#not our issue!!! lol.

[sallytwo]

i could talk about lower decks foreverrrrr like it’s such a genuinely charming and lovable trek show and u can see the passion that the cast and crew has for star trek as a whole. the voice acting is so fucking good and it adds so much charm to the characters who couldve been these bland caricatures but they’re NOT they get to be complex and have silly little relationships and learn and grow as the series goes on. and it’s just SO GOOD!!!! i love it. i will be a lower decks girl until i die.

[zivazivc]

floyd has big brother flavored mommy/daddy issues you can't convince me otherwise, sorry, i've spent too much time thinking about it. he is crushing on a troll too old for him and he doesn't know how to deal except to use his adorable baby brother charm. he thinks it's working (question mark)

these images were drawn in three sessions over a longer period so i'm no longer that happy with les's look in the first part since I was still figuring him out, but man do i find this idea entertaining and cute and want to share it even though i also feel really weird about it skdjbvkbfc 🙈🙊😳

the pillars of their relationship if you even care:

one of them is going to lose

[spacebubblehomebase]

Shit post!

Don't take this too seriously, but LMAO XD. -Bubbly💙

[sp0o0kylights]

Part One

The drive's short one. 

Steve gets out of his car, opening the passenger door for Chrissy and escorting her up to the house, quietly envisioning what Jason would look like if a real monster got him.

What would he say, staring down the crazy, five-starred head, filled with teeth and drool? Would he turn back? Or run?

(Steve swears he doesn't take great pleasure in imagining Carver getting eaten, but he'll admit to taking a little.)  

"Chrissy do you have any idea--oh." Mrs. Cunningham startles, grasping her robe at the front as she spots Steve standing next to her daughter.  

"Hi Miss Cunningham." He says.

"Hello." She says suspiciously. "And who are you?"

"I'm Steve Harrington, ma'am." He watches as her mother straightens immediately at his name, and sinks right into the ol' Harrington charm, knowing instantly it will work. "I know you were expecting Jason, but I'm afraid he wasn't able to drive Chrissy home." 

"Oh, Steve! It's so late I almost didn't recognize you." She titters, suspicion gone. "Your mother and I are on the same charity board." 

Of course they were.

"I thought you were dating that nice Nancy girl." She says with a squint that mimics Chrissy's, because even in the midst of a crisis he can't escape the gossip that is Hawkins upper echelon. 

"Nance is waiting in the car." Steve lies smoothly. "I just wanted to make sure Chrissy got home safe." 

"What happened?" Chrissy's father appears, ushering them both in while blatantly peering around them, eyes sweeping the street before closing the door.

Steve recognizes the move. He's checking for nosy neighbors. 

"Jason and I broke up." Chrissy admits.

"What?" 

"We..." She falters in front of her parents. 

"What happened to Jason?" Her father asks, tuning back in once they're safely away from peering eyes.

"I'm afraid Jason and some of his friends brought beer to the party." Steve steps in to explain.  

"Oh Chrissy, it's a high school party. That's no reason to break up with him." Her mother fusses, face flushing in embarrassment. Her eyes dart from her daughter to Steve and back, and Steve knows he needs to start damage control. 

If he plays it right he can burn Jason while he's at it. 

"He was horrible, mom. Just awful." Chrissy says, but Steve can tell she's shrinking under her mothers gaze. 

"He drank quite a lot, Miss Cunningham." With a theatrical wince, Steve turns to face Chrissy's dad, lowers his voice and says "I'm going to have to talk to Coach about it." 

He gets the intended response, which is a raised eyebrow. "That bad, huh?" 

Steve nods once, painting a pained smile on his face. "He made a real fool of himself tonight, Sir. The basketball team has a reputation to uphold." 

"Oh." Mrs. Cunningham says, hand fluttering in front of her face. "I never would have thought…"

"He's normally a good guy. I don't know what got into him." Steve has them both eating out of the palm of his hand, attention neatly off Chrissy and onto the story he's feeding them. 

Its worth it to see her shoulders relax. 

"I couldn't let him take Chrissy home in the state he was in Sir, and he got very…" 

Steve pauses. 

Fills his voice with tempered disappointment, channeling his dad. "Belligerent. Said some nasty things."  

"Really?" Mr. Cunningham says, with a low whistle, and Steve knows by his tone alone that he's bought in.

Hook, line, sinker.

Steve nods once. "I have to get back to my girlfriend, but Chrissy'" He turns earnestly here, to let her know he's not faking this next bit. "Let me know if Jason bothers you at school. I'll set him straight again if I have to." 

"Thank you Steve." Mr. Cunningham says, as Chrissy's mom hustles her daughter towards the kitchen. 

Steve shakes his hand, then waves at Crissy as she calls her own thank you over her shoulder, before disappearing out the door and back to his car.

The same one where Nancy very much isn't. 

That's a problem for tomorrow Steve.

xXx

Tomorrow Steve gets into an argument with Nancy. 

She can't recall that Jonathan took her home, or that he's bullshit, their whole relationship, bullshit--

But she also can't tell him she loves him.

So Steve snaps at her. Storms off.

 Play’s more basketball.

It takes less than two hours for him to get mopey and another three for him to spiral into deciding he was wrong somehow.

That's what his mom said all the time anyway, wasn't it? The man's always wrong Steven, and he's the man here so…

He gets flowers, chocolates, and fucking waylaid (by Dustin Henderson with his Grow a Monster) and things go sideways from there.

 Train tracks and a junkyard and demodogs make time speed up. An encounter with Billy and a dinner plate causes Steve's recollection of the evening to be fuzzy. 

He just knows that in the middle of dodging death, he has the realization that Nance wants to break up with him.

That he should let her. 

Even if it hurts, even if he doesn't want to. 

She wants to be let go.

