#dream doesn't dare to think about whether it was destroyed

[rat-rosemary]

Sorry. Thinking about him more (pigeon C!dream)

Techno takes his hand when he's healed enough and they walk all the way to the community house (Dream could walk back blind) and then Dream just... stands there. Looking at it. He wants to go to bed, but his nest is no longer there. It hasn't been in a long time.

[logaenhowlett]

THIS NIGHT HAS OPENED MY EYES - L.H.

Summary: Fate isn’t something Logan believes in. So what happens when he crosses paths with someone who has haunted his mind for nearly 50 years?

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female Reader

Warnings: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, A desperate need to hug Logan

A/N: After weeks of pushing this fic aside, it's finally done. I'm happy with how it turned out, hope you enjoy! Title creds to The Smiths.

MASTERLIST

1983 - Alberta, Canada

Logan doesn’t stop running. Even after the soles of his feet turn an alarming shade of purple and blue, marring the once-soft skin with bruises and scars which will eventually fade away. Adrenaline carries him through the dense forest and its unforgiving terrain, but it’s fury - along with sheer horror - that courses through his veins. 

Red is all he sees. His heart thumps in his chest, feeling like an anvil dragging him into the earth. His breathing comes out ragged - the cold air, the newly metal-infused claws burning through skin - it all just becomes too much for him. The constant beat of dog tags hitting his chest echoes as he slices his way through the woods.

A million thoughts rush across his mind, none remaining in place long enough for him to grasp. Logan was never one to dwell on fantasies, always quick to shut down whatever illusions that little flicker of hope within him conjures. But now, he dreams of a world that isn't cruel, a world that doesn't wreck, shatter and destroy this innate sense of good he carries. A world that could never exist.

Glimpses of his childhood fight against the agonizing pain shooting through his body. For a brief second, Logan breaks free from the mental shackles of his survival instincts, enough for his mind to flood with memories he'd believed were lost to the disease of time. His knees falter as flashes of his mother, his father and even his brother momentarily hush the undying streams of insecurity and worthlessness that flow so deeply within him.

It's when he sees himself - that young child who dared to dream of a life worth living, a life he'd be proud to reminisce as he takes his last breath - he thinks it's the end. How would that little boy feel knowing this is what he'd become? A pawn in a game he'd never have a choice to deny.

His vision blurs, stinging in sorrow and heartbreak for his younger self. A tremble runs through his body and Logan wants nothing but to sink beneath the ground under his feet. To scream as exhaustion rips into his muscles, crumbling whatever resolve searing within. He'd give anything for it all to stop. The voices in his head to lull into a silence he desperately craves, even just for a second.

Fear was never something that infected him. Yet, at this moment, he truly is frightened. Terrified that he'd unknowingly sacrificed the only lingering shred of belief he held for himself and all that remains now is but a monster - a machine wired to do the very thing he refuses.

Logan thinks he's on the verge of crashing, to surrender to the plague poisoning his mind, body and heart. Just as he aches to cross that line, a soft gasp from someone nearby startles him. His eyes dart around, strides slowing down so abruptly that the sudden movement leaves his knees shaking. He can't even pull himself together long enough to properly focus on his surroundings, to absorb all the minute details he could once subconsciously catch.

His breath hitches as you reveal yourself, quickly studying you to determine whether you’re a threat. Even as the alarm in his head doesn’t ring, he’s still on edge when you approach warily. There’s just something about you he can’t quite detect.

“It’s okay… I’m not going to hurt you.” You whisper, hands raised.

Logan stares at you, tense and on high alert. Your gaze keeps dropping to the bloody claws between his knuckles, your expression twisting to one of shock and concern. His mind becomes a little hazy, the lucid part of him wants to run away, yet he's rendered frozen.

"I'm not going to hurt you." He hears you murmur once again, your hand slowly reaching towards him. The tone of distress in your words leaves Logan anxious, chest heaving in suspicion. A shiver rolls down his spine as your fingertips brush against his skin, goosebumps rising at the contact. Your eyes find his again, searching for any hint of resistance and when he gives no sign of hostility, you gently rest your palm against his shoulder.

The initial touch sends a current of sensations through his body. Immediately, a wave of calm washes over him and everything around him stills. Logan wills his mind to concentrate on the little bubble you seem to have created. And after what feels like forever, silence diffuses the noise in his head. A sob threatens to escape him as he grabs your wrist, he wants to say something, to question this strength you have over him, but he remains speechless.

He expects to recognise the unmistakable cast of terror across your features, staggering a little when he finds none. Not even the intimidating glare of the adamantium wavers your faith in him. And that realisation overpowers the gentle and soothing aura you seem to radiate. A broken hum cracks through the quietness, Logan drops your hand in an inexplicable panic. He shares one last look with you before sprinting off.

2029 - Eden, North Dakota

As the soft glow of light caresses his face, Logan shifts amongst the heap of blankets delicately wrapped around him. His muscles loosen in relief, finally content to rest after years and years of forcing him into overdrive.

There's a kind of weariness to him now, his movements slow, his healing even slower. He can't recall a time when his body wasn't fighting against him - against the adamantium. Pain becomes such an unceasing feeling that sometimes he doesn't register when one of his stitches pops open, blood staining his clothes with the reminder of his deteriorating state.

He sighs quietly, the conversation with Laura left a heaviness in his heart. Logan couldn't blame her, she’s a little kid after all, one presented with the chance of belonging to a makeshift family. But, he can't be the father she needs. The one she deserves. At least, that's what he tells himself. It's better that way, for her and for everyone who might get involved, to give them a fair shot at life untainted by his cursed touch.

Logan stops resisting his need for sleep, comforted by the fact that Laura's amongst her friends and away from danger for the time being. He drifts off almost instantly, the presence of someone in the room going unnoticed.

Leaning against the doorframe, you watch as his chest rises and falls, his soft breaths filling the air. He looks a lot older since the last time you saw him. Eyes a little sunken, wrinkles decorating skin, streaks of grey twisting into dark hair. Despite the physical changes, you can sense a weight that seeps so far into his soul, this aura of fatigue and defeat he exudes. God, he's so tired.

Feet moving at their own will, you slide onto the edge of the bed, tenderly running your hand along Logan’s arm. The slight shift of his expression as he subconsciously relaxes draws a small smile from you. Nightmares spare him this time.

Logan stirs awake a while later. As reality begins to settle once again, he stares at the ceiling, feeling a sort of peace and tranquillity that sparks only one memory. A brief encounter with a stranger who approached him with nothing but kindness.

The kids rush into the room, eager to see the hero they'd only read about in their comics. When has anyone ever been happy to see him? He wonders, uneasiness creeping into his thoughts.

"C'mon, let him rest."

It's the gentle tone yet one that carries a sway of authority that snaps his attention. The children hurry to leave, brushing past you in a fit of giggles as if they'd been caught doing something naughty.

Logan's eyes lock onto yours. His jaw twitches, chest caving as the realisation sets in. Of course, it's you. The reason why he'd felt such a lightness being here, his mind simmering in a state of serenity. The memory comes back in a sudden, the visions he's had of you throughout the years, ones that provided a fragment of bliss at times when he couldn't bear the misery - all of it comes back, overwhelming him.

Over decades, Logan convinced himself that you were but a figment of his imagination, concocted by his troubled mind as a last attempt at defence. As time went on, the mirage of you slowly dissolved. And now, here you are, standing in front of him - as real as he is. He sits, gradually lifting himself off the pillow, gazing at you in awe. You haven't changed at all.

"I can heal... like you." You offer, foreseeing the question that's lingering behind his lips.

He feels like the wind has been knocked out of him, all the dots in his head finally connecting. "You're one of us too." Logan says to himself, astonished, "That day - you did something to me."

Moving closer, you sink next to him on the bed, hand resting on his. A swell of tiredness spreads within him, he gasps under his breath at the sensation. It fades rather quickly, replaced by the inviting embrace of relief. Logan exhales softly, his expression riddled with wonder.

"I can't make you feel anything you don't already feel." Your whisper reaches him, "I can just... amplify it."

The fact sends jolts of shock through his body. Meaning, that day, you had found what little tendril of good he had so desperately clung onto. You saw it. You saw the good in him.

"I thought you weren't real."

Logan doesn't know why he's drawn to you. It just feels so natural to have you this close again - as if he'd found the missing part of himself he didn't know was tied to your soul. The voice in his head crawls to the forefront of his mind, polluting his desire to want you, to have you. He shouldn't be entertaining these wishes, everything he so hopelessly craves would just hurt you in the end.

"I wanted to find you," You tell him, sensing his internal battles, "But... I couldn't risk getting caught."

"Transigen?" He asks, despair slipping into his question.

The sound of laughter outside pulls your attention, "Gabriela. She told me about these kids. What happened... what those monsters did to them? I just - I couldn't let them fight this on their own." You see Laura in the distance, playing along with her friends. "She looks happy."

Logan follows your gaze, "I didn't... I didn't believe her. About this place." His voice wavers, the feeling of guilt clawing at him. He moves his hand away from yours, avoiding the flash of hurt across your face.

"You brought her here anyway. Some part of you hoped she'd be right." There you go again, managing to see the good in him. He shakes his head lightly, ignoring the choking weight in his throat. "You're not coming with us... I heard what you told her."

"Then you know why." He murmurs, eyes turning glassy.

"Logan - " You bring your hand to rest on his cheek, slowly turning his head, "I know you're not healing as fast... I can feel it." His eyes flick down to yours, a tangle of hesitation and longing behind them. "You don't have to give up - you don't have to be alone anymore."

Oh, how easy it would be to give in to you and the future you're promising. Yet, the shadow of agony looms over him. "I'm not meant for this - everyone around me dies." He spits out, angry at whatever higher being molded him this way - a man forever deprived of the simple pleasures of life. "I won’t let anyone else suffer because of me. The kids, Laura, you... you're better off on your own."

He shifts to lie down, too drained to continue this back and forth. The bed dips when you stand, a defeated sigh escaping you. As you’re about to leave, Logan's whisper makes you freeze.

"I'm not... whatever it is you think I am."

Sunlight beams through the windows, Logan scrunches his face as he rouses. It's oddly quiet, he notes, pushing himself off the bed. He takes a moment to focus his hearing on his surroundings - not a single soul around. A fit of coughs leaves him groaning, he stumbles his way outside, the raw intensity of the sun hitting him.

Empty is all he feels. A gaping crater in his heart as he understands what he'd given up by letting you slip away. Even Laura's absence strikes a chord, a small part of him had grown fond of the girl. He lets out a shuddering breath, this is what he intended. So why is every cell in his body yearning for your touch?

A swarm of drones fly overhead. Logan jerks his head at the noise, dread filling him once he sees the logo. He bursts into the room, searching for any medication to numb the pain burning through his organs. A green vial tucked away on the shelf gleams at him, he wastes no time, grabbing both the liquid and a needle before charging through the woods.

Everything within him seems to be on fire as he storms up and down the hills. He's out of breath in mere minutes, gasping for air while his lungs constrict. When the oxygen in his brain starts to diminish, Logan falls to the ground, coughing as his wounds reopen. His consciousness dances around the line between reality and illusion. Reaching into his pocket, he fumbles with the syringe, drawing the entirety of the vial - Rictor's warning rings in his head - and injecting the fluid.

It's almost rapid. The way the drug shoots through his bloodstream. Pupils blown wide, he roars, energy rushing into his veins. His legs carry him across miles towards the panicked screams of children and gunfire. Once the Reavers spot him, they direct their weapons at the bigger threat. Logan rips through them, unfazed by the bullets spraying everywhere.

Amongst the chaos and carnage, he spots you struggling against the soldiers' grasp. That momentary distraction sends him flying backwards as the impact of the railgun pierces his body. A primal rage erupts within him, his muscles throb violently, knuckles turning white. The effects of the drug wear off, knees buckling when he tries to stand, he collapses to the ground instead. His eyes glaze over, the wrath that had consumed him earlier now waning into hopelessness.

Laura stills in her tracks, her friends sprinting past her. "No! Run!" He yells, grunting. "Go to your friends, Laura." Logan stammers, knowing she can hear him.

He shuts his eyes for a second, every fiber of his being honing in you. With immense effort, he slowly rises, hand stained crimson while he clutches his stomach. He only moves a couple feet before he's knocked in the head.

X-24 glares at him ruthlessly, drawing his clawed-fist back to strike him again. Logan blinks wearily, catching the terror on your face as you attempt to escape from the soldiers' hold. An angry growl comes from somewhere behind him. Laura launches herself at X-24, slashing at him with all her strength. The clone staggers a little before grabbing her shirt and hurling her towards a tree.

The act makes Logan writhe in anger, but before he can attack him, X-24 lunges forward, extending his claws into Logan's side. Blood gushes out of him and your deafening scream is all he can hear. He doesn't know what's more excruciating - the pain or the look of sheer anguish on your face.

A bang echoes in his head. X-24 drops to the ground next to him, the remnants of a smirk on his half-exploded skull. Laura stands, a couple feet away, pistol in her hands. It's thrown away immediately as she runs to him.

The kids swarm around you, their collective powers thrusting the soldiers far away. In the corner of his eye, Logan sees you racing towards him. Weakly, he convinces Laura to go, to save herself. His words barely louder than a whisper as he gazes at her, pleading. She looks at you tearfully, torn between what to do. Muffled sounds of her friends calling her name reach her ears and with a heavy heart, she goes after them.

"Logan!"

You fall next to him, bringing his body to rest against yours. Your touch provides a sense of solace, a comforting warmth enveloping him. Logan knows you're willing your powers to take his pain away, to distract his mind from the agony tearing through him. All this time, even your indirect presence in his life was a beacon of hope amongst the shadows - a reminder that he was never alone. He whispers your name, faintly.

"No. No." You insist, shaking your head. "You are not dying. I won't let you."

Logan feels your hands press against his wound, your sobs breaking his heart. The emotion in your voice is a dagger to his spirit. He wishes to reach up and brush those tears away, to extend the same sympathy you do to him. Desperation fills your mind, your fingers fumbling with his clothes before your eyes shut, trying to channel your healing powers into him.

"Sweetheart..." A soft smile tugs his lips and his hand finds yours, gently intertwining them. "It's okay."

As his mind begins to finally relax, a vision spreads a surge of content through his body. You and him - on the Sunseeker. Tucked away in your own pocket of time, drifting across the seas without a care in the world. Perhaps he'd let you steer if you asked. He'd do just about anything you ask.

"No - Logan."

"It's all quiet now."

Despite only having one memory of you, he'd always cherished the compassion and tenderness you showed him. He realises now that, over the last fifty years, he'd fallen in love with you. In his own way.

"No... please..."

Darkness engulfs him as he takes his last breath. "I love you."

The world shrinks. A broken whimper leaves you, lost amongst the ringing silence. You don't let go of him, even as he goes limp against you. Your uncontrollable tears stain his clothes, everything loses its meaning. It feels like eternity stretches out before you, fuelled by the weight of your grief.

Then, Logan's finger twitches in your hand. You gasp, heart pounding as life returns to his body, a gentle tide washing away old wounds. The soft thumping in his chest makes your eyes widen in disbelief. You hold your breath as his eyelids flutter open, he lets out a ragged groan, matching your stunned look.

"You saved me..."

Hearing his voice again sends trembles down your spine, without sparing another second, you wrap your arms around him. Logan flexes his muscles, bringing you into his embrace, a mixture of emotions consuming his mind. As you whisper his name over and over again, doubting the reality of this moment, he pulls back slightly - nothing but decades of pure longing in his eyes.

His lips brush against yours, pouring every morsel of affection he can muster. Logan kisses you like a man starved, everything he'd bottled up rushing towards freedom. Tears ache to escape when the feeling of love grows within him and he smiles - that little boy would be happy.

"You saved me, sweetheart."

Don't worry, I'm not letting the story end here. Part two is in the works!

[isfjmel-phleg]

Young Justice 1998 AU where everything's the same but Grant Emerson joined YJ instead of the Titans

He's recruited by Secret, after his story is among those that she hears from Red Tornado when she first comes to the cave.

She finds Grant on the run from the law (basically where he is when he's recruited in Titans 1999) and scares away his would-be captors.

Tim will later do some hacking and erase Grant's criminal record.

He's instrumental in destroying the DEO "orphanage" and plays a part in the intended bombing incident at the church.

He and Bart have some unresolved issues, much to the rest of the group's confusion, and initally spend a lot of time snarking at each other. Cissie doesn't know what this is about, but she's protective of Bart, so she and Grant don't initially get along either.

