#but like..... as a cosmically terrifying feeling not meant for humans to experience

[shinelikethunder]

hey SPN fandom what do you think should happen if Sam drinks angel blood

#supernatural #sam winchester #bloodfreak!sam #ok i'll go first i think he should get to do a word for word repeat of the doctor who monologue about feeling the turn of the earth #but like..... as a cosmically terrifying feeling not meant for humans to experience

[sergeantsporks]

Writing request: post king’s tide, Gus and Hunter talking about the events in it and what they’re gonna do now (What Gus saw with the Belos thing. And also how Gus feels in the human realm now that his first experience with it is basically soured.)

(I hope you don't mind I changed the prompt a little bit to fit what we got from Thanks to Them)

“I knew.”

Hunter poked a stick in the fire Luz had lit with a glyph. “Hm?”

Gus drew his knees up to his chest. “I knew. That you were a Grimwalker.”

Hunter’s grip tightened on the stick. “Oh.” He poked the coals again, then jumped up. “OH.” He jabbed a finger at Gus, mouth fumbling and stumbling on the words he wanted to say. “You’re Captain Avery,” he managed to spit out.

“Hah. Yeah. I’m Captain Avery. I thought you were picking up on what I was trying to say when you made that O’ Bailey costume.”

Hunter ran his hands through his hair. “Cosmic Frontier—you were… ohhhhhhh.” He sat back down with a groan. “I completely missed that.”

Gus’ nose crinkled. “In hindsight, it was probably a liiiiiitle too nuanced as a way to let you know that I knew. I mean. Book code? How were you supposed to know that meant I knew?” He twisted his hands. “I just… wanted to let you know that it was okay. That you could trust me.”

“I do.”

“But… not with that.”

“I needed more time to find out more. About where I came from, about… how I related to Belos, who my ortet was. Caleb Wittebane.” The words were foreign in his mouth.

“Heh. Caleb, huh? That’s a weird coincidence.”

Hunter clutched at his chest where Flapjack had last been. “Yeah… weird…”

“He seems like he was okay.”

“Huh?”

Gus rubbed his arms. “When I… did that spell on Belos, I saw him. Caleb Wittebane. That was how I knew. I saw him, I saw your… birth…”

“Sorry about that.”

Gus chuckled. “It wasn’t so bad, you just crawled out of a mudpit. As far as how people are born, that’s probably the least traumatizing thing to see!” He settled back down. “But he seemed like an okay guy, your ortet. I know Masha said he got spirited away by a witch, but I think he went because he wanted to. And he stayed because he wanted to.”

Hunter tugged on the new strand of hair. Maybe Willow would cut it for him again. “He was still a witch hunter. He still brought his brother to a place where everyone was a witch hunter, Belos wouldn’t have been a witch hunter without him. He went to the isles looking for him, he’s the reason Belos was there. He’s the reason Belos didn’t leave.”

“Maybe.” Gus sighed. “Belos killed him.”

“Yeah?”

“They had a fight. I don’t think he was a witch hunter at the end. He was a witch protector.”

“Fat lot of good it did anyone.”

“Hey. Don’t be so hard on him. He made mistakes, sure, everyone does. But we’re not blaming Luz for accidentally helping Belos meet the Collector, are we?”

“No,” Hunter muttered, “We’re not.”

“So maybe be a little nicer about Caleb. Your ortet did the right thing at the end, and that’s what matters.”

“Hm.”

“And it doesn’t matter anyway. None of that affects who you are.” Gus nudged him. “Not… any more than who O’ Bailey was cloned from affected who he was.”

Despite himself, Hunter smiled. “Heh. Yeah. That plotline was a bit contrived, huh? It was the ‘enemy planet’ thing that mattered.”

“Ha.”

Hunter leaned back. “Would you ever go back?”

“Hm?”

“To the human realm,” Hunter clarified, “Would you go back?”

“I don’t know. I always wanted to go, I’ve loved the idea of the human realm for as long as I can remember, but…”

“Your first experience wasn’t under the best of circumstances?”