So Steve does. He respects her, and when he has a moment after its all over, he tells her to go with Jonathan.

(At least he permanently gets the squirts out if this. Or at least everyone but Mike.

Even if most of them are shitheads and one of them's Hargrove's step sister.

It's--something.

But when Dustin keeps pestering him, demanding Steve drive him all over Hawkins and then drags him to the movies, well.

It might be the best something Steve's had in his life so far. )

xXx

"Oh shit. Is that from Caver?" Eddie asks, popping up near Steve's car like the clown in a jack in the box. 

"Carver can't hit for shit. This was Hargrove." Steve replies, attempting an eyeroll before remembering that his entire face is a bruise. 

One, giant, never ending bruise. 

"I guess his step sister gave him the slip to come hang out with these kids I watch sometimes. I didn't know she wasn't supposed to be there." Steve shrugs, because it's the technical truth. 

If you turn it sideways and squint anyway. 

"Asshole tried to threaten the kid Max is into by slamming him into a wall and screaming shit, so I stepped in, and--" He waves at his face. 

The same one he's already getting looks for. 

"I was winning." Steve sighs theatrically. "He broke a plate over my head."

The story seemed to freeze Eddie but he recovers with a quick shake of his head. 

"You poor thing." He tuts. "Let me guess--you were more worried about the hair than the wound?" 

Eddie's hands flutter like he's going to touch Steve's head but he seems to contain himself at the last minute.

The hospital threatened to buzz it for stitches." Steve says darkly, playing into the bit. 

(He had not gone to a hospital. 

None of them had.)  

"What would our King be without his crown of hair?" Eddie laments, in a falsetto that was half insult half oddly sincere. It was jarring in that it was hard to get a read on, but the more Steve was around the guy the less it seemed malicious and the more it came off  as just….goofy.

Eddie Munson, Steve decided, was not a freak.

 He was a dorky little weirdo, just like all the other kids Steve now hung out with. 

Just older, and with slightly better hair. 

"Hey Eddie." Another boy calls out, approaching cautiously. 

He's got a leather jacket on, and if Steve thinks hard enough he can sort of conjure up a memory of the guy at Eddie's lunch table, throwing a piece of bread at a pale sophomore decked out in plaid. "You good man?" 

"Yeah Jeff, just checkin' in on the Hair here." Eddie sticks a thumb towards Steve, who raises his hand and waves. 

The falsetto comes back, somehow higher as the older boy swoons over Steves arm. "Soothing his poor soul after that brute Hargrove almost killed him." 

"Has anyone ever told you you're a lot like Bugs Bunny?" Steve asks, the thought leaving his mouth the instant he had it.

(He doesn't care, it's a legitimate question.) 

It has the effect of making Munson look downright chuffed. "I have actually, but only by my Uncle." 

"Why are you checking in?" Jeff interrupts, before seeming to realize he said it out loud. " Ah, I mean--"

"Oh he didn't tell you?" Steve says, as casually as he can muster. "Eddie claimed me and Chrissy at a party last weekend." 

See Munson? Two people could play the weird bit game. 

They've attracted more of Eddie's friends now, two more boys in leather jackets edging closer like frightened deer. 

(One of which is the aforementioned younger man Jeff threw bread at, and Steve vaguely thinks the guy's name starts with a g.) 

"Apparently we're his minions now." Steve tells Jeff in a rather put upon manner. 

"It was just you, the fair maiden chose otherwise." Eddie counters dismissively, voice dropping down low. 

Steve snorts. Hums a sarcastic; "Like you'd let us choose." 

Eddie finally abandons whatever voice that was supposed to be (a villain, Steve thinks, and wonders if it hurts Eddies throat to drop from a false high to a deep low that quickly.)  to say:

 "Mock me all you like, Harrington, but you can't deny the bit worked." 

Steve automatically went for another eye roll, and gets a flash of pain for it. "Who said I was mocking you, you dork? Just stating facts." 

Yet again, Eddie reacts weird to the comment. He looks almost bashful for a second, before he recovers, tugging his hair in front of his face as he plays with it.

The bell rings once in warning, and Steve makes a face towards the doors. 

"I gotta go, Mrs Clicks out to fail me. See you around, Eddie. Jeff." The way his eyes are bruised up he can't quite make out the face Jeff makes at that, but Steve's pretty sure the guys mouth was open. 

"She's a nasty one, my minion, best stay on your toes around her." Eddie calls, and Steve waves a hand in the air to show he heard. 

"What just happened?" Jeff asks, far too loudly for how close Steve still is. 

It makes him chuckle a bit, even as one of the other guys says something in a far quieter voice that has Munson squawking and flapping his arms like a bird. 

The winding little feelings in his chest squeeze his heart, and Steve shakes his head, refusing to be fond of Eddie Munson. 

xXx

College rejection letters come in, one after the another.

Steve could have made it into a few schools he's certain, except he hadn't really applied to any.

Not that any college other than Penn Hurst mattered. His dad wanted him to be a legacy, come hell or high water.

Steve's punishment was hand picked by his parents, and he gets the sailor outfit his new minimum wage job requires is supposed to be a part of it--that his dad made him apply because it was the most embarrassing thing he could think to subject Steve too-- but honestly? 

It's not that bad. 

Not even with Robin, the manager he met yesterday, and who positively, completely and totally, hates Steve’s guts.  

He figures he has time to win her over. 

All the time in the world, now that demons aren't trying to eat his, or any of the kid's, faces. He can focus on the small things. Build himself back up.

Figure out the person he wants to be, now that he's no longer King Steve. 

It’s the thought that kept him from attending any graduation parties. To go felt like backsliding into old habits. 

‘If the kids--if it comes back again--’ 

Getting drunk at night in a random house seemed almost irresponsible.

