

"My first what? Are you offering Seok-ryu? Do you want it that badly?"

His nerves are still there but the desire to put her in her place overrides it momentarily.

But instead of arguing like she's supposed, like they've both been doing for years she zigs when he expects her to zag.

"What if I do? You're my boyfriend. Aren't I suppose to want you?" She stares back with open defiance, only she could make such a confession sound so aggressive.

"Seok-ryu..."

"I don't want to talk. Do I have to spell it out? I want you to -"

His lips slam into hers with a wet smack and he almost groans at how easily she opens up for him, kissing him back as if she's the one that's been pining for years. As if she wants him half as much as he wants her.

He jolts when her legs wrap around his waist, his hold on her wrists loosening for a moment.

When he can't resist the urge to grind into her heat he forces himself to pull away. They need to slow down this is...too much. Too fast.

"We should stop."

But that seems to be the last thing on her mind.

Instead she frees her hands and shoves them up his shirt, his stomach tightens at her touch and this time he isn't quick enough to swallow his reaction.

"Hey Seung-hyo when did you get abs? Is that why you think you can boss me around because you got some muscles?"

"You can't just touch me like that." She raises an eyebrow at his exclamation, challenge clear in her eyes.

"Oh. Why not? Aren't you my man? Can't I touch you just like this and even worst? If I can't touch you like this then who can?"

His jaw drops at her assertion and at the possessiveness in her tone.

He refuses to leave any room for a misunderstanding this time.

"Nobody. Only you."

She avoids eye contact but he doesn't miss the smirk on her lips and that twinkle in her eyes.

"But if you touch me like that then I'm going to get thoughts....I don't want to take advantage of you."

Her laughter is instant and he's tired of feeling like a fish out of water, she's his woman. He is allowed to act like it. He's done holding himself back.

So he retightens his grip on her hands and leans down to press a firm kiss to her neck. Then he waits and her reaction is immediate, her body bends to meet him giving him free range to explore.

Without hesitation he preseses another kiss opening his mouth to taste her and she moans in response.

"More."

That sends blood rushing through his entire body.

He kisses her again and again until she's twisting beneath him but he's too strong for her to break his hold, he shouldn't like that so much.

"I want to give you a hickie."

There. He's said it and if she says no that's fine this is still more than he ever hoped for, more than he deserves honestly. It's greedy of him to even want for more.

"Then do it."

And this time he hold on her completely loosens and she wraps her hands around his neck and yanks him down again, pressing his face further into her neck with a quiet, "Mark me I want it."

He opens his mouth and sucks gently, teething at the thin skin there with the barest amount of pressure. He does it for a minute, lost in her scent and in her soft skin.

"Harder."

He hums into her neck in response, too enthralled to move away for even a second.

"You need to do it harder to leave a mark."

He ignores the tinge of jealousy that flares up at her obvious expertise, she's here with him now that's all that matters.

And he obeys her, open his mouth wider and sucking harder even biting at the last minute and he almost pulls away at her soft shout but she tightens her arms around him refusing to left him go.

"I'm fine you just surprised me. But I like it. I like everything you do to me. Don't stop."

He feels like he's drowning in his own pent up desires.

But he continues to suck and bite and lick at her skin before he realizes that his hips have been moving of their own accord, each gasp from her lips feels him leaving lightheaded and wound up too tight.

He needs to stop before it's too late.

The hickie is huge and red, he realizes that he might have overdone it especially with them trying to hide their relationship.

She's going to kill him.

"How is it? Are you proud of yourself?" She teases him and he can't deny that he loves seeing his mark on her, loves that she trusted him enough to let him do that.

"Who knew you were so possessive?"

He bristles at her taunting tone, "Like you're any better? What did you call me your ma-"

"Hey! Shut up, don't repeat the things I say in the heat of the moment that's embarrassing!"

And this time she pushes him away, and he lets her flopping onto her bed.

"I'm going to check out my hickie, see how much concealer I need to cover it."

And that has him bolting up in the bed, "Wait a second Seok-ryu!"

But he's too late and he watches her eyes flare with anger as she touches the large red mark on her neck in awed silence.

"It looks worst than it really is, it should fade by tomorrow I'm sure!" So similar to the words that she said to his crying six year old self and they both know how that turned out.

"I'm going to kill you!! What did you do to my beautiful neck? What are you a freaking vampire? I said mark me, not destroy my neck!"

And he jumps over the bed trying to get away from her and he can't help but laugh as she trips over her own feet trying to catch him.

[nevermorgue]

Hayley! I hope you're well! I come into your inbox to ask about your thoughts and opinions on each spectre, and your favorite ones! Love your blog! :D

HIIII!! I’m so fantastic thank YOU for coming in here. I love your art and your rambles.

My favorite spectres currently are Will’s and Duke’s. But I really love them all. I’ll go into the opinions now

Annabel’s Lady in White - I think she’s beautiful. I love her abilities and the whole bride thing she has going on. I at first wished her dress was more detailed but it’s fine to grow on me. I love the petals, and the hole in her chest is agonizing. Such a pretty spectre. kiss of death is just sooooo. idk her abilities are definitely one of my top favorites.