“Yeah.” Gus glanced over at the blanket lump that was Luz. “I’d go to visit Luz and Camila, I think. If we could make a stable portal.” He sighed. “It wasn’t all bad. There was so much cool stuff there! And the giraffes were… terrifying. But I just… I don’t know, I think I would have enjoyed it more if I wasn’t missing my dad the whole time.”

“So bring him next time,” Hunter suggested.

“What?”

“Bring your dad. Show him the things you liked. Let him see. Then the human realm won’t be a place where you missed your dad, it’ll be a cool place you showed him.”

“Yeah,” Gus said slowly, “Yeah! He can be the first Boiling Isles reporter to cover the human realm!” Gus’ ears wiggled up and down. “And I can be his tour guide!” Gus settled down, leaning against Hunter’s shoulder. “Thanks, Hunter.”

Hunter nodded, staring into the fire. “Thank you. For… being understanding about the Grimwalker thing. For trying to reach out, even if it didn’t work.”

“Hm? Yeah, sure. We made a secret handshake and everything, I’m not going to be put off by a little cloning and witch hunter ancestry.” Gus held his fist out for a bump. “You’re stuck with me.”

#toh #the owl house #toh fanfiction #toh hunter #hunter wittebane #gus porter #writing requests #my writing

[ecoamerica]

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[banannabethchase]

KrisRuby with alien Kris (how you interpret that is up to you). Ruby is napping on a couch in the locker room and wakes up to find Kris kneeling over her, studying her intently.

Kiss is Cosmic - also on AO3

~

Ruby wakes up to Kris staring at her sleep, and finally figures out what's so intriguing about her.

~

Title from Katy Perry's ET. For the bingo square I4 Crack. Which is obvious.

~

Ruby has the sense somebody is staring down at her as she drags herself from the tendrils of sleep. She hadn’t meant to pass out on a locker room couch, but Saraya had kept her up until 3am going over outfit options and ranting about Toni and she couldn’t keep her eyes open.

It takes a minute to realize that she’s not making it up, that she really is being stared at, and she slowly blinks her eyes open to see somebody unreasonably close to her.

“Holy fuck,” Ruby says, scrambling to sit on the couch. “What the hell are you doing?!”

“Examining you.” Kris says it like it’s normal, like they’re discussing the weather. “I’m curious.”

“Cur – about what?”

Kris blinks at her, almost clinically. “The human body, when faced with trauma or adverse experiences, has multiple coping mechanisms. On observation, I’ve noted that your most frequent coping mechanism is falling asleep in random places at venues.” She smiles at Ruby. “You’ve been doing so more lately, so I wanted to see how intensely the coping mechanism locks into your psyche or if it was easily disturbed.”

“I am definitely easily disturbed when somebody watches me fucking sleep,” Ruby grumbles, rubbing at her eyes. “And coping – what the hell? Why are you watching me like that?”

Kris shrugs. “I think you’re interesting.”

“Are you hitting on me or something?”

Kris blinks her pretty eyes, unfazed. “Would you like me to hit on you?” She looks a little confused. “Generally my scientific requirements prefer me to be outside of the research, but I could reconsider. I have in the past.”

“Human subjects,” Ruby scoffs. “You say that like you’re not human.”

“I’m not,” Kris says. “We’ve been over this, like, a million times.”

“You dropped the alien gimmick over a year ago,” Ruby replies.

Kris tilts her head, and her inquisitive little smile is both intriguing and terrifying. “Gimmick?” she asks. “No, I didn’t drop anything. I’m more than a woman because, in my species, gender is optional and entirely separate from reproduction.”

It’s Ruby’s turn to blink, confused. “Excuse me?”

“Generally, on Earth,” Kris continues, “I present like this,” she gestures to herself, and Ruby can’t keep herself from scanning Kris’ body. She’s always told herself not to look. She’s never let herself look before. But here’s the invitation. “I enjoy this body. It provides fascinating reactions.”

Ruby feels her cheeks heat up without her permission. “Uh. Are you trying to tell me you’re literally an alien?”

“I don’t know why everyone doubts me,” Kris says, and she finally looks something other than clinical. “I’ve told people since day one. I’m from the Andromeda galaxy, and I’m the galaxy’s greatest alien. That last part is a personal claim, of course, but it added some flair to my identity.”

“You thought being an actual alien wasn’t flair enough?”