Particularly not with people Steve has history with, without anyone he really cares about being present. Certainly not Nance and Jonathan, who he wishes he didn’t know are at some end-of-year game night one of Nancy’s friends is hosting. 

(Steve can’t think about that for a number of reasons. 

When he does--because of course he does-- he makes sure to focus on the weirdness that is Jonathan Byers being someone he cares about, instead of the fact he can’t seem to kill his love for Nancy. 

Or that he's horrifically jealous of their relationship. 

That the best sleep he had ever had was between them, two nights after the lab, when they crammed themselves into Jonathan's bed because they all couldn't quite believe it was over.

That night had been so incredibly weird, but grouping together felt safer. Smarter.

Better.

Not in a way Steve wants to put into words. 

Not in a way he wants to confront at all.) 

His parents hadn’t been able to make it home to watch him walk at his graduation--his father landing a last minute meeting with some important person or other. 

Faked apologies were given, money transferred, and Steve, not wanting to sit in his too-huge house, had meandered to Family Video. 

Tried to forget his father’s cold voice in the background of his mother’s call, loudly announcing he’d have made it a priority to see Steve graduate-- if he’d gotten into Penn Hurst. 

Steve just shakes his head. Pushes those thoughts into the back of his head, into the same place all his other weird thoughts live.

The glare he gets from the tall, pimple-ridden guy working the rental counter was expected.

Chrissy Cunningham, was not. 

"I thought you’d be at one of the parties.” He tells her, when he turns down the romance aisle and finds her staring blankly at a shelf. 

She startles, before recognition flits over her face and a warm smile is directed his way. 

“I'm honestly not a fan of parties." She confides in him, hand clutching a tape in her hands."Not those kinds, anyway.” 

"More slumber parties, less keg stands your speed?" Steve guessed, blatantly turning his head sideways in order to read the title.

She awards him with a wider smile. "Exactly." 

"Chrissy Cunningham. Are you renting Jaws?" He teases, leaning in just a touch.

She flushes, but turns and squares up to him. Steve's delighted to see it. 

"Why yes I am. I'll do you one better and even admit it's one of my favorite movies." 

Steve grins at her, and sees the way she lights up on response, eyes bright. 

This is the Chrissy that Carver had tried to kill. The strength and pure fun that radiates off her enhances the beauty she has to something almost otherworldly. 

Steve has seen enough beauty in his life to recognize when it will stay. That Chrissy wil one day be 80 years old, with gray hair and knit sweaters, and she'll still be able to light up a room. 

"Like sharks killing people that much huh?” He teases. And it’s easy, slipping into this part of himself around her. The part he’s been trying to get back. 

The confidence that he walked with, before monsters crawled out of the ground, and Nancy put a hole in his heart.

"I'll let you in on a secret. ." Chrissy leans in, dropping her voice low enough that Steve has to lean in a bit too to hear. "My favorite character is the shark." 

Steve playfully gapes at her, and for the first  time in a long time, feels like things will be okay. 

He’ll be okay.

He won’t be King Steve. He’s not Nancy's Boyfriend Steve either--but someone else. Himself.

A Steve who exists outside of Hawkins High, outside his family name. 

He likes it.

"I told you that was his car. Steve!" A too familiar voice calls and Steve can't mask the despair that hits him as he turns to his (now least) favorite shithead, whose storming through Family Video’s doors. 

"Dustin." He identifies, with an edge to his voice he can only pray Chrissy doesn't pick up on. "Other brats. What are you doing?" 

Mike stands stubbornly at Dustin's right, Lucas nervous at his left. 

Will Byers is situated next to Mike but Steve's not as familiar with him, and has no idea how to interpret the kid. 

If he had to guess based on the face he’s being sent, Will’s more nervous then the rest--but equally determined. 

(This does not make Steve feel better. It in fact, somewhat convinces them they’ve run headfirst back into trouble.) 

"Well we were going to go to Lucas’s, but now, we're bumming a ride from you!" 

"I'm busy." He says flatly. 

"Ste~eeeve!" 

"I didn't know you had a brother." Chrissy says, hand covering her mouth. 

Looking back at her, Steve's pretty sure she's trying to physically hold back laughter. 

If one could shoot lasers with their eyes, Steve would be nailing Dustin for ruining--whatever it was that was happening here. 

"He's a rescue" Steve says flatly. "It’s not working out though. We're planning on returning him to the shelter.” 

"Wow Steve." Dustin returns, offended. "First of all, if anyone's rescuing anyone I rescued you, or did you suddenly forget that you show up to family dinner every Thursday at my house like a sad orpha--mmpphh!" 

‘Mmpphh’ because Steve had taken several long strides across the store to smack his hand over Dustin's mouth. 

"Sorry Chrissy, it would appear the asshole children I am paid to babysit escaped whoever is supposed to be watching them." He shakes Dustins head, in lue of strangling him. “Hit me up later we’ll discuss the shark’s best kills.” 

“Will do.” Chrissy says, as Steve begins the process of shoving his four smaller friends out the door. “Drive safe!” 

“No you don’t, and you’re gonna prove it by swinging through McDonalds for us.” Dustin sing-songs, swinging himself into the passenger side of the Beemer. 

“You assholes owe me, big time.” Steve hisses, as Lucas and Mike instantly begin making kissy faces the second they’re out into the parking lot. "I had plans tonight!"

“Do you have McDonalds money?” Steve asks, only to immediately wince at himself because fuck did he just sound like a soccer mom. 

“I have money I took out of my mom’s wallet.” Mike says as he settles into the car with his friends.

“Fine.” Steve sighs in defeat, starting the car. 

He determinedly does not ask if the idiots walked here, because there is a suspicious lack of bicycles, if only because he hit his mom quota for the day and Steve refuses to say anything else that might edge out his cool persona.