Grant and Kon, meanwhile, hit it off and bond over the commonalities of their backgrounds. So Kon is kind of stuck in the middle with two friends who have beef with each other, and it can be awkward.

Grant gets along well with Secret too. They both have mysterious origins tied to labs and a lot of angst, and they're comfortable around each other because his explosive powers aren't any danger to her.

He gets along well enough with Cassie (who is too distracted by her crush on Kon and friendship with Cissie to notice him much) and has a variable relationship with Tim, whom he's a bit too similar to in some ways (they're both anxiously analytical) and whose authority he sometimes resents.

He doesn't have a parent or official guardian to represent him at the parent/teacher conference, so Martian Manhunter, who of course is among the JLA when they come to interrogate YJ, steps in as his primary genetic "father." Having two telepaths at the initial "parent/teacher conference" creates some complications.

During the campout, he would prefer to take "dare" but knows the dangers of this for him and reluctantly takes "truth" instead. Tim asks him...something, I don't know what. Maybe his greatest fear.

When asked if he would give up being a superhero, his immediate answer is yes. His powers are a burden, and he hasn't had a moment's peace since they manifested.

Having nowhere else to go, he lives at the cave (and later the former hotel headquarters), along with Secret. They end up keeping each other company most of the time when the others aren't around.

He joins Tim and Bart in their search for Secret when she is recaptured by the DEO and is very adamant about coming to her rescue. The destruction to Mt. Rushmore is his accidental doing, provoked by Match-as-Kon.

His presence on the team adds to the media's vitriol against Young Justice--this team harbors multiple criminals, including the archer who almost killed a man and the boy who destroyed Atlanta and has been sowing further destruction ever since his running from justice!

Dan Dunbar is one of Grant's most vocal critics, comparing the boy's out-of-hand explosions unfavorably to the more contained and controlled methods that he and TNT used to use. Unlike this delinquent Damage, Dyna-Mite was supervised, which of course made all the difference.

Grant's experience in Secret's abyss is of course traumatizing. He can't help thinking back to that time that mysterious man in his dreams suggested that he might not live a long time.

It turns out that he has at least some degree of immunity to Empress's mind control powers, possibly because of his latent telepathic powers.

He's the only one on the team to suspect that something's off when Kon is replaced with Match, but he isn't sure enough to report his suspicion to anyone.

During Sins of Youth, he conflicts with most of his teammates about the need for a cure for their aging up since he finds he prefers the control and confidence that came with his new adulthood. The main question of his arc in this event is whether it's right to take a permanent shortcut to growing up instead of living through every moment of a difficult adolescence.

As in Titans 1999, Grant has to appear at his uncle's arraignment and returns distraught. But here he doesn't have Roy to get involved. Instead, Kon and Bart try to cheer him up by taking him to do something recreational (possibly camping, as in the original version of this story) while Young Justice is taking their post-Sins of Youth break. A late-night conversation ends up on the topic of fathers: Kon never had one (unless you count Westfield, which he doesn't), Bart never knew his (and hasn't realized yet that Max is his father-figure), and Grant...lets it slip how his foster father treated him.

Kon, who can relate, reacts with alarm. Bart, who has experience addressing this sort of thing, knows what to do: tell trusted adults and get his friend help. So after a very emotional conversation, they bring Grant back to Red Tornado and possibly the JLA and report the incident. Consequently, Grant takes a temporary leave of absence.

Even though he's not on the team for a while, the narrative sticks with him, even if it's only checking in on him now and then. He is traveling, concentrating on his civilian identity--but his powers are hard to escape, they're constantly developing, and he finds out at some point that the JLA have put some kind of covert supervision on him in case of accidents, like they don't trust him to maintain control. He finds this insulting.

Meanwhile, while the others are having adventures at the Olympics and in space etc., they're dealing with his absence. Kon is left with some feelings that he's not ready to process (what happened to Grant isn't so different from what has happened to him--was he abused too? by Knockout? by even his beloved, recently deceased Tana? if so, what does he do with that?). Bart was just finally starting to recover his old friendship with Grant, and now he's gone. Secret is saddened to lose him, and this will contribute to her grief when Tim and Bart leave much later.

When war breaks out and it's all hands on deck, Grant rejoins the team in #35, and everyone is thrilled to see each other again...but then it's decided by the authorities that Grant won't work with YJ. His skills are too useful to be wasted on rescue ops, and besides, he's too dangerous to be rescuing anybody--what if he accidentally explodes at the wrong moment?

Grant's teammates are indignant (particularly Kon, who is angry that he wasn't also considered too useful for anything but fighting), especially when Grant agrees without a fuss to take a combat role without them.

And Grant really would rather be with his friends, but his feelings of being more comfortable in a warzone because he considers himself a weapon are returning. He parts with the team on less pleasant terms and ends up working with the JSA/a version of the Freedom Fighters. He starts to wonder whether he really wants to return to YJ or if he "should" be on the JSA permanently out of obligation to his father's legacy.

So he's not there for the Apokolips incident but feels pretty guilty about not being there for the others when he hears what happened.

In this continuity, Cassie talks Grant (not Ray, who is with the Titans!) into officially rejoining full-time in order to lure Bart back to the team. Grant accepts, albeit with some confliction about what he really wants to do with his life.

Secret seems to be avoiding him now. Kon, who is still trying to ignore the issues that Grant's leave brought up for him, doesn't seem comfortable around him either. Anita doesn't have a lot of patience for him. That leaves him mostly with Slo-bo.

In the World Without Young Justice scenario, he was never subject to experimentation but grew up raised by his biological parents. He either never developed powers or has much more restrained and easily controlled powers, so he never became Damage. Unlike with his teammates, Grant Pratt leads a stable, appealing life, and it's hard for Impulse to convince him to join him as Damage.

Grant runs for team leader, citing his excellent leadership skills as an adult. Cassie is still the one elected, of course.

He saves Anita and Tim from the explosion in the hut in which Anita's father dies; he absorbs the energy and deflects it before it can properly explode.

Considering how the media has treated him in the past, he's not sold on the idea of being on a reality show, and there's some conflict over this. Maybe he threatens to leave again and reveals that the JSA or the Freedom Fighters have made him offers to join them.

He refuses when Greta asks him to help break her father out of prison. Accidentally letting his uncle out of prison that one time caused nothing but trouble and guilt, and he's never doing that again.

There's some major cathartic incident late in the series that addresses his struggling to figure out what he wants out of life and his insecurities about relationships with the team. Things probably get messy, but the series ends with him still committed to the team and confident in his friendships and active in trying to talk Secret down. He's considering finding a long-term mentor and cutting back on hero work to concentrate on his education (he's missed a lot of high school and needs to get a diploma or GED before he can go on to studying biology or physics in college) and on his personal life (building civilian relationships! trying to connect with his genetic relatives and his "brother"! trying to lead as normal a life as possible!).

After the events of Graduation Day, he declines to join the new Titans team with most of the others, and that's when the Freedom Fighters get him, and it goes from there.

[sleepingfancies]

Prithee, tell me which one of your OCs haunts your mind most today?

AUAUHGHGHGHG i've been sucked back into dragon age hell and i've been thinking about my Rowena Trevelyan all day . major inquisition + trespasser dlc spoilers and an extremely long ramble under the cut im so so sorry beloved mutual </3

she was just a KID like.... Rowena was permitted to go to the conclave as a budding apprentice mage. as an OBSERVER she didn't even get a vote. she was wandering around during a break when she happened upon the ritual . it was like an academic field trip for her, a chance for her to see the politics behind the scene and nothing more. and within hours her mentor and everyone she knew was killed in the blast and she was the sole survivor. and then she became surrounded by people she didn't know and handed responsibility and divinity she never asked for and had no clue how to handle !!!!!!!!!!!!

and this is AFTER she was essentially abandoned by her Trevelyan family for being a mage in the first place. 5 generations of non-mages and her parents thought they were safe for sure and then they had Her. a recessive gene last seen a century ago resurfacing . they threw her in the circle at the first opportunity. she sent letters for the first few years - they never answered. her family became her mentor and her fellow mage children. she learned young that the Maker didn't want her, that her magic was a mistake. her family would've loved her just fine if she hadn't been a mage.

so she's just so ANGRY about it all deep down. everyone she knows is killed and these strangers have the NERVE to call HER - a mage, a mistake, an affront to the Maker - the Herald of Andraste. one cataclysmic event and suddenly everyone thinks she's not only special for her magic, but a gift from the Maker. and how dare they!!! how dare they respect her and beg for her help now after so many years of neglect and lies and abuse!!

the first thing Cassandra does is question whether she believes in the Maker. and what is she supposed to say? "He believes my existence is a mistake, so I believe He exists as a tyrant" is what comes to her mind. but she grew up around templars and learned not to speak her mind around people she couldn't 100% trust. so she holds her tongue and says she isn't sure what to believe anymore. it's not entirely a lie, and it placates Cassandra: the person who could most easily decide she was more of a liability than a blessing.

as time passes in Haven, Solas becomes her new mentor; a surprise to both of them, really. but he knows more about spirits and the Fade than she was ever taught - she doesn't even know how to use the mark on her hand. He teaches her how to close the rifts, how to navigate the Fade in her dreams, how to learn all that spirits have to offer. She looks up to him. between him and Dorian and Vivienne, she has finally found similar company. Dorian never questions her caution about believing in the Maker. Vivienne never judges her for not knowing much about the world outside the circle. Solas is helping her grow and learn.

the other companions help, too. she latches onto Blackwall - he's like the father she never had. Iron Bull and the Chargers take her in and give her social sanctuary. Sera agrees not to call her the Herald, and knows exactly how to make her laugh. Cole helps her process her former mentor's death and her separation from her friends at the wycome circle. Varric won't let her overwork herself, he knows she didn't want any of this. for awhile, things seem okay.

and then Corypheus comes. Haven is destroyed. she's lost in the wilderness with cracked ribs and a broken leg and she's freezing to death. she doesn't even remember how the advisors found her, or where. "we saw our hero fall, and rise again" Mother Giselle says. if people didn't believe Rowena was sent by the Maker before, they do now. she doesn't believe it herself. she hates it. she's angry at them all

then comes Skyhold. a throne, judgment over prisoners, occupying Crestwood, deals with Starkhaven and the Antivan Crows and Kal-Sharok, "Inquisitor," traversing the Fade physically, the Chantry asking after her companions as Divine candidates, all of it. Every decision that should be brokered between entire countries comes down to one barely-in-her-20s apprentice mage who didn't even know what Val Royeaux looked like 6 months ago.

the bubbly attitude she tried to keep up starts to crack. her parents write her a letter asking if she could set aside some of the Inquisition's coin to cover their legal fees after they had a property feud with the Selbach family. she never writes back. "get to the point," she tells Morrigan, something she never would have said before all of this. the judgments come down harsher. the executions get a little too easy to carry out. she closes the rifts more aggressively than before.

and then Corypheus is beaten. the Breach is sealed. for one brief moment, the thought crosses her mind: 'I can finally leave.' she can go back to the wycome circle and hug her old friends, tell them what happened. she can go see the world she never could before. the mark on her hand can stop making people bow to her even when she begs them not to. she did what the Inquisition set out to do. it's over. it's done.

and then they never let her go.

even as her new friends scatter to the wind, dusting their hands off, their moral obligation fulfilled, Rowena sits on the Inquisition throne and feels herself rotting. Solas abandoning her without so much as a goodbye after Corypheus fell stung, but a part of her expected it, too. she caught on quickly that he wasn't the type of person to linger once he felt his role was done. so that was fine. she made peace with that. but the others? Sera, Blackwall, Vivienne, all of them? one by one, they left with an urgency that felt like a dagger to the heart. only Dorian admitted he lingered for the sake of her friendship, but even he was called away eventually.

and then another glimmer of hope: Orlais and Ferelden disagree on the Inquisition's future. for the sake of her advisors, Rowena puts on her old bubbly attitude, claims the Inquisition isn't going anywhere. deep down she rattles the bars and begs Bann Teagan to demand the Inquisition be dissolved. she has one more chance to be free of this. to be someone - though she has no idea WHO anymore - outside of the Inquisitor.

and then the mark flares up. the Qunari have reached the end of their patience with the Inquisition. they dont realize how badly Rowena wants to agree with them. and then the breadcrumbs lead back to Solas. and Solas wants to end the world.

she can do nothing but break down. one more thing she'll be expected to stop. another ambiguous number of years she'll be expected to spend on it. another problem she's not qualified to solve. she's so angry and so sad and so sick of it all, and for the first time in her life she misses the stupid teenager she used to be in wycome whose most pressing issue was figuring out how to frame a templar for her petty thefts.

she doesn't remember having her arm amputated, or her advisors even coming to that decision. being without the mark feels odd, but not unpleasant. as if a nagging splinter has finally been removed from under her skin. Varric promises he'll find someone who can make her a prosthetic. she doesn't care one way or the other. at long last, what made her "special" is finally gone. the world has given her permission to close this chapter of her life for good.

Bann Teagan gets what he wants. Rowena dissolves the Inquisition. finally, at last, she can tell everyone involved to go home. she can figure out who she is. maybe she'll go to Rivain, Varric always said he heard it was lovely there. when the world collapses she'll be hundreds of miles away. maybe she'll be vaporized, maybe slow radiation-like sickness will claim her life, maybe a demon will finally best her. she doesn't really care.

and then her advisors won't let her leave. the Inquisition's dissolution was only a preventative measure, Josephine says. we can operate against Solas without risking his spies infiltrating our ranks, Cullen says. Rowena doesn't have it in her to argue anymore. she doesn't want this. she wants to be anywhere but here. she thought she was free. "okay," she says blankly instead. "that sounds like a good idea."

ten years tick by. Rowena is in her 30s now. she still has no idea what Rivain looks like. Dorian and Vivienne and Blackwall have kept in touch. the others, not so much. she hasn't heard from Cole or Iron Bull at all since they left. she doesn't try to put on that bubbly facade anymore. she's too angry and tired and bitter to bother. no one asks if she's alright anymore. they know she isn't. whatever soul searching she intended to do before won't happen now; this is who she is after all this time. a young woman with a stern brow and stress-induced grey hairs, a prosthetic arm, and no patience for small talk.

she doesn't think about that kid she was before the conclave exploded. that person might as well be a stranger. she can never go back, and there is no future where she isn't the Inquisitor. the only chapter of her life that ever really closed was the one where she thought escape was still possible.

Varric tells her he found someone called "Rook." he thinks they'll be perfect to fight back against Solas. Rowena believes him. she tells him to wish them the best of luck. but she knows she won't be able to stay out of the fray forever. and by now, she doesn't want to. her resentment has festered for a decade. Solas robbed her of her last chance to have a life as Rowena Trevelyan - not as the Inquisitor, not as the Herald, not as anything else. his plans aside, his abandonment of her aside, that robbery is the real betrayal that she could never let go of. and at this point, she never will.

[paramoursoul]

A faint clap of Thunder

HELLLLLLOOOOO TUMBLR ARE YOU READY TO ROCCK!??

hm? owo?

Oh right I have no tags for this.. and I don't need them! To whom ever finds my story by the tumblr algorithm god- Let it dazzle you with my current love complex, or rather MY PARAMOUR!!!

[Isn't that crazy? I just found out the meaning of the word and it describe my journey exactly!!!]

What does my life mean?

My name is Cecilia! An young adult that beat up my trauma, befriended it, and now I'm preparing to move out to become the person I've always wanted to be...A FUCKING MAGICAL GIRL!

So~ How the hell am I gonna do that? Move out of course. I'm about to be 24 in May and That's my year: The Year of the Dragon. You know how you have a core memory that probably shaped you as a person today? Well for me I turned that into a core form, like, when I was 12 that was a really big year for because I know that's when I started to be me so what's gonna happen when I turn 24? I'm already 23 and the best progress I've done was make people smile. That's not enough for me.. My goal in life is to live but how can I eat crab with root beer when the people who's working are unhappy which obviously leads them to destroying the planet. Cigarettes and littering you know? I can't let that happen. I LOVE EATING CRAB!! THE WORLD HAS TO FUNCTION IN ORDER TO KEEP LIVING. i may not be Martin Luther King Jr. and that's good because I actually like me! and it's good to be me because really good people die and I don't wanna die QwQ If the person I smile at today can feel my pure intentions then maybe that energy will make them pass it along! Then everyone will be happy and take life seriously! Yes.. Take life seriously....