Morella’s Guardian Spirit - Plain-ish compared to the others, but still fantastic. I feel like her and Annabel are slept on because of how early they were revealed. I love how long her hair gets and the whole celtic vibe. and that she’s mainly defense with the healing and stuff! it’s very unique and it says sooo much about her past. if it were me i’d make her look a little less human wirh maybe more glowing or something but she’s still fabulous :)

Pluto’s Cryptid - im so so so interested in this because apparently domesticated cryptids are super rare? I wanna know more about the other cryptids poppet mentioned so badly. its so fucked that he has a collar too!!! he wanted to escape society but even in death it's like he's bound by the neck. I'm dying for info on that dumb coat too. He's so silly looking. I really wanna see his other abilities. I'll have a stronger opinion when that comes. Ada's Banshee

- I am dying to know what "Mark of the Grave" is so bad. And I love her confusing ass torso. Is she a shadow. is it a dress. I want to know. also LOVE how her limbs being detachable/having the stitch marks implies she was chopped up and buried like that. and her hat. thats a very "southern belle lady" sort of hat. she gets to be the lady she always wanted, just ugly and hideous!! love her and i love her spectre. "fear itself" is one of my favorite abilities and i hope she utilizes it more cough cough on will-

Prospero's Shadow Man - i am dying to know if he can take the mask off. imagine he's like. a sickly corpse looking kind of thing. like himself but rotting or weak as hell. i LOVE his abilities i just wish he had more detaaaailing. hes so cool and handsome though. i also think its super weird/cool how he has to activate his abilities with the stopwatch. i havent seen any other spectres have a "trigger point" like that. would he be rendered useless without it? Montresor's Dybbuk - nipple rings. sorry anyways - i love the chains. because it's not like he's using them, he's the one chained. and the whole. goat legs thing. bc goats are associated with the devil for some reason. I wonder why that is. idk i just love the whole demon thing. because he's been seen as such since like. his birth. and he cant even escape it in death. love it love his shit. his ability to force his way into peoples' memories is CRAZY too i cannot WAIT to see more of that. Eulalie's Chimera - SOOOO pretty. So aesthetically pleasing. I love how she can make stuff with her dreams!!! and the fact that its implied she can yank malevolent spectres back into their regular forms is soooo cool. and just the fact that she can neutralize other spectres in general is such a unique power. shes like defense similar to morella, just in a different way minus healing. i love her. i really dont dislike any spectre i just love them all. Berenice's Strigoi - I will forever be mad that her teeth count as an ability but WHATEVER. She's still badass. I can only imagine how it must feel to basically lose your hands. I'm really excited to see what "Bloodlust" as an ability does. like there are so many cool spectre abilities we havent seen in action yet. The bite that makes you drunk will forever be iconic too. I love her look and i love how her whole outfit is directly correlated to her time period. also love how like each mouth on her is like. its own being. she cant control it. Duke's Poltergeist - I need to like control myself because I will yap nonstop about this one. The NEONS the colors are just fantastic and I LOOOOVE HIS EYES. THE EYES. all of his abilities fuck so hard and i love how like. his "hypnosis" isnt really like full hypnosis its more like a very powerful suggestion? and he couldnt even figure out how to get ada out of it? like he didnt TELL her to use her ability on montresor, he just kinda planted the idea in her head. i also noticed that one of his abilities IS levitation despite us seeing other spectres float on multiple occasion. so the key difference here is the telekinesis portion of the power. just thought that was silly. love him. i love duke. he's my 2nd fave. Will's Doppelganger - i physically have to stop myself from writing a page's worth of bs here. He has DIRT IN HIS JOINTS. like he's DIRTY. like buried and forgotten!! and if he's dust bowl era like so many of us think, perhaps its that same dust. he was left buried in it...forgotten. unidentified. And and and he's SO OP. everyone IC is underestimating how he has one of the most powerful spectres. He was able to almost fool the misfits as duke, he honestly did a fantastic job. He has to memorize so much. like its genuinely impressive. and then his ribbons. notice how they wrap around HIM before/during use. like he's fucking tangled in in them too, not just his victims. i dont think he's ever been free. he's never not been wrapped up in someone else's shit. he's never been "william". i- i need to stop. hes the best. best spectre- and i pray that the characters realize how much POWER he really has.

[koshiaoi]

More sif from In Galaxies And Eons, he gets a bit worn-out whenever he loops.

My hc is he is affected by the craft exhaustion way more than normal sif, by way more I mean while in the loops, and that's because it's not just local to Vaugarde and is instead just reversing time completely! But his body does still feel the effects of it harshly, as each time he dies the scar on his cheek and the black bits of his hair, hat, and the inside of his clothes gains another star. All the black bits slowly turn a dark blue! Just cuz I wanna and I love blue.

If anyone is wondering, the scar on his cheek he got from loop, this loop spent way longer in the time loops than the original loop (around 10k I think?) And doesn't really talk to siffrin because of this. Loop attacked sif because he wanted to replace him and get back his actors.

From everyone else's perspective, they were a few days before they got to dormant and were taking a break when they heard sif scream, they rushed over and saw him almost dead being attacked by a "sadness" that somehow could talk? They hear it say something about ripping his skin off and replacing him, at which point they were able to save sif. Frightening loop, causing them to run away. Isa and odile noticed something in its eyes though... a weird shade that gave them a visceral feeling.

Bonnie wouldn't be able to leave sifs side after this, as they were told that he was 'just going to take a nap' and he ended up getting attacked. So bonnie sees this and knows that they can't leave the rest of the party anymore, but what's worse about it is that even though frin looks half dead, they're not bleeding, like at all. Instead, every scratch and wound is this weird back nothingness, which is even more reason to not let him alone ever again!