“Clearly it wasn’t, because no one believes me!” She throws her hands in the air. “I was sent here to do research, but all you humans are so sweet and charming. It’s almost impossible to avoid it. And then people like you come along, and you’re just so interesting, and you don’t even let me talk to you without trying to kill me.” She slumps down on the couch next to Ruby. “I love my belt, I do, but it would be nice to get somebody’s attention without it.”

Ruby scoots closer next to Kris. “You have my attention.”

“Only because I used you as a subject in my anthropological research,” Kris says, and she looks so sad Ruby has no choice but to put her hand on Kris’ thigh.

Kris turns to her. “I’m not doing that, by the way.”

“Doing what?” Ruby asks.

“Making you – nice,” Kris says, frowning like she wasn’t sold on her word choice. “I don’t have powers like that. All I’m good for is scientific research.”

“And wrestling,” Ruby says. “You’re very good at that.”

Kris blushes and tilts her head down. “Thank you.”

Ruby bumps her shoulder. “Are you sure you’re not putting any weird spells on me?”

Kris turns to her, and they’re so close their noses bump. “Promise.”

Ruby can’t be blamed what happens next. The day has been weird enough. She’s just following the pattern.

Ruby leans in and kisses Kris, the softest press of lips she could have imagined. It’s quick, sweet, but it makes Ruby wonder if she should do more about it than sweet.

When she pulls away, Kris is blinking at her. Her eyes settle on wide confusion. “You kissed me,” she murmurs.

“Yeah,” Ruby says, laughing. She rubs her hand at the back of her neck. “Yeah, I guess I did.”

“Either I have misread may cues, or that – meant something.” Kris frowns. “Unless some of your kind kiss people without reason?”

“I mean, some do,” Ruby says, shrugging. “But, uh. No, I think it might have meant something.” She’s not used to feeling this off guard around Kris, this entranced. “Oh, my god, I think I’m into the alien deal.”

“The alien deal?” Kris repeats. The confusion slowly blurs to something next to hurt. “Oh, I understand. The novelty is what intrigues you.” She smiles, but it’s the tiniest bit sad. “That often occurs with my scientific research. I grow attached and tell the person, but when they learn I’m an alien their interest peaks and wanes. It makes sense. Humans crave new experiences.”

Ruby opens her mouth. “I mean, I might be interested in a new experience with you because you’re Kris Statlander the whole time. The alien bit just made it…obvious.”

Kris tilts her head, her smile shifting. “Made what obvious?”

Ruby huffs. “Aren’t you a human expert or something? You know.”

“True, but I’d rather have it confirmed.” Her face lights up. “I’d never want my academic biases to overtake empirical evidence.”

“Why does that make you hotter?” Ruby mutters. “Fine. I think – I like you. I have for a while, but I’ve been ignoring it. Everything with the Outcasts, and losing to you for the title.” She closes her eyes. “And you being all –” She pauses. “All you about it made me think about it, and now here we are. On a couch, with you making me talk.”

Kris’ smile grows. “You can kiss me again, if you’d like.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Ruby mutters. But she leans in anyway, tasting the smile on Kris’ alien lips.

~

Mini playlist: ET - Katy Perry Here (In Your Arms) - Hellogoodbye She Blinded Me with Science -Thomas Dolby Future Starts Now - Kim Petras

#KrisRuby #here have some fluff a dentist would love #because it'll give you cavities #in which Sara writes #sarahcakes613 #For some reason this fic was super hard to write

[edoro]

May I ask for your extremely normal thoughts on this episode?

takes a deep breath

dissolves into a screaming puddle of goo

things i am Extremely Normal About:

-Philip's continuing obsession with Luz

-the way her insulting his fashion sense clearly GENUINELY HURT HIS FEELINGS? oh my godddd bro she is not your friend she doesn't LIKE you but that's not gonna stop him

-the way he irritatedly corrects her from 'emperor of the witch hunters' to 'witch-hunter general' this man is such a bitch and also just SO deep in his own twisted little game of make-believe like. just really zero concept of what's going on here for real.

-he is so obsessed with her it's so fucking creepy. the way that it was her crying and begging while saying his Real Name that got him to agree with her? oh my god, Philip, dude.