In this life though.. Money is very important. I'm not strong enough to leave all that I've known behind. Who doesn't want a cottage lifestyle? I want- even the bad things that comes with it because that's how humans were supposed to be.. But I'm not. I'm on my computer. And that's okay. If I try to fight my demons alone/traditionally I'll go mad [again]

I don't need that. I need Love and Family. That's what I need.. and if that means having a job then SO BE IT and you know what? I think.. I think that's where I'm finding love.

R+18 Warning! if you can handle reddit don't read this.

How can you have Romance without the Rumbles of logic.

Classicism and Romanticism. It's the prefect yin and yang.

How can I advice a Family if I can find love, hollywood is giving real love a bad rep!

Hollywood is a cult for keen dolts who's favorite interests are drugs, carnage, pedophilia, and time. How can they get access to this stuff? Us. Regular people. By showing us the "stars" they influence the commoners heavily and their main tactics are action and romance! We all want action but how can the world grow without romance. Yes it's very true that kissing, cuddling, and beauty is wonderful but how can you feel that when your given a obvious scamy brochure. What's the point of kissing if you don't know there health is like? Why cuddle if they're not comfortable? and why focus on the beauty of others!? don't you know anything about fashion!?!?!?!

You see, I dream that true love is exactly what hollywood depicts but of course they leave out the traditional and PERSONAL part of it out.

I can feel him near. My soul sparks when his presence is close. whether or not the universe tells me go for it my heart will always be decide. She's been through the most, my heart, she's the one that pumps my blood so of course she'll know how's the one. Does he smell nice? [thump] Can my eyes lock on to him? [crack] Does he accepts..me? [BOOOOOOOOM]

THAT'S THE ONE!

But what happens when you're scared? It feels just like your staring at ghost. It's not the dark you're afraid of...it's what's hiding in it. Do you dare? Intrusive thoughts.. jump, Jump, JUMP!

I can't remember when it happened. I just know every time we were near each other we locked eyes, my eyes bolted to him immediately. AND MY HEART, oh, It jumped like I watched a thriller! It's my favorite genre even though I don't watch media often since nothing interests me. He interested me. oh but he's too beautiful..so alluring.. You know those type of people look they way they do because they keep up with themselves. I know everyone have struggles yet beautiful people finds the strength to remove the pressure. How inspiring. He has style, his hair is well kept, and by the way he has his lanyard he has a car. [even now I sigh releasing my bones from the tension] He's way out of my league. Besides I have someone... Someone very very difficult but, you know, if we grow together then maybe our love will spark again? surely? but each day I saw him and our eyes greet.. I wouldn't dart my eyes away anymore. I dreamed each time hearing his voice. Him smiling at me. Morning hugs, long walks, holding hands, eating out, expressing our distress, kissing goodbye, moaning for more, UGHHHHH. The months of dreaming simple romantic desires started to make me into a dinner plan! Could I really have someone who knows how to start there adult life? Could I even be near him? At the time my attempt rescue of first love aid started draining. Why bother explaining when it's so painful?

"I don't need to do this when you already know how I feel about you, I don't need to express it and I'm not changing for anyone"

It's true. Those were Marcello words for me. I wanted so much that didn't need to be done. That was my love language though, right? Why can't I have it.. Don't I deserve it? I'm alive keeping good balancing.. why can I get more? How can it be too much? It helps me! This is bad right? I'm not trying to be bad I'm just trying to reason.. Think straight. Everyone has to think straight...

I do feel like a star. Without know I can already do amazing things. You know true stars- up in the sky are shapeless well not really, they're spheres but still they're plasma there fore they are shapeless! But everyone always draw them with five points. I know when you see light from afar it bends depending on the lens showing you such points.. However.. Evenso...no one can see me like how I do.

So yeah I can't think straight. it's not like me. I want what I want and I can't keep bending. I want to maintain one form right now. I want to become a magical girl and when I do, I'll finally be able to start a family and since I made it, it'll a family meant for me! I spend the beginning of my life being confused and hated but now I know I deserve love! so fuck you! This time I won't be hesitant, this time I'll do dare!

I do love how exotic of a person I am in spirit and appearance but certain people on the internet decides to call girls like me a 'pick me girl' DDDX is it like that trope of stupid blondes? That's just people being bullies though! so- so what if I am @-@ they're don't understand the struggles! No one has ever called me that but I do feel like they are mocking me.. SO WHAT!? I've been bullied and stared at my whole life [I can still barely handle it] but who cares! THEY DONT KNOW MEEEEEE. They're probably some pedophile or murder anyways! I'm neither of those things THEREFORE I AM A BETTER PERSON THAN MOST OF THESE CLOTHED PSYCHOS, Everyone is a suspect!! EVERYONEEEE

oh owo but that doesn't mean friendship shouldn't exist, you see I think that there's many types of realties- not just dreams and this shared reality no. I'm talking about the personal! The 2D Dimensional! Technology baby!! In my dream reality I love myself so much that being alone is great!! AND I'll have 2 lovely people that forms a friend group! 1 grand friend I can hang out with! Co-worker mates! and obviously A LOVER! and this is finally the story of my

Paramour with Soul!!!

[isan0rt]

I keep Xehanort posting on account of how Dark Road made him so extra fascinating and I keep turning him over in my brain like a rotisserie chicken but today I'm thinking about how DDD and KH3 for Young Xehanort really was like, Kingdom Hearts: Re:Traumatization; Distorted Cognition.

(Side bar I really do think, for him, those games happen in that year between his two meetings with Master of Masters. It's the most obvious explanation for his radicalization, and like. I know he's often referred to as Young Master Xehanort but I think that's as in, he's the young version of Master Xehanort, but he's not actually a Master himself yet. If he was, he wouldn't be condescendingly talking down to Xigbar in Re:Coded about how he will get No Name; he would already have been granted it. He's still on his world tour, and will take the test after all this.)

Really though from the first world he appears in, shit is fucked for him. This dude is like 19, only four years out from watching all but one of his classmates get murdered, and now he's going through This Shit while on his 'stew alone in your own feelings with no emotional support' study abroad.

The first world he appears in is Traverse Town where the fucking Reaper's Game is going on. Four dead teenagers who all really want to live, two boys and two girls, and the younger girl, the little blonde, the baby sister is visibly younger than the others, and her older brother loves her so much and wants to save her so badly but he can't, can he? They're already dead. Xehanort's there watching these four split up from each other and having to manipulate them but it doesn't matter, they're all already dead.

Prankster's Paradise. It's fine, this is just a dream, and besides, Pinocchio is just a doll. His feelings aren't real (no matter what you feel coming from him) and they don't matter.

The Grid. Just programs, and for that matter just copies of programs. Their feelings aren't real (don't worry about what you're perceiving) and they don't matter.

Quasimodo is an outsider, lonely and isolated, and he'll never be accepted. Watch how he's treated for it. Think about whether you (Xehanort) were ever really accepted in Scala, or if you'll also always be second fiddle even with no one else left. You can only rely on yourself, and the future your older self has laid out for you.

Sora, in The World that Never Was. He's a walking time bomb; an empath with no control over his abilities, and totally unable to stop taking other people's pain into himself. He has already imprisoned three other hearts inside himself because he can't let go, and he is already cracking under the strain (Anti Form. Rage Form. Even Data Roxas tells Data Sora he'll destroy himself if he can't learn to let go). Sora is going to break, and Xehanort has seen what happens when an empath who can't handle the burden of other people's emotions catastrophically shatters under the strain. Get Sora under their control, before he goes critical.

Toy Box. They're just toys; spilt them up from each other and watch how they fall apart. They aren't strong enough to handle things without dragging on each other. Their feelings aren't real and they don't matter. You can reproduce the conditions of your own trauma and see that the outcome will be the same, that Baldr could never have been prevented and there was no way to save him (See, Angelic Amber just needed to be stopped by force. But then Buzz...). They're just toys. It doesn't matter.

Sora again. See, he's broken. He couldn't handle the strain. But... What's he doing? He can't save his friends, they're already dead. It can't be done; it shouldn't be done. How dare he; what's so different about him? What gives him the right to have them back? But Sora can't really have his friends returned without consequences, surely-

See? It destroyed him. Sora couldn't let go of his attachments and accept his grief and it destroyed him. Just as Xehanort warned. Just like it destroyed Baldr. Attachments only cause suffering; Xehanort won't let himself be ruled by them. He simply won't get attached to anyone else, ever again (but what about Eraqus- what about his dream friends- what about-).

And all while surrounded by Nobodies, hollowed out of all but the tiniest seed of the potential of a heart, and Replicas, only copies. Their feelings aren't real, and they don't matter. All that matters is the goal. Don't worry about the negative emotions other people are feeling about what you're doing. It's for the good of the worlds, they simply are too shortsighted to understand. A cat will also fight you when you try to pill it, but you are bigger and stronger and know better, and this is what you have to do.

It's fine. It's fine. Their feelings aren't real, and they don't matter.

Do what has to be done.

[butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway]

White Jewish people really having a fun time right now discoursing about what is and is not definitionally genocide as if genocide knocks politely on the door and asks permission to begin instead of ramping up slowly over years of cultural violence and eradication efforts until one day the rhetorical threshhold for physical violence gets passed and blood pours through the streets.

Anyway if you want one of the more conservatively stated yet internationally recognized definitions of genocide, here's what the UN has to say:

Definition

Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of the Crime of Genocide

Article II

In the present Convention, genocide means any of the following acts committed with intent to destroy, in whole or in part, a national, ethnical, racial or religious group, as such:

Killing members of the group;

Causing serious bodily or mental harm to members of the group;

Deliberately inflicting on the group conditions of life calculated to bring about its physical destruction in whole or in part;

Imposing measures intended to prevent births within the group;

Forcibly transferring children of the group to another group.

I'm not interested in having a debate with any fucking one about whether or not the trans community is currently among those in the US experiencing what meets the criteria for genocide in the US because as a matter of course the US is arguably in the midst of efforts to enact a genocide against a LOT of communities at any given moment and the trans community is just one of them. My fellow white jews can sit down and shut the actual fuck up with their "trans people weren't targetted during the Holocaust so stop comparing the two" oppression olympics bullshit.

Just because you're so enraptured by the sancity and holiness of your white skin that you're sure our Jewish genocide is too holy to be discussed in the same breath as any other doesn't mean you're not reinforcing the very systems of white supremacy and violence that will happily murder us next when you try to shut down conversations about the interconnectedness of these experiences. It was literally a month ago that my feed was full of people confidently shouting about how the nazis burned trans literature. You fucking know better.

I'm so tired of this constant need to tear each other apart for daring to suggest that our genocides are genuinely interconnected. They are. Plain and simple. No matter who they are committed against. A genocide against any community reinforces the rhetoric of genocide against communities like our Jewish ones and we should be more inclined to give a damn that some members of our Jewish faith agree with that genocidal rhetoric that reinforces our own genocidal unsafety than with the fact that the other communities suffering rightly point out the connections.

If it seems like everyone is quick to say the big G word right now that's probably because global fascism is rising at unprescidented rates, and fascists seek genocidal outcomes with the kind of tunnel-vision few could ever dream of experiencing. That doesn't mean we deny people the truth of the language. It means we start working together to resist an unprecedented scale of genocidal intent. Never again means for anyone, not just the Jews and if you're truly looking at the world right now and thinking that we're NOT at risk for genocidal outcomes unless we actively resist fascist waves, you're a fucking fool.

It's not doomerism to say that, it's realism. Doomerism says genocidal fascism is inevitable and we should give up. It's not! In fact it's quite easy to resist! But we DO actually have to do so actively, consistently, and across all fronts.

So why the FUCK are you people looking our comrades in arms in the eyes and telling them to get off the field??

[egg-emperor]

I think Eggman unironically prefers the view of a destroyed polluted landscape to that of a healthy one. He looks at a green field and see's nothing but potential resources, but he looks at a place he's absolutely destroyed and feels a deep sense of accomplishment. His genius did that, and its satisfying to behold. Even better if there's a base or structures there that have his logo, so the whole world also knows that he did this.

Ohoho man, I honestly genuinely see it that way too. I always think of him not appreciating or caring for nature as it is, (the beach can be an exception since he seems to like to chill on a lounge chair on that sandy island with Chao in Adventure but plant life and stuff? Nah) not just out of apathy but because he believes nothing in it is better or prettier than what he can create. It's one of the real reasons he thinks the world will be beautiful and improved when he takes over, reshapes it into his image, and makes all his empire and Eggmanland dreams come true. He wants to shape it into his vision, not preserve and save its natural state that he doesn't care for.

I imagine it's similarly a part of why he likes to base a bunch of his robots designs on animals- it's his way of improving and replacing nature with his own brilliant creative designs. He takes the natural traits/abilities that each species is known for and finds creative ways to turn them into robotic deadly attacks in his designs, turning them into something that's useful to him, and building his robot army. Like nature, he doesn't care about wildlife either with the poor animals he he puts inside them because he's using them for something much more beautiful in his eyes. Also he thinks they look way cooler and metal lol

I think of him as always being careless towards animals and he never recognized the beauty of nature, which is what makes it so easy for him to do what he does. While it wasn't his original intended plan as he didn't think too much about it at first, he quickly realized that an inevitable effect of his methods and creations would cause a ton of destruction and pollution. We've seen just how fucked up things could get in the CD bad future. But he doesn't care about what happens to the world in order to get what he wants, as long as it doesn't cease to exist so he can't rule it. He hasn't been shown to have any other limits, just this one for a selfish reason.

But here's the thing, he knows that he could find ways that didn't cause pollution if he really tried and he could probably accomplish new ways to be environmentally friendly with his genius. But he thinks, why waste all that time, money, and resources when the world works as he wants it to polluted or otherwise, as long as it's there and he gets to rule it? He has all the means to be able to do so but chooses not to because he doesn't want to waste it on anything that he doesn't think benefits himself personally. He could care less about what nature, wildlife, and the sky looks like, as long as he rules it all and builds his personal utopia, which is actually just hell for everyone else.

And when he looks upon the impact his actions have on the world and how he's causing awful pollution, dead plants, poisoned waters, and the sky is covered with ghastly billowing smoke and smog, he realizes he loves it. He's just like "I did this. This was all me. :)" and feels great pride. It shows his power in the impact he can leave on the very natural state of the planet itself while taking over, the lengths he'll go to in order to accomplish his goals, just how dangerous he is and how he always meant serious business, and it's why nobody should dare to mess with him when he's capable of these truly terrible things. I love the idea that he actually sees it as another upside to his plans, it's something that's inevitable with his methods whether he intended it or not but the aftermath is actually a pleasant one to him.

And so, a fucked up part of making the world beautiful in his eyes is through and building his glorious Eggmanland and Empire and how both the process and results includes tons of destruction and pollution to make it happen.

I've also had the exact same thought of when he sees a natural landscape like a big green field, he only sees it as potential resources. While others admire and appreciate the view and nature, Eggman just imagines what it will look like when it's improved, what he's going to knock down, build over, and reshape into his superior vision. In his mind, he pictures a world much darker, polluted, and destroyed but made much more beautiful by his twisted definition, with his glorious empire where he has all the power and control, everyone submits and hails him, his face is plastered onto everything and statues and landmarks honor his brilliant visage, and he builds his crazy deadly theme parks and has fucked up fun with it all. 💜

[anfie-in-the-box]

So I watched Underverse 0.7 Part 1. There's no spoilers in this post; in fact, it's not even about Underverse. That's just what started the train of thought I'm about to share.

So what I'd really like to say is that I'm very happy for Inks in my Multiverses, like Ragdollsverse and X-tra Dark Cream. There's also this project I'm working on about Broomie!Papyrus that actually features Ink a lot, unlike the other projects of mine where he just makes an appearance or two or doesn't appear at all.

My Inks are peaceful. Content. They never have to interfere, merely observing and getting a steady supply of paint whether I write or not. My Inks do not care if some outcode messes with the AUs (like Nightmare or Dream) — there might be a story about those outcodes, after all, and who's Ink to interfere? My Inks are mine and mine alone. They are not afraid to be forgotten — red echo flowers littering my Multiverses and Doodle Spheres are proof enough that I, the Creator, am here. I don't have to write for my Multiverses to exist. They already do — I'm but a broken radio tuning in for the stories that are beyond my control. So my Inks do not depend on me, and since I work on the Multiverse scale, there are no other Creators for them to worry about. My Inks are just there, there's no need to fight to survive. They are still broken — as much as I'd like to, I can't give them a real soul, because again, no control over what's happening. We harmonise as silent observers, and we support each other by merely existing.

And that's enough. That's, the way I see it, much more healthy than what other Inks have with other Creators. To be honest, I've always been uncomfortable with the concept of Ink. Nobody should depend on others this way. Nobody deserves such, dare I say it, abuse. There's just no way to make it healthy. Ink feels to me insecure, vulnerable, and desperate. Nothing good.

