#ive tried so hard to make friends in the past. and ive given up now rly. im fine with what ive got. but anything new...

[andragoras-in-vanity]

i literally have anxiety about being single for fall again, i cant do this again and im still not living in nova scotia like im supposed to be and no one cares. my stomach literally is ripping itself apart because this fucking sucks and im touchstarved but im so sick of spineless little boys i cant even risk a hookup, which always make me feel like shit anyone like im cheating on someone ive never even met, and i dont know what to do about it, someone help please. in any way, just please help me.

[satuguro]

*ೃ࿐TO FAULT A NET

[ ACT III: CURIOSITY AND THE CAT ]

spider-man! ethan landry x black cat! reader

#SYNOPSIS— having one (1) friend is making you a bit too soft to your liking, your dad is dead and you make too many jokes about it, and you need a new suture kit.

#CONTAINS— enemies to lovers, slowburn, antihero&vigilante reader, familial issues, implication of ptsd, gore, blood, murder, death, sexual/suggestive content (in other parts), reader is overly flirtatious

#AUTHORSNOTE— tumblr pls let me write on my phone and still be able to see the words i type thank you xx

ACT I, ACT II, ACT III, ACT IV, ACT V, EPILOGUE

the doors to the police department flew open, nearly hitting some people who were exiting. ethan, eyes heavy with bags and hair tousled from being stuck in the mask all night, pushed past people who were waiting dutifully in front of the receptionists' desk, ignoring their protests and harsh exclaims.

the policeman sitting behind the desk didn't even seem fazed, only looking up at ethan boredly as he drawled, "sir, you're supposed to wait in line—"

"where's detective bailey?" ethan asked, eyes cold as he raised his head to peer deeper into the department. when no response was given quickly, he slammed his fist into the table. "where is he?!"

"ethan!" his head snapped towards his father's voice, his eyes welling in tears as he tried (and failed) to keep himself together. but seeing his father with no evident emotion on his face besides his red eyes, completely unlike how he was when richie died, ethan couldn't do it.

he walked up to his father, trying to push past him to make his way deeper into the department. "take me to where i can see her," he sniffed, shoving his father's hands away as he tried to stop him. "dad, i need to see her," he begged, shoving his father, hard, away from him. so hard, that he nearly was knocked off his feet, his face dropping at the sudden strength his youngest child exhibited.

but ethan was too focused on trying to find out where his sister's body was being kept to care.

two policemen came between him and the hallway deeper into the department, their hands hovering over their guns while another policeman grabbed ethan's arm, urging him to leave. he was crying now, just a mess of tears and healing bruises in the police department, but they didn't care.

"she's evidence, ethan. and they took me off the case—"

"she's my sister," he seethed, tears freely flowing down his face as he looked at his father in disbelief. nothing. ethan saw nothing in his face. "don't call her evidence. i need to see her," his voice cracked as he shoved himself away from the other policeman, reaching for his dad like he always did as a child. reaching for some reaction, something, anything, even the bare minimum, only to be shoved away and ignored. and this was no different, because even as he grabbed his arm and begged him to let him see his sister, to let him talk to her, to let him say goodbye, there was nothing.

"dad," ethan cried, reaching for his hand, only for him to move it away quickly. "dad, say something. please," he sniffed harshly, "i wasn't there—"

"and why weren't you?" the detective snapped, and ethan's face fell. "why weren't you there, ethan? what was so important that you weren't there?" his words became more accusatory by the second, and it suddenly felt like he was a child again, being yelled at for something that wasn't entirely his fault. "tell me!"

"i," ethan tried to force out, but the lump in his throat was too large. why wasn't he there? why didn't he make it on time? his dad was right. he had all the power in the world to be there in time, and yet he wasn't. "dad, please," he whispered, but his father was already walking away from him.

"you'll see her soon. but not now." he couldn't even look at him as he walked away, leaving his youngest standing alone in a waiting room full of people, tears dripping onto the tile.

"ethan?"

his head turned to the entrance, finding tara, sam, and chad all standing at the doorway. he couldn't even say a single word out, tears welling up in his eyes again as he tried to force out a sentence, a word, anything, but to no avail.

without another word, tara walked up to him and pulled him into a hug. ethan couldn't even bring himself to sob, only allowing the tears to fall freely as he felt the others' arms wrap around him. since then, he didn't utter a word. usually he had a hard time not speaking, but there was so much circling his head that he felt like he could say anything. he didn't have the energy to, so he sat in silence in the waiting room, waiting for the others to be done with their accounts.

tara was the first to come back. she seemed as shaken up as he was, her shaking hands shoved in her pockets as she walked to stand in front of ethan. she didn't say anything at first, as though she had been pondering her words before she spoke. "my friend drove us here. figured it'd be safer, even though the others don't really trust her."

ethan didn't look up, his eyes dead set on his lap. his hands were moving over each other, one over the other as though he was massaging them angrily. the massaging turned to picking at his hangnails for a moment, before returning to massaging. he was anxious; too many emotions and too much happening all at once.

it was a habit that had been going on for a long time, even when he was a kid. he was an anxious child; bullied for speaking too much and made fun of for being dorky, completely unlike his brother who was charming enough that people had actually liked him. but with his new powers that heightened his senses.. ethan found that when he was anxious, everything felt like overload. it all felt like too much.

"i need air," he murmured, standing up abruptly and moving past tara, ignoring her protests of, 'but it isn't safe!'

the cold night air hit his face, bringing a chill throughout his body that he would've found uncomfortable if he wasn't so desperate to be outside. ethan breathed in the air and let it freshen up his insides, trying to focus on the feeling of air expanding his lungs rather than the fact that his father blamed him for his sister's death.

the hairs on his neck stood up, making him immediately clench his fists and look around, walking a thin line between anger and fear as he looked for what had set off his senses in such a way.

you had been leaning against the side of the police department, obviously out of your element and only mildly perturbed by it. you didn't expect to settle into bed and have tara call you moments later, talking about the attack you had been in as well and how she'd rather get a ride from you rather than take the subway or walk. her reasoning made sense, but you didn't understand why she called you all of people. but sleep had been getting harder for you as the days passed, so you reluctantly agreed to bring her and her friend group to the department.

so you tried to seem as though you weren't uncomfortable loitering around the one place you had been avoiding for the majority of your life. but as you stared at the brunette who had been panicking not even a minute before he had seen you, you realized that maybe things weren't as bad for you as it was for him.

his eyes were red and his hands were repeatedly clenching and unclenching at his sides tightly. so tight, that you could see his knuckles pale despite the lack of light. he was looking at you, you realized, his huge puppy dog eyes glassy with tears and his brows furrowed as he raised a hand and quickly wiped away his tears.

you didn't say a word (you didn't even know him, what could have you said?), choosing to only tilt your head as you peered at his face.

he felt like you were studying him. taking in his features like a painting you'd stare at in a museum, studying the red of his eyes and the drip of his tears, the light dapple of freckles that had been fading due to the oncoming winter. he found himself swallowing down his need to cry so that he could force out a small, "what?" that sounded a lot less intimidating than he wanted it to sound.

"nothing," you said, and he was surprised to hear that your voice was so smooth. you were still looking at him though, probably coming up with your own judgement of him just by looking at his messed up state. you weren't, though— you were just trying to figure out whether you should show some simple human concern for once in your life.

but was some stranger worth it? in any other circumstance, the answer would’ve been simple, but there was something so familiar about the boy that it was

"you have a staring problem," ethan said defensively, facing away from you as he stared into the street.

"better than whatever's going on with you right now." the words fell from your mouth before you could stop them, the brutal honesty in that sentence taking even you aback by them. but they were out now, and you weren't the type to apologize for stuff you said.

you weren't the type. but as you stared holes into the back of his head, having a moral battle over some dude, you found yourself saying a quick, "sorry," that made you feel like you were suddenly naked out in the streets of new york.

“it’s fine. you’re probably right, anyways.” he sniffled, wiping the last bit of tears from his eyes. “i bet you’re having a hell of a better time than i am.”

you took in his words as you shoved yourself off the side of the building, walking ahead of you so that you stood horizontally from him. there was a distance between you both as you stood there, staring at the street. the silence wasn’t uncomfortable by any means, but the tension was making the air thick; the both of you were waiting for one of you to talk.

"my.. friend got attacked." this time you could feel his eyes on you, boring holes into your side profile as you avoided his gaze. "i had to pick her and her friends up. so, yeah, you're right," you sighed, and your breath came out in white steam, "my situation is probably better. doesn't mean i'm having a good time, though."

“there you are.”

you shut your mouth again at the sound of chad’s voice, turning to the others as they came exiting the station. you watched as chad looked at ethan concernedly, your eyebrows raising when you realized; he was one of tara's friends. that's why he looked so familiar.

you had never stayed around to see them for more than a few seconds. they were tara;s friends, not yours, and to simply linger as thy approached her after her singular lecture with you was far too weird for you. so you often kept your distance, choosing to walk away before she had the chance to introduce you, turning your back before they could ask you what your name was. having one person you considered a friend was dangerous enough in your line of work.

"you already met y/n," sam said to him, looking towards you with a tight lipped smile. "tara called her to drive us after—"

"after the attack, yeah," he was still looking at you with those doe eyes of his, taking in your seemingly nonchalant front. he wasn't blind to the feeling of familiarity he got when he saw you, but knowing now that you were one of tara's friends made sense. you were the girl they always saw walking out of psych lecture with her. "i'm ethan," he said, forcing a toothless smile.

"y/n." you nodded at him in acknowledgement before turning to the rest of the group. "where am i taking you guys?" you asked, starting to walk to your car, which was parked down the street.

"blackmore dorms," chad said, making you nod. "since the apartment is a no-go.. they can probably sleep in our dorm for a little bit, if that's okay," he glanced at ethan, who only nodded. "i'll bunk with ethan tonight, you two can sleep in my room," he said to tara and sam, who only nodded. both of them looked too beat up to even try and protest.

you walked up to your car— a black porsche carrera that your father had stolen before you were even born —unlocking it wordlessly.

"this is your car?" ethan couldn't help but ask, eyebrows raising at the sight of it. it was practically new despite its age, and the fact that you were a college student who casually owned a porsche was beyond him.

"that's what i said," chad said with a small chuckle, "what do your parents do again, y/n?"

"my dad's rotting dead 6 feet below," you responded dryly, unlocking the car for the rest of them and not even bothering to look at their reactions. when no laughs followed except for tara's amused snort, (tough crowd, you assumed), you peered at them with a cocked brow. "well? are we leaving?"

"right," chad mumbled, climbing into the backseat next to tara and sam while ethan took the passenger seat.

the ride to blackmore was quiet, the most of you far too focused on just getting home and sleeping. ethan's head rested on the window of your car, his eyes fluttering closed every once in a while as he struggled to stay awake. he was exhausted, having barely slept a wink between patrolling, school, and fighting off serial killers. his mind was far too focused on getting revenge on whoever killed his sister, but as he listened to the smooth hum of the car and the soft music that played through your radio, he found himself drifting off.

"did you talk to him for a little?" sam asked you from the backseat, and you nodded, your eyes still set on the road.

"yeah. granted, i didn't do much comforting. it's not really my forte, i guess." you sighed. "he seemed like in pretty bad shape."

"it was his sister," tara said softly, looking at ethan's sleeping face with empathy. "quinn. she didn't make it."

the rest of the ride was in silence.

he was jolted awake when his senses went off, sending that jolt of energy through his body and forcing his hand to grab your wrist before it could touch him. it looked like you were just trying to shake him awake, but as his hand wrapped around his wrist, you tore your hand away (with surprising strength) from his grasp.

"shit," you breathed, sending him a look as you tried to process what just happened. "your reflexes are crazy."

"sorry," ethan breathed, eyes traveling down to where your hands were, your other hand massaging your wrist as you stared at him. "i didn't bruise you, did i?"

"not in the way that i usually like," you grumbled, making a dusting of red appear over his cheeks. "it's fine, really. you're on edge."

"still," he mumbled, warily looking at your wrist. there wasn't a bruise forming, thankfully, but ethan often times found himself cautious of his own strength. he didn't want to accidentally hurt you just because he was anxious. "'m sorry anyways."

"it's okay. really."

a beat. "where did the others go?"

"they went ahead. tara 'n sam were tired so chad offered to bring them to your dorm while i woke you up." you shrugged, reclining your seat a bit as you unbuckled your seatbelt. your eyes drifted towards ethan, who was still sitting with his seatbelt, eyes staring holes into his lap. he seemed so far away, almost unreachable. "you don't have to go now," you found yourself saying, "take your time."

jesus, what was happening to you? first you get out of bed for a friend, now you found yourself telling some stranger to take their time with getting out of your car. you were losing minutes of sleep— you could be with your cats, and yet you were sitting in silence next to a boy you only knew the name of. the silence that should've felt uncomfortable simply.. didn't. the silence was comfortable; just two strangers sitting quietly alone in a car.

"okay," he glanced at you with a forced smile. "let's go."

you locked your car behind you as you walked next to ethan, digging your hands into the pockets of your pajamas. he seemed to be more tired than distressed as he trudged next to you, arms crossed over his chest. the night was cold and far more eerie; being attacked in the past hours would do that to you.

"do you live on campus?" ethan asked. he usually hated small talk, as he was one to never shut up to other people unless they were complete strangers. but he was silently thankful that you had been patient with him through the night, even letting him have a bit of time before he exited the car. he wasn't sure why he wanted to ask you questions.

maybe he was curious about you. maybe he wanted to know you.

"no," you replied smoothly, eyes set on the pavement ahead of you. "i have my own place."

"rich family?"

"yeah, their life insurance money was great," you lied in a monotone voice, eyebrows raising in surprise when you heard him stifle a chuckle. "i'm guessing you feeling a little better than before."

"arguably worse, actually," ethan said matter-of-factly, making you hum in response. "i think i'm just too tired to fully feel everything, y'know?"

"makes sense," you said, walking up to the entrance door and opening it with your card. "that's why we gotta get you into your dorm."