The one he swears he still has.

Supposedly. 

("Does my mom really pay you to watch me?" Dustin asks a while later, when the other brats are distracted. His voice is painfully honest, and softer than it normally is. 

"In food, yes." Steve says, because he’s not that much of an asshole--and maybe, because Dustin is truly his only friend right now.

Steve honestly looks forward to those Thursday dinners, helping Ma Henderson and having her fuss over him in a way his parents never had. 

In a way no one ever had. 

Dustin lands a solid kick to his ankle, making Steve curse. "That's not payment you ass!"

"Ow, God Dustin--" 

"Just admit you're my actual friend, you dick!" 

"Language! I swear your mom stole you from wolves, you animal--" Steve swatted at him. 

Maybe, possibly later, he will go on to admit that yes, Dustin is his friend. 

He will even agree to making up a stupid handshake for it. 

It involves lightsabers and gore at least, which Steve insists is very cool.)

[asterlark]

me and den @unloneliest were just talking about murderbot and ART's relationship and i want to discuss how they quite literally complete each other's sensory and emotional experience of the world!!

there's a few great posts on here such as this one about how murderbot uses drones to fully and properly experience the world around it (it also accesses security cameras/other systems for this same purpose). but i haven't seen anyone so far talk about how once MB stops working for the company and consequently doesn't have a hubsystem/secsystem to connect to anymore (which for its entire existence up to that point had been how it was used to interacting with its environment/doing its job), after it meets ART, ART starts to fill that gap.

ART gives MB access to more cameras, systems, and information archives than it would normally be able to connect with while MB is on its own outside of ART's... body(? lol), but also directly gives MB access to its own cameras, drones, archives, facilities, and processing space. additionally, so much of ART's function is dedicated to analysis, lateral thinking, and logical reasoning, and it not only uses those skills in service of reaching murderbot's goals, it teaches murderbot how to use those same skills. (ART might be a bit of an asshole about how it does this, but that doesn't negate just how much it does for murderbot for no reason other than it's bored/interested in MB as an individual.)

we all love goofing about how artificial condition can basically be boiled down to "two robots in a trench coat trying to get through a job interview" (which is entirely accurate tbh) but that's also such a great example of ART fulfilling the role of both murderbot's "hubsystem" and "secsystem", allowing it to fully experience its environment/ succeed in its goals. ART provides MB with crucial information, context, and constructive criticism, and uses its significant processing power to act as MB's backup and support system while they work together.

from ART's side of things, we get a very explicit explanation of how it needs the context of murderbot's emotional reactions to media in order to fully understand and experience the media as intended. it tried to watch media with its humans, and it didn't completely understand just by studying their reactions. but when it's in a feed connection with murderbot, who isn't human but has human neural tissue, ART is finally able to thoroughly process the emotional aspects of media (side note, once it actually understands the emotional stakes in a way that makes sense for it, it's so frightened by the possibility of the fictional ship/crew in worldhoppers being catastrophically injured or killed that it makes murderbot pause for a significant amount of time before it feels prepared to go on. like!! ART really fucking loves its crew, that is all).

looking at things further from ART's perspective: its relationship with murderbot is ostensibly the very first relationship it's been able to establish with not only someone outside of its crew, but also with any construct at all. while ART loves its crew very much (see previous point re: being so so scared for the fate of the fictional crew of worldhoppers), it never had a choice in forming relationships with them. it was quite literally programmed to build those relationships with its crew and students. ART loves its function, its job, and nearly all of the humans that spend time inside of it, but its relationship with murderbot is the first time it's able to choose to make a new friend. that new friend is also someone who, due to its partial machine intelligence, is able to understand and know ART on a whole other level of intimacy that humans simply aren't capable of. (that part goes for murderbot, too, obviously; ART is its first actual friend outside of the presaux team, and its first bot friend ever.)

and because murderbot is murderbot, and not a "nice/polite to ART most of the time" human, this is also one of the first times that ART gets real feedback from a friend about the ways that its actions impact others. after the whole situation in network effect, when the truth of the kidnapping comes to light and murderbot hides in the bathroom refusing to talk to ART (and admittedly ART doesn't handle this well lol) - ART is forced to confront that despite it making the only call it felt able to make in that horrifying situation, despite it thinking that that was the right call, its actions hurt murderbot, and several other humans were caught in the crossfire. what's most scary to ART in that moment is the idea that murderbot might never forgive it, might never want to talk to it again. it's already so attached to this friendship, so concerned with murderbot's wellbeing, that the thought of that friendship being over because of its own behavior is terrifying. (to me, this almost mirrors murderbot's complete emotional collapse when it thinks that ART has been killed. the other more overt mirror is ART fully intending on bombing the colony to get murderbot back.)

in den's words, they both increase the other's capacity to feel: ART by acting as a part of murderbot's sensory system, and murderbot by acting as a means by which ART can access emotion. they love one another so much they would do pretty much anything to keep each other safe/avenge each other, but what's more, they unequivocally make each other more whole.

[bloodybellycomb]

"these characters would solve all of their issues if they would just be open and honest with each other!" and like, sure, maybe, but our current world mocks vulnerability and its pretty much expected that everyone puts on a mask of irony and detachment at all times and its very hard to break that pattern of behaviour if youve never known anything else.

some people have never openly acknowledged their own emotions once in their entire life, of course they are going to be bad at it

[emblazons]

"Do you not see, Eleven?"

El & 001 + Mike Wheeler & Martin Brenner Parallels see also: Vecna' using El's trauma to manipulate(!) her ⤷ inspired by @heroesbyler & my own commentary (x)

[bucketsofmonsters]

The Witch’s Apprentice - Part 4

cw: demon summoning,  prolonged isolation, more tags will be added as the story continues

male demon x afab reader

Word count: 4k

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4  Part 5 Part 6  Part 7

You woke up wrapped in Lucien’s arms, his tail coiled up your leg. 