My Inks know there's no "proper way to become alive". They already are, even though it's the unusual way. Who cares. Certainly not my Inks. They still desire a real soul, I mean, who wouldn't, but they're not desperate about it. That, and they don't need my approval to feel. As I already stated, their supply of paint is steady. I don't have to actively create to give my Inks paint. My thoughts and feelings are enough, and boy do I think about my projects a lot.

I also mentioned my Inks don't need to fight. Well, that because my Multiverses are self-sustaining. Even if Error or some other villain destroys/corrupts an AU, there will be another version created immediately. They don't disappear into nothingness, they give life to other creations. There's entropy, of course, especially in Ragdollsverse because spoilers, but energy is almost never wasted. And if Nightmare makes one timeline of an AU negative, it's just one timeline, he can't possibly affect all of them as there is an infinite amount of them in one AU (well, in most of them, not all work by the same rules). So my Inks don't have to fight other outcodes, don't have to interact with them, although they can — they never know if their interaction is a valid part of the story. What happens, happens, there's no plot they are bound to. I'll just have to write down whatever occurs, with or without Ink's help.

And you know what? I feel much better knowing all that. My Inks deserve that much. They deserve more — but I can't do anything for them but be grateful for their existence. And it's not just existence, it is life, however peculiar it is.

That's all I wanted to say, at least for now. Thanks for reading, and take care 🌻

P. S. Did I use references to Soulless Heart? Yes, yes I did. That's kind of the point. Also, I live for references, and you can't stop me, so there's that.

[mysimpleme14]

Sasusaku: Selfish

Note: I have a soft spot for Sasusaku blank period, and last night my brain decided to award me with an angsty Sasusaku dream at 4pm. I ain't good at writing but I just can't let that dream go, it was beautiful 😭 hope you will enjoy, excuse my grammar please don't sue

Sasuke stands still, eyes staring at the pink-haired girl, lying weak on the bed. Her face is filled with bruises and bandages wrapped around her arms. His loose hands becomes a tight grip as he recall yesterday's incident. Seeing Sakura unconcious, in her most awful state on the ground destroyed him. It was because of him, and he was too late to save her.

"I'm sorry, Sakura" his words come out as a soft whisper, even he could hardly hear them. Sasuke turns around after hearing a click at the door.

"You're leaving already?" Naruto lifts his eyebrows, scaning his bestfriend from head to toe. He's wearing his usual black cloak, ninja equipments are safe inside the small bag tied around his thigh and a black bag he carries behind him. Seeing Sasuke turns around to look at Sakura one last time before walking towards the ward room door, Naruto knows he doesn't need an answer.

"Hey, look. Sakura-chan isn't awake yet. Maybe you should wait until-"

"I have to go, Naruto" he says before feeling a hand on his shoulder stopping him from behind.

"Sasuke, its not your fault."

Silence.

Naruto doesn't need to hear anything from Sasuke, he knows him well enough, a guy who talks as less as he can, hiding all of his pain alone behind those lonely eyes.

"Naruto" Sasuke says while turning his head to look at his childhood rival.

"Convince her to accept the proposal. Tell her to stop waiting for me. I don't know when I'll be back"

"Wha- the hell, Sasuke? You know she loves you too much she would wait forever for you!"

"She can't possibly wait forever, can she?" He says with a smirk before feeling a dull pain on his left cheek. Eyes wide, Sasuke stares at the guy infront of him.

"Snap out of it, will ya?! No one loves you more than her and you know that. You just don't want to admit it. You think I didn't notice how you look at her everytime we hang out when you get back?" Sasuke just replied with a short "Tch"

"Now I dare you stare at me in the eyes and tell me you don't feel the same way. I dare you watch her accept that proposal and marry another guy. I dare you, Sasuke!" Naruto's eyes reflect his feelings perfectly, anger. Sasuke sighs, trying to get all of his strength to stand back up and replies very calmly.

"Enough is enough, Naruto. Don't you think Sakura already suffered too much?"

"She won't be happy with me. She deserves someone so much better than me. Someone who will love her" he pauses

"More than I ever will" its a soft mumble but Naruto can still hear every word.

"She was kidnapped because of me, Naruto. Tortured because of me. This isn't even the first time. People put her through these because of me. Now don't tell me she hadn't had enough"

This time it is Naruto who keeps his mouth shut.

"I have many enemies. I just- don't want her to suffer because my past"

-----

Sakura is panting. She can hardly feel her legs. But there is something more important to settle right here, right now. And there he is, the love of her life standing still infront of her. She sees his eyes widened, and stays like that for a brief second, before turning into his usual cold eyes, staring at her.

"Sasuke-kun.." she walks slowly towards him. Her injury from the incident two days ago doesn't make it any better, but she doesn't care. All she wants to do right now is to hold the man she loves most, and settle this once and for all.

She knows what she had was mutual, she can feel the bond between Sasuke and her closer than ever now. The way he talks changes after his journey of redemption. The soft touch on her forehead he gives everytime before starting his trip. His small gestures of walking her home everytime the team hangs out, the subtle moments of him trying to brush away her patients when they started asking her personal questions. Sasuke was never the type to convey his feelings through words, she knows this much by now.

"I love you" she whispers briefly, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. She stays for a while and continues.

"No matter how long it takes.. I will wait for you" Sasuke is still in shock, the familiar smell Sakura had since they were genin wrapped around him as tight as those small but strong arms. He takes a moment to close his eyes, feeling his fast beating heart. Slowly, he took his hand moving it to her shoulder.

"Sakura"

"Go home" he says breaking the warm hug before staring at the girl infront of him, inches apart.

"Sasuke-kun.. I really want you to know that I-"

"Go home, Sakura" as cold as ice, Sasuke stares deep into her green eyes, he can see tears falling down her cheeks. She slowly pushes herself away, looking down, trying hard to distance herself from him before turning away. She gives him one last look, hoping he would say one word, just one word, 'Stay'. Sakura starts to run as fast as she could when that man doesn't respond as she hoped.

Sasuke stares at her shadow, gritting his teeth to ease a pain he is so used to by now, a sharp prick in his chest. The pain is proof and he knows what it meant. He knows.. he cares.

A lot.

---

A year passes by and Sasuke is now in Konoha after being summoned by the Hokage, Kakashi because of some trouble in the village. He has been staying for a week, and everything is the same as it always has except..

He hasn't seen Sakura. He isn't sure if she's just busy at the hospital performing some surgery he can't even pronounce or she is successfully trying hard to avoid him.

Thanks to Naruto, he got news less than a year ago that Sakura declined the marriage proposal, and is currently working hard to open her own Children Clinic.

He can still remember seeing her running around the hospital hallway in emergencies, wearing her white coat, watching her hands glowing with chakra. Her forehead would be filled with beads of sweat, worried expression never leave her face, not until she can save a patient. That face would immediately change bright and cheerful once that small machine beside her patient starts to beep again.

Sakura loves what she does so much, he thinks to himself with a smile. As much as he tries to deny it, Sasuke knows how much that woman changed ever since he left for his revenge. She became so strong, so matured and very determined especially when it comes to things she loves. Anyone who is sane enough would want to make her a life partner, he smirks as he remembers Sakura's marriage proposal the villagers were so hyped up about a year ago.

'Ring' his thought is distracted by the doorbell sound. It takes Sasuke seconds to open his door and the figure infront of him brings some weird feeling in his stomach.

"Sakura"

"I.. um.." he watches her stutter before she looks at him in the eyes, and Sasuke swears he can see flame in them.

"I was passing by his office and Kakashi-sensei asked me to give these to you" Sasuke takes the scrolls from her hands and replies with a short "Aaa"

"Then. I'm going. Good day" she says with a formal bow and turns around

"Sakura" he sees her jolt at her name being called. Sasuke pauses and thinks of the things he always wanted to say to her, ever since that day when he sees her tears for the first fime after years. He opens his mouth slightly but changes his mind.

"Thank you" he says.

Sakura replies with a simple nod and walks away. Sasuke can't help but stare at her figure from behind until she can no longer reach his sight. He looks at the scrolls in his hand and sigh.

"I'm sorry, Sakura. Its better this way" he whispers to himself.

---

"Take care, idiot. Sorry I can't see you off tomorrow" Naruto says with a soft punch on his shoulder.

"Nah, its fine. Thanks" he replies short. Naruto is about to walk home when Sasuke calls him again before saying.

"Take care of Sakura"

He sees Naruto pause and scoff before turning away and wave his hand. Sasuke stares at the sky, wondering if she will come to see him off like she always do tomorrow. Thinking whether she will ask him if she can come along, as she does everytime he wants to start his journey again.

Probably not, he thinks. It is never the same anymore now. Whenever Team 7 hangs out, Sakura will either be joining them late, or excuse herself very early giving ward rounds in the morning as an excuse. It is never her fault though. It is his. It has always been his.

Sasuke is about to close the door to his apartment when he sees a familiar girl walking silently towards his direction. There's that weird feeling in his abdomen again, he isn't comfortable but he doesn't hate it.

"Sasuke-kun" she says upon reaching infront of him.

A long pause.

"I- I just want to say goodbye. And goodluck on your travel tomorrow" she smiles to him brightly, but he can see pain in her eyes. He replies with a short thank you and expects to see her turning away to walk home. But she just stays there silently, its as if she is trying to battle her own thoughts. Sasuke is about to ask when he feels a pair of warm lips on his. His eyes widen as he feel her hands gripping his shirt, and later after a short second, she lets go.

"What happened a year ago.. I-it was never your fault, Sasuke-kun. I know you have been blaming yourself this whole time. So please, just stop it.."

"Enough is enough.." she said slow. He can't stop wondering if she heard him talk with Naruto that day.

"I can't keep doing this, Sasuke-kun. I love you so much. Please, just.. if there's a little space for me in your heart.. even if its just a little.. I beg you, stop blaming yourself" Sakura starts to cry, softly. Those tears had always been his weakness. No matter how much he tries to ignore that one fact, he knows he can't anymore. And right now, he knows more than anyone, that he can't deny this, whatever it is that he has towards her, that has been haunting him for as long as he can remember.

"Damn it, Sakura.. you annoy me to this point" he says facing down. After a brief second, he pulls her into his arm, and presses his lips against hers. Sakura is shocked but it doesn't take long for her to lean in and dippen the kiss. Before she can put her arms around his neck, Sasuke pulled away.

His dark orbs stares at her, his eyes full of longing. There is confusion in hers though, but another thing they both have in common, is wanting more. He gently grabs her hand as a sign to invite her into his apartment and she replies with a warm smile and a pink flush on her cheek.

---

Sasuke stares at her back while she puts her headband on her pink locks. The silence is for a while now but it is not uncomfortable. He sees her looking at the floor for a long while before starting to talk.

"I- I'm sorry.. if I suddenly came over last night" he is about to reply but she continues while turning around to face him.

"I know you.. said no to me so many times.. and.."

"A girl shouldn't be like this, right..?" She chuckles softly but tears starting to form in her green eyes. It takes her only a few seconds to sob and cry like a baby.

"Why can't I just forget you and move on?" Her cries starting to sound like a whisper. Sasuke looks at her wiping her tears off her face but later forming more tears. He was never a sweet-gestured guy, romance is one of the many things he didn't want to get involved with. He never knows how to calm a crying woman, so he just look and starts to reply.

"I wanted you to be happy, Sakura"

"I wasnt sure you'd be happy with me"

"You deserve someone better than me, I hurt you too many times"

"I was ready to let you go"

He says softly while looking at her starting to calm down.

"But a part of me.. wanted to be selfish. And make you mine"

He continues, their eyes still staring at each other. Sakura sees it in his eyes, his eyes speak better than his words. But now that he made it clear, she is more sure. Her orbs become more gentle and she smiles to him ever so brightly.

"Be selfish, Sasuke-kun" She says stroking his cheek softly. Resting her forehead on his, Sakura softly carress his lips with her thumb.

"That way I can be selfish too"

- E N D -

Hnggh I wish I can write better but oh well, goodnight 😂💕

》 My poor soul needs more Sasusaku angst, feel free to reply with more angst sasusaku fanfic 😍

[lovemesomeharry]

MAKE YOU MINE

Warnings: Curse words, angst, smut

Words: 8.6k

Summary: Harry and Y/N have been friends for a long time until Harry catches feelings and everything gets worse before things get better.

Y/N had always seen him as a star, always shining bright in the most devine color. Everybody knew and saw that he was the sharpest one among everyone but he would never dare to brag about it. To him, everybody was shining too and that just made him even more beautiful.

That's why Y/N loved to observe him. Whether it was him on stage, singing his soul out, and losing control in the best way possible just to make the crowd go wild and become alive.

Or he could be working and his best friend would try to remember in which angle the tip of his tongue stuck out between his rosy lips and his nose would twitch slightly when he was whispering his written words to himself just to let it taste on his tongue.

Or it could be in a situation like this one right here. Y/N watched him how he interacted with people, slightly tipsy, giggling too much and awfully affectionate. Those adorable dimples appeared on his cheeks as he flashed a wide smile to anyone that came to his sight. She couldn't hear what he was saying but it didn't prevent her own smile from appearing on her face as if she’d been a part of the conversation. Even if Harry was telling one of his usual bad jokes, everybody would still end up laughing because it was Harry who told them and he was so damn good at selling those awful jokes.

Y/N wouldn’t say that she was the opposite of Harry, but no one has ever come close to Harry’s charm and his approachable body language. He was a people's person and no one could deny it.

As the night went on Harry kept on drinking and became cuddlier, gigglier and his need to talk to his beat friend grew immensely.

Once he had spotted her a wider grin adorned his face if it was possible at this point, and anyone must have wondered how it didn't hurt to smile like that. He hadn't seen much of her because he was too busy chatting up the other guests, but he was about to change that.

“Y/N.” His words were slurred and a giggle followed right after he was successful at scaring her by approaching her from behind and nearly shouting into her ear.

She turned around, with a pouty mouth, and slapped Harry’s tattooed arm. “Why would you do that, asshole?”

Harry rubbed at the place where she had slapped him, even though her hit wasn't hard and he wasn't really in pain. “Ouch! You’re so mean. I just wanted to talk to you.” With his finger, he tapped the tip of her nose. “Wouldn’t have come here if I knew you were gonna be a meanie to me.” He moved his face right in front of hers and she could totally smell the alcohol he must have in his system.

“What do you mean? When have I ever been nice to you? I can't stand you.” Now she was grinning from one ear to the other as she watched how Harry’s faced dropped. She loved to mess with him but when he was drunk it was a lot funnier. His brain couldn't comprehend the sarcasm and it made him believe that she was saying the truth.

His eyes lost his previous spark and the corners of his mouth were turned upside down as he let the one curl fall onto his forehead to cover up the crease forming between his two eyebrows.

He looked so adorable, but of course, Y/N wasn't the one who would tell him that.

“Take that back.” His tone was demanding but whiny and he crossed his arms in front of his chest as he took a step closer to her. He strengthened his posture but in his drunken state it just looked too funny and Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at his poor attempting to be intimidating. It just made him even more unhappy, as he put both of his hands at each side of her head and pressed his hot skin on the cool wall, coming so close to her that their noses almost touched.

She felt his hot breath on her upper lip as she shook her head. “No, I never liked you. Deal with it.”

Both were staring at each other and totally forgot the people around them and what situation they were in. The only sound they heard was their own heartbeat as they canceled out the rest of their world.

His green eyes looked at her slightly opened mouth and for a short moment, he hesitated before he pressed his lips to hers. She let out a surprised squeak when she felt his soft mouth on hers, sloppily kissing her. The kiss was short and she couldn't really comprehend it when he let go of her. “How do you like me now?” His voice was deep enough go make chills run down her spine and she couldn't believe what just happened.

He really kissed hee, his best fucking friend. She could still feel his soft mouth on hers and taste the bitter alcohol he had previously.

Y/N felt like as if she was dreaming, but when Harry just walked away she knew it wasn't one. In her dreams, he never walked away afterward.

She didn't really know what to make of this situation and tried to keep a cool head but the fast-beating heart in her chest made it not an easy task.

Would he remember him kissing her? Was he going to regret it? Are things going to be awkward between them from now on?

As bad she wanted to reminisce the kiss and do this again, she was scared that their friendship was hanging on a thread. So her enjoyment was cut short painfully for the rest of the night.

When Harry came by her house with fresh croissants and two coffees Y/N swore her heart stopped for a second.