Mira tries her best to heal him, but nothing happens, almost like its permanent damage, like its scars, which stress her out even more! The person who she thought she could trust with her life is now badly injured because of her! If she just didn't ask him to come along, he would never have gotten hurt! It's all her fault! Its-

And isa would hide his true feelings about the entire thing, just trying to cheer sif up by telling him how cool he is for being able to hold his own against that sadness, they that couldn't even damage... wait what? Why couldn't they damage it? Why could only sif damage it? Well that doesn't matter! Sif looks really cool now! He tries his best to help out the freaking out siffrin.

Odile on the other hand would take that thought and run with it. When she saw that when they tried to attack the sadness, not only did it not flinch, like at all, it's form also didn't even react! No small bits of water, nothing. And then there's the fact that whatever it did to siffrin is permanent and can't be healed, what it said was weird to, not to mention that IT COULD TALK? No something wasn't right here... they should really talk to siffrin later.

Yes! I am using some headcannons for this! Specifically the loop appeared before the loops and was just hiding, the loop being sap!sif but I made him worse, and one thing that's just true, is that odile will know that isa also saw the weird thing and will talk to them about it and everything.

[daryltwdixon]

The Ruins of Us: Chapter 12

Summary: The inside of Daryl’s mind is anything but quiet as he anxiously thinks about you. He can’t quiet the thoughts of guilt, regret, anger of how things went down between you. When he hears the gun shot in the woods, his anxiety turns to full blown panic.

Daryl

Daryl was doing his damned best not to rip anyone’s head off on the way back to the highway. His eyes stayed down, focused on the faint, barely-there signs of that little girl through the woods. His thoughts, however, were far from the task at hand.

He didn’t deserve how normal Y/N was acting, how easily she seemed to put the past few years behind her. If anything, it made Daryl feel worse. He’d written her off when she left for college, hadn’t bothered to call or visit. She’d clearly gotten the message that night at Henderson's. The memory still made him inwardly cringe.  It had only been a few days after she left for school, he didn’t expect to see her out, and especially not in their hometown. His emotions had still been raw from the day she left, his wounds not yet ready to even begin to form a healing scab. So that night, when he saw Y/N there… He’d been looking for some kind of reaction, any reaction, but he should’ve walked right up to her. Should’ve just talked to her, despite it all. He nearly did, but couldn’t risk it. He needed to keep his distance. But it felt too good—too tempting—to give in to the anger and jealousy gnawing at him. The devil on his shoulder had pushed him to kiss the girl she was with— to make her feel as terrible as he did when she left. 

The regret hit him the moment he saw Y/N at the bar with Merle. It was like taking the knife and twisting it. He didn’t know Merle would find her so quickly that night, but damn, hadn’t he? She was like a magnet, pulling him in ever since the first time they met as kids. Like his gravitational force was tied to her. They were hardly ever apart for more than 24hrs before Walsh entered her life. That night at the bar, when Daryl looked over and saw her hand pressed gently to Merle’s cheek at Henderson’s, smiling up at him and Merle’s smug, twinkling eyes looking down at her, the knot in his stomach only tightened. The knife that was twisted felt like it had been taken out and stabbed through him again. It’s not like he thought they’d end up together or even doing anything, but he wanted to be there with them. Laughing with them. Telling Merle to fuck off when he got too flirty. But he couldn’t, and it made his blood boil when he saw Merle playfully bite her. So he used that anger against her, deciding that he would go in for the kiss that the girl seemed to want so badly from him. He ignored the friend for the rest of the night, dancing with her if she asked, but he wasn’t really there. He kept searching the room for Y/N, and when he could no longer find her, he ended up leaving the bar early. He felt way too sober for the mess of feelings boiling inside him.

There were so many things he regretted now with how he treated Y/N in the final days of their friendship before. He was so angry, he wasn’t even sure of the names of other emotions that had stirred alive when she met Walsh. So as the time went by and she drew closer to Shane and away from him, he let her slip away. And in the end Shane got his way. 

Suddenly, in the midst of Daryl’s thoughts, a gun shot cracks through the air.

Daryl’s head snaps in the direction of the noise, although it was damn near impossible to trace in the woods like this. He’s frozen in place, assessing. It sounded close, way too close. His breath catching in his throat as he realizes how still the woods are around him–the silence felt heavier than the ringing of the gunshot in the air. Rick or Shane would only use a gun if shit had gone really bad. Of course, the first thing to flash in his face is you, with a spike of anxiety lurching in his stomach. It was one gun shot, why just one? Lori is on edge too, pausing and still searching the woods. Something ain’t right. That old, familiar twist that kept him alive in worse places than this was gnawing at him. He imagined her mother’s instinct was telling her the same thing. But Daryl knew he had to be the leader, to quell the other’s anxious thoughts even though he couldn’t think straight himself. He continues forward with the group.

Lori pauses mid stride in the woods, looking behind her for the thousandth time.

“Still worrying about it?” Andrea asks her. 

“It was a gunshot,” Lori says quietly, his hands anxiously wrapping around her backpack straps.

“We all heard it,” Daryl tries to reassure her, his voice quavering, giving away his shared thoughts.

“Why one? Why just one gun shot?” Lori looks back at everyone, her eyes challenging.

“Maybe they shot a walker,” Glenn says, looking around at her.

“Please do not patronize me,” Lori snaps, “you know they wouldn’t risk a gunshot to put down one walker,”

Daryl’s mind is rushing through thoughts, Lori’s worried face probably mirroring his. He had to be strong now, had to put up a front of the confident leader to get the group back. The others start to raise worried thoughts as well, and it’s all too much for Daryl to handle over his own screaming internal monologue. He could feel it too, something was wrong. His hands tightening on the crossbow, tension in his body made his muscles ready to spring into action. He swallowed hard, pushing this helpless feeling down as he faces the group again.