"but what about you?" you raised a brow at him as you shut the door behind you. ethan's brows furrowed as he tried to make sense of what he just said, having just blurted it out without another thought. "who'll bring you home?"

you blinked. "my car?" you couldn't decipher that look on his face, as though he was mentally turning over a plan around and around. for someone who seemed to always have something to say, he was suddenly rendered quiet. "are you worried about me?" your tone was teasing, but you were genuinely serious as you asked.

"i'm jus' worried about your safety, that's all!" his eyes widened in slight fear when your arms crossed over your chest, your eyes becoming more unsure by the second. "i mean, you can probably handle it on your own—"

"i can handle it on my own."

"but it's a murderer!" ethan exclaimed as he began to lead you to his dorm room. "you live alone, and no one watches over you— this sounds really bad and i'm sorry —but i don't know if you've watched horror movies, but that's basically how every single one starts!" a pause. "not that i'm saying you can't handle your own or anything!"

"may i remind you that you don't actually know me. we aren't friends." you said dryly, but even that didn't change his mind. you came to the conclusion then that he was far too stubborn for his own good. anxiety filled, almost too talkative, and closed off emotionally, but he was stubborn.

"that doesn't matter," ethan said with a shake of his head. he stopped in front of his dorm room door, looking at you with a worry ridden face. "do you," he swallowed thickly, "want to come in?"

"you already know the answer to that, eth."

"i know, but—" he looked at the warning look you had on your face. “fine. it was worth a shot." he stepped into his doorway, turning around to take the door. "good night, y/n."

"good night, ethan."

".. i went through their financial records dozens of times and this was not in any of them, it doesn't make sense," agent kirby grumbled, looking up warily at the fire escapes that hung over head. the alleyway was tucked away pretty well— you had only used it a few times when getting away, primarily because most of the police didn't even know the theatre nearby it existed.

"maybe you're just not that good at your job," you said under your breath.

"who brought little miss sunshine along?" kirby asked, sending you a warning look. you only gave her a sarcastic smile in response.

"i did," tara said as she walked next to sam. "she helped us last night."

that was an understatement. you consciously rubbed the bandage on your neck, which you had hidden under your jacket. you didn't want them thinking that you had gotten it because you had attacked them.

you had woken up to a text from tara asking if you wanted to come along and investigate. she was under the assumption that you wanted nothing to do with any of the murders, but you saw her invitation as an in. it'd allow you to be able to investigate from the inside, and truthfully, your curiosity was getting the best of you. you wanted to know who was behind everything.

“i told you that you didn’t have to come,” tara said pointedly, but you only shrugged in response, peering up at the spray painted killer on the brick wall.

“what else am i supposed to do nowadays?” you sighed, "helping you avoid murder feels just like another friday at this point." tara scoffed at your words, which made a downward smile appear on your face.

gale swiped her card down at the entrance way and opened it, allowing everyone to pile in. it was pitch black inside, lest and you found yourself gripping your bag tighter to your body, suddenly aware of the knife that was hidden inside of it.

if any one from the group saw it, they'd surely think that you were the murderer. if only they knew that you just liked being prepared.

"what is this place?" kirby asked, hand hovering over her gun as she looked around the dimly lit area.

"a movie theatre," you murmured, walking away from the group to explore further, until gale turned on the energy.

"how'd you know that?" mindy asked you cautiously, eyes furrowed as she looked you. of the entire group, she was the most distrustful of you (for good reason, honestly).

"new york born and raised," you responded with a shrug, "besides; my dad showed me once."

mindy clicked her tongue. "that's only mildly suspicious."

"can't even deny that," you muttered.

"but this place isn't just a movie theatre." gale weathers (who you had only ever seen from afar, as she was usually the one reporting all your burglaries) nodded over to the official entrance to the theatre, where some gears were turning as a run-down curtain was raised. "it's also a shrine."

you swallowed thickly as you entered, eyes widening at the sheer amount of all the souvenirs inside the rundown place. what once used to be a beautiful theatre was replaced by mannequins of outfits worn during the stab killings and glass cases full of what police would call evidence. knives of different variety, all still bloodied by their last victims, were posed proudly within the glass cases right next to sketches showing how they were used. drawings upon drawings of the survivors and legacy characters of the stab franchise was beside almost every item, and based off of the style, they were all from one person.

"they've got the whole god damn franchise," mindy said in shock, peering into one of the glass cases. her face fell when she saw the shirt on display, calling out, "chad," over her shoulder. as her twin walked up to her, she looked back at the black shirt. "this is uncle randy's," she breathed. "they've got everything."

you looked into one of the glass cases full of drawings of the original killers and original victims. they were all drawn with a meticulous hand; the artist was obsessed with them enough to be able to draw them repeatedly over and over. they studied their faces, from how they looked like when they were terrified all the way until their last breath.

"the same artist," you breathed, unaware that ethan had walked up next to you and looked into the same case.

"just one person." he seemed to be in deep thought, his brows furrowed as he stared at the artwork. "do you think one person's behind this?"

"god, no," you shook your head, "but i do think one person is more obsessed than the other. or at least, someone was." you glanced at him from the corner of your eye, watching as his tongue poked at his cheek as he read all the pieces of art.

you saw spider-man doing that once. you shook the thought out of your head as you focused your attention back on the evidence; you were sure that the masked hero would love to hear about this.

but as you stood next to the boy who was studying the artwork intently, a question popped into your head.

"so why are you here?" you asked him casually, crossing your arms over your chest. he turned to you, raising a brow at your sudden question.

ethan walked closer to you, tilting his head to the side as he looked at you suspiciously. "i could ask you the same thing."

"actually, tara—"

"it was so that we could keep an eye on you," chad interrupted, making the both of you snap your heads towards him. he managed a thin lipped smile, putting an arm onto one of the cases. "both of you."

mindy pointed two eyes at her eyes before pointing them at the both of you, her face nothing short of serious. if you weren't being suspected, you would've laughed.

"the killer must've found this place before he murdered jason and greg," gale explained, "and then he.. took the masks off the mannequins. all nine, from stuart and billie to amber and richie."

ethan swallowed thickly at the sound of his brother's name, turning away from the others as he tried to focus on something else. he could feel his father's eyes burn into the back of his skull. how convenient was it that he (and later, his family) moved to an entirely new state just to forget about his brother, only for it to bite him in the ass once he got here. he barely talked about his relation to his father to the others, much less the fact that they were all related to the killer who tried to kill them only a year prior. quinn and his father wanted to move on from richie too. at least, that was what they had told ethan.

"so somebody killed these chuckle fucks and took over?" chad asked, making you roll your eyes at the words he used.

"someone who believes that sam masterminded woodsboro," gal said with a nod.

"if this were a normal stab movie," mindy began, looking at all the cloaks that were left with no mask, "this would be the killer's lair."

"which means that this isn't a normal stab movie," you said with a sigh, "great."

tara's face was unreadable as she stared at the cloak labeled 'billy.' shaking her head, she turned around and left the theater without another word, sam following close behind her.

you sat alone at the edge of the stage, tapping your fingers on the wood as you let everyone figure out what the next move was. the sound of heavy footsteps made you look up, eyes narrowing when you saw detective bailey not too far from you, turning his head away from your vicinity. you couldn't tell whether he was staring at you or not, but there was an unsettling feeling in your chest that gave you enough of an answer.

you couldn't trust anyone.

they had dropped you off before they went on to their new plan. you claimed you had a lecture; and you technically did, but you never went to your lectures most of the time.

you gave them a fake address before walking home yourself. you didn't trust any of them— to casually give them your address was like a death wish. you knew better.

the black mask fit comfortably over your face as you pulled it over. while the others had their own plan, you had your own; you'd do some patrolling (jesus, who were you, spider-man?) and watch over them from afar. you were shoving a gun into your side before you heard someone knock on your bedroom window. immediately, you took out your gun and pointed it at the glass.

it was him. dressed in his suit as per usual, looking at you upside down. his mask was on half of his face, and he managed a toothy smile that made you roll your eyes in annoyance. shoving your gun back into your side pocket, you walked over to open the window for the hero.

"what did i say about friendly visits, spider?" you asked skeptically, moving back to your desk to get your items in place. his feet hit your hardwood floor gently as he swung into your home, shutting the window behind him.

"this isn't technically a visit," he said with a shrug, coming up next to you. he watched you put on your gloves with interest. "a little birdy told me that the stab survivors needed our help."

"and which little birdy is that?" you asked, not even looking up at him. you were too busy making sure every claw was working well, but you could feel him standing next to you. his back was to the edge of the table as he placed his weight comfortably on it. his hands were holding the edge of it as he talked freely with his mask pulled up half way.

"i just used my radio and asked them politely—"

".. you asked the police if you could help?"

"i asked detective kirby if i could help," he corrected, obviously exasperated by your surprise. "i needed an in, so i asked and she told me to be on standby. we'll just be listening to them on this," he pulled out a burner phone, setting it down on your table, "and they'll tell us where some action is happening."

"some action," you scoffed at his words, "that's one way to put it."

"how else am i supposed to put it? anyways, i decided to come here and politely invite you to join me, kitty." spider-man said with a tight-lipped smile. but as his eyes looked you up and down, realizing you were already fully ready, his smile faltered. "did you have your own plan?" he asked you curiously.

"i did." you said pointedly, unsheathing your claws before retracting them again. "i wanted to watch over them. lawfully stalk them to make sure they're still breathing or whatever." there was an odd silence that hung in the air as you worked diligently on your claws. "you seem to be in a better mood than yesterday," you commented, glancing at him from your peripherals before focusing back on your weapons. "are you really feeling that way, spider?"

spider-man cleared his throat at that. truthfully, ethan was masking everything again. he wanted to feel like himself, to be able to freely joke and banter with others how he used to, but everything seemed so forced now. all he felt, all he really felt was anger. he wanted to get revenge, and for once in his life, he was willing to stoop as low as richie and kill for what he believed in.

he hated that you saw right through his act. it was as though you had ignored every forced smile he flashed, ignored how he was desperately trying to feel like himself again, and ignored his light hearted facade.

you knew he was lying to you.

ethan stayed quiet. you knew what that silence meant.

"thought so," you murmured. you looked down at the burner phone, the black screen reflecting your own face back to you. "can i ask how you knew her?" you asked him, your curiosity getting the better of you.

"who?"

"quinn." you looked up at him. "there was only one person killed in that attack. quinn bailey, the detective's daughter." his jaw clenched when he heard her name come out of your mouth, his adams apple bobbing as he swallowed thickly.

"just a friend i knew," ethan said, the lie coming out like a taboo secret. to refer to his own sister as just a friend pained him. "i was close to her. incredibly close to her and i wasn't there in time to save her. i couldn't get there in time." he seemed to be millions of miles away as he talked, his eyes set on the floor.

you stayed silent for once, letting the silence surround the both of you. he didn't continue, seemingly too deep in his head to say more about the subject, and you understood that. you knew how that felt, to be physically in one place and mentally somewhere else. "if you're blaming yourself, you're a lot stupider than i thought. none of it is your fault."

you were so nonchalant, as though your words were factual. you never truly lied unless it was for your own gain, and that alone made you distrustful, but as you casually stated his innocence in the whole scheme of things, ethan found himself looking at you with hopeful eyes. he believed you, and whether that was dangerous of not, he wasn't sure.

"don't even say anything, it'll ruin the moment," you added dryly, sending him a warning look.

the burner phone began to ring, making the hero immediately click answer (crazy reflexes). kirby's panicked voice rang through the speaker. "gale weathers' house! upper west side—"

"west 96th," you interrupted, already opening the window.

spider-man blinked as he quickly hung up, already crawling out the window. he pulled his mask over the rest of his face. "how did you know that?" he offered a hand out to you,

"i was thinking of stealing her shit before all this," you grumbled, taking his hand. he pulled you close to him, his hand finding your waist as your arms wrapped around his neck.

"typical." he shot another web up, and you tried not to scream as you were suddenly brought up into the sky, the wind whipping in your face as he began to make his way to the upper west side.

the sun had set significantly by the time you made it, your leg coming up to kick through one of the bedroom windows. spider-man came in right after you, barely making a sound as he listened for any sounds. it was so quiet. even as you stepped towards the ajar door of the bedroom, not a single sound was heard.

you crept out into the hallway, hand grabbing your gun and raising it. spiderman crawled above you as you walked slowly down the hallway, catching a glimpse of blue as you did. looking up at the hero, you nodded in the direction of where you had seen it. he nodded in response, crawling ahead quietly.

gale had seen him as he crawled up the side of her wall, his finger coming up to his mask in a 'shh' motion. she nodded, the phone still up against her ear as she spoke, "the brains and the sex appeal," she responded, turning around to try and find the killer. but all she saw was her dead boyfriend on the ground of her living room, the killer nowhere to be seen. but then she saw you, gun in hand as you pointed it around you, your eyes looking into her's and practically begging her to not say a word.

you heard the muffled talking of the killer through the phone, your gun pointed opposite of where gale had her's pointed.

"can you hold, please?" gale asked, and you raised your eyebrows, turning to her in shock. but she quickly redialed the number, making a loud ringing sound appear from the closet.

you shot it. once. twice. five times, walking closer with each step.

ethan felt that familiar chill run through his body, his eyes widening as he yelled, "watch out!"

the doors flew open as ghostface jumped through, their knife nearly piercing your shoulder as they did. you jumped back before they could reach you, shooting your gun at them and groaning when it didn't stop them. "gale, get back!" you yelled over your shoulder, watching as spider-man swung down to kick them away from you.

ghostface quickly got up as spider-man shot his webs at them, their dodges quick as they tried to lunge at him with their knife.

but as they raised it up to throw it at the hero, you shot their arm, making them groan in pain and let go of their weapon. they fell to the ground, spider-man shooting yet another web at them to stick their feet to the floor.

he was so close to getting him. he was only feet away, walking closer as he did, his hands curling into fists as anger coursed through his veins. they were stuck. they had no way of leaving, no way of escaping.