He looked not as happy as he did a few hours ago and dark shadows painted his skin right underneath his eyes. He looked so tried but tried to cover it up by wearing a beanie and a gigantic hoodie. But it just ended up making him look even more tired and cuddly at the same time.

Y/N really wanted to focus on his looks but after what happened yesterday she hadn't had a chance to talk to him about the kiss. It was making her crazy not knowing what was going through the brits head.

The small voice inside her head told her he was going to regret it. He’d let go of her and wonder how he could have ever done that. He was going to call her names, or at least that's what her head told her. Even though she knew exactly Harry would never go as low as to call her names, she still feared the possibility. Even if it was.t his nature. Besides she wouldn't know how to feel if he’d ever been so rude to her. It would entirely mess up her confidence because she cared about his opinion too much for her own liking.

“Are you ok?” He had asked after staring at her for a solid minute and her not catching him doing so. A worried look took over his soft features as both of them sat down on both ends of her white couch. Much to Harry’s displeasure who wanted her to sit closer to him.

“What?” She shook her head as if she was trying to get those thoughts out of her head. “I’m fine.”

Suspiciously Harry raised his eyebrow. “No, you're not. You’ve been awfully quiet, love.” His leg was bouncing up and down and his entire body sank into the couch. He looked relaxed and Y/N wondered how he was so calm when inside her she was in such troubles. How was he so calm when it was his fault that she was in such a troublesome situation?

She was going to ask him about the kiss, but he was a bit faster and began to speak. “Is it because I kissed Naomi?”

Now Y/N’s head perked up. “Naomi?”

He nodded his head. “Yeah, I was a bit too drunk and kissed her. She texted me this morning asking what that meant.” He sighed as he pat his left leg. “It was so awkward. I had to explain to her that I didn’t think much of it.”

Y/N tried to listen to her best friend as he went on about it, but she couldn't really listen anymore when the small voice laughed at her. Of course, he didn't think much of it and he probably doesn't think much of the kiss they both shared, apparently on the very same night too. But she couldn't help but wonder if he could assume what she was feeling for him? Did he kiss anybody else? Could he still remember their kiss the way she did?

Why would he when he could have anyone? Harry always loved the attention he got from girls and was just taking advantage of his situation.

But Y/N just wished he wouldn't have brought her into this mess, because her heart was too fragile to come out without any bruises.

He's actually gonna try to let it go. He asks his heart to beat slower each time, but he can't get it right when he sees her in front of him.

With her wide smiles, her bright eyes and the loving charisma that she radiates so naturally, everywhere and at all times, it is impossible for him to keep a clear head. And if he is completely honest with himself, he does not want to keep a clear head when it means that she will not take up most of the space in his brain.

Ever since he had first heard her voice, it had echoed in his ear. Day and night. But it was not a nightmare. On the contrary. Her soft voice sounded like his new favourite song that he could listen to in a continuous loop without ever being saturated by it. Fuck. He would even play it at his concerts, he loved it so much.

That's how beautiful he thought she was.

He never wanted to admit to himself that she had his vulnerable heart in her hand and could do whatever she wanted and he wouldn't stop her. She could ram thousands of knives through it and he would thank her with a painful smile.

He felt pathetic. He felt so helpless. But most, he felt so stupid.

But it got worse when his eyes gleamed with jealousy. The sparks that sparkled for her were mixed with the gasoline that his jealousy fed him. A menacing fire was seething inside him, ready to spread. But it was not a fire of passion that spread a pleasant warmth in his body, but something that could destroy everything around him.

Harry was never a person who longed for revenge or liked to see others suffer. He is really not a sadist, but in that moment he became one.

Because a stranger dared to touch his Y/N where he should not touch her. He wanted to stomp to them and drag him off her.

But he could not do that.

First of all, that wouldn't do him any favors, because it would be just what the the press was waiting for. They already loved to fabricate the wildest stories about him, so, he didn’t really need to give them the satisfaction of a real story.

And second, the more pressing matter, she was not his Y/N. At least not in the way that he would like her to be.

That's why he leaned against the cool wall, sipped on his beer, and watched the two of them with eyebrows drawn together instead of doing anything. At least for now he decided to lay low.

He didn't even understand what she found attractive enough about him to let him talk to her. The stranger seemed like a lowered version of Michael B. Jordan, yet he seemed to be able to make her laugh. Her eyes always sparkled with the stars and Harry wished so much that he was the reason for it and not the prick in front of her.

Jealousy clouded his vision because Y/N felt that the stranger in front of her, whose name was Nick, was not a condescending version but came so damn close to the actor that the sight softened her knees. He bared his straight teeth when the opportunity presented itself and she could swear that she saw her own reflection in them.

“Would you like to continue this conversation in private?” Nick asked, coming dangerously close to her ear. She smelled his strong perfume and felt his hot breath tickling her skin. She sucked the air sharply and bit onto her lower lip as he graced her earlobe. An exciting sensation ran through her sensitive body parts but mostly, she could feel the tingling sensation between her legs. It had been too long since she’s been with a man.

Her fingers ran up and down the edge of her glass as she nodded. She tried not to appear too excited, but she didn't suspect she was doing a good job, as a playful grin spread across his handsome face.

The more she was pleased, the angrier her best friend became, still staring at them with an eagle eye, as if he was ready to grab his prey any minute before anyone else got the chance. Harry couldn't hear what she was saying, nor could he lip-read, which he regretted at that moment, but his alarm bells began to ring when the stranger stood up and took her delicate hand in his.

It hadn't taken him a minute to act and if his brain hadn't been completely clouded he would have thought he was foolish. How could he run after a girl who is only his best friend? She gets to go anywhere with whoever she pleases. Even if it was a Walmart version of an actor.

As he stood just inches away from the guy, he realized what he was doing and how ridiculous he probably looked. It's not like he didn't has his fair share on body counts.

But before he could change his mind, Y/N glimpsed at him with a questioning look. She raised her left eyebrow, almost as if to ask him if everything was okay.

Harry wanted to say no, even scream it out loud. But he choked out what was going through his mind at that moment. “I-I've lost my car keys.”

In his mind, he threw a bunch of curse words at himself and he would have absolutely no problem if a black hole appeared underneath him that could suck him in.

“What?” He heard Y/N's confused voice and the stranger finally looked at him. On his face, Harry could see the amusement again. Of course, he thought Harry was a fool and he, too, admitted to being one.

He swallowed the lump down his throat. “I can't find them anymore.” Harry had no intention of making that sentence sound like a question because it made his obvious lie even more obvious.

“Is it in your po-”

“-No” He nearly blurted it out. “You got to help me.”

Y/N looked sceptically at Harry. She knew him well enough to be sure he would never lose his car keys. He could lose his rings, but he would never lose his car keys. His car collection, which consisted almost entirely of vintage cars, was his pride and joy and he treated them like his own children.

Visibly annoyed and irritated by his actions, she sighed. “Are you sure?”

He just nodded and she struggled with the urge to ditch him to have her fun with Nick. But how could she be so heartless and abandon her best friend, even though he lied to her straight on without batting an eyelid? But somehow his eyebrows furrowed and the nervous lip chewing had gotten to her. So she turned to Nick with an apologetic look, but he understood the situation completely and put a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

“I’m so sorry.”

He laughed. “Don't worry about it. I get it.” For a brief moment, Nick looked at Harry and put his best smirk on his face to show him he understood Harry's true intentions. But that didn't stop him from whispering something into Y/N's ear and gently kissing the spot behind her it.

Harry's eyes were about to fly out or Nick was about to fly across the room. He couldn't decide what would happen, but his guess was on the second one.

Y/N nodded after the stranger and when her eyes finally met Harry's they suddenly became cold and annoyed. A shiver ran down his spine when he realized that and he really knows which fuses were blown that he had freed her from that guy.

“I have seen the keys-” he started, but Y/N interrupted him with a horrified laugh.

“Cut the bullshit, Harry. I know you didn't lose your fucking keys.”

He had to swallow hard, but his throat still felt dry. He thought about what he could say to her, but her annoyed look somehow cut off the oxygen to his brain. So he was forced to take his emerald eyes off hers and instead looked through the crowd in the club that was already staring at them.

“Can we settle this somewhere else?” With his painted index finger he pointed in the direction of the curious onlookers, which is why she agreed.

It was at moments like these that she completely forgot who he really was. He is not just her best friend, a colossal pain in her ass, but also an A-list celebrity.

Harry exhaled the hot air, and gratefully grabbed her arm to pull her along.

He pulled her all the way outside, where the cool air whipped Y/N's skin and she only now realized how stuffy it was inside. The glowing moon stared down at them as Harry ran to his car. As they stood in front of it, his eyes drilled holes in her head and she raised her arms on her hips.

“Cat got your tongue?” She first broke the tense silence.

It took a moment longer before he finally found the ability to think clearly again, but his eyes were too busy marveling at her delicate features in the moonlight. He had to admit that the light made her look even more magical and her skin practically glittered. He tried to turn his eyes away from her, but she looked so ethereal and it didn't help him that he got to see so much of her soft skin. To do himself a bittersweet favor, Harry opened his car door with the supposedly lost key, which made Y/N laugh sarcastically and get into the car after him.

She was right.

“I didn't lose my car keys.”

“No shit, Sherlock.”

He reached his hand through his frizzy curls, which were slightly sweaty. “The guy was... weird.” He sighed slightly frustrated with her for not dropping the topic but also himself for getting into the mess he was currently in.

“Weird?” Y/N asked, sounding almost amused. “He looked like Michael B. Jordan, for fucks sake!” She couldn’t believe her best friend, because she was usually the one telling him if a person seemed off but he’d ignore her advice. So who did he think he was for rescuing her?

Harry didn't like the feeling that was brewing inside of him that could cause a series of hurtful words to leash out of his mouth. So he simply bit the inside of his cheek. Of course, she thought he looked like him.

“He only wanted to shag you.“ His deep voice spit the words out like venom. Both of his hands gripped the steering wheel hard enough to make his knuckles more visible.

She scoffed. “I was obviously looking for a husband at a club, right?” Y/N rested her back against the soft Italian leather and turned her head to notice his clenched jaw.

He really hated it when she was sarcastic with him and even more when she rolled those pretty eyes of hers.

“Why are you so pissed, H? Not that I ever cockblocked you.”

He tried to stiffen his breathy laughter, because she had no idea what she was doing to him. She did, in fact, do that, just not in the same way Harry just did and maybe it wasn’t fair of him to blame it all on Y/N because she had no idea what was going through his head. But yet Harry felt like she should know that she's living in his daydreams with him, that she's the first thing he thinks of after waking up and the last person to fall asleep to. He occasionally dreamed of her and as the nights got lonelier he’d imagine her laying beside him. He couldn't even shag anyone without thinking of the incredible girl sitting on his passenger's seat right now. He would compare every girl he tried to get into his bed to her and sometimes, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't take the stranger back home, because his heart was aching for somebody else. So yeah, she was a cockblock to him. The most annoying one he's ever had.

“Actually you did. Remember how Chloe was apparently using me for fame?” Chloe was the blonde and bubbly girl who was all over Harry just a few days ago when he and Y/N went to the gym together. She was all over him since the minute he stepped foot into the gym and even though he could see Y/N’s glaring stare on them he flirted back. His best friend even tried to warn him, but he shrugged it off and went through with a bathroom quickie.

And what makes it worse: Chloe wasn’t the only one. There were many more like her.

Thinking back he really didn’t understand why he had done all those things when he was never interested in those girls. Or maybe he does know why. He wanted to make Y/N jealous. See if she would give him any sort of reaction, but that never came. So now thinking back he didn’t understand why thought it was a good idea playing with peoples hearts and give them the two minutes of fame that they craved so badly.

She looked at him with disbelief. “She was! But I guess I’m sorry for caring about your reputation?” Her head slightly bounced off the seat as she crossed her arms in front of her chest. “I really don’t understand why it’s such a big deal who I shag.”

And honestly Harry wished he would feel the same way, but he just doesn't.

“Because you shouldn’t spread your legs for every guy.”

And Harry wished he just didn't say that.

Her delicate features twisted with anger as she straightened her posture so she could have a better look at him. She wanted to make sure that he really said those words but to her dislike he did.

A bitter taste lingered in her mouth and her whole facial expression turned sour.

“Excuse me? You’re calling me a slut, when you're the one with a new girl every week?” She raised her voice and truly couldn't believe how the conversation progressed from his ‘lost car keys’ to him accusing her of such things.

Harry’s tense fingers gripped slightly at his wild curls, obviously unhappy with his poor choice of words. “That’s not what I mean.”

“Then fucking enlighten me please? Because right now you’re acting like an asshole!” Her heart was beating rapidly and with each heartbeat, she felt a sharp pain shooting through her entire body. Of all people, she would’ve never expected Harry to insult her and make her feel dirty. Almost as if she was easy to have when it was most definitely not the case. But his little accusation broke her heart and her self esteem in a way that she had to question every decision she has made so far.

“It’s just” He started not really knowing where to go with his words. “I fucking like you.”

She sneered not catching on the real meaning behind Harry’s confession. “I like you too, but I don't walk around and call you a man whore.”

How could she be so stupid sometimes? He really wanted to ask her that. Because it was hard enough to admit that once but having to explain it to her was so much worse.

“You don’t get it, Y/N. I really like you.” He watched her face carefully as the panic spread through him. He can’t believe he told her like that, or at all.

Y/N was confused. So extremely confused and angry. Not for lying to her, cockblocking her or initiating that she’s a slut, but for the fact that he had the audacity to do this to their friendship. Once again. She barely had gotten the kiss out of her memories.

“You’re drunk, right?” She picked on her nail polish, slightly taking small bits of it off as she started at him with disbelief. Why couldn’t he just lose his car keys? “This is a joke.”

He didn’t know what to say to her anymore, so he stayed silent and took his eyes off of her.

“Harry, you always do that.”

“Do what?” Now it was his time to be confused.

“You’re not into me. You’re just bored.” She sighed heavily. Y/N didn’t want to reveal what she was thinking of his love life knowing that he wouldn’t like it. But at the end of the day he’s a relationship person. It wouldn’t be too bad if he wouldn’t fall so fast for the first person who gave him a little bit of attention. Because when he’s single he’d get all lonely and eventually falls in love with the first person he sees. It has always been like this, that’s why Y/N refuses to give in to him and let their friendship take the fall. Because Harry never got anything out of these relationships, besides a broken friendship and always a broken heart. “You always do that, you know? H, you just want attention.”

Harry thought he’d be able to smile if she’d slice his heart open, but the little cuts are already painful enough to make his eyes tear up if he wouldn’t fight it. “So my feelings are not valid and I just want attention?” A bitter laugh left his slightly quivering lips. “I think I got enough of that.” He shook his head at himself for letting those words slip out of his mouth. He knew she didn’t feel the same but at least she could’ve let him down less harsh. “You could’ve just said you don't feel the same.”

“Trust me you won’t feel the same when somebody else comes along.” He will, or at least that's what he thought. But it hurt like hell hearing her not taking him seriously.

He started the engine of the car without shooting a single glance her way because looking at Y/N would make him feel worse and he didn't know how much strength he had inside of him to not let his tears appear at this waterline.

He felt stupid. He felt humiliated. But mostly he felt so incredibly broken and scared.

He always knew him and Y/N was never going to be a thing because she didn't feel the same. How could she? She only saw him as her friend and Harry knew she deserves someone better. Someone who could give her the world, when Harry would have to hide her from it.

But Harry was so scared as he took her home and a million thoughts were running through his mind. He probably changed everything between them but he hoped he wasn’t going to lose her completely.

But he couldn't help to wonder if he just ruined their friendship?

It had been a little bit over a week since Y/N had last seen Harry. He dropped her off at her place and before she could say a thing he drove off again. So everything was left unspoken between them when all Y/N wanted to do was to talk it out with him. But she was scared. She didn't know how he’d react or if he'd want to talk to her.

And she’d understand if he didn't.

She knew she hurt him. That was her intention. She knew he would’ve stuck to his feelings if she didn't push him away to save their friendship.

They had come a long way and she wasn't sure if it was worth it throwing their close bond away for Harry’s small interest in her.

She’d be lying if she said the thought never crossed her mind. In fact, it did way too often for her own liking. It was just too hard to be platonic with him when he was too good at using his charm on her.

But at the same time that was another problem. He did it with everyone. So how could Y/N be certain he wouldn't get tired of her after they'd let their feelings take the upper hand?

No matter how hard she tried to ban Harry from her thoughts he’d always find his way through her thick skull. It was impossible for her to forget him when the image of his pained face was still haunting her and the only sound she heard was his strained voice.