“We have to work our way back to the highway,” he finally says with false confidence. Andrea gives Lori some reassurance, but again Daryl is deaf to it as well. He turns, not letting his face contort in the same agony as Lori’s. He hated not knowing, hated this awful feeling in his gut.

Please, let her be okay. Let her be safe.

Carol and Andrea are still paused, talking about Sophia lost all alone in the woods. How terrified Carol feels, and that she keeps hoping and praying. 

“We’re all hoping and praying with you, for what it’s worth,” Andrea says, holding Carol’s arms.

Daryl’s nerves are frayed as he stalks up to them, “I’ll tell you what it’s worth–not a damn thing,” he snaps, looking between the two. He never put much faith in god, religion, none of it helped him when his father was putting cigarettes on him or when Merle’s friends beat him up. 

He goes on, “It’s a waste of time all this hopin’ and prayin’”, he leans into Carol, his eyes softening to her, “we’re gon’ locate that little girl and she’s gonna be just fine,” he begins to walk away, “Am I the only one zen around here?” 

Lori scoffs, “yeah, you seemed real ‘zen’ when that gunshot went off,” her voice is low for only Daryl to hear. His eyes narrow on her as he saunters forward, back to leading the group on. His eyes scan the woods again, partially looking for signs of Sophia, but silently hoping for you to come walking into view.

He’s nearly to the highway, the woods are starting to get sparse, and Daryl can see more sunlight through the trees, although it's low. The sun is beginning to set and he picks up his pace, moving the group along. He’s doing his best to shove down that terrible feeling in his gut as he leads everyone back to the main road, but with the quiet comes more horrible thoughts. The kind of fear he felt when it came to what could happen to you–the guilt he would feel for not being there. It was damn near paralyzing. He felt helpless now, even with having another job to do, he hated not being able to be sure. 

He’d pushed her away before—had to, thanks to Shane’s presence —but it still ate at him, how easily he let her slip through his fingers. He never called, never showed up when she left for college, as if cutting her out would make it hurt less. And now? Now she was out here, somewhere, and if anything had happened to her—if she was hurt or worse, and he wasn’t there to stop it—he didn’t know how he’d live with himself. It wasn’t just what he’d done back then; it was what he wasn’t doing now. The weight of it sat like a boulder in his chest, crushing him slowly.

“How much farther?” Lori’s voice suddenly breaks through his thoughts.

“Not much, maybe a hundred yards or so,” he declares, “as the crow flies,” he looks up and around, his crossbow stiff in his arms now. 

“Too bad we’re not crows,” Andrea grumbles to his right. She seems to veer away from the group, more comments coming from her mouth as she walks. Daryl lets her, not caring as long as she stays close. The others stop for a moment to take a drink of water, laying their bags down. But then Daryl realizes Andrea is completely out of view, and he suddenly hears her ear-splitting screams. The entire group starts sprinting to her, things left behind. There’s a walker in front of her, and she’s keeping it at a distance with her legs, but it’s nearly on top of her, reaching for her face. Its snarls are loud, but her screams are louder–piercing the air. As the group descends on the scene, Daryl can hear the heavy beats of a horse coming from out of nowhere. He staggers to a stop, watching a woman approach on her galloping horse, knocking into the walker’s head with a baseball bat in her hand.

“Lori? Lori Grimes?” her Georgia accent calls from atop the animal. She’s a slender woman with short brown hair, her eyes wide as they assess over everyone. Lori sprints ahead, confirming that she is Lori Grimes.

“You gotta come now,” the woman demands, stashing the baseball bat, “Rick sent me, there’s been an accident –Carl and a girl have been shot” 

Lori continues to stare, dumbfounded. 

“He’s still alive,” the woman assures, “but you’ve gotta come now. Rick needs you, just come,” her tone is demanding, urgent. She is holding her arm out to Lori. 

“Woa, woa, woa, we don’t know this girl!” Daryl’s voice cracks, his world feels like it’s crashing in, “and what about the girl? Was it Y/N? Who else was shot?” his voice rises and rises as the panic begins to set into him. Lori climbs on the horse, and the girl quickly blurts out directions to the house, before turning and getting the horse into a gallop through the woods.

Glenn and Carol are on Daryl suddenly, “hey, hey,” Glenn is saying, his hand around Daryl’s shoulders. He’s shaking uncontrollably, his heart hammering in his ears he can barely hear as Glenn is trying to soothe him. Daryl yanks his shoulder out of his grip, his face turning into a snarl. Everything in his body is screaming he has to go. He has to get there, to see her. The damn woman wouldn’t even fucking tell him what happened to her, was she even still alive? Glenn is moving toward the other two, urging them on with him. Distantly, Daryl can hear his name being called.

“Daryl, Daryl, we have to go,” Carol says, putting her hand on his arm. He’s nodding, although his thoughts are on fire. He lets them pull him in the direction to leave, and his body turns on auto-pilot. He’s running, his feet slamming into the ground, crossbow held up tight to get back to the highway. How could he not be there? If something happened, and Shane didn’t do anything to stop it–if he let something happen to her. Everything would’ve been for nothing. Flashes of their time together as kids, as teenagers, all come through his mind like a highlight reel. Her stupid grin the first time he met her, the feisty attitude she got from being around him so much, there was so much more they had to do together, to experience. Even as much as the world had gone to shit, he still had her. God, he hopes he still has her. 