"remove his mask," you told him, the curiosity almost too much as you kept your gun pointed at him. gale stood behind you, her eyes wary as she watched the hero walk closer. "spider, remove his mask—"

he threw a punch at the killer. the mask didn't fall off, but the groan of pain he heard was enough that he wanted to keep going. ethan kicked their stomach, his anger growing at the lack of response as he kicked it again. and again.

they killed his sister.

another kick.

they slit her throat. they stabbed her and twisted the knife into her chest. they took away the person that cared for him when his dad didn't, who paid attention to him when all his father really cared about was richie. the one family member who truly loved him and cared for him like any older sister would. they killed her.

and ethan didn't even get to say goodbye.

he could feel tears burning his eyes as he grabbed them by the collar, raising them as much as he could with their foot stuck against the floor. he punched them hard, and that's when he felt it. his nerves going crazy, electrifying his body, and before he knew it, all he felt was pain.

his hand went to the hilt of the knife they had stabbed into him. right into the lower left of his torso, and your gun rang as you shot the killer in the chest. they pulled the knife out with them as they collapsed on the floor.

and as he stumbled to the ground, you caught him. "spider? oh fuck," your breaths were heavy as you immediately applied pressure to his wound, eyes wide as you tried to stop the bleeding. your heart was pounding harder and faster in your chest. he was bleeding so much, the crimson pooling into the palms of your hands as you applied as much pressure as you could.

gale rushed forward, her hand going over yours as her eyes, wide and panicked, looked at you. "you have to take him to the hospital."

"i can't—"

"do you want to save him?!" gale demanded, staring right into your eyes.

"i'll be fine," he seethed through gritted teeth, the pain growing as he tried to move. "i can't go to the hospital. i have to—" he coughed harshly and tasted iron. "i have to get him—"

"are you people fucking crazy?!" gale cried out, looking at the hero in disbelief. "you need help!"

"i'm not letting you get back at them.." your words died in your throat when you looked back at where the killer was supposed to be.

they were gone.

the hero groaned as he pushed himself up, ignoring the way you and gale tried to keep him laying down. "where are they?" he demanded, his head whipping around as he tried to look for the killer. it felt like all his hope for getting his revenge was lost in a blink of an eye. he got away from him again, and he was so close. he had him in his hands. "where are they?"

"we have to get you help," you urged, hearing the ding of the elevator as the carpenter sisters ran in. surely the police was close behind.

"i can't leave, please—" he was pleading with you now, gripping your arm tightly as he tried to change your mind, as he tried to make you forget that he was literally bleeding all over your hands. the warmth of his blood made your eyes glass over as past memories ran rampant through your head, but you prevailed.

"we need to get you help. now." you looked into the eyes of his mask, eyes serious. "please. let's go."

he swung the both of you through your apartment window, groaning as he pulled his mask over half of his face and laid on your bedroom floor. you hurriedly shut the window behind you as you ran to get the medical supplies you needed. your hands were shaking, you realized, as you grabbed your first aid kit and tried to calm your body down.

"dad? dad—" your panicked voice rang through your father's head as he stumbled into your home, his hand holding his side. you were so young, still so full of life and completely oblivious to his line of work. but a heist had gone much too wrong, and with no family, no trust is anyone, he had nothing but you, his 7 year old daughter.

"y/n, get the kit in the bathroom under the sink," he managed past heavy breaths, coughing to his side and spitting blood onto the rug of your living room. you were crying now, eyes blurring over in tears as you pressed against where his hand was, your breathing picking up when blood gushed out of him.

"spider? hey, you gotta stay with me, okay?" you said as you ran back to his side, helping him get onto your bed. you sniffled harshly as you grabbed the first aid kit.

you grabbed the first aid kit with shaking hands, the once-white plastic staining red with your father's blood. "i don't know what i'm doing, i don't know what i'm doing," you said over and over, whispering the words like a panicked mantra.

you could feel the walls of your room tower over you as you forced the box open, grabbing the gauze and bandages with trembling fingers. it was different when it was someone else. it was different when the entire situation reminded you of when you realized your father wasn't who he said he was. that he was a criminal, and after keeping it a secret from you for nearly a decade, his cover was blown.

"kitty," spider managed to say, staring at your wide, horrified eyes as you struggled to clean the blood around his wound. you looked terrified. "look at me."

you ignored his words, taking the roll of gauze and beginning to wound pack his stab wound. the red pool that seemed to grow larger and larger around him made your breath hitch.

he was bleeding everywhere. the pool of red underneath him seemed to grow with every passing moment, and you were crying. sobbing as you tried to listen to your dad's instructions of how to wound pack a bullet wound.

you couldn't think straight. it felt like you were reliving the moment again, as though you were barely 7 with your father's blood on your hands.

you heard him hiss in pain as you continued to press the gauze into his wound, but you kept going. everything was white noise to you as you kept wound packing, frustrated tears dripping from your eyes when the red continued to seep into the white of the gauze. "fuck," you muttered under your breath, grabbing another roll of gauze.

he bit down on his lip to keep himself from screaming, head falling back as he tried to focus on something. anything that would keep his mind off of the stabbing. "please, talk to me," he said, pulling his head back up to look at you. "just talk about something. anything."

you packed the gauze into his wound as you sniffled harshly. "i was 7 when i patched up my first wound. my dad," you swallowed hard, "my dad came home with a bullet wound."

"your father was the original black cat," spider-man said, groaning in pain before he could get another word out.

"he was." you had never admitted that to anyone before. "but i didn't know. not until i was patching up his bullet wound on the living room floor." you felt your heart rate slow when you saw no right of blood seeping through the wound. you had to suture him up.

you slowly began to remove some of the packing gauze, your brows furrowing when you realized his own body was healing him from the inside. slowly but surely, his own powers had stopped the bleeding. all you had to do was suture him.

"you were so young," he managed to say before letting out a whimper of pain. "fuck! sorry i can't talk that much all this hurts really bad and the fact that i couldn't get them—"

"it's fine." you looked into the eyes of his mask. you turned back to the wound, grabbing your suture kit (you really had to get a new one) and taking the needle, thread, and forceps.

"it's not fine. it really isn't fine." the needle pierced his skin and he winced, teeth biting harder into his bottom lip. "i should've thought before going to attack them, i should've removed their mask—"

"stop."

"i shouldn't have let them get away." guilt consumed his every being as he spilled his heart out to you, tears blurring his vision. "i was just.. i was just so angry at them because they killed her. they killed my sister, and i couldn't do anything about it because i wasn't there. i was too fucking late."

his sister. your actions paused when your eyes widened in realization.

"it was his sister," tara said softly, looking at ethan's sleeping face with empathy. "quinn. she didn't make it."

ACT IV, ACT V, EPILOGUE

#AUTHOR'S NOTE— pls feel free to ask me for nsfw/sfw headcanons about this series! & thank you all for being so supportive xx

#TAGLIST— @ethanlvndry , @iloveneilperry , @starsfilm , @goosenoggin , @aminatic , @wenvierismycomfort , @l5byrinth , @wroetoslut , @briefwinnerpersonaturtle , @oliviapopewannabe , @wzrlds , @raggedyoldwitch , @hotweeb , @marsyay78 , @valenftcrush , @bonkyandsteeb3000 , @bubs-world , @danis-stuff-is-here , @nuhteyam , @ravenstrueluv , @taeversity , @heartipods

[kalcifers-blog]

IRIS FILES - ROBBIE THE ZOMBIE

CW - Physical/Mental Deterioration, Derealization, Rotting Alive, Zombification, Bugs/Insects, Medical Horror

Word Count: 994

Character Count: 4,271

CLASSIFICATION: ALTR 181502

ALTR AGE: 24 YRS OLD

ALTR HEIGHT: 5 “5

ALTR SEX: X

ALTR STATUS: UNSTABLE

ALTR INFO: 18152 contracted an unknown illness after an encounter with ALTR 114209. He was advised to keep track of his symptoms in the form of a journal; IRIS Researchers have secured the journal to track 18152's both physical and mental development.

08/09/2016

“Not been great lately, I've had cold or flu symptoms for the past two weeks, really has been messing with my focus, not great for when I'm trying to study or play as well as I usually can but I've been pushing through it!

I'm still a bit shaken up from that creepy ass guy from last month- it messed with me. I'm glad IRIS is here to help out with my case tho, hopefully they catch the freak. I keep getting all fidgety and anxious whenever I'm out in public. I mean I guess that's normal after something like that but still, doesn't make it easier. I would hang out with friends to make me feel safer but I don't wanna get them sick, hopefully this'll pass

-R”

15/09/2016

“God my head will not stop pounding, I got my headache about 2 days ago, it started off only occasionally but god it just keeps flaring up and more often. My flu hasn't gotten any better. It makes it hard to do anything, I keep getting by, slowly but surely.

-R”

22/09/2016

“Been bed ridden this week- I thought rest would probably help but, every time I sleep I keep dreaming of that guy- I don't remember it fully and it's probably just some weird trauma thing but he keeps.. I don't really know how to describe it? He keeps warping. I don't know its probably just some dream shit”

29/09/2016

“haven't been able to eat properly.. keep feeling this itch on my neck, its not bad just annoying mostly. My phone hurts my eyes. Keep dreaming of creeper.im sure he didn't actually look like that. Sorry for the bad handwriting, I'm so tired nd my hands hurt. Might try sleeping again”

30/09/2016

“woke up and puked, pretty badly too- dreaming of that guy hurts my head”

05/10/2016

“Really should call a doctor I think. I did call IRIS, I'm sure I did, they said they'd send someone over. No one came- my body hurts, everywhere it's just this dull ache. I might try

and shower or something. I don't know what to do at this point- no ones coming I've waited and waited and no one showed. The itching got worse, I don't know what's wrong with me I just need someone to come help”

“Why is no one answering my calls???”

12/10/2016

“Tried to shower, clumps of my hair just- came out. I just cried something is wrong with me I called IRIS again I told them it was urgent and I need help. The creeper answered me. It couldn't have been real- but it made me throw my phone accidentally. It broke and I can't get it to work again. I can't keep going on like this. The itching keeps spreading too- it now feels like things are crawling in my organs. I can't scratch there”

“Threw up again, mostly blood- it was clumpy, I think it was bits of my throat. It hurts my throat to breathe let alone talk”

16/10/2016

“The man in my room can't be here- I didn't let anyone in, he shouldn't be here”

23/10/2016

“I found out why I feel like there things crawling in me. I threw up a dead bug. The itching keeps going. I think I need to leave”

“I left my apartment. The air stung and I felt everyone's eyes on me. I don't care i just need help”

“IRIS won't let me in. Or near anyone.”

30/10/2016

“They're keeping me here. They keep giving me things. They poked IVs in me- the skin just teared away. It hurt so much, it feels good to actually be given medication. It's not kicked in yet but I think it should soon. The nurse gave me a funny look when I described my creep to him. I don't know, I just wanna sleep”

IRIS Supplemental:

ALTR 181502, previously known as Robert “Robbie” James, was announced as clinically dead to the public on 05/11/2016. Within the IRIS Foundation however it should be known that ALTR 181502, while maintaining a “corpse-like” appearance, is very much alive. IRIS researchers and medics have been working on a plausible theory on the rapid and alarming decline in ATLR 181502’s health after an apparent encounter with ALTR 114209. This variation of effects with 114209 seems to be an outlier. But until a working theory has been confirmed, the containment is highly necessary for both ALTR 181502 and for the wider public. Some IRIS staff have left due to unknown illnesses after contact with ALTR 181502. Their symptoms are yet to be examined but they are all in highly secure quarantine zones until they are confirmed to not be carrying a “Zombie Virus” as the research staff seem to be calling it.

As for ALTR 181502- exact details of his initial encounter with ALTR 114209 are documented in his original report to IRIS. His condition remains unpleasant. And it seems the best we can hope for is to keep him in containment until we understand what's going on.

The journal, as well as the remainder of ALTR 181502's belongings have been quarantined or burned. We managed to digitise his IRIS issued journal for the research sake. In said journal we believe the figure he describes is ALTR 114209- as it is within it's behaviour to torment it's victims while they are in mental distress.

It was discovered, by one such medic, after attempting an autopsy on ALTR 181502, that he is very much no longer human. If the hive of moth larvae that has eaten away at all of his organs have anything to say about it at least. How he still is living, albeit not pleasantly, is about as good a guess as yours as it is mine.

End Supplemental.

[hetalia-club]

Giving you this bc ur like, the only hetalia blog i still follow that still posts. But like.

Okay back in 2018-2019(?) i had a pretty big hetalia phase, i watched hetafacts videos n every episode that was on YouTube, i listened to the music on repeat. It was a major hyperfixation before i knew that i was autistic.

For the longest time after i stopped, engaging with hetalia for some reason i would. Cringe really hard whenever i saw anything hetalia related. Like. On ao3 when you go to search things it tells you how to search things and one i got (and keep getting) is like "hetalia tag:f/f" or something idk how proper ao3 searches work. Id like screenshot it and go to my friends n say "it haunts me" or some shit.

But like recently ive been. Embracing that part of my past? I guess? Like. Almost like coming to terms with it? Idk i started having a less bad reaction n like, realized it probably one of the more normal fandoms i was in. I was, cringe, as all kids are, but i was. Happy.

And then like. At a sleepover a few weeks ago, one thing leads to another and im telling my friend abt the songs and how ich leibe is. Just a recipe, and how i used to listen to almost all of the songs. I show them the clip of France trying to get England to sign a marriage contract, America ordering fucking condoms from Russia.

It has been at least 2 weeks since, and i can feel the hyperfixation coming back, half the music ive been listening too again is hetalia character songs (theyre so fucking good???) and ive been getting. Urges to watch the show and. I dont know how to feel or what to do?? Like. I'm afraid almost to get back into hetalia? Like i watched black butler a while ago, and i realized how. Theres some weird fucking tension between ceil n sebastian n i think im afraid im going to have that same reaction to hetalia?

Cause like there is shit i just completely forgot about. Like. The Bad Touch Trio. And im scared man.

Im sorry to fuckin, give you all of this, but i just. I dont know what to do ig. None of my friends like or used to like hetalia, the one i do info dump hetalia stuff too does not like hetalia and is learning shit about it against their will.

Idk, should i watch the show again? Is it, good? I genuinely can't remember anymore.