She just hoped he as doing alright. That he wouldn't take it too personally and would get over it. The best-case scenario would be that they could laugh about it one day and would wonder how he could ever think to have feelings for his best friend.

But for them to reach that stage one of those stubborn people would have to give in and Y/N wasn’t sure who would be brave enough to take the first step. It has never been her strong suit and neither was it Harry’s.

Y/N spent her whole afternoon by being lazy. A quality she had started to be familiar with. It took her a while till she actually got out of her warm bed and before she really kicked off her day, she had a quick scroll through Instagram. But she regretted that almost instantly.

Pictures of Harry and a blonde girl were plastered all over the internet and she couldn't help but narrow her eyes at the familiar face. Chloe.

She bit the insides of her cheek a little bit too harshly as they seemed very cozy with one another at a concert last night, both of them dancing and hugging each other in a way Harry never did with Y/N. His hands were a little bit too low and her mouth came his dangerously close, but there weren't any pictures of them kissing, which made her sigh in relief.

She shut down her phone and threw it onto her bed and crawled underneath her blanket.

Y/N knew she shouldn't trust whatever she saw in those pictures because a bad angle could make anything look fishy. She experienced this firsthand when she and Harry became friends. Everybody seemed to believe that something was going on between them and an innocent hug could be interpreted as a passionate goodbye of two heartbroken lovers.

But no matter how hard she tried to tell herself that those are just pictures and no real confession, her brain wouldn't let her believe it.

If Harry liked her so much he would try to talk to her instead of waltzing to the next best thing. Y/N knew how he was and she’d predicted the unavoidable outcome. Sooner or later Harry would've become bored of her and leave her for someone new, someone more exciting and their friendship would be at the exact same place as it was at that moment.

She didn't like how both outcomes predicted how her heart would beat painfully in her chest and she wondered if Harry’s heart felt that even if it was for just a second.

It’s been exactly 22 days since Harry and Y/N last interacted with one another and Y/N couldn't help but count the days herself. She doesn't know when she picked that up along the way but at least it was getting easier for her to get out of her bed in the morning. So she thought it was better for her to look at the bright sight.

Besides she was happy to not have seen any more pictures of Harry and Chloe. So she believed it was nothing serious to him, even if the little voice echoed in her head how they both have gotten better at hiding from the rude photographers. But even if they weren't going out anymore she wouldn't be shocked. When has something like this ever meant anything to him?

But she banished those thoughts as she tried to go on with her everyday life.

Y/N really couldn't believe how much he was actually involved in her life. It could be an ordinary situation where she saw something cute, took a picture of it and her hand immediately swiped to Harry’s name so he could have a look at it himself. It happened without her knowledge and if she wasn't so fast she might have sent him accidentally a message already.

But it wasn't just that. It would happen if she got a coffee before going to the gym. Even though she had to go to a different café after changing her gym to avoid running into Harry. She’d order two drinks before it was too late and she stood their like an idiot wondering what she should do with the bullet coffe she hated but he always drank.

And what was more embarrassing was the fact how she would always think of Harry first, before she thought of anybody else, including herself.

That’s why her heart broke every day a little bit harder instead of trying to heal itself, but she slowly learned to get used to the heart ache.

But the sudden realizations kept her up all night and she wondered how she could've missed the signs when they were lying right in front of her very own, and apparently very blind, eyes.

Maybe it was because of her blind eyes or her slowness after working multiple hours without catching a break or her not being able to fight back the urge anymore after doing so successfully for 22 days that she sent Harry a picture of a cute dog she had found on Instagram.

When her brain finally processed what she had done, the horror on her face was obvious. She tried to delete the message but to her misfortune Harry had already seen it.

The grey bubble appeared which made her stop breathing as she waited anxiously for his response. Was he going to tell her to delete his number and leave him alone?

Harry – 09:34 PM

Can I come over?

Finally, Y/N let some oxygen inside of her again. She had to debate a bit with herself and tried to make up an excuse why he couldn’t come over. But she decided against it.

Y/N – 09:36 PM

Sure

She wanted to add a ’please’ but decided against it as she didn't want to sound desperate.

After she had sent the message her legs were bouncing up and down and she’d casually get up and rehearse a conversation that might happen.

She was nervous. She was so extremely nervous because she didn't what he was going to say.

But she knew what she had to say. She would do anything in her powder to avoid ending their friendship because the last few days had already felt like hell to her. How was she supposed to live like that for the rest of her life?

And when he finally rang her doorbell her mumbling stopped and she stared at the door trying to look if it really was Harry behind it. But she had no supervision so she began moving towards it. With unsteady steps, she opened it up to reveal a distraught looking Harry.

His puffy eyes looked even darker and heavier compared to when he was hungover and the little beard he grew made him more attractive but also proved that he hadn't been taking care of himself in a while, as his hair also looked a little bit greasy from where she stood.

They both just stared at each other, unable to exchange words but Y/N had hoped that she looked better than him. But she couldn't be positive about it because she wasn't exactly taking care of herself either.

Still, in silence, she opened the door a little bit wider to let him come him. When he did she caught a small whiff of his fresh cologne and her eyes wanted to tear up right at that moment.

She had missed him so much that just his scent made her already feel more at ease and all she wanted to do was to collapse in his chest and let him pull her closer by wrapping his strong arms around her body.

She wanted him close to her again.

For a moment the silence still remained and their were staring at their feet before they both started talking at the same time.

“I’m so sorry.” Did the two of them say at the same time with the same pain lingering in their voices.

He looked up first with an hopefull expression. He was so scared that she wouldn’t say anything and simply tell him to get his stuff out of her place. He was fearing for a text like that for so long, even today when her name popped up in his notifications. But once he saw the dog picture he was able to relax a bit and didn't hesitate when he asked if he could come over.

Now they were both standing there and hoping that it wasn't the last time they'd see each other.

“No, don’t be. It's my fault.” She started to say, still looking at her feet and playing with the hem of her sweatshirt as she stood there awkwardly in the middle of her living room, not knowing what to do with her body. “I shouldn’t have dismissed your feelings.”

A minor pain shot through his body as he remembered the heartbreaking memory. But he couldn’t be mad at her for doing so and just by looking at her he was sure he would never take that personally, especially after initiating that she was easy to have. “I-I know you don't sleep around and you don’t open your legs for everyone. I’m sorry about that. And lying to you.” He shook his head as she tried to speak again and at the fact that he actually said all those things to her.

“And I’m so sorry for being so bitter after the kiss. I should have not let my anger out on you. You were drunk.” She finally dared to look into Harry’s conflicted face. His hair was a little bit longer than she remembered as his curls seemed to tickle his neck and the patchy beard made him look more mature than he did before.

He furrowed his eyebrows. “What kiss?” Harry’s brain tried to remember when the kiss could have happened but there were no memories of him kissing the girl in front of him. He was sure he could not forget kissing an angel, or could he? “We kissed?”

Y/N nodded. “Yeah, at the party?” She bit her lip and tried to play it cool. “You kissed Naomi on that day too.”

“Wait a minute, I kissed you too?” As his brain started to work and a distant remembrance popped up when he pressed his lip to Naomi’s in a drunken state. But he could not remember kissing Y/N, but he wishes he did. “How could I forget that?”

Y/N laughed trying to ease the situation when the tension was becoming too much for her. “It’s not like it meant something to you.”

And with that, she did not only hurt her heart but also Harry’s, who actually showed her what an effect her words had on him. “Is that why you think I’m not being serious?”

Y/N didn’t want to nod her head. She didn't want to give him an answer he was waiting for so long. So she didn't, even if both of them could stop cutting deeper into each other's hearts.

Slowly Harry got closer to her. The wooden floor underneath him creaking with every step until he was close enough to touch her face gently and make her look at him. “Naomi doesn't matter. Chloe doesn't matter. No one does. But if I remembered kissing you, I would be over the moon.” His heart was beating at high speed as he confessed his feelings, hoping that she would too if she was into him. “Because you do matter to me.” With his last part of the confession, he pressed his forehead to hers and tried to hold her close. His eyes closed shut and he focused only on her breathing.

Y/N’s feelings were all over the place. She was happy. She was scared and she felt nauseous. Was this all happening? Was the guy she has been crushing on for a few years now finally confessing his feelings for her?

“You don’t remember the kiss?” Her voice was hoarse when asked and Harry almost immediately shook his head. “Shall I refresh your memory?“

His eyes were about to bulge out of his head and his hands gripped her face a little bit harder. He stepped away from her a little so he could see the sarcasm on her face. But she wasn't joking. She was being sincere and once Harry realized that his lips came crashing into hers.

His feathery lips sucked on hers before he opened his mouth a little and teased her with his tongue to let him in. Once she did he wanted to moan into her mouth at the sweet taste she provided him with. Her hands were roaming in his hair and he didn't even notice when she slipped his beanie off of his head and started tugging at his curls.

This is all he ever wanted. That is all she ever wanted.

She was amazed by how soft his lips were and he couldn’t grasp the fact that she tasted sweeter than her scent and so much more addictive after getting a taste.

Slowly Y/N started to walk backward until she felt the couch on her legs. She pulled Harry on top of her when she sat down and hungrily continued the kiss after the short break.

His hands were sliding down her face, her neck and eventually came to a halt as he touched her hips to keep her steady. He can't imagine how she let him kiss her again. It all felt like a dream to both of them and they were not ready to wake up anytime soon.

He slipped his lips off hers, trying his best to catch his breath, before trailing kisses up and down her neck. Her small hands we're still playing with his curls and when she started to pull at them he moaned into her neck. He had waited so long for this to happen.

Y/N pushed her chest into his and once he pushed her into the soft cushions he continued to kiss her body. His kisses we're short but he didn't forget a single spot to love. She watched him with hungry eyes as he began to move lower and lower until he was between her legs. He looked up between her thighs, finding Y/N in a needy state. “Is this ok?”

She nodded and waited patiently for him to continue.

“Talk to me, love. Tell me.” His voice sounded so soft and she could swear she felt a tingle between her legs because of his voice and the nickname he had used.

“Yes. Continue, please.” He giggled at how breathless she already sounded and because of those big eyes she made.

“Your wish is my command.” His fingers slipped off her grey shorts and he had to stiffen his laughter as he saw her Spongebob panties.

Her face heated up and her cheeks were painted a faint rosy color. “Don’t laugh. I wasn’t expecting for this to happen.” With both of her hands, she covered up her face, clearly embarrassed. But Harry couldn't care less what she wore, in his eyes she always looked ravishing and like a goddess walking this earth.

“Don’t hide your face, love.” He moved his body up again, just to stroke her cheek and looked deeply into her eyes. “You look absolutely stunning.” The intensity of his stare made her knees weak and goosebumps run up her spine.

She nodded her head when he leaned down and planted a soft kiss on her lips. “Let me make you feel so pretty.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “Let me make up for what happened.” He kissed the heated skin of her forehead and stroke her hair behind her ear. “Let me make you mine.”

She nodded again, but when he rose his eyebrow she expressed herself, how he requested from her. “Make me yours, Harry.” With a smirk, he kissed her lips slowly, bit onto her lip, and pulled on it, which earned him a small whimper from her. A breathy laugh left his mouth and with his right hand, he slid down her body and gripped the hem of her panties. One last time he searched for disapproval or even just hesitation in her eyes, but when he could not find that, he dove right into the action.

His hand slit into her underwear and he started to rub small circles on her clit. He was soft at first, very careful and he didn't want to destroy his flower, his little petal, who looked too good for him. Who was too good for him. She closed her eyes and through her open mouth, quiet moans slipped through it. Harry was too focused on her delicate features to pick up the speed, only when she took his hand and started grinding on it, he started to put all his energy to make her feel good.

His long fingers pinched her pulsating clit and he could feel how wet she had already gotten, as his fingers started to slip. “Do I make you feel good?” He looked at her with those dimples appearing in his cheeks and he realized at that moment that he wanted her beneath him so many more times in his life. Only her, for the rest of his life.

“Yes.”, she moaned as his finger teased her wet slit. ”I need more.”

“Tell me what you need.” She opened her eyes, looked at him pleadingly as she moaned out his name. Harry swore he could cum if he saw her like this again.

“Want you inside me.” She kissed Harry’s cheek and moved her kisses along his sharp jawline, desperately searching for his soft spot. But before she found it he held her head back, to make her look at him.

“Not today. I need to make it up to you, angel.“ With that he lowered himself until his face was right between her thighs. With anticipation she bit her lip and stared at the green eyed boy, who was slowly removing her underwear. Her face was heating up, and the electricity she felt, whenever he touched her, made her want him even more.

“God. You’re so pretty.” He admired her one last time before his hands found her swollen clit to play with. “You’re so wet for me, baby.” He moaned and felt his own pants tightening around him.

His circles became rougher and faster and she couldn’t help but grasp his hair in her fists. Low moans escaped her mouth and she couldn’t help but arch her back.

“I want to taste you so bad.” He breathed on her pussy. “Can I taste you?” He looked up from between her legs to catch a glimpse of her nodding her head in ecstasy.

“Yes, please.” It didn’t take him long until he licked her slit clean before he focused all his attention to her clit again. With his plump lips he sucked it in and swirled his tongue around it.

Y/N jolted up from the pleasure she got and tugged at his hair to pull him closer to her. He let out a breathy laugh only intensifiying her feelings when she felt his mouth vibrate against her. “Harry.” She moaned as his fingers found their way to her wet entrance. He parted her lips and buried his tongue inside her again for a quick taste before he let his fingers do their magic.

At first it was just one, then two, before he started pumping his fingers in and out of her and he kept his mouth on her clit. Sweat was forming on his forehead and Y/N tried her best to keep his hair out of his face so she could see him whenever he looked at her. Her walls started clenching around him and her legs were starting to get tired.

Harshly she gripped the mattress and tried her best not to scream when he hit that spot inside her that made her see stars.

“You’re so thight, baby.” Harry moaned after he flicked his tongue over her clit harshly and his fingers were picking up on speed. “Do you want to cum, love?” She nodded her head, eyes closed, much to Harry’s dislike. “Talk to me.” His movements came to a halt which made her thrust her hips forward desperately.

“Please, Harry.”

“Please, what?”

“Please make me cum.”

He laughed before he buried his head between her legs again and began to eat her out as if she was his last meal and she couldn’t help but let her legs shake, and those moans out, when she felt the beard scratch her on all the right places. Harry was painfully hard himself but hearing and tasting her made him almost combust in his pants.

When his fingers picked up speed and she pinched her own nipple, her walls began to thighten around him and with one last moan she let herself go. “Fuck. Harry!” She closed her eyes shut, her back arched off the white material and helplessly she tried to breathe again.

Harry watched her with such adoration in his eyes as she came down and gave her pussy one last kiss before he held her face in his hands. She didn’t care that he was still covered in her juices and smeared it in her hair.

With a playful grin he looked her up and down and once her breathing calmed down a bit she gave him a small peck on his dimple, making it deeper on his cheek. Butterflies erupted in both bellies and a giddly feeling made both of them feel warm inside. With his thumb he stroke her cheek and rested his forehead on hers again.

“Are you mine now?”

[polyamoroamer]

Webs and Nets

I've been thinking a lot recently about what I want out of life, what I can offer the world and those around me, and what I need to grow and change. I think we all have.

The world right now is in flux. It is a scary time and scary place. We have violent men in power; rising bigotry and hatred; a global pandemic with hundreds of thousands dead; rampant transphobia and rampant racism; police brutality against those who dare to rise up for peace, for strength and for love. We live in a dystopian novel.

But the thing is that we always have, in many ways. Native Americans are still living through the apocalypse that decimated their ancestors and stole their land; African Americans are still living through the apocalypse that pillaged them from their homes and forced them into slavery thousands of leagues away. The legacy of horror continues. This is not new. But what we are seeing right now is a pinch point, an historical time where things could swing toward the better, the brighter future.

During lockdown I have been keeping away from people almost totally, as my grandmother whom I shop for and visit is 97 next week and I want her to see 100. I went to one BLM rally, the biggest protest I've ever seen in my predominantly white little conservative town. Bigger even than our ridiculously large Pride (we have a truly exemplary number of radical LGBTQ+ people for such a Tory stronghold). But I have not stepped out past that, as it was simply impossible to socially distance, and I am protecting someone.

I have been working hard on the campervan conversion, building the bathroom and starting the kitchen cabinets. I'm considering linking this blog with my real life at last, so may eventually post photos of it when it's finished. I've complained about it to you friends enough!

I started a new kids' novel about a trans girl who finds out she is a witch and navigates the difficulties of coming out to her parents and living as openly trans at school, and learns magic at the same time.