Everyone is clambering onto the highway, legs swinging over the guardrail. Daryl is still lost inside his mind, his panic thoughts going non stop. He didn’t care how he did it, he didn’t care that anyone else needed him now, he needed to find her. They were on the highway, safe and sound. He needed to go. 

“Carl’s been shot,” Glenn announces, “someone else too, we don’t know who,”

“Shot?” Dale says from the door of the camper, “what do you mean, shot?”

“What does it sound like, old man? We have to go,” Daryl snarls, stalking past.

“This chick rode out of the woods like Zorro, man. Took Lori,”

“And you let her?” Dale says, looking to Daryl now.

“Climb down outta my asshole, man,” Daryl spins around and snaps, “Rick sent ‘er. Knew Lori’s name and Carl’s. They said a girl got shot–if that’s Y/N, we have to go. I have to go– now,” There’s more discussion of the walker and other events of the day, but Daryl’s thoughts are lost as he climbs on his bike.

Glenn walks over to the bike after him, “Daryl, you can’t just leave, there’s no plan–”

“I can’t stay here man!” he yells, looking at everyone. The panic in his voice raises, and Glenn’s eyes are pained as he looks back at him, “you don’t understand,” Daryl snaps.

“It’s okay,” Carol says, “go. We’ll stay here and wait for Sophia,”

“We can’t do that– our group is split and weak. Glenn, you go to the house and check to see if everyone is okay,” Dale orders. Daryl is shaking his head, but Dale continues, “and you need to take T-Dog, he has a very serious blood infection. Get him to that farm. See if they have any antibiotics,”

Daryl pauses, looking to the side bag of the bike that’s been covered by an oily rag. He snags it off the bag, reaching in for the stash Merle kept, “keep your oily rag off my brother’s motorcycle,” he throws the rag at Dale’s chest, “why’d you wait to say anything? Got my brother’s stash,” he’s pulled the zip lock of Merle’s trail mix of drugs, looking in it quickly.

“Crystal, X–don’t need that, kick ass pain killers, and doxycycline–and not the generic stuff,” he throws the antibiotics to Dale, “Merle got the clap on occasion,” 

Stashing the bag away, he looks at the others, “I have to go. Is anyone comin’ with me?” The rest shake their heads. He takes it as answer enough, hands revving the engine, and takes off down the road.

x flashback x 

Daryl was on his front porch on his usual perch atop the railing in the front, a cigarette in his mouth. No one was home—the house was dark and silent behind him. It was a quiet night, just how he enjoyed it. He hadn’t seen Y/N in a few days. Everything felt so screwed up with her. He wished she could see that Shane was no good— how she was always a secret for him to keep, how he kept hurting her; including the bruising on her neck and painful bite marks he sometimes noticed on her. God, when she’d show up to his house with vicious hickey bites on her neck or dark blue and purple bruising on her hips, it made bile fill his mouth. Every single time he saw anything remotely like a bruise on her, Daryl wanted to knock Walsh’s teeth out. But in order to keep her trust and make sure she was safe, he had to be there for her through thick and thin. She was his lifeline, his only beacon in this fucked town. 

A pair of headlights suddenly turned down his street, and when the vehicle passed under a streetlight, Daryl’s whole body went tense. The shiny black truck was coming down the road and finally pulling into the driveway. It was dark out, but the streetlights casted enough of a glow to make out the hard set of Shane’s jaw as he slammed his car door and walked up to the front porch.

"Got a minute?" Shane’s voice was calm, but there was an undercurrent to it that made Daryl’s skin crawl.

Daryl shrugged, flicking the tip of the cigarette off the porch and bringing it back to his lips again. He watched Shane through narrowed eyes, inhaling the smoke into his lungs. He tried hard to steady his heart beat—to keep the calm, empty exterior in place. 

Shane didn’t waste time with pleasantries. He stepped closer, invading Daryl’s space, not touching him but making his presence felt. "Here’s the thing, Dixon." He paused, his eyes narrowing. "You need to back off."

Daryl’s eyes flicked up, and for a moment, he almost smirked, but the look on Shane’s face killed the urge. "Ain’t my business what Y/N does," Daryl muttered, but he could feel the tension rising.

Shane shook his head, almost like he was disappointed, but his voice stayed quiet, controlled. "Don’t play dumb, Dixon. I’ve seen the way you’ve been lookin’ at her lately. The way you two are always attached at the damn hip. What do you think is gonna happen? You think she has any future here? With you?"

Daryl didn’t answer, finally putting out the cigarette and shoving his hands into his pockets. He could feel the familiar anger bubbling just under the surface, but he wasn’t about to show it to Shane.

Shane leaned in just a bit, his voice dropping low, almost a whisper. "You think she’s gonna stick around here forever? For you? Both of you barely scraping by, livin’ out of a trailer with Merle? She deserves more than that, Dixon, and you know that,”

Shane knew he hit a sensitive spot when Daryl pulled his lips into a tight line across his face.

“I’m giving her something real, something she can count on. And you’re not gonna be part of it. Stay away from her, or I can make you and your brother’s lives a living hell,” He let the threat hang in the air, unfinished but clear.

“You threatenin’ me, Sheriff?” Daryl finally said, a quiet, seething anger beneath the words.

“Only if I need to,” Shane said simply in return.

Daryl’s eyes flicked up again, meeting Shane’s for a second before looking away. He didn’t say anything. Didn’t need to. Shane knew he’d gotten his message across.

"Good," Shane said, stepping back, his hand briefly clapping Daryl on the shoulder—friendly enough to look casual, but firm enough to remind Daryl who was in control. 