-the way he just unleashed 300 years of barely restrained Bitch Energy on Kiki in one moment of nuclear weapons-grade cruelty because he's tired of being nice and he DOES want to go apeshit and it like visibly immediately improved his entire demeanor, there's not even anything physically wrong with him actually he is literally just such a bitch that the sheer effort of holding it back for that long caused him to experience the symptoms of every disease ever

-GRANDPA BODY HORROR GRANDPA BODY HORROR

-"Hunter why are you hurting me :(" shut the entire fuck up oh my god i'm going to put this old man in tupperware and leave him in the back of the fridge for a year

-Caleb name reveal + ABSOLUTE BATSHIT FREAKOUT GRANDPA BODY HORROR

-the Collector is genuinely fucking terrifying. immortal godchild kidthing with unspeakable cosmic powers and 0 concept of morality or that other people are real or can be hurt or that his actions have consequences. i love him so much. genuinely so much more frightening than Philip's banal malice tbh.

-the Collector is So Fucking Traumatized this kid is so fucked up holy shit they are NOT okay. cannot imagine what the last 300+ years of having no one but Philip "molestation Georg*" Wittebane for company has done to them

(*lives in a cave and has groomed or attempted to groom every child he's ever met jesus FUCKING christ someone put this man in a jar and put the jar in a lead-lined box at the bottom of the sea)

-The Collector Is My Sonthing Now. yes he has done everything wrong ever no i don't care.

-EVIL BODY HORROR GRANDPA GETTING TWIRLED UP LIKE A FORKFUL OF SPAGHETTI AND THEN SPLORCHED. "i'm not even mad tho" man he knew he had fucked up, i love how we finally got to see Philip Experiencing A Consequence

-obsessed with how brutal and unceremonious that was tbh. like. i was just sitting there like Is He Actually Fucking Dead. Is That How They Disposed Of Philip. Oh My God. everyone else watching in utter horror because that was incredibly fucked up. the way Hunter was crying about it because That Was His (evil and unspeakably abusive sure but still) Uncle and that's so fucked up for him to have to see. his hesitance in stepping in the goop puddle. the malicious goo dribble ugh ugh ugh Leave Him Alone Philip Please.

-GOO GRANDPA IN THE HUMAN REALM WHAT CRIMES WILL HE COMMIT

-i love Raine ripping off Eda's arm. i feel like, you know the bit where Darius stopped fighting bc Healing Coven Head was about to kill Eberwolf? i think Raine would have done the math on how quick they could get the replacement Beastkeeping Coven Head up there now that it was all underway and Belos was gone vs how much longer til the eclipse was over and decided they could bear that moral weight on their conscience forever if it meant they and everyone else lived to see the end of this

-GUS? CRYING?? THE WAY HUNTER WAS PROTECTIVELY HOLDING HIM? THEY MEAN SO MUCH TO ME AUUUUGH

-SNEAKY KIKI SNEAKY KIKI god i love her she's so horrible and so good and i simply adore her

-the pit of like DOZENS OF MURDERED GOLDEN GUARDS okay. what is WRONG with Philip like what happened to his brain to make him this way.

-the way they left Alador behind like he was going to Divert The Horde in a zombie movie LMAO it's okay Amity. it's better this way. now you can pretend he would have been a good dad instead of having to live with the ongoing realization that even his best would be crushingly mediocre.

-Alador trying to hit Hunter with the "loyal soldier of the Emperor" accusation and then trying to dad voice him immediately afterwards when that doesn't work. sir. pick one. also lmao love the Shit Dad Driving Experience. terrible driver gets mad when you point it out and actively endangers all of you because now he's distracted yelling at you. his Shit Dad Energies are just so huge, i love it.

-i'm just obsessed with Philip and the Collector oh my god. horror horror horror. there is so much wrong with both of them and they're so fucked up together jfc. never going to get over it.

-it took me literally four hours to watch the episode.