Sorry for using ur ask box like a confessional

I mean I’m right there with you man. The sole reason I am still in the Hetalia fandom is because hetalia got me through some real dark chapters and events in my life. I discovered Hetalia years ago in Highschool while with a very abusive ex who had to know everything I was doing at any given time. He wouldn’t let me go anywhere without him there. I tried to break up with him but he actually wouldn’t let me. He would threaten to off himself if I did so I felt bad because his mom was an alcoholic and his houses burned down. I stopped really going anywhere at all because if I did he would come with me and he ruined my relationships with most of my friends just by being ‘the worst’. I stopped cheerleading, I got depression really bad, I started to do terrible in all my classes but I discovered Hetalia while on deviant art and was instantly intrigued. It was like “idk what this is but I will now make it my personality”

Years later while with my most recent abusive Ex that I just broke up with last November I got back into Hetalia when our relationship started to get really bad and hard to cope wit on my own. I needed an escape and something to help me avoid him and no care so much about his insults something that I could think about instead of being sad all the time. Hetalia is something that just brings me joy. Instead of venting to people, getting therapy or increasing my meds Hetalia was just always there to go back to and escape. No idea what it is about it. Won’t go into details about the relationship, it’s irrelevant right now but I’m sure you can guess.

To answer your question, no Hetalia isn’t ‘good’ it makes zero sense and is confusing as hell. But for me it’s fun to use as a spring board for basically any kind of AU I could think up. The characters can fit into any type of situation you want to shove them in.

I would say give it a rewatch, as much as you want anyway. What is the worst that could happen? You continue an interest that brought you joy? Worst case. You are a bit cringe? Who cares if you are cringe if you are happy? Also not encouraging you to live a double life but if you are embarrassed to like Hetalia you don’t actually have to tell anyone how obsessed with it you are. No one but my ex knows how much I like Hetalia and he really has no idea just how deep I am in this shit. But if people knowing about one of your interests humiliates you then just don’t share it. At the end of the day it’s your comfort and it makes you happy it’s no one’s business.

There are a lot of old fandom tropes that have disappears the BTT being one of them. They put them as a group still but I guess they call it ‘bad friends ti’ now. There are still some things that make me side eye. But that’s every fandom I feel. You can choose who you wish to associate with and who you want to block or avoid. It’s your blog you don’t own an explanation to anyone.

Personally I don’t interact much with the people of the fandom itself I got a few people it talk to every now and again but really i just do my own thing. I write my own fics for myself. I got my little tumblr, discord and TikTok, I post about my little AUs and dumb thoughts and continue on. If people want to follow me that’s great, welcome. If they don’t that’s cool to!

Thanks for sticking around with me even after your Interest in Hetalia fizzled out tho haha! That had to be difficult I am very annoying at times I’m sure 😭.

Again worst thing that could happen than if you are a bit cringe. But not being cringe is boring as hell. Irl I’m one of the most normal bitches you could find. Carbon copy white girl. Absolutely no one would guess I were a Hetalia obsessed loser irl. In a line up you could not pick me out and guess my interests. So in February I got my hair done right? I got like. 500 dollar biolage it fades from brown to strawberry blonde. Want to know the reason I got this hair style? Because of Italy that’s why. I wanted red hair like him. Did I tell anyone that? No. When people said they liked my hair and asked me why I went red I would just go “idk just felt like it” but I would be thinking about him knowing the real answer.

Good luck anon, if you stick around welcome back the water is fine. If you don’t can you toss me that life vest up there if you don’t mind? Thank you!

[trainerbob23]

Update: no I’m not dead, I just want to address some things.

Hey everyone, I just want to address a lot of things that happened over these past couple weeks, no I am not dead or did not get myself killed, I want to be completely up forward, and honest with everyone.

But first, I’ll address the big elephant in the room: probably around 2 to 3 weeks ago. I almost tried to kill myself, the reason I had almost done that was because there was so much stress going on around me (schoolwork, world news and even just straight up scared for the future) and all these events accumulated into to the point where felt like I thought that was the right thing to. Now I realize that it wasn’t the right thing to do. it would’ve been way worse because I had many people that were worried about me. I want to apologize for the people that I have worried. There has been a lot of difficult stuff these past couple of days (it could be roughly because of my weight gain, and I have been really insecure about my body which is the second reason)

The second reason is that I legitimately felt really insecure about my body. I felt like a big, flat slob weight that secure around. ( I weigh myself at 209 pounds when I used to be at at least 199 pounds) I just thought that was a big accomplishment at the time right now I just wanted to lose all this weight it just has been really difficult for myself to give up all these food and wine. Mom and Dad forced me to eat every day because they want me to finish it up, they are not bad people or anything, but I need to be aware of how much I eat

Possibly the reason that is that I’m probably gonna get a lot of flack for this, but I just given up hope for this world, and I just wanted to generally take a break from every social media platform but there’s a lot of people on the Internet that apparently say that your a monster if you do that taking a break from world news sort of thing. It just made me feel so guilty all around and I just don’t want people to be upset. I just felt legitimately stressed out over everything to the point where basically almost did it.  I had wanted to stay positive even after all the stuff that’s been going on, but I feel like I fail. And made all of you guys scared it just made me feel guilty as well for trying to literally kms over everything. Ive Probably just need a break in general from all the bad stuff that is happening.

I just wish there was a lot of positive stuff happening around in the world but apparently that is not even possible anymore, is already gone off the deep end so much to the point where I feel kinda hopeless for everything, I wish there was this restart in humanity as a whole, I just wish there was no war at all. I just wish I didnt desperately doomscroll so much. I wish I didn’t have this mentality, but that’s not even freaking possible anymore. This whole world has gone to shit and I’m sick of all of this world in general. I’ll try to keep living as a whole for my family, friends and everyone, but It’s a hard reality that we live in sadly. I’m not going to do really horrible stuff to myself. Maybe I just need to take a break off of here for probably ever.

I’m really sorry for not posting these past couple weeks. I have been trying to make sure that something like this never happened again. I’ll try to come back with a better mindset. I promise <3

thank you for reading everyone. Have a good one

[rathayibacter]

Ask meme: Death, The Tower Reversed, Nine of Swords

[ask game here]

going off the beaten path, nice! ill try and do em justice lol

Death: Talk about an idea you’d love to make that no-one would expect from you.

this ones real tricky cuz i feel like my output is really eclectic. ive got some weird ideas in the books (like a collection of parallel-history card games, or a game-riddle that you can only play twice) but i dont know how many of them would be surprising coming from me, yknow? maybe the zine about how to run a Tarrasque would, given my noted.... disdain for dnd, but that wouldnt even really be about dnd yknow?

The Tower: Talk about about a game you tried to make that crashed and burned. Reversed: Talk about a game you were surprised didn't crash and burn.

ill do both of these! i had a game years back (pretty sure inspired by a Prokopetz post) called Party Planners, where youre a high-level adventuring party who spends more of their time throwing galas and managing your reputation as heroes and adventurers than you do actually saving the world. the idea was you had to meticulously schedule everything with a diegetic calendar, so you could make sure to attend all your rivals' events, set up your own, and fit in some adventuring on the side. new dungeons would pop up periodically and everyone would scramble to explore them first for the best loot and biggest bragging rights, but can you afford to do that when the same weekend youve gotta accept an honorary diploma from the wizard school? sadly the concept never got anywhere past "god thatd be really funny" despite trying to make little prototypes several times. i did wind up using a pared-down version of the calendar mechanic in Unskilled Labor though, so thats neat!

and for the flipside, BXLLET! i think ive told this story before, but i had BXLLET 95% done on my hard drive for three months before i finished and released it, because for some reason i was really struggling to get it to a place i was happy with and didnt wanna look at it. if it werent for my friends' passion about it, i dont know that i would have released it at all! which is such a weird thought now that its undeniably my most successful game, lmao. just goes to show, perfectionism's the enemy! reject its vile promises and put yourself out there, flawed and vulnerable, and let the chips fall where they may!

and hmm. nine of swords is usually associated with doubts and anxiety, which i kinda covered in the tower reversed, so lets take a slightly different spin on it

Nine of Swords: What's something you don't think you'll ever master, or that you struggle with every time?

working on large, long-term projects is definitely a struggle for me. ive been getting better at it, im happy with how KATABASIS is coming along even if i wish i could put out releases faster, but i definitely long to be one of those folks who can disappear for a few months and come back with 300 pages yknow? as it is i tend to juggle a couple projects at once, and then switch between them as the mood strikes or as i get blocked on something, and that helps me get things done but doesnt really lend itself to working on A Magnum Opus yknow

on a much more minor note, i wanna get better at worldbuilding around food. i cook! a lot! im pretty good at it! and yet for some reason whenever i sit down to write about food it doesnt come out right lmao

[nevalizona]

For the Ellis & Ivy Prompt bc I love the fact that you’ve given more depth to Ellis’ character than what the game gives🥹 I figured i’d take one from each section but you don’t have to answer all of ‘em if you don’t want to:

I. #8,

II. #1,

III. #8,

& IV. #9

Ohmygod😭😭😭😭 thank you for the kind words! I'm always so afraid that I'm ""ruining"" Ellis or not capturing him correctly, so that was very nice to read🩷 one of my answers got long as hell so they're gonna be under the cut. Thank you so much for sending these it!

Pre-Relationship

7. How do their friends and family feel about them as a couple?

When Ivy Nicole and Ellis first started dating, it became very clear that these two were gonna be a handful. They are both rather energetic, and they enjoy having a good time. Sammy was nervous that they would both encourage each other to get into trouble. The first time, both of them showed up to Mass hungover, Ellis got such an earful. Ivy Nicole was lectured by Father James as well. Both of them "laughed about it" but knew that they really fucked up. They tried not to let that happen again.

Once they started seriously dating, Sammy definitely came around to the two of them. He saw the kind of woman Ivy Nicole was and knew that she wasn't all bad. She just seemed to struggle with doing the right thing. Ellis is similar. They both get impulsive about something, letting their emotions fuel their decisions. Ellis was just expected to be a little better about that. He can be accountable. Ivy Nicole is still learning how to do all that. Father James likes the two of them together. He thinks that, in their own way, they're good for one another. He knows Ivy Nicole's heart and her struggles, and he knows that Ellis will always be understanding. Ivy Nicole has a big heart as well and is looking for anything to help fill it. She's strongly empathetic, and tries hard to give him a space away from everything else, so he can talk about his feelings, thoughts about the future, whatever with her, and not have to worry about anyone judging him or telling him he can't do something.

Now, when it comes to Ivy Nicole's family, it took her a long time to tell them about Ellis. Not because she wanted to hide him from her family. Rather, she wanted to keep him as a safe space for as long as she could. Running away to New Bordeaux was, in her opinion, the best choice she ever made. She loves being there. Loves the people. Loves the community she has been able to find. Ivy Nicole has a very complicated relationship with her family. She has the tendency to think that they'd ruin anything they'd touch. She wanted to keep Ellis, and by extension, Sammy and Father James, away from her family, to keep them safe and whole. To her surprise, her family was very excited about her Ellis. They wanted to meet him and Sammy as soon as they could. Ivy Nicole was nervous about that, nervous her mom and dad would say something about her past, nervous her brothers were going to be too protective. But it went better than she thought it would. Turns out, her parents just want her to be happy. Who would have known? They loved Ellis, and he seemed to get along well with them. Her mother enjoyed talking to Sammy. Her father floated between talking to both Ellis and Sammy and tried to make sure Ivy Nicole's oldest brother acted right. Ivy Nicole was both relieved and disappointed that her favorite brother wasn't able to meet Ellis and Sammy. He was in jail at the time. He never got to meet them. He didn’t get out until ‘69. 

General

2. Who initiated the relationship, and how did they go about it?

Ooo! Ellis approached her first, but neither initiated the relationship per se. They just kind of realized they were dating. Or they might as well say they're dating because they practically have been for a bit. They were just hanging out in Ellis’ room one evening, and Ivy Nicole just kinda reached over and grabbed his hands and was like ‘Are we dating? Have we been dating?” And Ellis was like “Holy shit! I guess so!” They both were very happy afterward and smiling at each other like crazy.

Love

8. Do they prefer verbal or physical affection?

Ooo, they love both! I think they think they like physical affection the most, but really, they both love verbal affection. It's easy to touch, but talking doesn't come naturally. So when either of them finally work up the courage to tell the other how much they love and care about the other person, it makes them feel even more “fulfilled” than they thought it would.

Domestic Life

9. How do they celebrate holidays?

They're not the most traditional people in the world. I think it's important for them to like cover the basics, but I dont think they beat themselves up over following things to a T. They like decorating for the holiday and the actual celebrating of it, but when it comes to the nitty gritty, they do the best they can.

[empty-blog-for-lurking]

Okay, so remember that concept with allura having amnesia? Ive been thinking about that. a lot. and how it related to kuron specifically-

Beacuse there are PARALELLS here. They both have to deal with a legacy left by a past version of them and they both irreversibly change as people. Kuron resents Shiro and what he represents, and allura struggles with living up to the mysticisied and glorified hero everyone tells her shes supposed to be. and its like- if they talked about it like NORMAL PEOPLE, if Kuron had ANY emotional intelligence left, they would see that they have a lot in common actually!!

BUT. at the same time. I dont think its really possible for them to do that, at least right now, beacuse a huge fuckin part of kurons trauma was caused by allura fucking KILLING HIM, and hes understandably pissed about it. and i think that allura not remembering anything would only make him even more upset, bc everyone besides him mourned and idolisied her, and constantly hearing how great and noble the person who killed you was must suck ass, and then she COMES BACK, and maybe Kuron wants to yell at her and make her feel guilty for what she did and he wants to look her in the face and tell her exactly what he thinks about her- but he CANT. beacuse she killed him, took his body from him, and she DOESNT REMEMBER.

i dont really know where i'm going with this, but. yeah. this whole situation propably sucks ass for both of them(maybe theyll never reconsile. Maybe they wont end up as friends. And that's okay!! its cool to think about tho)

Bestie, my friend, my dude, my guy, mere yaar, yOU HIT THE NAIL RIGHT ON THE SPOT!!!!

So much of post s8 au is people who could have understood one another but dont because of the trauma everyone has, and Allura and Kuron are prime examples of it.