Shane smirked then, his voice dripping with arrogance. "Now, I know she's gonna wanna see you before she heads out—no matter how bad you two have been fightin'. Yeah, I know all about that," he added, smug. "So when she shows up here, and she will, I expect you to make it crystal clear that whatever this has been between you—it’s over. The friendship, whatever the hell you wanna call it—done."

Daryl didn’t respond, just watched as Shane turned and walked away, down the porch steps and into his car. 

Daryl sat on the porch for the whole night after that, sitting there in the dim light, the knot in his chest never loosening.

notes: I'll be going away this week wed-sat so I might not be posting any new writing :( thank you for all the love on this lately, you guys!

[iloveelliefanfics]

Bela's sweet little thing ୨ৎ

synopsis: you're friends with the Dimitrescu daughters, but your relationship with bela turns from friends to... more

summary: mentions of nicknames, flirting, fluff, friends to lovers, wc is about 1k.

pairing: confident/flirty bela x shy reader (no pronouns used for reader)

story is proofread, i take requests

a/n: this is my first post, thank you if you take your time to read this! english isn't my first language so if you find anything that i should correct, please feel free to do so. pics are from pinterest!!

It was just a usual normal day around the castle. You befriended the Dimitrescu daughter's after a few weeks you had moved to the village with your family. Their Mother, Alcina Dimitrescu liked you from the very start, which was rare, considering how overprotective she was when it came to her daughter's. The summer breeze kissed your skin as you made your way to the beautiful castle to spend time with Bela, Cassandra and Daniela.

Although, you mostly spend time with Bela, she has the same interests as you, it made you two connect very quickly. Your shared love for music and art was lovely. If you weren't playing on an instrument with her, or listened to your favorite songs, you walked around the castle viewing the beautiful painting's they had hanging on the walls. This time was no different. As much as you loved spending time with Daniela and Cassandra, you loved every moment spent with Bela even more. Secretly, she adored you, so did you adored her.

Everything felt... Natural when it came to you and her. Every conversation, every second, every stolen look, every laugh. Little did she know she started developing a crush on you. Maybe you had too. You weren't too sure of your feelings. Lately you started feeling nervous around her, longing stares felt like you were going to blow up any minute if you wouldn't stop looking at her. She's too gorgeous not to look at.

You tried denying that you like her. That you really started developing feelings. Once you had realised, you wanted to act on it. You wanted something to happen so badly, but it's easier said than done. Even if it's just your skin brushing against each other's it was still... something.

She was stuck in your head while you were walking. Once you were at the castle, the enormous gates opened, revealing the three daughter's. They were always on time when you talked about catching a break and spending time together. They rushed to you, hugging you tightly. They are always so, so welcoming.

"Y/N, hi, you finally arrived! We have prepared tea for you." -Bela said with a huge grin while nudging you inside the castle.

While you were walking through the hallway and as the daughter's were chatting, you couldn't help but catch Bela looking at you from time to time. Once you arrived in the living room, all of you sat down, and started talking.

Hours passed, which felt like seconds. When Daniela and Cassandra returned to their bedroom, you were left alone with Bela.

"I have a few new things to show you, c'mon." Bela suggested and held out her hand to help you up. You accepted her hand with a smile, clinging onto her.

As she led you through the hallway, with intertwined arm's, you were lost in your thoughts, thinking how could you give a hint that you want to be more than friends.

"Y/N, you there?" she bumped into you with her shoulder, bringing you back to reality.

"Huh? Yeah, just lost in my thoughts. Were you saying something?" You ask, confusion visible on your face.

"Yes, I was saying that i had a new painting I want to show you." She smiled at you, leaning closer to you.

To make you walk faster she placed a hand on your waist, guiding you through the rooms and hallways of the castle.

"You look really pretty today, sweetheart." She complimented on your appearance, making you blush, by not just the compliment but also the nickname.

"Definitely not better than you, Bela" You return the compliment, catching her off guard. She turns her head to hide her blush, she's not used to compliments.

"Oh, returning my compliments, now, sweetheart?" She asks, confidently walking beside you.

"Just because i returned it, doesn't mean it isn't true, sweetheart" You return the nickname, making her laugh.

Her hand remained on your waist, guiding you in silence. You find yourselves standing in front of a large window overlooking the castle grounds, the sun is setting, its light still visible from the castle window, so you're still met with a spectacular view.

You notice that she's standing a little closer to you than she'd usually stand, as she likes to keep her own personal space. You gaze out upon the darkening landscape together, admiring it, wishing it could last forever.

"Quite the nice view huh?" Bela says with her usual sly grin, after taking in the views.

"Yes... Quite the nice view." You nod in agreement and you both look back out the window, watching the sun begin to sink behind the surrounding mountains. It's a breathtaking view, with shadows starting to fill the grounds as the light fades.

"Yeah," she responds, "It's a nice view, alright." She says as she looks in your way.

She looks over to you, meeting your gaze, a sly smirk still across her lips as she admires you in the fading sunlight. You notice now that she's standing much closer than she was earlier, less than a foot separating you two. Her smile grows, almost sultry, as she continues to look into your eyes.

"Although," Bela says, her voice just above a whisper, "The view right in front of me might be even more appealing..."

You blush, words stuck in your throat. Is it actually happening? You can feel your cheeks flush under her gaze, her words sending a shiver down your spine. Bela notices your reaction and her smile grows even wider, enjoying the effect she's currently having on you.

"No need to be so shy." She says softly, taking a small step closer, closing the remaining gap between you and her. Her lominous eyes never leaving yours, you get lost in her eyes. She brings a hand up to brush some hair away from your face, her fingers gently tracing your jawline. She can feel the heat of your blush as you struggle to respond, your eyes wide and your pulse beginning to quicken. Bela knows she has your full attention now, and she's loving it.