I've cut the pieces out for so many new items of clothing to sell, and am hopefully going to sew them all soon.

It sounds very productive but it doesn't feel it. Every step is three steps backward before I can move on, every day feels like a punch. I've been creating out of desperation, trying to justify my use of oxygen and food and space by making things.

A few weeks ago on the Solstice that came to a head. Dash and I were going to go out in the campervan and trip for the first time since last summer. But I couldn't fix the leaking skylight (again), I took hours longer trying to make it work than I should have done, and finally when the time came to leave, we picked up my mattress to put in the camper and it had been utterly ravaged by mould.

This might sound like only a minor setback, but to me it was breaking point. That mattress has changed my life. I woke up in the mornings without pain, able to get up and go whether I did my morning yoga or not. I slept soundly, heavily. I dreamed strange dreams and I felt rested. I didn't hurt. It was a £1800 mattress I found secondhand for £250. And I ruined it. It felt like the perfect coming together of all of my failures as an activist, as a child, as a partner, as a creator, a builder, an adult, a grandchild, a sibling, performer, writer, as a human being. Through my own negligence I destroyed something very expensive to replace that had supported me, cradled me, held me and become my haven and sanctuary.

So I had a pretty solid breakdown. I slid back into old habits, the clawing of skin and banging of heads. I had a headache for days. It felt so ridiculous. Such a small, insignificant thing to go wrong when compared with the huge issues facing vast swathes of humanity. But as we all know, often the thing that sets off the breakdown is not the biggest issue. It's just the last little drip that makes the bucket start overflowing.

Since then I have had several smaller incidents in a similar vein, and every time I mock myself for them.

But I am lucky. My mother and my partner, and most of my family really, are all very supportive of my, and one another's, difficulties. When I fuck up and spiral into a self-destructive vortex, my loved ones give me space to recover, help me to fix the problems, and unquestioningly forgive my mistakes. It's astounding to me, the amount of patience they can have with me, when in my own eyes I am a ceaseless burden and chronic fuck up. They hold my hand and tell me I am wanted, I am loved and it is a pleasure and joy to be with me. They help me to repair or replace or heal or learn. They love me.

And in this I come to see how similar we are. Because I do the same for them. When Dash makes a mistake and becomes convinced he's always just an accident waiting to happen, I reassure him, help him to fix the problem, and give him space to stew. When my mum panics two or three times a day over technical issues, I swoop in to save the day. When Nanny Ogg puts herself down because she believes the voice of her abuser, I swamp her with verbal affirmation and love.

We all take care of each other. We are all parts of the web. Or really it's more like a net, with no one person at the centre. Everyone looks after everyone.

I want to expand this network. Recently I have been trying something new in my relationships. Whenever I think positively about someone, I send them a message, even if it's only 'hey, how are you? Thinking of you'. This is a hard practice to get into, because it requires fighting executive dysfunction and social anxiety and depression to reach out even when I don't feel like it.

But I have frequently not done this, and people have died suddenly, and I have felt so guilty for not having sent those messages. Many, many loved ones right now are suddenly seriously ill or abruptly gone. And I can't afford to not send every loving message that pops into my head because the grief and guilt are just too much the way it stands.

When faced with that stick, it's much easier to pursue the carrot.

I have felt very alone and very grief-stricken for a long time, and so have many of us. COVID is just the latest upheaval and tragedy in many people's lives. We're almost numb to fear and grief, but not quite. We're just full up. But we are not alone, and it's up to us to remind other people that they aren't either. As we show love, so we shall be shown love.

So right now I am throwing nets wide, throwing love out into the world and reminding the people I like that I care about them. Because I want to forge new relationships, rebuild old ones, and create unity and community with the people around me. What does it matter what form those relationships take, as long as they exist and are nutritious to our hearts and souls?

The world is hard right now, and we can't survive it alone. But together we have a chance, and if we don't start now, when will we?

[madphantom]

The Sound of Life - Chapter 4

The next morning they were eating breakfast. Phoenix was still wearing her pajamas.

"Phoenix," Winslow suddenly said.

"Yeah?"

Winslow looked as shy as he had on the day Phoenix had seen him for the first time. "Ahum... Phinny..."

"Yeah?"

"Phinny... on Friday it's my sister Lucy's birthday. I...I think it's about time you meet my family."

For a second she was very quiet. Then: "Ohmygoshohmygoshohmygosh."

Dunphy looked just like it had when Winslow had left to look for fame. A soft summer wind was blowing over the yellow fields and playing with his hair. The sky was blue. First golden leaves were sailing across the streets, but most trees were still green. Some people passed them. Not everyone recognized Winslow. Those who did looked surprised or shocked. And they whispered.

"Look!"

"It's him! It's Winslow!"

"Harry's kid!"

"The Leach boy! The one who ran off to New York!"

"The musical one, who got lessons from Carmine!"

"My God, what happened to his face?"

"And who's the girl?"

"Yes, who's the girl?"

Before he rang the doorbell Winslow realized that Phoenix deserved a warning. "Phoenix...I have five talkative sisters."

She laughed. "Good company for me. Let's go."

He pressed the bell.

For a few seconds nothing happened. Then the door opened. The fragile elderly woman in the doorway had fluffy hair and was wearing thick glasses. She hadn't changed a bit.

"Winslow!", Joan Leach yelped and pulled him into a long hug.

"Winslow?" Suddenly a tall lanky girl with equally thick glasses and a ponytail appeared in the corridor. "Winslow, bro!" She sprinted over and joined her mother in hugging the lost son.

"Whatcha sayin... Wins'!!!"

"The lost son has returned!"

"Bro! Bro! Bro!"

"Winsy! I knew you'd come back!"

"Sonny, don't you ever dare scare your poor old dad like that again!"

In the end, four siblings and the father had joined the group hug. Phoenix was awkwardly standing next to them.

Finally Momma Leach chased her children off. "Dear God, we're gonna suffocate the lost sheeple. Emmy, Jenny...Jenny! Sandy! Ellie! Harry, don't smother your son like that, I want him to live another day. Winslow, for God's sake, what kind of trouble did you get in in New York?"

He laughed shyly. "I'm gonna tell you later, first of all-" He reached out for Phoenix and pulled her to his side. "- I want you to meet Phoenix, my girlfriend."

"We've lived to see the day, my wee lil bro got himself a girlfriend," Emmy commented.

"Emmy!", Joan hissed. The girl shrugged her shoulders. Winslow laughed.

"Why are we standing in the doorway?", Jenny suddenly asked. "Come in! Let's get in the living room!"

They sat down at the table. The twins, Sandy and Ellie, brought two extra chairs.

"Winslow, we want you to tell us everything," Poppa Leach said. "And Phoenix...if he exaggerates stop him from doing that."

She laughed. "I will."

"First things first: What the hell happened to your visage?", Emmy asked.

"Emmy!"

"What? He was ugly already when he left, but it was definitely not the pollution in NYC that made him even uglier."

"Emmy!"

"No, no, she's right," Winslow laughed. "Gosh, Emmy, I missed your salty comments."

"See, mum?" She grinned triumphantly.

"Anyway," Winslow continued. "I got my head caught in a record press."

Poppa Leach looked over to Phoenix. "I asked you to prevent him from exaggerating."

"In fact he's understating,' Phoenix mumbled.

"Gosh, Winslow you've always been one clumsy individual, but this just takes the cake."

"Emmy!"

"How is it even possible to do that?"

"Right, how do you get your head caught in a fucking record press, Winslow?"

"Sandy! Language!"

"I tried to destroy all copies of Faust Death Records printed," Winslow tried to explain.

"Oh yeah, I heard those bastards play your stuff on the radio...!"

"Ellie! Language!" Everyone laughed.

"And your voice?", Joan asked.

"Same thing."

"I've told you, son, New York is no good," Harry murmured.

"But how did you two meet, I'm curious!", Jenny burst out. Everyone else was quick to beg Winslow to tell the story. He laughed. "Well, I heard her sing Faust and..."

"Dot dot dot? Ey yo, you're not usually that type," Emmy remarked.

"Emmy!"

"Sorry momma."

"We kind of lost contact after we first met and then later Winslow found me again and we had a chat - I didn't recognize him then, because-" - Phoenix gesticulated at Winslow - "-Face. Then the next day Winslow saved me from being shot and got wounded himself and while he was in hospital we started talking and, well, became a couple."

"Awwwww," Jenny commented. "Hey, Phoenix, you're his first girlfriend, just so you know."

"Really?" Phoenix looked over to Winslow. "You didn't tell me!"

He blushed. Everyone laughed.

"Lucy is gonna marry soon too!", Ellie burst out.

"Really?" Winslow raised his eyebrows. "What'd I miss?"

Sandy grinned mischievously. "His name is Oskar. He's a historian from Germany. He's divorced and has a kid."

"They met in the grocery store!", Ellie yelled.

"I wanna know more!"

"She bumped into him..."

"...more or less deliberately."

"Less, according to her! Apparently it was an accident!"

"Sure."

"When is she coming?"

"Should arrive any minute, Winslow. Get ready for confused German mumbling!"

Everyone laughed.

"I left the cake in the oven!", Joan yelled and rushed into the kitchen. She returned with a warm oven-fresh cherry pie. A wonderful smell filled the living room. Winslow felt truly at home. The doorbell rang.

"That's them!", one of the twins yelled and sped off to open the door.

"She's gonna go flippin' when she sees you, Winsy," Jenny whispered.

"I hope she doesn't get a heart attack from your visage, bro," Emmy joked.

"Emmy!", Joan hissed. Winslow quickly combed his hair over his bad eye.

"That's not necessary, you know," Phoenix remarked.

"I was just joking," Emmy agreed.

"I know, I just thought I really shouldn't shock Lucy more than necessary right away." Winslow grinned.

A short woman of around forty with wild dark blonde hair and thick glasses walked into the kitchen, only to freeze as soon as she spotted her long lost brother. She stared at him in pure shock.

"Winslow?!"

"Hi." He grinned like a young shark.

Behind Lucy a lanky redhead of forty and a little girl with pigtails appeared.

"Hey, Lucy, what's wrong?", Oskar asked.

She pointed at Winslow, her face as pale as if she'd seen a ghost. "Tha-tha-that's my brother...and he's dead!"

"Happy Birthday," Winslow replied.

Lucy looked like she'd just been forced to swallow a rolled up newspaper. "H-h-how this possible?"

She was so shocked she'd literally forgotten grammar.

The Leaches looked at each other and collectively burst out laughing at Lucy's puzzled expression. Finally Winslow got up and walked over to her.

"Jesus was resurrected," Emmy commented.

"Emmy! No jokes about God!"

"Sure, mum."

Lucy blinked five times. Then she reached out and touched Winslow to convince herself that he was, in fact, real and standing in front of her. Then her eyes widened. "I'm not dreaming!"

"Nope."

And suddenly she launched herself forward and gave him a hug. Winslow laughed. "It's nice to see you too, Sis." Over his sister's shoulder he greeted Oskar, who looked quite baffled. "Hi, you must be Oskar. My sisters told me about you..."

"Ja," Oskar replied in confusion, then realized he was speaking the wrong language. "Ich...I mean - yes, I'm Oskar."

"Nice to meet you. I'm Winslow Leach." They shook hands and Lucy let Winslow go. She reached behind herself and took the little girl's hand. "Maite, c'mon. Winslow, this is Maite... Oskar's daughter. Maite, this is Winslow - your uncle."

Maite tilted her head curiously. "Mr Winslow, why do you have silver teeth?"

"What?", Lucy asked in confusion, followed by a "Holy shit!"

She looked absolutely helpless. "Oh my God...oh my God...I... I...I need a chair."

Sandy brought her one and Lucy plummeted onto the seat. She was still staring at Winslow like he was a ghost. Joan served the cake. "Lucy, will you drop the plate if I give it to you?"

"Wha - no." She took it. She was still staring at Winslow.

"Her eyes are going to pop out any second," Harry commented.

"H-how come you're here?!", Lucy asked Winslow.

He laughed. "Ah well... it's a long story. But first of all, I want you to meet Phoenix - my girlfriend."

"Hi." Phoenix waved. "It's nice to meet you."

"Okay, I must be dreaming," Lucy slowly and serenely uttered. "Winslow's back, he got a makeover and he has a girlfriend. I'm asleep and my brain is playing tricks on me."

Winslow and Emmy collectively rolled their eyes.

"Now you're overreacting," Jenny said.

"No, I'm not." Lucy finally managed a shaky laugh. "Alright. Winsly - you have a lot to explain." She frowned. "Hey, what's that with your eye?"

Winslow wiped away his hair and Lucy visibly paled. "Alright, the tabloids weren't lying."

"Nope," Phoenix agreed. And then Winslow started telling the wild story that had happened to him. Joan gave everyone pieces of cake. Occasionally Winslow was interrupted by gasps, either from Lucy or Jenny or Joan. The twins admired Winslow's makeover. Harry asked him whether metal teeth were more useful than usual ones. Phoenix and Emmy soon appeared to get along greatly. Ellie slid off and returned with Winslow's long-lost copy of Goethe's Faust - she'd borrowed it. It was a wonderful afternoon.

When it got dark Lucy and her new family left to drive back to Oskar's home. The twins were sent to bed, but of course they didn't even bother to go.

"It is crazy to get you back, bro," Emmy at some point commented. "Specially with that Goth upgrade you got."

Winslow chuckled. "Thanks."

"Still," Jenny added. "I wouldn't be surprised if I woke up tomorrow and it would've just been a particularly nice dream."

"Me neither," Winslow laughed.

Joan checked her watch. "It's getting late. Did you take the train?"

"Yes." Phoenix nodded.

"The last train goes at midnight," Emmy said. "Will you take it?"

"Probably," Winslow replied.

"Then you oughta hurry. It's eleven thirty," Joan said. She sighed. "Winslow, I don't want to sound like a stereotypical country mum, but I hate to see you leave."

He chuckled. "I'll come back."

"You promised that last time."

"And I kept my promise, didn't I?"

"You were a year late."

"But I came."

"I have an idea," Phoenix suddenly said. "I can just leave our phone number. And y'all can call. Whenever you feel like it."

And so they did. Phoenix scribbled down her number. Then they left. When Winslow turned around for the last time he saw his family standing in the doorway and waving.

He smiled and waved back.

[sleepyfan-blog]

Cross and ink and a lot of fluff on a sleepover at dreams and nightmares scence nightmares turned good, and it wouldn't be completed without a jealous Error "Why won't you let him be mine" "It's not that he won't it's just that he doesn't want"

I hope that you enjoy! it’s under a cut bc it got a little long, haha

Oh and the fic I’m referring to is this

Warnings: uhh…. Unrequited love?

Dream beamed happily at Cross and Ink, stepping aside and gesturing for the two of them to come in. “I’m really glad that you two could make it! We’ve got everything set up in one of the cozier spaces in the castle.”

Cross nodded a little, a small smile appearing on his face as he walked in - he knew that after Nightmare had gotten uncorrupted (thank you, Reaper and Reapertale Gaster)  and the pair of guardians had returned to the castle they’d been trying to renovate it, in order to make it less dreary and terrifying. The lighter colors and the more generous light fixtures really helped the section of the castle that Dream took the two of them down “It’s looking really good so far - I wouldn’t mind helping, if you don’t mind?” the monochromatic skeleton offered with a small smile.

Dream shrugged for a moment, a small smile appearing on his face “I’ll ask Nightlight - but I think it’s going to be one of the projects he’s going to be stubborn about… Besides, it’s not as if we’re pressed for time in order to fix up the castle, anyways.”

Ink nodded, a grin appearing on his face “I understand! Since Nightmare’s come back to his senses, the only person we really have to worry about is Error… And as the truce between myself and him has been holding steady for the past ten years, I’m pretty sure that he won’t suddenly start destroying things… Although I really do miss helping Creators make new AUs…” The creative guardian sighed, his shoulders slumping a little, his eye lights changing shape and colors rapidly.

Cross gently patted his boyfriend on one shoulder before hugging the other “I know that you do… But you’re been helping to restore dead and dying timelines, which is a great help, love…”

Ink perked up at that and his smile was back “You’re right! It’s.. It’s really nice to be able to breathe life into a destroyed timeline. And speaking of that…” He sent a significant look in Dream’s direction.

“I… Nightmare would like to focus on the two of us rebuilding this AU piece by piece as much as we can before asking for help.” Dream responded, knowing that look on Ink’s face and determined to head off a potential argument.