Kuron is not happy with her at all and all this 'hero worship' around her just further exacerbates it cause she used his body to bring back Shiro. Didnt even care that they were friends, didnt even care that he was a person, didnt even care that he may have been still alive, just used his body to bring Shiro back. And he hates her for it and hates people treating her like a hero and would have let her know that she's the worst but what is the point of that? She isnt here is she? She's dead and gone and they couldnt even bring back a body to bury because nothing of her left. So really what is the point of hating a dead woman? He avoids anything and every thing to do with her, and just tries very hard not to think about her, no bad vibes here sir we are just chillin hahahaha 😎😎😎😎😎

.......and then she comes back! And oh boy. Kuron is not having a good time at all. He is still very much avoiding her. If she's in the room, he's leaving the room and if he cant than being extremely snide and just glaring at her. Like he truly does want to explode on her and many times came close as well, but than he just walks out and screams in a pillow.

Allura has no fucking clue what to do with him. She doesnt even know him, doesnt know what his problem is, and thinks he's annoying. Really annoying and rude and she knows when she isnt wanted. Like she has met some genuinely terrible people on her journey throughout multiverse and Kuron is definately much better than them but also?? He's a fucking cunt. Everyone else is on the edge around him but no one wants to talk about it. And fine! Whatever! It's not like she's curious about what the fuck is up with this guy, or why he's the only one who doesnt look at her and is either about to cry or look at her like she personally put stars in the sky. She has too many problems and doesnt have the time for some dude's hostility.

But like once she knows about the whole mind replacing thing? Either because she was told or because she remembered bits and pieces. She's going to feel so guilty about it! Like crushing guilt. She'll try to make it up to him but given that he doesnt want to talk to her and even if he did she is convinced he probably hates her and doesnt want to see hom so she just. Going down the guilt spiral. Along with everything else

And yeah I think Kuron can never forgive Allura just like how he can never forgive Shiro. But i also think they'll come to an understanding and realize that they are similar and learn how to live with their pasts without it consuming them.

[rt-lots]

hiii um i wrote a hypnospace outlaw thingy... ive never shared my writing before so i am VERY nervous and i dont know how common this'll be 4 me but ya 👍

au where zane n corey paul r in the same school and also friends... in a mildly gay way

just fyi this isnt my usual writing style. unless you like it then actually i write like this exclusively and also all the time

word count is 1275 hope u likey 🙏

Zane has never heard of a tuba cover before. To him, it sounds pretty freaking stupid.

The tuba is not an instrument Zane has ever had any conscious thought about. To him, it's solely a background instrument for nerds in band to play at school assemblies. It's not really music- not like sick-as-crap electric guitar, bass or drums. It's the instrument you take out for marches, raising school spirit, and looking really lame.

Corey Paul, of course, feels differently.

The tuba is a beautiful instrument, both in sound and aesthetic. He likes how the gold tube wraps in on and around itself, almost making art with its function. It looks purposeful, because it is, and that air of maturity makes for good art. Corey also likes the sound of the tuba. He'd never really been an outgoing kid. His voice cracks under pressure or when he laughs too much and he's never had anything important enough to say with confidence. The tuba, though, is loud by default. Its sound is rich and deep, filling the room and demanding your attention. Corey likes that; he likes that the tuba knows what it wants, and both looks and sounds good doing it.

Zane's never really had much of a reason to give a crap what Corey thinks, though. They're friends, sure, but they both know where their interests lie. Corey had once tried bridging the gap by asking Zane if he could tuba him a song for his game, but quickly shut that down after being laughed at in his face.

Point is- it was fine. Corey could be a class clown comedian with an ugly instrument and Zane could be the X-Slayer game developer with all around superior tastes. Neither needed to change the other's mind.

…Which is why Corey's next move confuses him.

Corey stops Zane after his last class, doing that thing he does where he bounces on his heels in excitement. Corey and Zane have a schedule of hanging out every Thursday after school, and it's Monday, so he's not expecting him to come barreling into Mrs. Patterson's classroom, wheezing with excess energy, like he was rushing to see him. He doesn't expect Corey, someone usually so uptight about his personal space, to eagerly grab his shoulder, either, but he does that too, and it isn't terrible.

Through the breaths of an unathletic teenager who just ran down two flights of stairs and through a hall, Corey explains he has a surprise for Zane, something he's been working really hard on, and he just finished it so he has to come see it right now. Although confused, Zane doesn't have any gripes with this, and he tells Corey to just wait a minute for him to pack his things and he'll come see. Corey's hand retreats from his shoulder like a wounded animal, but he's still smiling as he says OK.

Zane thinks it's gross Corey's taking him to the Band Hall, otherwise known in his mind as Nerdface Central, but he reminds himself that Corey apparently worked hard on something for him, so he should hold back on any unsavory comments- just for a little bit.

Corey leads him to the center of the hall, up an elevated stage platform and to a white soor on the left. Zane feels some apprehension going in, like Corey's just asked him to walk straight into a teacher's lounge, but Corey opens the door and holds it for him, and the gesture is so homey that it'd feel wrong to do anything other than walk straight in.

The room past the door is significantly smaller, and seems to be some kind of closet. The room is entirely cleared out save for a small speaker, Corey's tuba case on the ground, and two chairs around it. Given that the chair furthest from him is right behind the tuba case, Zane assumes the other chair is for him, and slides his backpack off his shoulder, letting it fall to the ground before he sits in his seat.

The door shuts behind him and Corey hurries over to the speaker. Zane asks him what's the surprise but Corey unsurprisingly tells him to be patient. There's a small MP3 player attached to the speaker, and Corey fiddles with it some before pressing play. No sound comes out, but Corey doesn't seem alarmed, instead simply reaching down to his case and setting up his Tuba. He gently hauls it up into his lap and adjusts it accordingly, ready to be played. Zane feels a weird sort of antsy about it, and asks Corey again why exactly he's here. This time, Corey just smiles, and answers: "I found a Nothing Left For Me instrumental online."

Suddenly, the music starts.

Zane would recognize that intro anywhere, even when scraped to just its fundamentals. The realization is sudden, but interrupted by the deep tone of Corey's tuba. Zane almost can't hear the music over the tuba at first, but he's quick to notice how the instrumental and Corey's playing interact with eachother; they're meant to be the same song

Corey is playing him a tuba cover of Nothing Left For Me.

That sentence is about the lamest string of words Zane can possibly think of, but it really doesn't feel that way in the moment. Zane knows about Seepage- everything about Seepage- and he knows they don't post tutorials on how to play tuba covers of their music. For Corey to be playing a cover of Zane's favorite song, for him, on the freaking tuba, he'd have to have come up with the composition himself.

Usually, when receiving a gift, Zane doesn't feel much beyond a vague sense of hype and excitement. But imagining Corey listening to Nothing Left For Me for hours, reimagining it in a medium he could replicate, just to play it for Zane? He feels… flattered, which isn't a feeling he's used to.

A part of the back of Zane's mind is still arguing whether or not he likes this gift. Throwing Seepage's electric metal awesomeness into the ringer only for it to come out the end of a tuba should be a disgrace to Seepage itself, it says, and Zane agrees… just only in theory. Because maybe Corey didn't just listen to the song, maybe he had an understanding of what made it so awesome to Zane in the first place. And maybe that's why it manages to sound pretty good- even with a tuba.

Zane honestly didn't realize Corey liked him that much. As much as his cool punk persona was totally based in reality, he'd never had all that many friends. Not close ones, anyway. He hung out with dudes, they hung out with him, and that was about the end of it. None of his other buddies would make him a gift, nevertheless perform it for him. Does this mean something, then? Had Corey put nearly as much thought into this as Zane is thinking he did? The confrontation of this sudden fondness is confusing, and Zane doesn't know much of what to do with it.

Conveniently, of course, the music stops then, leaving a small bit of silence where Zane isn't totally snapped out of whatever train of thought Corey's sent him on. Corey either doesn't notice or doesn't care, and simply moves the interaction along with a "So? Did you like it?"

Zane looks Corey in the eye, past his square wire frame glasses and dorky grin. He smiles, all teeth, and a quick laugh escapes him, entirely gratitude and nerves as his ears burn a little behind him.

"Dude, you're really good!"

[auroraescritora]

THERE'S NO PLACE LIKE HOME - PERCY/NICO AU HIGH SCHOOL - CHAPTER VI

Hi, how's everyone? I've had limited time to write, that's why the delay in the chapter. Things will get slower, but I'll do my best to deliver a chapter per week, even if it's on the weekend. So in this chapter things start to get more interesting. Just keep in mind that my characters are never perfect, okay? But I do try to make them likable.

Have a nice read!

Previous chapters: CHAPTER I / CHAPTER II / CHAPTER III / CHAPTER IV / CHAPTER V

Nico had a feeling he was doing something very wrong, like he was staining the picture Percy had of him. But they'd already touched like that, slept in the same bed naked, and now they walked down the halls, hand in hand, like the boyfriends he said they weren't, so what if... if he showed Percy how much he meant to him? Especially given the way Percy took care of him last night? Nico just wanted to return the gesture. Then, as one who wants nothing, he said::

"Per, I need to go to the bathroom."

Without waiting, Nico ignored the bell for the second period and took Percy by the hand, leading him towards the bathroom in the sports court area that would be empty at that time of day. Percy just tilted his head, all confused and followed him without question, while Nico tried to act normal so as not to spoil the surprise, thinking it was too innocent even for him, but honestly? He wanted Percy to see how nice it was to be cornered and without any warning.

Nico didn't give Percy much time to think at all. As soon as they entered the bathroom, he guided Percy to one of the cubicles, closed the door and put his hands on Percy's shoulders, pushing him back until Percy hit the wall with his back. Nico couldn't believe how much fun it was to see Percy's eyes widen and his breathing become faster when he hadn't even started yet.

And why waste more time? Looking into Percy's eyes, he let his hands slide down as he knelt between Percy's legs, Nico put his face over Percy's crotch and toched the place over the jeans, letting his mouth come closer, kissing the fabric that already it had a good noticeable bulge.

He looked up and smiled, but Percy didn't smile back. No, he was all tense, shoulders straight, jaw set, breathing fast and hands fisted at his sides. This used to happen in the past too when Nico pretended not to see and not to know what was going on; this was Percy horny and trying to hide it, trying so hard to be the nice, honorable boy everyone thought he was. I mean, Percy was the best, it was the high libido that Nico wasn't willing to deal with back then.

Well, now things had changed, or rather, evolved. What could he say? Nico admitted he was slow to do things that people his age were already experienced. By the time he'd found himself alone and regretting every decision that involved sex, particularly for not dealing well with Percy and…and kissing, it was too late. On the other side of the world and after the shock had worn off, he'd missed Percy so much that he'd wanted to go right back and tell him he was wrong, begging for forgiveness. In the end, his family thought it best for them to stay there for a while.

It didn't matter anymore, he rather focus on the moment, on the way Percy tried to control himself, all tense and anxious, trying not to touch him, but as Percy had promised, his friend wouldn't force him. Deep down, Percy was right; he would say one thing and do the opposite. Maybe he was just kneeling between Percy's legs because Percy said he wouldn't do it again, and Nico wanted to test how committed Percy was. Nico finally took his hands to the button on Percy's pants and unfastened it, about to unzip it down when Percy grabbed his hands.

"What are you doing?” Percy was practically accusing him and he was practically laughing in Percy's face, feeling vindicated for that morning on the stairs and with his sister.

"You don’t want to?”

“You said you wanted to take it slow.”

"Isn't this slow for you?"

“Nico!” Percy ground out through his teeth, keeping his voice low. “I'm trying and you're not helping.”

“I just wanted to make it up to you, you treated me so well last night…”

As he batted his eyelashes as innocently as he could manage, speaking all sweet and nice, Nico saw the moment Percy collapsed against the wall, his expression a mixture of frustration and anguish so intense that Nico couldn't take it, he rested his chin on Percy’s leg and laughed, giggling, letting his chuckles echo through the empty bathroom.

"I knew you would get back at me."

"Just a little.” Nico said between laughs. "But the offer is still on."

"It is?" Percy mumbled, now calmer and more in control, taking one of his hands to Nico's hair, stroking it gently. And Nico liked that a lot, the firm, confident voice and steady touch, how Percy made sure what was going on with him before letting his libido take over. That’s why Percy deserved a reward.

He finally lowered the zipper and slid his fingers inside Percy's underwear, searching until he found warm skin and the erect member, pulling it out, admiring the size and width, the warmth of him. Nico knew this was going to sound cliché, but…but it was big and long and heavy, and full of bulging veins and wet at the tip in a way that made him want to lick it until it was wet again.

"You don’t need to.” Nico heard in a whisper at the same time that Percy's hands came to the back of his neck, touching him slow and nice. Percy's voice was too close, making him see that Percy had leaned over him, and that he was now tugging by the roots os his hair, forcing Nico to face him before kissing his lips all sweet and soft, as if trying to seduce him: " You don't have to. Never. If you don’t want to.”

"I want.” If there’s one thing Nico learned in all this time away from Percy is exactly that, he liked it a lot, was the only thing he'd realy enjoyed before last night. But he wouldn't say that to Percy, too afraid to see Percy’s reaction. It was easier to act and let things happen.

Then, taking courage and still watching Percy's reaction, he held on the base and brought his lips to the head. He licked like an ice cream before sealing his lips around it, sucking, slow and tight, making sure his teeth were out of the way. Then, to test the walters, he made a slight pressure with his lips and slid down a little, bobbing his head even more slowly and finally hearing the first moan come from Percy, shuddering when Percy pulled his hair hard, forcing him to move away from his cock.

"Who taught you that?"

“I had a boyfriend, you know?

“You said you didn't have sex. And this is sex.”

"Yeah?”

“If someone is having pleasure and enjoying it, it's sex.”

“Hmm.” He murmured, licking his lips. Percy was even more attractive when he got all... intense.

Nico shouldn't think about those things, he knew he shouldn't. It wasn't his fault if Percy kept holding him by the hair like he belonged to Percy or if Percy kept staring at him with that fire in his eyes, like a caged animal wanting revenge. He felt like he needed psychological help, but in the meantime Nico could have fun, couldn't he?

"Are you going to fuck my mouth?"

“Wha-what?”

"Maybe you want--"

"Say no more!" Percy roared in frustration, moving closer to Nico’s face. " You want to kill me? What did I do to deserve this?”

“Per.”

“Where did my shy, innocent litlle boy go, hm?”