She let's her fingers drift from your jaw to your chin, gently tilting your head up to maintain eye contact as she closes the space between you two.

"You're so cute when you blush like that," She murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper, leaning closer to your ears. "It almost makes me want to keep teasing you, you sweet little thing..."

"Bela..." Your breathe quickens "Maybe i put myself in situations like this to make you tease me.*

You exit the window-lined hallway and continue down the dark passageway. The castle is quiet now, most of the maids have already retired to bed, leaving you alone in the dimly-lit corridors. Your footsteps echoing softly in the silence as you make your way to the art room. As you walk, she glances over to you, admiring your profile in the low light. She smiles slightly, enjoying the quiet moment between you.

You know," Bela begins after a few moments. "You never asked me what the painting is of," She points out, gently bumping your shoulder, "You just agreed to see it, sweetheart."

"Because everything you touch or make turns out to be beautiful. I'm always curious what you have for me, Bela." You look at her with a shy smile. After admiring the spectacular view, you make your way to the art room. As you reach the door, she pushes it open and gestured for you to step inside. The room is dimly lit by a few hanging lamps, giving the room a cozy, intimate atmosphere.

She leads you further into the room, towards a large canvas that stands in the center, hidden by a cloth. Bela glances at you, a smile playing at the corners of her lips.

"You ready, sweetheart?" she asks, her hands on the cloth, ready to reveal the painting. You nod slightly, a mix of curiosity and anticipation on your face. You also can't let go of the given nickname.

"Alright," She murmurs, taking a deep breath, "Here we go, sweetheart..."

she pulls the cloth away with a grand flourish, revealing the painting to you... of you. She made a portrait of you. It captures every detail of your face, from your delicate features to the way your hair falls across your shoulders. The paint depicts you in an artistic, almost ethereal way, the light from the lamps in the room casting a warm glow across the canvas.

She stands back behind you, watching your reaction carefully, waiting to see your response. Your eyes widen as you take in the image on the canvas. You almost don't recognize yourself at first, the way she captured every bit of your features surprised you.

Bela remains silent, standing quietly behind you, placing a hand on your shoulder. You both can feel the tension between you grow as you examine the painting, your eyes tracing every brush stroke, every detail, every small part of the image that depicts you...

"Well?" She murmurs in your ears after a few moments, unable to hold herself back any longer. "What do you think, sweetheart?" Her voice is soft, a hint of flirt in her voice. She's desperate to hear what you think of the painting. Did she capture your beauty? Did she do justice to your likeness? She looks at your face, searching for any reaction, any sign of what's going through your mind.

"This is... amazing Bela, wow!" You're left speechless. Instead of saying something you turn around and hug Bela tightly."

"Oh you sweet little thing, I'm glad you like it." As she was petting your hair, she pressed her face against your neck. She pulled away from the hug. slightly leaning to your face. "I'm so glad you like your very own potrait, sweetheart." She repeated caressing your cheek. She leaned closer to you, pressing her lips to yours. You slowly kiss her back giving into her kiss and touch. You pull away and look into her eyes, touching her face.

"I think i can say it now, I've liked you for a while now." You say smiling, with a flustered face.

"Oh you sweet thing, you could've confessed sooner."

[magical-girl-coral]

Something something Ted remembering all of Michelle’s favorite things about Paris, something something Michelle sharing the same fun facts Ted knows (that she probably knew from him), something something both of them always looking back despite being repeatedly told that time of their life is over.

[swordmaid]

i am wide awake thinking about that post canon jb au again when I should be sleeping …!!! such is the nature of the jbrainrot…

[faaun]

Jack Marsh (2005), Friendship Otherwise - Toward a Levinasian Description of Personal Friendship

[on-a-sunbeam]

So please correct me if I'm wrong but I don't think Alias ever really talked about how awful the whole doubling process would be? Like, the actual process itself would probably be pretty painful, sure, but remember going through puberty and having your body adjust to all that? Except this time your entire DNA is being changed. But not your brain, apparently. (WHICH, while I'm rambling, according to this report, you 100% can identify different brains from each other. In Alias, however, they say you can only tell if someone's a double through their eyes, which means that the person's actual brain is also changed, so I guess Alias just casually tried to tell us that souls or something of that ilk do, in fact, exist, and then never mentioned that again)

Which puts us in a very unique position! Because your brain's shape is now different, it's literal dna is different, and that does affect you as a person, except no?? It doesn't effect the doubles? As far as we see they're the same person. Ignoring the way more fun option of this does effect the doubles and maybe they start to show traits that the original had which would've been SO much fun but whatever, let's just say that your brain shape/makeup doesn't matter. Everything you do, everything that makes you you comes from something else. Your soul, your spirit, Rambaldi controlling you like a video game character, whatever.

This would make being a double really, really suck. Because your consciousness just got poured into this new body, essentially, which means that you have ABSOLUTELY NO IDEA HOW TO USE IT. The proportions are just wrong, first of all. Maybe the original's legs are a little longer. Now you have to walk up a flight of stairs, and not only are their legs longer, maybe they're a little thicker. Maybe they have a bad knee that you never knew about. Maybe they work out a lot and their legs are way stronger than yours were. Even if you guys were exactly the same height and lived exactly the same way, you would still have fundamentally different legs.