You couldn’t get up if you wanted to. Not only were you trapped by a cuddly demon, your exhaustion was overtaking you. Your limbs felt like they were made of lead and your brain was attempting to lull you right back to sleep. You were convinced you could sleep here forever if you allowed yourself to. 

Which was exactly why you needed to get up. This place was dangerous, you couldn’t let yourself get too comfortable and completely succumb to it. 

As you started to rise, the demons arms around you tightened, pulling you closer to him. 

“Lucien,” you tried to call out but your face was smashed into his chest and instead it came out as an incomprehensible mumble. 

It was still enough to wake him, his grip on you loosening as he came to. 

You slipped out of his grasp, although his tail followed you to your new position standing beside him, curling right back up your leg. 

He looked up at you with a smile. “What are you doing up so early?”

“How long did I sleep?”

“Not long. Maybe fifteen hours.”

Your eyes widened. “Fifteen hours?”

“Relax, you needed the sleep. I wouldn’t have let you sleep forever, I only do that to the annoying ones.”

“Glad to know I was in such safe hands,” you said with a roll of your eyes and a playful smile. 

You looked back at him expecting to see that same wry smile as always on his face but instead his face had gone stony, his eyes darkening. 

“You have a decision to make,” he said, all the teasing gone from his voice as he rose to his feet, towering above you.  

His black eyes bored into you, asking you to make a choice about something, what it was you weren’t sure. 

“I don’t understand,” you said, searching for clues in his face but it looked nothing other than weathered and exhausted. 

“I’m being summoned. Time plays differently here but I can only stretch away from it for so long. So, what will it be?”

It didn’t feel like much of a decision at all. 

“Well, that means I’m going back. Of course I’m going back, what else would I do?”

“You could go somewhere else.”

“Where?”

“Anywhere. Anywhere but there.” His voice was low and breathy, almost sounding as if he was pleading with you. 

“She’s my friend. That’s my home.”

“It’s your prison. You're free now, you’re out and you’re asking to go back.” His voice increased in volume as he spoke, hints of anger tinging his words. 

“Just because it is your prison does not mean it is mine. I want to go home.”

Creases formed between his brows and you couldn’t tell if they were from worry or anger. “And if I won’t take you?”

You reeled back at the suggestion, a bolt of fear running through you. 

You tried desperately to put more force behind your words, needing him to listen to you. “Take me back. Now.” 

In the back of your mind you were terrified that he'd leave you, that the unthinkable would happen and you’d be locked away from Eden forever.

He wasn’t surprised by your response. You could tell that much. If anything he looked overcome with dread, 

“Don’t say I didn’t try.”

His hand wrapped around your arm and suddenly you too could feel a distant tug pulling at the both of you. 

Without the adrenaline running through you this time, you got to actually see the change happen. The room around you faded away slowly, like a mirage you’d gotten a little too close to.

For a second you were nowhere. You didn’t even see black, just true nothing in all directions. Your stomach flipped and you leaned closer to Lucien, part of you terrified of being trapped in this void. 

And then everything faded back in and you were confronted with a familiar face. 

The second Eden laid eyes on you she grabbed your arm and yanked you out of the circle. You looked back apologetically at Lucien, the treatment feeling absurd after everything he’d done for you. 

Lucien’s gaze had hardened once more as he looked down at your witch. 

Eden’s focus wasn’t on him at all. Her eyes raked over your body, nails digging into the skin of your arm, like she was afraid you might slip away. Or maybe like she was afraid you might step back once more, back over the line she'd just pulled you from.  

“Are you hurt?” she asked frantically. “Did he hurt you?”

When she finally spoke, her voice was shaky and guilt pierced through you. You’d been off fucking around with your new favorite demon and she’s been panicking. You wondered how long she’d been like this, what she thought had happened to you. 

You pushed past her iron grip, throwing yourself towards her, arms wrapping tightly around her midsection. You buried your head in her neck, her familiar scent bringing waves of comfort to you. 

Her arms hesitantly wrapped gently around you but you could tell she was still looking up at him. 

As soon as your embrace loosened she pulled you behind her, putting herself between you and Lucien. Ultimately it was a futile gesture, he couldn’t reach either of you out here, but it seemed almost instinctive. She just wanted to put a barrier between the two of you and as much as you’d grown to trust Lucien, it made your heart swell. It awoke some unquenchable instinct, to throw yourself into danger to see if she’d come running. 

But there were more important things to attend to. You glanced around at the undamaged cabin, looking exactly as you’d left it. The only change was the new summoning circle beside the old one you’d broken. 

“You’re alright?” you asked. “They didn’t hurt you.”

Now that she had established that you were safe, she seemed uninterested in engaging with you. The question was ignored in favor of turning toward Lucian. 

“You’re a despicable man,” she said with a sneer. “What did you even gain? They’ve done nothing to you.”

 “You don’t understand,” you insisted, trying to get through to her. “He saved me.”

She regarded him with no less disdain at your declaration of what he’d done for you. 

You butted in once more, refusing to back down, not this time. “He didn’t do anything wrong, I owe him my life.”

Eden snapped, her head turning towards you as she stopped ignoring you. “We cannot do this right now, not in front of him.”

“When else? You said all he wanted was to hurt us and he saved me, how is that not substantial to you.”

“He did not save you,” she shouted.

You drew back at her harsh words. “What? No, he did. I don’t know what happened here but…”

“How many times have I warned you about demon trickery? This is exactly why I wanted to be there, why you two never should have been alone. How long did it take before he managed to make you break the circle.”

“He didn’t make me do anything, he protected me!”

“There was no threat. This was all a mistake, I never should have shown you all of this, you’re not built for it. Trusting you with it was a mistake, I’ve gone soft on you.”