“Who all is here?” Cross asked curiously, changing the subject before Ink could dig in his heels about helping the emotive guardians repair their badly damaged Universe.

“So far apart from me and Night, you two and Error, funnily enough. He appeared on one of the couches three days ago, muttering something about the anti-void being too quiet and the voices bothering him a lot.” Dream murmured, his voice low and quiet “I’m not sure what that meant, but he felt very lonely as he said it. So he’s going to be at the sleepover. Stretch and Blue are helping Queen Toriel negotiate with the humans as they’ve hit a post-pacifist ending again and the human promised no more resets unless something genuinely awful happened.” 

Dream paused for a moment before continuing “Sci and Red managed to catch the flu, so Edge is watching over them and scolding them for wandering out into the forests outside of Snowdin for too long. Hearts, Star and Classic have been dealing with things in their own timelines that have been causing a lot of problems and can’t make it… Color still doesn’t trust Nightmare so he’s dragged Killer, Dust and Hatchet off somewhere and they’ve been out of communications with the both of us for a week.”

“So it’s just going to be the five of us?” Ink prodded, one of his eye lights a yellow star, the other an orange square.

“Yep, unless one or more of the others suddenly calls for a pick up. But enough about all of that, how have you two been?” Dream asked brightly as the three of them entered Nightmare’s Library - the center area having been transformed into an epic blanket and pillow fort. The scent of hot cocoa, pizza, popcorn and cupcakes mingled pleasantly together.

Error was sulking up on top of a bookshelf, an exasperated but amused Nightmare standing beneath him as he said “-ot going to be comfortable up there, you know?”

“I don’t care!  You should have warned me that you were going to be throwing some stupid partyyy…. Hi Ink, Boring Glitch.” Error huffed back, his eye lights focusing on the new arrivals - mostly on Ink. The other’s emotional aura shifting to-

Oh dear. Dream sent a brief glance at Nightmare, who nodded minutely and scratched one of his cheeks in a subtle gesture. They’d talk once the others fell asleep. That explained a few things - still, that wasn’t any reason to let such things fester! Dream clapped his hands together and asked, gently pushing his aura onto Error, Cross and Ink, lifting their moods “So, who’s up for a game?”

“Me!” Ink called out cheerfully.

“Sure…” Cross responded, curiosity filling his emotional aura.

“Do I have to?” Error grumbled, though the destructive skeleton had already teleported down  near Nightmare. “So what game are we planning?”

“Spin the bottle: Truth or Dare Edition!” Dream answered with a bright grin, ignoring the exasperated frown and face palm this got from Nightmare.

“I… Am unsure what you mean by that?” Ink prompted “What are the rules?”

“It’s where we each take turns spinning a bottle. Whoever it lands on, you, the spinner ask whether they want to do a dare, tell a truth… Or if they don’t want to do the dare or tell the truth, you get to kiss them! Either on the cheek, forehead, teeth or hand.” Dream explained with a cheerful grin on his face.

Error was blushing bright yellow and his eye sockets started to fill with errors. Dream sighed as he sent a small pulse of his magic the other’s way, stabilizing his emotions and pulling the other from his imminent crash. Cross was a very fascinating shade of purple and was hiding as much of his face as he could in his scarf.

Ink’s eye lights were a yellow star and a green heart “That sounds like so much fun! I’m willing to play! What about you three? Or are you going to be cowardly?”

This prompted Error and Cross to answer at the same time “I’ll play!” determined expressions appearing on his face.

Nightmare sighed, face palming again and responded “I’ll play too. Let me get a bottle. You all should sit down and get comfortable. Do you want anything to eat or drink?”

Everyone shook their heads as Dream lead them to one of the blanket forts, and they crawled into the warm and cozy space, the colorful blankets and magical fairy lights providing diffused and ample light.

“Oh, and one more thing, we need to sit in a circle.” Dream instructed as the others sat around in a circle, making a space for Nightmare as the guardian of Negativity crawled in, an empty bottle in his hand. Nightmare set the bottle down in the space between all of them as Dream spoke up again “I’ll start, since I suggested the game.”

The others nodded (except for Nightmare, who was squinting at him a little) as Dream reached for the bottle and spun it with a quick turn of his wrist. It spun and spun, eventually stopping in front of Cross. Dream grinned a little “Truth, Dare or Kiss?”

“Uhh… What truth do you want to know about me?” Cross responded, having seen Dream’s mischievous side and not wanting to be stuck doing some silly dare right off the bat.

“Hmm…” Dream murmured, his eye lights turning into stars as a grin appeared on his face. He was about to respond when Nightmare cut in.

“Give the poor kid a chance to enjoy the game, would you? Stars above I know how merciless you can get at this game.” his other half cautioned him, turning ever so slightly purple.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Nightmare. Cross, what was your reaction when you first realized that you were in love with Ink?” Dream asked, pouting a bit at Nightmare. There was no need to scare the others. He was just curious…

The blush on Cross’s face returned in full force “… I cursed myself for being so stupid, because it was back before Nightmare got his head screwed on straight and I was still working for him.” He spun the bottle and it landed on Error, who froze. “… Kiss, Truth or Dare?”

“… Truth.” Error responded after a pause, narrowing his eye lights at the other.

“… Why did you agree to the truce with Ink?”” Cross blurted out, before a look of panic scrawled across his face “I… I mean…”

“No, I’ll answer it. I was tired of fighting Ink all the time.” Error answered honestly, staring at the floor “… I had hoped that maybe I could have taken him up on the offer of becoming friends that he gave me long ago.” He spun the bottle and it landed on Nightmare “Your choice now.”

“Dare.” Nightmare responded without hesitation, curious as to what the other would have him do.

“I dare you to steal something from Fresh and bring it back here in less than five minutes.” Error answered quickly.

Nightmare raised a browbone, opened a portal, stretching a hand through it and pulling it back, a distant “Hey! Not cool, broski!” echoed through the portal as the negative spirit revealed that he’d grabbed Fresh’s hat “Done. My turn.” The bottle spun and landed on Dream, who grinned.

The positive spirit answered before Nightmare could even ask “Kiss!” and eagerly teleported into his other half’s lap, eagerly pressing a kiss to the other’s teeth. He nuzzled Nightmare’s neck a little after, leaning into his warmth and spinning the bottle, having it land on Ink “Soo…?”

Ink’s eye lights turned into blue and green question marks “Hmm… Dare me, Dream!”

“I dare you to steal some of G Sans’s cookies!” The positive guardian responded with a bright grin. “And come back within five minutes.”

The creative guardian huffed, rolling his eye lights “Fiiine. But if I get into a fight with that particular sleeping dragon, you’re helping.” Ink portalled off, returning three very quiet minutes later with a tin of butterscotch-cinnamon cookies. “Ta-da… My turn.” He spun the bottle and it landed on Error. “What’ll it be, Glitchy?”

Error paused for a little bit before eventually asking “Who do you want me to steal from? And by that I mean, what dare do you have for me?”

“Aww, Glitchy, everyone doing similar dares would be boring! No, I’ve got something else for you as a dare.” Ink pulls out a box out of his inventory “I want you to wear what’s in that box for ten minutes.”

Error squinted at him before growling “Fine, but if it’s really stupid, I reserve the right to ask for a truth instead.”

“Pff-hahaha, fine~!” Ink responded with a wave as the destructive skeleton teleported elsewhere to change.

Error came back a couple of moments later, squinting at Ink in suspicion as he came back wearing a black jacket that reached his knees and slowly turned to a navy blue at the hood. Beneath it was a long-sleeved red shirt and a bright blue scarf. He was also wearing what appeared to be a bunch of his navy blue strings as a sort of a cape “… This is comfortable and not weird. Why am I wearing this?” He was also wearing a pair of red-rimmed, circular glasses.

Dream and Nightmare both stilled as they stared at Error, their eye lights vanishing for a moment. They were suddenly holding hands and Dream was shaking ever so slightly.

“Ah-ah! You can only get the truth of that out of me if you manage to land the bottle on me.” Ink called out cheerfully, having not spotted either emotive guardians’ reaction to the alternate outfit.

Error grumbled and spun the bottle, and it landed on Cross “Your turn. Truth, Dare or Kiss?”

Cross squinted for a bit, wanting to get this over quickly - he’d seen Dream and Nightmare’s reaction to the outfit and wanted answers, damn it. “Kiss.” He grabbed one of Error’s hands and pressed a quick peck to the other’s knuckles, returned to his seat and spun the bottle, hoping that he’d spun it so that it would land on Nightmare and Dream. Sure enough, it did “Right, Truth or Dare, you two? And I’m guessing you both have to answer, since you’re in Nightmare’s lap, Dream?… Or Kiss, I suppose.”

“…” Nightmare and Dream glanced at one another briefly before staring at Cross and saying simultaneously “Kiss.” The both of them each pressed a light kiss to one of Cross’s cheeks, moving at the same time. Dream settled back into Nightmare’s lap after they did so, still visibly unsettled.

Nightmare flicked the bottle with one of his fingers, and the bottle spun to a stop on Ink “Kiss, Dare or Truth?”

“Hmm… Kiss, actually! A double smooch from the both of you looked like fun.” Ink answwered after a moment, grinning at how purple his boyfriend had gone. That had been very endearing to see.

Dream and Nightmare complied and Ink spun the bottle, it landing on Error. The Destructive skeleton answered before Ink could ask, his voice very quiet “… Kiss, squid…”

This took Ink and Cross by surprise, but not Nightmare nor Dream. Still, with a playful grin, the creative guardian made his way over to Error, pausing for a moment as he studied Error, leaning in close and pressing a light kiss to one of the other’s cheeks, purring lightly “Your turn, Glitchy~!”

Error seemed a little dazed as he fumbled for the bottle, and nearly hit it hard enough to break the glass container. It eventually came to a stop in front of a grumpy Cross “Truth, Dare, or Kiss?”

“Dare me, you grump.” Cross answered after a moment’s consideration.

“I dare you to do a cartwheel.” Error responded after a moment.

The highly athletic skeleton snorted, getting up and doing just that in front of the entrance to the blanket fort so that he didn’t knock it down. He spun the bottle and it landed on Ink “Truth, Kiss or Dare, love?”

“Hmmm… Truth, this time.” Ink decided with a warm smile.

“Why did you dress Error up in that outfit?” Cross asked curiously, watching Dream and Nightmare out of the corner of one of his eye sockets. Their reaction had been weird.

“Well… Because I’ve seen a different Error wear it and was curious to see what he’d look like in it.” Ink responded with a shrug. “And yes, this means that I’ve been to a different multiverse. Things were… Very different there. Although I suspect I’m not the only one who’s been there… Eh, Nightmare, Dream?”

Neither of the emotive guardians responded, and Nightmare’s grip on Dream tightened a little bit. The positive guardian murmured after a moment “I… I think I’m done playing this game for now… Do you guys want to watch a movie?”

Cross and Error agreed - and the latter immediately shot off to go change, the ten minutes up anyways. Ink was pouting a little, having wanted to play for a little longer, but had been outvoted by a lot. Cross got up and put in one of the movies that had been set out - it was a high-seas pirate movie with a bit of magic and a great cast of characters and a rousing score.

Cross frowned a little as he realized that Error hadn’t come back, half-way into the movie. He yawned and stretched a little, slowly scooting out as Ink, Dream and Nightmare were thoroughly entranced by the story, wandering off to go find the destructive being. He found the other leaning against the door of the library, scowling and folded in on himself.

“… Error are you alright?” He asked. He didn’t particularly care for the other, but figured it would be good to check in with the other.

“Why won’t you let him be mine?” Error hissed, glaring up at Cross, a jealous expression appearing on his face. “We… We’ve been through so much together…”

“It’s not that he won't…  It’s just that he doesn’t want you.” Cross responded, feeling awkward and realizing that he was being perhaps a little too blunt. “Look, Ink does what he wants, right? He always has… If he wanted to date you… He would.”

Error hissed and buried his face in his hands “I… I suppose you’re right. But you’re so… New to all of this. Why are you so special enough to catch his attention when his attention for more than five fucking minutes is one of the few things I’ve ever wanted?”

“I… I don’t know.” Cross answered honestly, shrugging helplessly. He had no answer for that, and was just grateful he wasn’t trapped in the endless, white void his timeline had become. “I’m just… I’m grateful that I have his love and attention… Come join us? We’re watching a pirate movie, and it’s a lot of fun.”

[2nerdzz]

Unpopular opinion that Not Fall in Love with You from Vol 3 is actually a bees song in disguise.

How?

Well from my understanding the argument that it's a BlackSun song is because it played during a BlackSun moment and that the song is from Sun's point of view. But a few lines don't really make sense if it's from Sun's point of view.

Sun has shown countless times that he is flirty with Blake. With the wink when first introduced, to asking her to the dance, to pointing to her during the Vytal festival. So saying "can I do anything to conceal it?" Doesn't make much sense as he has shown it multiple times. Arguing that he is just a flirtatious person also doesn't work. Neptune is a flirtatious person, a person that has flirted with Weiss, and team INDG. Sun has only been seen to flirt with Blake.

This outward show of affection is not concealing anything. Nor is it "locking up [his] heart and not feel[ing] it".

As the song progresses the narrator explains to the listeners that they have fallen hard for their crush and how they wish their crush could "fall for me like I fell for you". When looking at Sun and Blake both have been seen showing some sort of affection to one another. Sun asked Blake to the dance, Blake said yes (albiet after some convincing to go to the dance via Yang). During the festival Sun is able to elicit a blush from Blake. These thing show there is at least some feelings between them, that it's not just one sided.

"Now how the heck do you think it's Yang singing then?" You ask.

If you ask any Bee shipper they'll be able to list off some bee moments. The most popular probably being Yang talking one on one with Blake before the dance, the dance snippit, Yang attacking Adam to protect Blake, and then how both characters talk about each other during vol 4.

Now returning to the lyrics. With Yang as our narrator the lines seem to make more sense with the narrative of the song. Yang has been seen to be flirtatious few times. Off the top of my head I can think of the first night at Beacon where she was checking out the guys, and at Junior's club (if you can call that flirting). But as of late Yang has shown very little flirting overall except for a few times with Blake. In this sense Yang could be concealing her true feelings. Trying to "lock up [her] heart and not feel it". Of course her feelings are seen countless times as Yang constantly worries about her partner and tries her best to encourage and help Blake.

Then later in Vol 3 when Adam threatens Blake that he will destroy everything she loves a single look at Yang can tell Adam that Yang cares, or dare I say, loves Blake. The lyrics can easily match up with this scene as Yang, who is a complete stranger to Adam is instantly made a target due to her simply looking for Blake. Also having it be Adam attacking Yang and not some Joe Smoe can invent tension that Adam understands what it's like being in love with Blake (although not confirmed Adam and Blake have a past, and the fact Adam is deliberately targeting people Blake loves, or love Blake can be a sign that he is jealous or wants Blake back to himself).

Then there's the "if your heart would agree" lines. This is a common fear when falling for someone, that they won't feel the same back. Which can be used to enforce hiding one's feelings in the first place. Sun and Blake have already shown they have some sort of feelings for one another, whether it's one sided or not. Yang on the other hand would have more to fear from if Blake didn't feel the same. If found out their current relationship as partners and friends would change and can add more tension to the team in general. This also can explain the "could you fall for me like I fell for you" as that would make things not one sided and ultimately, take any fear Yang would have about the situation away. But the romance in the song is also referred to as a "dream romance" which can imply the narrator doesn't think their crush actually reciprocates the feelings (again Sun and Blake have done this on some level).

Lastly, this song is a coming to terms song. The narrator is coming to terms that they are in love with this person. The narrator is trying to hide their feelings, trying to not fall in love with someone. Yet the final line of the song is "I'm in love". This is important because again the few times Yang has flirted was with men. In a sense this can also simply be a song about Yang coming to terms with her sexuality, which can further explain why the narrator is trying to hide their feelings and feels like the romance will never happen.

With the Vol 4 soundtrack practically out (I'm still waiting, thanks Amazon) we got BMBLB, a song that's being praised as the bees song showing Yang loves Blake. But songs, specifically RWBY songs, have a narrative and are known to have multiple parts (ex. Red Like Roses, Mirror Mirror). Not Fall in Love with You can be seen as part one of a story and part 2 can be BMBLB(this is based purely on lyrics I've seen). Not Fall in Love with You is about coming to terms with loving someone, and BMBLB is about embracing that love. Or as Yang coming to terms being into Blake and finally accepting that she is and embracing the hell out of it.

I want to point out that I am not trying to say BlackSun will never happen, or that Bumbleby will never happen. I am just making an observation about the songs from what we've seen in the show.