But for the sake of argument let's give them the benefit of the doubt and say okay, so maybe you still have your soul/consciousness/whatever, but that just contains your memory and personality and what not. All of the physical aspects are controlled by your brain, which should be suited to your body either way because that's how the process works. (Disclaimer: I am not a scientist and have no idea what I'm talking about) Okay, fine. That's fair. Except...even if your brain can move your legs perfectly, wouldn't it still be terrifying to remember that this isn't how they normally move? Your body might be perfectly functional, but your mind still wouldn't be used to functioning it.

(And this is all very sudden, too! I mentioned puberty earlier, but that is something that a) still takes place in your own body, with your own brain. It's hormones changing, not DNA. And b) might come faster for some people, but you know, generally takes a little longer than a couple-hour long surgery)

Also if we were to go that route, what would happen if the original person say, had some mental condition? That's a brain thing, not a soul thing. Your physical brain is now the same as theirs, so would you inherit that too?

In conclusion: local idiot rambles about how Allison should've misjudged a step and fallen down a flight of stairs and gotten adhd from Francie.

[cheekblush]

not having any friends is truly heartbreaking

[fingertipsmp3]

So the x-ray went fucking terribly

[biblicalhorror]

You ever had a friendship where like you kind of faded out of each other's lives for a period of time and then re-bonded without ever really addressing the distance so now every time one of you mentions something you never told the other one during The Dark Time you both just have to be like "yeah, this massive thing that happened to me that we didn't talk about at the time but I totally wanted to tell you about but it felt like I couldn't talk to you but I'm also not gonna say it was your fault because I don't want to drive you away again but I know and you know exactly what it is we're not talking about"

[david-watts]

I’m actually so pissed off at that like. it started when I was a kid because I would get anxious and have nausea as a physical symptom so I’d mention feeling sick whenever something potentially anxiety-inducing came up but never actually threw up and that got labelled me a hypochondriac. at age four. and at age seven I’d do shit for attention. I suspected I had asthma and was overdramatic about it and I was RIGHT to think so but I got labelled a liar. and a hypochondriac. I’d be in pain? I’d feel sick on a near-constant basis because I was developing severe mental illness and also there was someone, possibly through actual government instructions, though partially because she was a total cunt of a human being, literally persecuting me (and others) on a near-daily basis. so I’d often feel ill. that was of course considered ‘hypochondria’ even though literally what was that meant to be? fuck’s sake. and then when I like. started going ‘hey I think there’s something wrong with my body’ I’d get told to stop overreacting. and then! I started actually getting problems noticed and like. I’d get told to push through it. how do I push through a spine injury that left me bedridden for days? if I’m not given the time of day to figure out what’s wrong with me of course I’m gonna try searching online for solutions and inevitably be wrong the first couple of times! oh, what’s that? you definitely have ptsd and adhd? oh that’s what those symptoms are! wait, what, you’re saying that I can’t possibly have those problems...? despite having the exact same symptoms as you? considering that these are the same people that insist every winter that I have reynauld’s never checking that I wasn’t experiencing literal frostbite because my grandpa had it I ought not to be surprised... it’s the default reaction. way to ignore everything. just call the problem a liar and have done with it knowing you’ve done ‘all you can’

[sidras-tak]

Accessibility takes too goddamn fucking long.

My brother was paralyzed in October 2023. We got him home from the hospital (in Texas, when we live in Iowa) in a clunky old hospital chair. He hated it. He was scared and angry and in pain and his life had just changed forever and he couldn’t do anything for himself in that wheelchair. His first goal (aside from learning how to transfer) was to get a wheelchair. My family was lucky enough to afford one so we thought it would be easy enough. Nope.

We couldn’t buy him a wheelchair. He needed a prescription. For a wheelchair. A doctor had to examine him and declare him in need of a wheelchair. It wasn’t good enough that he had scans and tests showing tumors cutting off his spinal cord. He needed his primary care doctor to examine him during a physical and write a prescription. He was making 2-4 transfers a day, tops. He had no energy to get to a doctor. Home health was in and out every day. He had no time to get to a doctor. He didn’t get a prescription for almost a month. Then it had to go through insurance.

We asked if we could skip insurance and just buy a wheelchair for him. Nope. They wouldn’t sell us one, not even at full sticker price. It needed to be approved by Medicare. We ordered a wheelchair, a nice one, a good shade of green, sporty, small. It would let him move around the house. He would be able to cook, to reach drawers and get stuff from the fridge and brush his teeth and put his contacts in at a sink. We were told it would take awhile, maybe two months. Silently we all hoped he would be around to see two more months.

He went on hospice care on a Saturday in March. On Monday, I was calling his friends to come see him before he died. I got a call on his phone. It was the wheelchair company. They were about to order his wheelchair, she said, but there was an issue with insurance— had he stopped being covered by Medicare? Well, yes. When he started hospice care, he got kicked off Medicare. The very nice woman I talked to told me to call her if he resumed Medicare coverage so she could order his wheelchair. He died less than 12 hours later.

We ordered that chair for him in early December. Medicare didn’t approve the order until March. He was dead before they got around to it. He wanted that fucking wheelchair so badly. The only reason he had any semblance of independence and any quality of life for the last five months of his life was because the wheelchair company lent him an old beater chair, a very used model of the chair he ordered. If I could go back and change one thing about his end-of-life, I would get him his dream wheelchair. He told me again and again he couldn’t wait to get it, so that he could feel like a person again. He made the best of what he had with that old beater chair, but it still makes me mad to this day. He was paralyzed. He needed a chair that afforded him dignity. We had the money for it. And yet, we were left waiting for five months, for a chair that wouldn’t even get ordered until the day he died.