“You’re wrong,” you insisted, eyes flicking to Lucien looking for help. He stared back silently, watching you from the sidelines.

“Am I? Then why was there no one here when I returned?” Eden asked. “Why did this dangerous threat do nothing to the cabin? What explanation do you have other than what is right in front of you, what you refuse to see because your heart is bigger than your head.”

“To what end?” you insisted, refusing to back down on the issue. You were not the fool here. There were gaps in what happened, sure, but her story was not flawless either. “He’s done nothing to me. He created a ploy to what, keep me safe and bring me back unscathed?”

She scoffed. “I don’t pretend to understand the machinations of demons. But neither, frankly, do you. At least one of us understands that.”

“You’re wrong.” It didn’t make sense, it was based on nothing but faux ideas of monsters and you wouldn’t stand for it. Not when he’d just saved your life. 

Lucien chose that moment to butt in. “She’s really not.”

Eden looked up at Lucien with wide eyes, seemingly wondering how things had gone so badly that she was on the same side as a demon. 

Both turned against you, despite everything. 

When Eden turned back to you she looked a little sick, less confident than you’d ever seen her before. “You’ve done so poorly you turned a demon honest. I would be impressed if I weren’t so disappointed.”

“It doesn’t make sense. He was kind, he didn’t hurt me.”

“All in service of some greater plan, I’m sure. You’ve heard it from his own mouth now, surely you don’t need any more hand-holding. The truth is right in front of you.”

“But then why would he tell me?” Your eyes flicked up towards the demon, the one you’d put all of your trust in for days. “Why would you…” You trailed off, dread pooling in your gut, a sickening bile of betrayal bubbling up inside of you. 

Lucien refused to meet your gaze, his face stony and unreadable. You wouldn’t have noticed so much if it hadn’t been such a shift from what he’d begun to show you. 

But maybe those emotions were fake too, another performance he was putting on. Another trick you were too stupid to see through.  

You’d been wrong, dangerously wrong. You couldn’t trust your judgment anymore, never should have in the first place, it seemed. 

Eden seemed to take your silence as acceptance, quickly sending Lucien away, 

The second he disappeared she turned to you, some of that manic energy from when you’d first returned appearing back in her face. It seemed she’d been hiding it from him, keeping it just under the surface. 

Both of them seemed so good at their faux emotions, Eden’s confidence, Lucien's performance as your rescuer. Maybe this was a skill you were supposed to have, maybe you were the odd one out. 

Eden’s hands gripped your shoulders, fingernails digging into your skin once more, clinging to you like a lifeline. 

“What did he say to you, how badly did he get through to you? He’ll try to lead you astray, to put you in harm's path. He’s a liar, you can’t believe him.”

“He didn’t say anything, he was just… nice.” And he had been. You couldn’t see the signs of this scheme that they both seemed so convinced were obvious. 

You could tell Eden didn’t believe you. She rarely did even before all of this, you knew it would be a long long time before she ever did again. 

The pressure of her nails subsided, leaving a dull ache of pain where their imprints remained on your skin. 

She pulled you along a familiar hall and you didn’t put up a fight, still caught up in trying to make sense of everything. 

You barely realized what was happening until she was guiding you to sit on your bed, pushing your hair away from your face and looking down at you with sad eyes. 

“This wasn’t your fault,” she said. “I should’ve known not to let you near all this. 

The reassuring graze of her fingers against your cheek faded and you heard the lock on your door click. 

“It will stay this way until you show a sense of self-preservation, alright?” she called through the door. “I will permit a lot of things but I will not allow you to hurt yourself.”

You collapsed back onto the bed with a sigh and heard her walk away, not waiting for an answer. 

With nothing better to do with your time, you ran through it in your head over and over and over again. Hours passed and you just lay there, turning the events over in your mind. 

The signs they’d both pointed to didn’t track, they didn't lead to anything. You couldn’t combine them to a point where they would make sense. If this was a trick, why had he told you the truth when you’d been so convinced? If it was to harm you or Eden why did he keep you safe in his home and bring you back here? You might not have been the best bargaining chip but you would be a good piece of leverage against her and instead here you were, locked back in your room, where you are no longer useful to him. 

None of it made sense. 

Right up until you stopped thinking about him as Eden’s type of demon, an unthinking force of evil trying to do as much damage as possible. 

Because there wasn’t any other perspective you could see. He didn’t hurt you because he didn’t want to. He didn’t hurt you because he saw someone who was scared and alone and couldn’t help himself, just like Eden had done when she found you all alone in the woods all those years ago. He didn’t hurt you because, as much as he might protest, some part of him cared. 

And, once more, he wouldn’t hurt you. 

You were betting your life on it. 

You didn’t have the materials for a summoning circle in your room but it didn’t matter. All you needed to be able to do was get him in here, you didn’t need protection from him. 

Honestly, you didn’t want the protection. You were convinced that the warding gave him something to hide behind. As long as he was locked in there, he could claim that he was a monster, that he would hurt you given the chance. 

Take that away and you’d find out what he would really do, one way or another. 

The summoning spell wasn’t long. All you needed to get him here were the words, everything else was to keep you safe or to keep him bound. 

The second he saw you, his eyes widened. You could practically see the gears turning in his head as you smiled softly up at him, giving him a little wave. 

He did not wave in return. 

His gaze dropped slowly to the floor, staring blankly as the seconds ticked by. He seemed baffled by the blank floor beneath him, trying to comprehend what could possibly be happening as you waited patiently for him to react. 

Finally, his gaze rose to meet yours once more. 

“What’s wrong with you?” he asked. 

“Nice to see you too.”

“Genuinely, what is wrong with you? It's not a rhetorical question, I would love an answer.”