“He got lonely and decided to get company. But his company wasn’t very kind.”

Percy whimpered in frustration, seeming to grab onto the last threads of control he still had in, and kissed Nico again, this time tongue and all, holding him by the neck tight and strong. But that wasn't enough anymore, he wanted... Nico wanted to suck Percy until he felt cum go down his throat, and that's what he would have. When Percy finally let him breathe, he opened his mouth wide open, wetted his lips and slid them along the length of the Percy's cock, hearing a long groan and a thud somewhere near them; Nico opened his eyes to see what had happened, it was Percy who had punched the wall behind him and had his eyes squeezed shut and lips bitten, holding back his moans. Yes, he could feel Percy throbbing on his tongue, seeming to grow bigger even further. It was at that moment that Nico sighed and relaxed his face, allowing those last inches to reach the back of his throat.

He was willing to confess, he had choked, rushing things a litlle bit. It was all worth it when Percy threw back his head and grabbed hold of his hair again, guiding and moving his head. It was beautiful, was magical, to see the instant Percy grabbed him hard and when he least expected it, his mouth was being moved on that fat cock, over and over again, feeling Percy's balls hit his chin while he just he stood there, hands in his lap, watching the scene unfold and… ah… letting Percy control his body, pinned against the wall beside the toilet. Nico didn't even realize when Percy had come, founding himself swallowing around Percy, slow and leisurely, sniffling and floating, hearing Percy grunt only to be lifted suddenly by his hair and then by his waist; Percy was cleaning his face and holding him in the safety of his arms, touching him everywhere Percy could reach.

“Nico, baby?” Then, he was groaning himself when Percy opened his pants and found wetness there. Everywhere. "Did you come?"

He…he thought he had. It was something that had maybe happened once or twice before… but it didn't matter. Nico was floating and Percy held him back so he wouldn't go too far, as his lips came down against his once more, and again and again, until… Nico didn't know… well, until his feet touched the ground once again.

***

"All good?”

Now they were out of the bathroom, walking towards the cafeteria after splashing water on their faces and getting a peppermint candy. He wasn't proud, but they had lost a lot of time between waking up, talking to Bianca, driving to school and... going to the bathroom. His throat was still dry and heis lips swollen, his knees ached, and a phantom sensation lingered in Nico’s scalp where Percy had pulled. However, he couldn't control that nice feeling at the bottom of his stomach, content and satisfied, by what he saw. Percy, instead of holding his hand, clutched his waist, all possessive, staring down at anyone who looked at him for longer than three seconds. Nico had missed that too. And that made him a terrible person.

“Nico.”

“Hm?” He replied when Percy stopped in the middle of the hall, touching his face and making him look at him.

"I'm very sorry. I didn't want that to happen. It doesn't have to change anything between us.”

So that was it. Percy was really afraid he was going to run off to Italy like he had before.

“Per, I wanted to.”

To prove that everything was fine, he stood on hid tiptoe, wrapped his arms around Percy's neck and brought their lips together, letting his eyes close for a moment. Percy immediately wrapped his arms around his waist and kissed him back, all intense, nibbling his lips and tangling their tongues together, stealing his breath.

He heard a clearing of a throat and a hiss, but he didn't care, it was too late to worry about what people would say. Right now he needed to calm Percy down and let him know that everything was fine. Then, he released his lips and remained in Percy's arms, taking his hands to his friend's hair, trying to comfort him.

"Relax, all right? I was enjoying the moment.”

"Enjoying?” Percy repeated, frowning, perhaps squeezing him tighter still.

"I liked.” He shrugged, trying not to laugh or blush, as the crease in Percy's face deepened. "What's wrong with that?"

“If you like it that much, you didn't have to go that far.”

Nico almost rolled his eyes, he knew how jealous Percy could be and he knew how jealous he  himself could be back. It’d always been like this, the reason that really scared him and forced him to run away, showing him feelings he couldn't handle. He knew exactly what would happen if he came back, and here was the proof, the possessiveness personified. He knew he shouldn't, but he'd missed that too.

“Per.” Was all he’d said for a few moments and Percy ducked his head slightly, seeming to realize what he was doing. "I'm here now, aren't I? I promise it's everything I learned in Italy.”

It was a lie, of course. Even though he was technically still a virgin.

"Really? If that were true, you wouldn't have to promise me anything.” But that was enough for Percy to lose his murderous expression and his face softened into a sweet, if slightly suspicious look.

A little nice kiss followed, a brush of lips soft and wet, hands sliding around the back of his neck in an affectionate caress.

"I promise it won't happen again."

“Don't promise what you can't deliver." Nico said when finally the butterflies in his stomach calmed down and he added: "I don't care if it happens again.”

"Sorry.” Percy said in his usual tone, seeming back to normal.

Percy shrugged and finally took a step back, looking at Nico with a bright smile, only to lift one of his hands and smooth Nico's hair back, Percy's hands sliding to Nico's neck, and only then did Nico realize that Percy was massaging the side of his neck, because the area throbbed slightly.

"Hickey?"

Another thing that didn't surprise him. I mean, how could he not see? It wasn't the first time this had happened.

"Are you a dog?” Nico grumbled not really caring, the rest of his body wasn't much better. And how could he have the right to complain when he could see a hickey high up on Percy's chest where the shirt didn't hide the skin?

" Sorry.” Percy said once more, his smile widening.

Yeah, looks like nothing has changed.

"Do you want to eat something?”

Why not? He let Percy take his waist again and they both walked towards the canteen. Percy ordered for them, a juice, a milkshake and a piece of pie without asking for permission. Bianca would’ve been outraged if she saw how Percy hadn't even let him speak, as if he didn't have the ability to. The truth is, he would hardly have noticed this behavior if his ex hadn't done the same to him months ago. He had been offended at the time, finally starting to understand the problem, seeing what his former friends said. And now, watching Percy take the order and bring it to the table they were at... it was still hard to care when it came to Percy.

Apparently, a blindness came over him when he saw those green eyes and puppy smile.

"Aren't you hungry? Want something else?”

"No, thanks.”

He took the first bite and felt so happy to taste the same flavor, even if his happiness had another reason. Was this happiness so intense just because Percy did this for him?

“Eat slowly.”

"Yes, Dad. I’ll eat properly.”

Percy didn't look the least bit impressed by the joke. He grimaced and took the napkin, wiping the corner of Nico's mouth, saying, “Please.”

And Nico? He just smiled and continued eating contentedly, happy to know that nothing had changed; the care and concern still evident, only now sex had become part of their relationship, finally filling in what was missing.

"Thanks.” Nico said without thinking, watching Percy throw away his napkin. “I never said how grateful I am.”

“I don't want your gratitude.” Percy then glared at him, trying hard not to get all serious and spoil the happy mood. But he couldn't fool Nico.

"I know. I wanted you to know.”

"Then, what?”

“This between us has nothing to do with gratitude. But I’m grateful.”

Nico wanted to say more, wanted to say that he never wanted to hurt Percy and that he would never leave him again. Instead, Nico took Percy's hand and smiled at him. Immediately, the surrounding environment became light again and the world around them stopped spinning, in the midst of all that chaos creating a little place just for the two of them.

***

"Exactly who I was looking for!"

Nico blinked rapidly, looking away from Percy’s gaze, looking surprised by the interruption.

Percy sighed. Who else could it be? Grover and Luke, of course. It made no difference to Percy who got in their way, all he knew was that he regretted having friends like his. But he refused to let Nico walk away; keeping Nico's hand over his, he turned to his friends:

"What do you want?”

Hearing Nico laughing at him, he held Nico’s hand even more firmly, and he just didn't complain more because Nico moments later rested his head on Percy’s shoulder, all sweet, soft and innocent, his black eyes radiating happiness.

"Where were you? You missed a test.” Luke said.

"Are you going to the practice?" Grover added. Both had strange smiles on their faces.

" What?”

"Looks like mosquitoes bit you. Hard night?”

Percy just sighed, he was too tired for their little jokes.

"Percy, man! You disappeared! You don't answer your cell anymore?”

"Whatever.”

“Ohhhh it's one of those days.” Luke said, nodding, pretending to be thinking about something serious.

“No, it's one of those 'baby day'. Don't you remember?”

“No! Danger, danger! We better not get close.”

Luke took Grover's arm, and together they took three steps back, still facing them, as if they didn't want to turn their backs on a wild animal.

“You guys are unbelievable.” Percy muttered, trying not to let the memories remind him why these moments were called "baby days".

"We just wanted to know how you were going!" Grover yelled, already pulling away. “It's good to see you again, Nico.”

Luke nodded, smiling, still dragging Grover away.

"Baby days? What does that mean?” Nico said when they finally disappeared across the cafeteria, staring at him with a curious expression.

"It’s nothing.”

"Nothing?” Nico insisted. “Does this have to do with the days we used to stay at home without seeing anyone?”

"Maybe.”

Part of the time it had to do with the depression Nico was trying to hide, but other times, calm and happy, it had to do with him wanting Nico's attention all to himself. It was something they didn’t know at the time, Percy found out he had it too, a milder version, but regardeless, it still was depression.

"How cute. You even have a name for it.” Nico's voice was playful, so Percy thought it’s safe to put a hand on Nico's shoulder and pull him closer.

“It wasn't my idea.”

"I know. It’s funny.”

"What is funny?”

“Everyone but me saw what was going on.”

"When you say it like that, it sounds like I've played you." Percy said, taking off his chest what he'd been hiding for years.

“It wasn't exactly like that. Deep down, I knew.”

“You weren't ready.”

" I wasn’t.” Nico said in a final tone with his head still resting on Percy’s shoulder, meaning he didn't want to talk about it. Not that they needed to, as it was obvious. He knew Nico only said those things to reassure him. The truth was that Nico had shown himself to be much stronger and more independent than he was, and that if Nico said all those things it was to make him feel better, Percy could even imagine what else Nico had noticed and if those things had been why he needed to cross the ocean to feel safe.

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Thank you for reading! Your presence and your feedback make all the difference. Like, I'm thinking of turning this story into an original as soon as I finish it, so any constructive comments are very welcome.

See you next!

[stoportotouch]

today, i present to you... a little... and...? le vesconte playlist.

sorry for the slightly silly title but i cannot stress enough how much the relationship between these two has the potential to fuck me up. it really is... little feels too much as a result of his trauma. le vesconte feels too little because of it. and the one time that they could have stood to sympathise with each other or meet in the middle, when ned was at his very lowest, dundy tries but not hard enough.

i. we will commit wolf murder | of montreal

when i die i want you to die too, not try to stay in this all in a dimension without you, spit on this planet without you i envy you because you could believe in things like i never could and, like, dose yourself into a coma over the bestiality of our race.

ii. big black bull comes like a caesar | munly and the lee lewis harlots

when my brother was a child, he was given an animal he raised it up to be a big black bull; it never did low, or pitch, or sway it never ride on the back of a flatbed

iii. we are gods! we are wolves! | le loup

we spent our darkest days howling at the moon, close enough to see our low condition. and did you ever wish that we were one? have you ever known your maker? could you lead your song aloft the mountain tops? you could never swing that dagger.

iv. alexander's feast, part ii: 'revenge, revenge! timotheus cries' | george frederick handel

behold a ghastly band, a ghastly band each a torch in his hand these are grecian ghosts, that in battle were slain and unburied remain: inglorious on the plain.

v. the killing type | amanda palmer

but i would kill to make you feel; i'd kill to move your face an inch i see you staring into space, i want to stick my fist into your mouth and twist your arctic heart

vi. a soreness so familiar it soon becomes unquestioned | crywank

when i sass you with a smile i see you didn't notice the quiver in my voice, the fact my bow is broken i had a nosebleed when i woke up then i didn't go to work i find my problems are all first-world but still i'm feeling hurt am i just a spoiled brat who taught themselves how to cry? who's so preconditioned now all their emotions are a lie? i close my eyes and look inside; no surprise i find nothing. it's people who shape each other and people are disgusting.

vii. alligator teeth | mother falcon

i will turn my friends to gold, for the treasury to hold them safely while they dream and how they dream, if they dream

viii. land of broken promises | iamx

turn the bad blood into good, bring the laughter, bring the love drink again 'cause everyone forgets in the land of broken promises

ix. puppet loosely strung | the correspondents

in the past you would have been seen as a family's disgrace now they think you're putting on a brave face they might fear that one day they'll wear your shoes but you're the one who's laughing; you had nothing to lose

x. great vacation | dirt poor robins

romans and countrymen, please lend me your ears: there's some late-breaking news i know you'd like to hear but the papers won't print it, and the tvs just won't air. nobody gets the word, 'cause there's nobody there.

xi. incident in a medical clinic | rasputina

quite unbelievably, i want someone to be sweet to me when i'm in absolutely horrible pain.

xii. incitatus | mishkin fitzgerald

my left hand is a whip and a bandage, free to choose where the mark or brand is each one knows how to hide in the carnage: hey're hiding, they're hiding. time's running out for the rats in the playground, cut straight down like a thief in a small town shots rack em up, pin a tail on the donkey: you've got a lot to answer for.

xiii. inside of you, in spite of you | thoushaltnot

i am inside of you, in spite of you with strength and sacred grace but for all you do, i'll carry you from this bitter place

xiv. god help you dumb boy | reverend glasseye

'dumb boy, what are you made of?' my eyes are lazy, my skin doth flake. 'then what good can you do?' not so much as men like you. 'dumb boy, what do you see?' a lesser man, coming down on me. 'tell us, what will you do?' i'll let my axe come down on you.

xv. the hand that feeds | the crane wives

i've seen good men spoiled, chained to their jobs like hounds they work, and sleep, and work again; in the darkest nights they howl their cries are a warning to everyone following: no man should stand to work all of his days and have nothing at the end of them.

xvi. what have they done to you now? | daniel knox

what have they done to you now? old familiar friends to fill your heart with grief and agony a little friendly conversation, character assassination i just don't care any more. i don't wanna know.

xvii. we'll all soon be dead | this way to the egress

the pitchfork's in the hay and we'll live another day as long as we can get through one more night this land's getting rotten, and i have to shake my head 'cause the cattle's sick and we'll all soon be dead.