#toh spoilers #csa mention #sorry i can't. not talk about it like. philip's groomer energy in this one is off the charts #asks

[hauntedjpegcollection]

here

wc: 4746 au: dishonored au ch: xavier, benji

For a long time after dying, Xavier does a commendable job of staying away from Benji. He has to be careful—conscious of the effort. Because more than once or twice, he’d felt himself in that between world, that nothing place, searching. Drifting, like a fishing boat meant to come to shore—right to Benji. He was home, wasn’t he? The lighthouse that was alive just for him. Then Xavier would snap into consciousness on the brick wall, all too ready to fall forward into the estate. He’d be at the dock where they’d shared their first kiss, knowing that Benji was only just behind him. If he was selfish (or brave) enough, he could go and get him.

Xavier tries to be good, because he swore that once upon a time, he was good. Benji had told him that, lips to his ear, hand pressed against ribs. So good. There was some sense of morality that he could still cling to, even as something cosmic was ripping apart all the stitching, all his seams that held in all that good. Xavier shed humanity day by day, with every hour he could no longer count.

He couldn’t even be considered human anymore, could he?

But he could be good.

What he’d found about himself—his new self—was nothing short of monstrous. Disgusting—terrifying, a nightmare, a myth. But Xavier could do one thing, for both him and Benji. And that was stay away. Occupy the same city and never see each other. Never share a bed again, never touch one another. Sometimes, Xavier is sure the kindness is cowardice in disguise—he cannot imagine Benji looking at the walking corpse of his once lover with anything other than horror.

And still.

It really is a long time. Until it isn’t. Until he slips. Purposefully.

—

For about the same amount of time Xavier went without seeing Benji, he also sought to find some sort of cure. Not the kind that would reverse what happened—becoming a lab experiment’s version of a God came with knowledge. Sometimes infinite, sometimes small. And Xavier knew, somehow, in the void that replaced his heart, that there was no going back. He would never be Xavier Wolffe—who got too freckled in the summer, who always forgot to lace his left boot, who loved his sisters and fought with his father, who wanted a sword because he wanted responsibility, who dreamed of a green house in the woods—again.

But he thought, maybe he could die again.

Maybe it would be permanent this time.

Maybe they could bury him, like they couldn’t before. His grave wouldn’t be empty any longer, the absence of him would no longer be a hole inside the chest of everyone who once knew him. Maybe there would be closure.

But it didn’t matter—no knife ever found his throat a second time. In every instance that it came close, there was this bone deep survivor inside him that made Xavier parry a poorly aimed blade. It became easy to take someone else’s life instead of his own. Killing began to feel good. It was righteous. He found and killed men, just like Gabriel—if one remembers, the man who orchestrated Xavier’s death entirely. And he killed the men protecting those men.

And it was a cycle that didn’t end.

Xavier thought he could live in that chaos.

But.

It’s not that different from dodging a blade, really.

—

“Only tonight,” he whispers. “Just one night.”

This is a promise he already knows he will break. Omnipotence not needed for that.

Still…

The blankets and sheets rustle as Xavier slides into Benji’s bed (and tries not to think that this is now Benji’s bed, and never will it ever be their bed again). It feels all at once familiar and completely new, because Xavier is not entirely Xavier anymore. All the memories of Benji are stark, bright. Like glints of sharp edged mirrors; he remembers nearly everything. Every word they ever shared together, every kiss or caress, every meaningless fight he would redo a thousand times if he ever got the chance. He knows he won’t.

Things are watery for Xavier. Hazy. He feels like his hand is almost always reaching into the fog; but Benji has always been clarity.

Yet, his body feels awkward and clumsy, trying to remember the way they used to fit together. This is a vessel not meant for intimacy. That’s the crux of the issue, because Xavier has been newly alive for years now and he has not held anyone since that painful rebirth. He’s never tried. It terrifies him to be close to something mortal, something that he isn’t hurting.

As Benji’s back meets his chest, and Xavier’s arms wind around his middle, just the same as they used to lay before it all happened—he cannot help but wonder if Benji has ever had another. If any man has shared this bed in those painful stretching years of silence; of when Xavier was dead in the sense that Benji did not know he was alive, and then of when Xavier was dead in the sense that he was simply trying so hard to keep them apart.

Not alive, still, by any means.