You shrugged. “I’m not sure. You should ask my witch, she’s got some theories.”

“You’re going to get yourself killed,” he insisted and you couldn’t help but think that he and Eden might actually get along if it weren’t for the fact he was a demon. They seemed to have a lot of similar ideas. 

“Well, nothing has happened yet. Do you intend on killing me?”

“I could do anything to you, you couldn’t stop me.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

The longer this went on, the more relaxed you became. This man had no intention of hurting you, that much was more than clear. 

“I should kill you right now,” he said with a growl, one that you didn’t even have it in you to pretend you found frightening. The both of you had long since passed that point. 

“Why?”

“Because I’m a demon. That’s what we do.”

“And yet here we are and I remain unharmed. So it seems demons are more complicated than that. Either that or you’re a shitty demon.”

He couldn’t seem to fight back a smile at that. “Yeah, well you’re a shitty witch.”

“I’m not a witch. A witch-in-training at most, although something tells me the training is not going to happen again for a very long time.”

“My bad,” he said, and you could almost detect a hint of sheepishness in his tone. 

“I know how you can make it up to me,” you said leaning forwards towards him from your seat on the bed. 

His head cocked to the side. “And how is that?”

“Tell me why you did it.”

He groaned. “You and your why’s. I’m not telling you anything.”

“Fine,” you said, “I’ll give it a shot then. Do you know what I think? I think you never imagined I’d break that warding. You were just trying to scare me or prove some point about me or whatever and then I broke the warding and you didn’t know what to do. I think I ruined your little plan and when confronted with someone who was scared and who trusted you, you helped them. Who wouldn’t?”

“Cute little story you’ve spun yourself.”

You shrugged. “It’s what I would’ve done.”

“You would’ve created a commotion to scare the shit out of a witch-in-training?”

“No, but testing someone? Trying to prove the very worst? Seeing when push comes to shove, what will people do? That’s not demon scheming.”

“Yes it is.”

“It’s really not. Seems more insecure than anything.”

That got a real hearty laugh out of him. “Oh, does it now?”

“At least that’s what my witch says when I do it. Do little tests and push at things to see if she trusts me. I mean, I’ve never made her fear for her life but she’s never trapped me and made me do anything so I think we have different levels of frustration.”

“She doesn’t believe in you,” he observed and you wondered if he was just now coming to understand that.  

You rolled your eyes. “Who would?” 

The question hung in the air and you could feel him waiting, wondering if he should answer it. 

You took the choice away from him, asking a question of your own in return. “When was the last time a human trusted you?”

“A long, long time ago, little one. Not to say I haven’t earned my reputation.” 

“I don’t know. You seem pretty trustworthy to me.” 

“You’d be surprised.” He looked down at the bare floor below him once more. “You know, there’s nothing stopping me anymore. I could take you away, let you leave this place.”

That caught you by surprise. “What? No, I… I can’t”

“Why? Because of the woods? I could take you right past them. There’s no way you’ve never wanted to leave. Come on, I could even take you back after, you don’t have to be imprisoned here.”

“This is my home,” you insisted. 

“What the fuck has she done to you? You could leave, right now, go anywhere. I’m offering you the world, one trip, no fees, no fine print. I never do that, you’d be a fool to refuse it.”

“She hasn’t done anything to me. She just wants to keep me safe.” At the end of the day, it always came back to this with the two of you, Eden forever being the wedge between you. 

“The little warden has you playing good little prisoner. I’m honestly impressed. And they call me manipulative.”

“Stop it. I know she’s wronged you but-”

“But? There is not but. She is a monster and you’re trapped in her web just as much as I am.”

“She is a good person.”

“Maybe you’re too far gone. I don’t know if I can help you.”

“I don’t need help,” you said. 

He opened his mouth to insist you did or tell you once more how much of a monster your savior was but you dismissed him before he had the chance. 

Without the warding, he could have stayed. He could have clung to this plane easily but he let you push him away and once more you were locked alone in your room. 

It took a long time to fall asleep. Your conversation with Lucien kept swimming around and around in your head. 

Eventually, exhaustion got the better of you and your room faded away to another familiar place. 

It hadn’t even been a full day since you’d left and Lucien’s room was just as vivid as when you’d been standing in it. 

He was there too, looking down at you with that hungry look he’d gotten in his eyes on occasion, when he thought you weren’t looking. 

“I’m glad you came back,” he said, walking over towards you, his hand moving under your chin, forcing you to look up at him. “It gets boring around here without you, I could always use a sweet little thing to play with.”

Your face warmed and you managed to stutter out, “I… uh…”

You heard a chuckle from behind you and dream Lucien dissipated in a puff of smoke as you stiffened. 

You whipped around to see Lucien again, a notably more real one, leaning against the wall. “Pity. I wanted to see what happened next. 

Your face burned, glad dream Lucien left before he could do anything particularly embarrassing. 

You folded your arms with a huff. “Are you just going to invade all of my dreams now?”

“Maybe. If they’re all as fun as this one was gearing up to be then you can sign me up.”

You clamored for a retort but came up empty, ending up just sputtering and then staring at him all while feeling as if your cheeks might melt and your heart might beat its way right out of your chest. 

He chucked again. “Relax. It’s sweet. Next time I’ll try and come in later, you could use some stress relief.”

You might actually spontaneously combust. “Please say you came for some reason other than to embarrass me,” you pleaded. 

He shrugged. “Just came to talk. Embarrassing you was an unexpected bonus.”

Next time you saw him in the non-dream world you were going to throw something at him.

“Talk about what?” you asked, desperately trying to change the topic. 

“We ended on bad terms earlier.”

Oh. That. You’d almost prefer he keep on humiliating you.

“Did you come to apologize?” you asked, trying not to sound too hopeful. 

But nothing could ever be simple with him. 