xviii. lullaby | american murder song

troubles, and marks, and sakes to keep blow out the candle and go to sleep. high hang the moon that looks to the west, tied to your pillow, and twice 'round your chest

xix. danse macabre | the oh hellos

xx. my nightmare | phemiec

in my mightmare tonight, i'll see me, all consumed and attempting to sing disharmonious tunes with you asynchronicity, i am in misery i am in misery! what has been done to me?

xxi. hellfire | the mechanisms

your soul is connected to the world you're in you're dragging it down with the weight of your sin surrounded by temptation, and you just give in. we're falling into the flames.

xxii. edward | american murder song

after the spring, you shall find him after the snow leaves the hill after the spring, you shall find him. 'till then, there's no grave to fill.

xxiii. july | american murder song

outside, the tree coughed up blood 'stead of leaves coughs from the floorboards, coughs from the eaves i climbed the coughing tree, noose on my sleeve: i ain't going nowhere; i ain't going going nowhere.

xxiv. no children | the mountain goats

and i hope when you think of me years down the line, you can't find one good thing to say and i'd hope that if i found the strength to walk out, you'd stay the hell out of my way.

xxv. leather for hell | bitter ruin

euthanasia is gonna save ya; it's the kindest thing to do and you don't know it yet but every time you take that breath ten thousand other people suffer 'cause they feel the way i do.

xxvi. a deer mistaking candles for headlights | crywank

does the blank stare scare you more than the frown? am i the reason that you feel down? distant yet rational; bringer of rage to get to a level where i will engage i am a tentacle; incapacitated obstacle. i am obsolete and apathetic, thoughtlessly apologetic watch my actions (or lack thereof) negate the person that i said i was.

xxvii. eat you | caravan of thieves

i'm gonna eat you, you're my desire i'm gonna sharpen all my teeth and build a fire. i'm gonna eat you; cook and defeat you i'm gonna breathe you in my lungs and make you mine.

xxviii. destroy everything you touch | unwoman

destroy everything you touch today. destroy me this way anything that may desert you, so it cannot hurt you you only have to look behind you, at who's undermined you destroy everything you touch today. please. destroy me this way.

xxix. heretic pride | the mountain goats

i want to cry out, but i don't scream and i don't shout and i feel so proud to be alive and i feel so proud when the reckoning arrives.

xxx. pump shanty | the mechanisms

a transport mission, gone awry attacked by cole and left to fry is no excuse, boys, let us cry: "today is not the day we die!"

xxxi. bremen | pigpen theatre co.

but how long did we think we could walk, we could sing before our voices gave out and our limbs gave in on the road, on the road, on the road, on the road, on the way, on the way, on the way to bremen, to bremen, to bremen

xxxii. automatonic electronic harmonics | steam powered giraffe

i am not an unimaginable thing; my thoughts are tangible though they're full of springs i don't have the heart to send you untruthful words my skin is cold to the touch and made from the earth

xxxiii. never love an anchor | the crane wives

there are times when i still wonder about you: you are someone i have loved, but never known and you'll never see the reasons i had for keeping my claws away when they were close enough to hurt you. i am selfish, i am broken, i am cruel: i am all the things they might have said to you do you ever think of me and my two hands and wonder why they never soothed your fevers

xxxiv. my mom | kimya dawson

and he goes limp in your arms all the peoples' mouths are moving all you hear are car alarms and you wake up and start to cry i will lose my shit if even one more person i know dies so please don't die.

xxxv. allies or enemies | the crane wives

remember when i could tell you not to smile when you were mad and you would always crack, and we'd both be laughing in the end now you're not so quick to forget -- are we allies or enemies what happens now, do we have another go do we bow out and take our separate roads i'll admit, i've had my doubts, but i want to be let in, not out

xxxvi. beneath the brine | the family crest

now my heart is bound, like a plague upon this sound and oh, it slips away, such soft decay -- then it grows oh, young love, young dear, why have you taken me from the fall all of my love, all of my life, given to you, sacrificed stay clear of the wreckage: she goes down, down, down

xxxvii. mars | sleeping at last

though time is ruthless, it showed us kindness in the end by slowing down enough: a second chance to make amends so we found our way back home, let our cuts and bruises heal while a brand-new war began, a war that no-one else could feel

xxxviii. dance while the sky crashes down | jason webley

like that, the earth begins to quiver, and all the oceans turn to black a ship of maniacs with knives are playing blackjack with their lives to kill the time until the giant rats attack it's raining leprosy and acid; the saints were taken out and shot when someone proffers you a pear you sink your teeth in unaware that just beneath the skin lies pestilence and rot

xxxix. animal skin | bryan dunn

i can see it in their eyes: they're coming for you, honey painted faces, sharpened knives. do you think it's funny if you dress it up, you'll have to break it in but you never look better than when you wear your animal skin

xl. love, love, love | the mountain goats

love, love is gonna lead you by the hand into a white and soundless place now we see things as in a mirror, dimly then, we shall see each other face to face and way out in seattle young kurt cobain snuck out to the greenhouse, put a bullet through his brain snakes in the grass beneath our feet, rain in the clouds above some moments last forever, but some flair out with love, love, love

[shaaaaaaar]

god i don’t think loneliness has ever felt as bad as it has this summer.

ive had more intense feelings of loneliness in my life than i feel now, but this sensation of loneliness feels worse. it’s the pain of being given all you could ever want but having it be taken away before you can truly relish in it.

across the past year i’ve built and developed such meaningful connections with people. for the first time irl i had a group of people i was close to that actually shared hobbies with me. people that made me realize just how touch-starved i am and to understand my needs better, people that taught me how to say “i love you” because they showed me how strong platonic love can be. people that loved me for all of me.

i had never been told before that someone loves all of me including my best and my worst. i had never been told thank you after rambling for like an hour about something. ive had genuinely amazing people in my life before, kind and funny and that are cool as hell. but i never had the type of friend group i formed in the past year.

but then i had to graduate. before i was ready to be gone from everyone. and they’re all right on my phone, but it’s not the same because a lot of what made it special was having people that are right there with me. and we still haven’t found our footing online, our little discord server we use still hasn’t found its footing (which if i said i wasn’t part of the problem i’d be a liar), i’m not as connected with people and i’m not doing things with people and i was supposed to be doing more than i am, that’s what i told myself and what i told other people and what other people expect from me.

i’ve stopped trying to plan things online because trying to do so was making me so stressed i was physically ill constsntly, to the point i was literally told to stop for my own sake. so i haven’t done things with people.

i’ve barely seen people outside of school over the summer because i’m already so exhausted from things online, making plans irl makes me so sick i freeze up at the thought of trying. so i’ve seen people twice and one of those two times i was having a breakdown for half of it because i was so scared.

i can’t manage it. nothing has happened.

and i’m pretty sure i’m taking this worse than anyone else is, i feel like i’m living in a nightmare. and i know about self fulfilling prophecies, that’s been something i’m scared of and conscious of too, but i don’t think anyone truly gets just how much i’m losing here because i’ve never had this in my life before. sometimes my inaction is because the fact that i have to take action to begin with makes me feel horrific.

i’ve fought my ass off this summer, fought against this beautiful disaster of the culmination of my mental illness and neurodivergency and my interests and my queerness and everything that makes me atypical making it hard to find my tribe. i’ve kicked and screamed to be able to hold on, hold onto something, one thing with this one fucking group that can stay normal and undamaged and not at total risk.

i don’t want to call out for help anymore because i feel like if i let myself cry i’m only putting things more in jeopardy. i still have but either with the safety and stability of my online friend group, vague because i’m scared to actually say anything, or if i do actually talk about things transparently it’s very sporadic.

today was a breaking point for all of this. where i’m so stressed and so exhausted and so scared that i was this close to removing everyone and running and praying that somehow that’d make things better (despite knowing it’s stupid and counterproductive) purely because i can’t handle this anymore and i don’t know what to do because i feel like i’ve tried everything.

i just want this shit to be fucking over.

i don’t want to be alone anymore.

[lostandfoundbook]

Chapter 22

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Read it on Wattpad

The days passing slowly started to mend together as Alex moped around in her hospital room all day. Staring out at the birds through her windows, or writing poetry on her phone, she was slowly running out of activities to do to keep her busy. She talked to her friends as often as she could, but even they were busier than she was.

She imagined all the things she could be doing right now. Dancing; singing; auditioning for theatre; writing more music in the studio; working on music videos; working on visualizers; celebrating the release of her single; furthering her relationship with Oliver; watching Benji's play

Speaking of Benji's play, Alex had successfully convinced Avery to ask Oliver to go. It was an extended game of messenger, but she was thankful that it was happening. She wasn't able to go, and she needed every detail about what happened from Oliver. She didn't want him there as a reviewer, but a friend of a friend. He didn't do this very often, but Alex knew he'd do it for her.

He'd make his way down to the theatre and talk to Benji, probably congratulate him on his performance while patting a hand on his back. Alex could envision it now. The two men standing side by side, one in a suit and one in a costume. Maybe he'll get a playbill signed for her. She'd have to ask him.

She ran a hand through her ratty, tangled mess of a head of hair. It was greasy and it screamed in need for a shower. It had been over a week of sponge bathes, over a week of bed rotting, and over a week of morphine. It had been too long. Her only reprise was the fact that physical therapy was today, meaning she could get rooms transferred if she could just prove that she could care for herself.

A piece of her wondered how that would even be possible when she smells the way she does. It would be a dead giveaway that she needed help. She brushed the thought away to the side and pulled her phone out. She'd ultimately given up on her no phone rule. That was impossible here, especially when she didn't want to cart all her journals into the room. She could make do with her phone.

She scrolled through her social media's again. She had taken to retweeting a few words of support, and she was considering making another post. Many news stations had picked up her words, and she was even in the local news. She watched one night as the glow of the TV illuminated her body in the bed, her own face popping on screen for just a moment. A selfie.

A truly surreal experience. She hadn't tried to reach out to her managers or PR yet, because that seemed like something you do when you're more stable. Something to do when you're getting your career on track. Alex couldn't focus on her career, not right now. She needed to focus on herself, and Greg and Charles weren't apart of that.

This was why she liked Oliver, in the end. He understood her. He didn't ask her about work, or about anything else that didn't matter. When they talked, it was focused on the brutalities of the world and what they both were forced to experience. It was light hearted, sometimes, sure. But it was the cruel truth laid out exactly as it had happened. It was hard not to gain feelings when you talk about things so serious like that.

Alex let a sigh escape her lips as she scrolled over towards Instagram. She slid over to the 'Story' feature and look a photo of her IVs. She had two in her arm today, one in each vein. She didn't know what they did. Alex had never been keen on listening to those in authority. She figured that's how most of her issues with Oliver started in the first place.

He was the ultimate authority. He ruled over a large majority of the spheres she existed in, whether it was music, theatre, or performing. He was always there as the grueling force that halted her progress to a swift stop. She tried to understand it, but she truly didn't. He had tried to explain it to her in the past, but it didn't make sense.

He said at one point that he was trying to fix it, though. It was an interesting way of phrasing it. Fix it, as if he had broken it or done something wrong. Alex believed there was a reason she wasn't selected during the Survive showcasing, she just didn't know what that reason was. Was she not good enough? Was it her image at the time? Was it the fighting? The drugs? Everette? What, in the end, pulled her progress swiftly to a close?

She was pulled out of her train of thoughts by a knock on the door. "Hello?" She called out as an older man in a white lab coat walked in. It was a doctor, but she didn't recognize him as one of her own doctors from any of her stays here, including this current one. He was older, maybe in his 50s, and he had round glasses sat across his nose.

He adjusted his glasses as he spoke, walking towards her bed frame. "Hi, Ms. Gray! I'm Dr. Graham, I'll be your physical therapist! Are you ready to be wheeled down there?" Alex sat up in her bed, feeling her stitches ache a bit as she did. "Yes, I am so ready to get out of here."

He let out a chuckle and walked towards the end of her bed. He unlocked a few switches on the bed before walking towards the headboard and doing the same. "Well, let's first assess where you are in your treatment. Then, we can talk about getting you back up to your suite."

Alex nodded as the bed began to move, rolling out of the room. She and all her IVs were pulled into the hallway and she saw as the white and brown room slowly transformed into a desolate white fluorescent lit landscape of long corridors and the view of other patients rooms. "We'll be taking you to the PT room a floor up" The doctor said as he pushed her bed along the hallway, furthering the distance between Alex's new hospital room and her.

"Will my bed even fit in the elevator?" She asked out, looking around at the walls. There was the occasional painting thrown up on the wall, attempting to bring life into a lifeless situation. Up in the corners of the hallway, Alex could see a circular mirror hooked up to the wall to see all directions. She could see herself in it, and how small she looked.

They made it to the end of the hallways where the elevators were. "Of course they will. The elevators were made with all bed sizes in mind. Imagine if there was no room to transport somebody to surgery and we had to carry them!"

A small smile danced across my face as the thought of doctors having to wait for the elevator because some patient was being hauled up. She stopped to consider if she had ever been here before as she her bed and IV were pushed into the elevator with the doctor standing near the door. "How far is it?" Alex asked as the doctor pushed a button on the elevator.

He turned to face her for a moment before turning away again. "Just up a floor and then down the hall. It's not too far." and with the ding of the elevator, she felt it start to move. She never particularly loved elevators. The feeling of weightlessness in her body, uncontrollable as it shot up in the sky. It was uncomfortable, but it was truly a different experience while lying down. It was like flying.

She closed her eyes for a moment and took a breath in. She could feel everything in her body, all her toes, the heels of her feet, her lowers legs and her knees, her upper tights, her pelvis, her torso, her wound, everything. It all felt weightless as they lifted up in the building, before meeting that loud 'Ding!' noise that indicated the doors were going to open.

She heard the creaking of the doors sliding open, and she watched as people made their way away from the doors to make room for her doctor to wheel her in. "Now, when we get to the room, I want you to sit up, but don't stand yet. I want you to be able to have a walker before you do."

Alex let out a small a grumble and a groan. "A walker? What am I, 85?"

He gave her a curious look as he pushed her down the hallway. "If you stand up and your body can't handle the pressure, you could double over and rip your stitches clear open." Alex physically cringed at the thought of that. That would hurt. A lot. "Then, they would have to re-stitch you up, and you'd be right back at square one of recovery."