If Xavier tries, he can find the answer. It’s not always something he can easily control. Knowing everything, being everything (being nothing). But it also feels like a violation. If Benji wanted others, he could have them—what was Xavier going to do? What could he ever expect? Only, when he thinks of it, the windows in the room shake slightly. He presses his nose into Benji’s hair, closes his eyes, tightens his arms. Wills away thoughts of anyone ever touching his lover (his, always, his), because Xavier is constantly so close to not having control over something he barely understands.

“You still smell so good,” he finds himself admitting quietly. Benji shivers. The shivers turn to trembles. Xavier’s nose presses deeper into night black curls. He fills his lungs in a deep, hard inhale, and he can feel Benji in him then, like that. Xavier is full of him, instead of water and oil. His arms tighten on reflex. The longing opens in him like a wound down his middle, as though he’s been gutted with a fishers hook.

“You’re cold.” Benji’s voice is thick and wet at the edges. There is a brief pause. And then, Xavier moves apologetically, murmuring to them both as he turns to pull himself out of the bed. Mistake. He’ll leave. He’ll run away, and keep running and maybe not look back this time. Be good. Good. Only Benji’s hand snaps around his wrist as his arms unwind. He is so warm it is almost painful. It’s like a brand, rough fingers holding him so tightly. If he were human, maybe that grip would even hurt. But he isn’t mortal anymore; and instead it feels so good.

He doesn’t want to stop being touched.

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare, Xavier,” Benji whispers in a wounded hiss. He hasn’t moved at all, even as Xavier sits up. He lays there, on his side, face turned more toward his pillow. Strands of hair give him privacy, covering his face. The hand not holding Xavier’s pale wrist, clings around the edge of the mattress instead. His knuckles are pale with the effort.

“Don’t go.”

So Xavier doesn’t, even if he should.

There’s a brief and still crystal clear memory of the first time they slept together (not as children, when Maran, sweet but easily scared Maran, would ask them to sleep in his too big bed and they’d lay there all night instead while Benji made up stories that scared all three of them). This is Xavier cresting adulthood instead, this memory is one he revisits so often it would be yellowed at the edges if it were paper.

Xavier had laid behind Benji, just like this, in a bed not too unlike this one, too small for his too long body. Gangly at that age and Benji—he remembered Benji sleeping all curled up. Knees bent, arms tucked around himself. And for some reason, Xavier had hated it, made a joke as he wound himself around Benji like vines and forced him into something he found more relaxing. They’d only slept that night, but it had felt more intimate than when they kissed.

He lays back down, sliding his leg between Benji’s knees. His arms return, cradling this much warmer body closer. There’s a moment of silence until Benji’s shoulders begin to shake.

“You’re never cold.”

It’s funny; he remembers every time Benji had cursed about Xavier being the warmest man alive. Now Xavier realizes that every time Benji had said that, what he was really saying was I love you, I love how warm you are, I love being in a bed with you, it’s warm but safe. What he didn’t realize—What Xavier couldn’t understand was the loss of something so small and so significant to Benji.

All he could do was continue laying there, while one more piece of him was mourned and lost forever.

—

When he was human, he used to sleep so much.

Xavier remembers loving it; he remembers coveting it, stealing mid day naps when he could, sleeping in on prayer days (the irony not lost on him now, when he stands in front of his own altars and looks down at their offerings). He remembers blankets smelling like his lover, pillows that were flimsy and thin but somehow heavenly after a long day on the docks. He remembers laying in the grass under the thin excuse for sun that Dunwall had while Benji did garden work beside him.

He did not have the green thumb Maran did—but he was so strong. He was so strong. The grounds workers never turned down his extra help and Xavier?

Xavier would lay there, playing with a blade of grass, watching. Benji couldn’t ever help himself—he’d promptly kneel when no one was looking and press one sweet kiss to Xavier’s brow. Lazy, he’d say, but he’d never make Xavier get up.

Sleep is different now. He isn’t sure if it is sleeping. Sometimes, it feels similar, because he’s prone on a bed and not there for a long, long time. And there’s dreams too; nightmares often. It doesn’t rejuvenate because Xavier’s exhaustion is different now too. It’s not like the feeling in his biceps after hauling crab traps, or how the tiredness would spread through his whole body after a morning run. Xavier’s tired in other ways. And sleep doesn’t have the respite that it once had and he doesn’t want sleep the way he used to when he was mortal. Human. But he was asleep none the less, and then awake, when fingertips touch his cheek.