“You know,” he said,  “there’s lots of different reactions demons have when humans summon them, trap them, make them do their bidding, all that nasty business. Some get violent, some get tricky, some have given up and are just filled with despair, following along until they’re finally free. There’s no right reaction to this sort of thing, not really. But there’s one kind that we all hate, the real traitors. Because sometimes there is no fighting back, no despair. Sometimes they just happily fall in line. It’s certainly safer that way, I can’t fault anyone for listening, but to do it happily? And sometimes, eventually, they don’t even need to be forced. They just go along with it, anything for their little masters.”

“I don’t understand.”

“No, I didn’t think you would. I won’t push too hard, you’re clearly not ready for that, but you witch is a very, very bad person.”

“She just doesn’t understand you. I’ll make her understand.”

“At least you're going to try. That’s something.” He spoke with a halfhearted smile, his mind clearly elsewhere. You wished more than anything you could read him, that you could understand what was going on in his head. 

“Of course I am. And she will understand, I’ll make her see that you’re not a threat, that she shouldn't be summoning you.”

The sadness written across his face was clear, with hunched shoulders and a furrowed brow betraying him as he stared down at you. 

Finally, after staring intently at you, contemplating something as he mulled over your words, he said,“Thyme.”

“Excuse me?”

“You didn’t have enough thyme. That’s how I can get in here. Most witches use way more than necessary just in case but you tried to make it exact and it fucked you over.” 

“Oh. I didn’t want to use more of my witch’s stash than I had to.”

“One of these days someone crueler than me is going to come along and that mindset is going to get you hurt.”

“I’ve been fine so far. Why did you tell me, if I fix it you can’t get into my head anymore.”

He shrugged. “Figure it out.” 

“Is it an apology or another trick”

“What do you think,” he asked with a smile. He enjoyed this, giving you little pieces of information and seeing what you’d do with them. 

“An apology,” you decided.

“Your witch would call that foolish,” he informed you, as if you weren’t already intimately familiar with the idea. 

“She already calls me foolish, might as well trust my instincts if it’s going to happen anyways.”

“I don’t know what I’ve done to make you think I’m so good-intentioned.”

You laughed. “Yeah, because you’ve been so cruel to me”

“I tricked you,” he reminded you, as if it had just slipped your mind. 

“And then you took care of me when I proved you wrong.”

“An outlier. You caught me off guard.”

“How?”

“Because you fell for my trick.”

“Oh, is that so? Maybe your expectations of me were too high. Do you think me foolish now too?”

“Maybe. I’m not entirely sure what to think of you.”

The room snapped out of existence as you woke with a jolt at Eden banging at your door, some food having already been slipped underneath it. You considered asking her to bring you more thyme but thought better of it. You didn’t think you’d be needing it anytime soon. 

[dyke-pollinator]

Think I'm going to need to come to terms with the face that I'm not a baby trans anymore.

[sandinmybed]

can i be fr for a minute?? sending abuse to people online for holding different views than you is not activism and in fact actively hurts your cause. most people are not extreme in their viewpoints, you can give them a new perspective if you're willing to spend some time explaining shit. if someone is saying something you disagree with and you rush in there to condescend to them and call them disgusting and subhuman and dont even TRY to explain calmly why their views are harmful, they're going to shut you out instantly and double down on their views.

most people are simply genuinely ignorant to the issues they're talking about - they just pick their views up from the news and the world around them and express opinions because that's what every person does. if you run in there and tell them they're scum for it, what then? if someone does that to you, are you going to think "maybe i should do some research" or are you going to think "this person is an asshole, im blocking them." a lot of you think you're activists and then refuse to do any kind of actual WORK to support your cause.

[princessefemmelesbian]

Transandrophobia truthers are so damn racist and white oh my fucking god y'all actually piss me the fuck off every time you tokenize Black and brown men for your stupid as fuck "mra but make it trans-inclusive" ideology created by a creepy guy with a corrective rape fetish(something I'll never let up on for as long as I live, btw). If I ever see another one of y'all say "Black and brown men face discrimination because they're seen as overly masculine and that's why masculinity in men is oppressed in this society" I will literally kill myself. Stop using Black and brown men as brownie points for your bullshit arguments about misandry being real when you don't have the slightest idea how racialized oppression works. White boys are so annoying and dumb istfg.

@punkeropercyjackson @punknicodiangelo @pinkpinkstarlet

[jessieren]

Is everyone ready for Feral Fidget Friday? It is after all one of our favourite days of the week... for good reason.

Does this count as a fidget? It does now on the basis that..

Its his favourite notebook

Its the blue coat of glow from S9

He looks hot here

Haaannnddsssss

Fuck he's hot

Also... do they have to give him jackets with extra large pockets to fit his notebook in?? I could never fit a notebook in the pocket of any of my jackets

We need to add this to our list of questions.. 😀

[hms-incorrect-quotes]

Whole, watching Heart & Mind panic: <What's going on?>

Soul: {Heart is having a midlife crisis and Mind is just having a crisis.}

‎

[transxfiles]

idk man at the end of the day my sister and i are just coworkers in the same house. pulling different shifts at the family factory. her room is our breakroom and if either of us need a smoke break we go out to my car and drive around until the boss realizes we've been gone for 3 hours and then we gotta explain ourselves.

[liesmultixxx]

Me: *talks about my feelings*

Mom: 😐

Me, remembering: Oh yeah sorry i forgot that we don’t talk about our feelings in this household😄My bad

[ichthyorelationships]

an idea i invite anyone else to write about / run with lol....

the premise that The Change gets all messed up for alberto, say it's something that can happen from stress, &/or happens rarely and you just have to wait for it to resolve itself....used as some parallel to struggling through some emotional turbulence / upheaval / questioning / Realizing Things, etc etc