She let out a sigh that came from the depths of her soul.  "Okay, a walker it is."

* * *

Her therapy session wasn't bad, per-say. Alex had to use the walker, and she waltz around the room with her hand on one bar of the grey walker and one hand on her IV bar trailing it along her. She got her steps in (About 150 of them) before her doctor told her to stop. He asked to check out her stitches, and she let him. They had held up just fine.

Next, she moved onto a blue ball that looked like it was made for yoga. The doctor told her it helped with squatting motions, to make sure she could bend over if needed. To make sure her core muscles were healing properly. He told her a LOT of things that she tried not to focus on as she bounced up and down on the ball.

"I'm doing pretty good, aren't I?" she would ask out to him, before being met with a nod before he'd go back towards his checklist. It wasn't very affirming to Alex. It didn't tell her one way or the other if she would be getting out of here. She was stressed, and tired, and by the time she made it back to her room, she was convinced she would be stuck there forever.

She could feel the anxiety picking up in the pit of her stomach, brewing there like a monster looking for it's great escape. She wanted to get out of the room. She was going crazy. She had to pass her physical therapy and get out of here.

She ripped the covers off of her bed and looked at the gown over her body. It was white with blue splotches over it, and she was wearing shorts underneath. The back drew together in two pieces and tied onto one another in small little bows, exposing a strip of skin down the middle of her back. She brushed her legs over the edge of her beds and wiggled her toes.

She jumped off the bed and landed her feet flat on the floor. She steadied her balance and noticed how she didn't need the walker. She didn't collapse underneath herself. She was stronger than they assumed. She paced around her room a little bit, and stood up straight, stretching her arms. She could feel her stitches sting a little bit, so she lessened how much pressure she put into her joints as she stretched.

She walked over towards the window and looked out it. It was the first time she could get a good view of the entire area. She put her hand up to it and felt the coldness of the glass beneath her fingertips. She wanted to be out there with all the people walking along the sidewalks, skating down on their skateboards, and living their lives freely. She didn't want to be trapped in here.

She turned back to face the door. She was still connected to her IVs, but nothing was stopping her from walking out of the room. She hadn't been hooked back up to everything since her PT session, and she wasn't on a catheter anymore. She could just use the excuse of using the bathroom.

She grabbed ahold of the metal bar that held all of her fluid bags and IV lines and trailed it along with her across the room. It was loud and clutter-y, and it took up a lot of space. It clunked and clattered as she moved and the sound of the wheels against the floor was grating. She would be caught out immediately, but at least she would make it out of her room. She grabbed out for the door handle, and it was cold between her other hand.

She swung it down and lugged open the door. She began to walk her walk out of the room, pretty much un-noticed. She was just here a couple hours ago, so the hallways were familiar to her. They screamed of desperation and release, and beckoned for somebody to give them a make over. Bleak and white. The lights shining down didn't make them look any better as afternoon started to wash over the building.

She rolled her way out of the hallway and down a main section of the building where a nurses desk was. The nurse raised her head towards Alex and looked around before speaking out. "Are you looking for someone, hun?"

Alex paused. "Um, the bathroom, actually." She lied. The nurses face lit up as she stood up. "Here. Let me help you." She walked over towards Alex and faced her towards the left. "All the way down there, the first door on the right."

Alex nodded towards her as she internalized this information. She was just glad to be anywhere else but that box she was trapped in the last week. She walked down the new hallway she was met with and found herself at the door the nurse had mentioned. She opened it and walked in, locking it behind her. She walked up to the mirror and looked at herself in it.

She looked tired, and her bruises were turning this yellowish-brown color that indicated healing. Despite this, her skin was pale and washed out, and she looked... tired. There were no words for how traumatized she looked at the moment. She let out a sigh and turned on the water, splashing a bit on her face. She pulled some paper towel away and wiped her face dry before tossing it away.

She opened the door to the bathroom again and made her way back to the nurses desk. From there, she found her original hallway, and eventually, her room. It wasn't the greatest randevu she had ever had but at least she got some air. As she looked through her tiny window on her door, she could see Oliver sitting at the chairs in her room. He was waiting for her.

She twisted the doorknob down to open it and she saw his head shoot over. "You're walking! I'm assuming PT went well?"

Alex pushed her IV bar back into the room before she shut the door behind her. "Yeah, I had to get out of here. I was going crazy." Oliver re-adjusted how he was sitting in his chair "Well, if you're walking, I can only guess that they'll approve you for a transfer. We have everything we need in J-Block so it's not hard to get you everything you need."

Alex nodded, excited at the idea. She could feel her heart pick up at the very idea of getting out of here. Finally. She felt like she was getting sores on her ass, that's how long she had been sitting here doing nothing. "Thank god. I'm not kidding. I'm going insane here. There's nothing to do all day. The TV replays the same five shows over and over again, and they're always re-runs. Nothing new. The food here is so bland, my taste buds could just pack it up and move on out at this point. And don't even get me started on the fucking piano out there."

Oliver seemed to be reeling by her rant. "Well, that's very brutally honest." Alex sat down in her bed, repositioning the covers over herself. "When have you known me to not be?" she had a spark in her eyes that could ignite the room around her.

"Never." He laughed out in reply. "You've never hidden your opinions. I just think maybe you don't like hospitals. I don't think it has to do with this room, or any other room you could be placed in. You don't like feeling trapped."

Alex nodded. This was very true. "I don't like being out of control." she eventually admitted to the man. She could trust him with her deepest darkest feelings, and she knew he would never judge her. She stared at his lips, and imagined all the ways she could kiss him. She would have to wait until she got better. Now was not the time to be thinking about that, she told herself.

She focused on the way he was wearing another suit, meaning he likely had a meeting today. "Well, you're trying to get better. That's what you should be focusing on, alright?" He spoke out, giving her a familiar glace as he did so. As if a light bulb went off, she had finally placed what the look he was giving her was. It was endearment.

Alex's lips curled. "I will. I just want to get out of here. I want to be back home"

Home, she thought to herself. This hotel had slowly become her home over the three months that she had been here. She couldn't imagine herself living anywhere else. She had a perfect suite that was decked out in a shade of pink that she couldn't place, because she wasn't an artist. It was rose pink. Very light, with pinks of tan or cream spilling through. She loved her room. Her home.

Oliver put a hand on the side of her bed. "I know that. We'll get things sorted out eventually." He left it there and stared deeply into her eyes. She could feel the way the pit of her stomach twisted in a fiery passion as she did so. He was so gorgeous. She snaked her hand over towards his and placed it on top. "You've been so busy. Are you going to Benji's play?" she asked out, seeking confirmation.

The man nodded back towards yes. "Yes, to both of those. I've been very busy. Lots of meetings and paperwork after what happened. I've been dealing with your contract, too. Trying to get things sorted out. I figured you should probably know about that. And... yes. Avery told me about the play. I've filled out a slot in my schedule for it. Don't think I'd go missing it."

She turned to respond to him, but she was cut off by the door swinging open. She coiled her hand back to her chest in an anxious fashion and eyed Oliver up, as if she were apologizing for her haste-y reaction. "Ms. Gray! I'm sorry to interrupt, but if I could just have a word with Mr. Haven, that would be splendid."

It was the same doctor from before, during PT. Oliver turned around to face the man, and then looked back towards Alex. She gave him an approving gesture reminiscent of a bow, and eyed up the doctor. Was she being sent home? Why couldn't he just say it in front of her? Was this a doctor to nurse kind of talk? What was happening?

She watched as Oliver and the doctor made their way out of the door and waited for the door to close before talking. She couldn't hear what they were saying, and she had never learned how to read lips. It was all gibberish to her. She let a sigh escape her lips and pulled out her phone again, looking at the story she never posted. She captioned it 'Getting Better Slowly' and hit sent on it.

She closed Instagram and swiped over to Twitter. She wanted to see what everyone was saying. She had deprived herself for so long against people's opinions, so she had no clue what they could be saying about her. When she opened it up, she was met with hundreds of thousands of comments.

This was outrageous. She never could've imagined this. She was a little E-Lister, she was a nobody, a might-have-been-one-day-but-never-was. She wasn't a REAL celebrity, and yet when she scrolled through her mentions, she saw all the regular pop news update accounts speaking about her. For the first time, ever, and it was about this. Her injuries, and not her music.

Everette really had stolen a lot from her. She wanted to celebrate this album, and this single's release had swiftly been slid out from underneath Alex's feet without her suspecting it. It wasn't fair, and she wanted to make up for it somehow. She had to make her next release just as epic...just as amazing as she had planned for the original.

She watched as Oliver made his way back into the room without the doctor. He had walked away while Alex was lost in thought. "So?" she asked out to the suited man.

"They're going to transfer you tonight."

[obsessive-bear-walking]

I have a lot of adult things to do today but I'm so exhausted. I have to call my doctors, and work out hotel stuff with my friend for another friends wedding. I will be spending all the money in my bank account to go to this wedding, and I know I'm insanely privileged to be able to eat with no personal money (I'm a dependant) but it's so stressful. I also have to call the local community College. I do not leave the state ever. Last time I was out of state was before the pandemic. I barely leave the house most of the time, I think the last time I left the house was either for that pride fest I volunteered at that nearly killed me or when I had to care for my father for the weekend. I don't go anywhere quite literally.

The entire left side of my body is fucked up, so I can't sleep on my left side and it's thrown me off weeks. My hip constantly hurts and so does my right knee. Like it just does not stop. No pain meds work and my back is constantly one wrong move away from going out a forth time.

Which sounds silly but I do not rest as well when I'm not in the right position. Not that I sleep more than 3 hours most nights anyway... but ... I just wish one thing could go right for me every single day is a painful battle and my doctors don't fucking listen to me as is.

Like I tried to explain to my doctor that my left eat keeps getting stuffed up even when I use those eat kits and she told me to buy one of those ear kits and try that (like I didn't just explicitly say I knew what it was and had used them?? Ive hsed them dozens of times and they do nothing)

Getting ssi isn't going well because I have to find a new doctor for my psych stuff (and can't get a new medical/gp/pcp doctor because I've seen all the doctors in the area who take my insurance this one was a last resort so i have to just deal with this woman who doesnt believe a word ive said AND who's front desk staff sent me my labs wrong so i thought i had a lump on my thyroid the size of my thyroid.) I'm just like. I'm tired of doctors. I'm tired of doing this all on my own. My mom helped me once but she's also disabled and someone else offered to help me but then when I tried to ask they blew me off pointedly by saying "just do it" then WHY DID YOU OFFER TO HELP ME??? whatever

Had to leave my last job because of my health issues. When I first started having back problems my only goal for recovery was to br able to keep up with my dogs and I've recently rejected fostering a puppy because I can barely move with all my other pain and this house is so toxic and I just feel like I keep failing so I do not have the patience for an animal. Which just makes me feel so useless. I just wanna be useful.

I'm just going to die in this house full of people who hate me I guess.

I had plans to move in with a friend after I got ssi but I wont be able to do that now due to circumstances.

I'm trying so hard to be strong but it's so hard. I feel like I've given everything in me to not kill myself for the past nineteen years and nothing is getting better.

I think I'm especially devastated that I feel like I'll never be Jewish or transition properly. I'm so tired of being useless.

[pizzapizzadickz]

Haaah. If yesterday is anything to base things off of I shouldnt use my headphones today bc my neck is fucked.

[elennemigo]

Benedict Cumberbatch reads 19-year-old Rifleman Cyrus Thatcher's letter.

(For a better read, I´m leaving the complete letter under the cut.)

Hello its me, this is gonna be hard for you to read but I write this knowing every time you thinks shits got to much for you to handle (so don’t cry on it MUM!!) you can read this and hopefully it will help you all get through.For a start SHIT I got hit!! Now Iv got that out the way I can say the things Iv hopefully made clear, or if I havent this should clear it all up for me. My hole life you’v all been there for me through thick and thin bit like a wedding through good and bad. Without you I believe I wouldn’t have made it as far as I have. I died doing what I was born to do I was happy and felt great about myself although the army was sadly the ending of me it was also the making of me so please don’t feel any hate toward it. One thing I no I never made clear to you all was I make jokes about my life starting in the Army. That’s wrong VERY wrong my life began a LONG time before that (Obviously) but you get what I mean. All the times Iv tried to neglect the family get angry when you try teach me right from wrong wot I mean to say is I only realised that you were trying to help when I joined the army and without YOUR help I would have never had the BALLS, the GRIT and the damn right determination to crack on and do it. If I could have a wish in life it would to be able to say Iv gone and done things many would never try to do. And going to Afghan has fulfilled my dream ie my goal. Yes I am young wich as a parent must brake you heart but you must all somehow find the strength that I found to do something no matter how big the challenge. As Im writing this letter I can see you all crying and mornin my death but if I could have one wish in an “after life” it would be to stop your crying and continueing your dreams (as I did) because if I were watching only that would brake my heart. So dry your tears and put on a brave face for the rest of your friends and family who need you.

I want each and everyone of you to forfill a dream and at the end of it look at what you have done (completed) and feel the accomplishment and achievement I did only then will you understand how I felt when I passed away.

[To my brothers:] You are both amazing men and will continue to be throughout your lives you both deserve to be happy and fofill all of your dreams.

Dad – my idol, my friend, my best friend, my teacher, my coach, everything I ever succeeded in my life I owe to you and maybe a little bit of me! You are a great man and the perfect role model and the past two years of being in the army I noticed that and me and you have been on the best level we have ever been. I thank you for nothing because I no all you have given to me is not there to be thanked for its there because you did it cause you love me and that is my most proudest thing I could ever say.

Mum, where do I start with you!! For a start your perfect, your smell, your hugs, the way your life was dedicated to us boys and especially the way you cared each and every step us boys took. I love you, you were the reason I made it as far as I did you were the reason I was loved more than any child I no and that made me feel special.

Your all such great individuals and I hope somehow this letter will help you get through this shit time!! Just remember do NOT mourn my death as hard as this will seem, celebrate a great life that has had its ups and downs. I love you all more than you would ever no and in your own individual ways helped me get through it all. I wish you all the best with your dreams.

Remember chin up head down. With love Cyrus.