Benji faces him, when they’d fallen asleep with his back to Xavier’s chest. He’s on his side, a hand out stretched. Just the bare hint of a touch to a scar that goes across Xavier’s nose and down his cheek. Another that separates his eyebrow, that had nearly cost him an eye. He inhales sharply when Benji’s palm cups his ruined face softly. It feels like a moment that was penned for him to exist in and everything narrows completely to just Benji, and the hand touching him.

“The drug wore off,” Xavier explains. Once, he might have had a sleep rough voice that Benji would have mocked. They’d have woken up with well planted kisses, complaints about morning breath. Instead, Benji is staring at him, with wide eyes. Xavier shouldn’t talk about it because he knows every single word is going to hurt, but Benji stays quiet. Xavier can feel how bad he wants to know, wants any detail. As if knowing can somehow make it better.

“Underestimated how much they’d need, ‘cause I’m big,” Xavier laughs and slides a hand just below Benji’s ribs. Through the thin fabric of his shirt, he can feel the warmth of him. Blood, muscle, bone, life. His thumb rubs softly. He can see the expression on Benji’s face breaking just slightly. Imagining Xavier and a knife and a stranger. “I must have—I think I sat up. On the st-stone, when they were about to—and I scared them.”

Xavier doesn’t remember it, but in the way he knows everything, he knows that as well. And he knows it almost made them stop. A ruined sacrifice, face split open. But someone had said to keep going—that he’d be perfect when it was over, that it didn’t matter. Maybe the change hadn’t healed his wounds to his face and left scars instead because he wasn’t perfect. Because he hadn’t fully become what they’d wanted him to be.

And now here he was. A hideous, malformed accident.

Only Benji didn’t look at him like that—Xavier could see it in his eyes. Maybe they’d been apart for so long, maybe he wasn’t even human anymore, but there was something pulsing inside him, something that always knew what Benji was thinking. The part of him that would hold a hand out knowing Benji was already reaching for it, the part of him that knew Benji was cold and offered his jacket, when he knew Benji wanted to leave a social gathering because it was too noisy. The part that knew Benji wanted a kiss, or a soft touch under the jaw, a hug.

Xavier closes his eyes and rolls away from him.

The bed creaks and now he knows Benji has gotten out of it. He could recognize that shifting weight from mere memories alone, where he’d lay in bed while Benji woke up first. Because Xavier had loved sleeping in…

“You know I can’t,” Xavier says, as he sits up on the bed at the exact time Benji—

“Why not?” His anger is icy and smooth. It’s like running a hand down a cold, stone wall in the middle of Dunwall’s winter. Impenetrable and unbreakable. “You’re here, yeah? You came.” He stumbles over the last words. His voice wavers. He stands in front of Xavier, who comes up to his chest, their height difference stark even when he’s seated. Something still human inside Xavier feels tender and bruised.

“I’m being selfish.”

“You’re bein’—I want you here—”

“That’s why I shouldn’t,” Xavier’s teeth click together with the effort to keep his voice down. Benji has picked a secluded place, somewhere lonesome and wholly his own, far away from any other Giarizzo estate workers. But it isn’t just people he’s afraid of hearing him. “I shouldn’t be doing this to you.” He palms his forehead, elbows to his knees. Shame and disgust and self loathing broil underneath his skin. The only warm part of him left.

“Gwed, yeah? All your choice, not mine? Fuck that, Xavier.”

He stands quickly, but Benji doesn’t relent even though the physical enormity of Xavier is suddenly right up against his space. They’re as close as they were when they were sleeping. Benji’s chest heaves with hard, furious breathes—Xavier’s shoulders tighten like a cord has been strung between them and yanked. He stares down with a tilted chin and narrowed eyes. The wood inside the room creaks, like there’s a pressure from something pushing against it.

“It’s no ones choice,” Xavier seethes, raising his hands to gesture in his fury. “This isn’t good for you—this is wrong—I’m wrong. And being here is—it’s hurting you, because I can’t—”

“No one can!” Benji’s winter like anger finally snaps, arms thrown at his side. “No one fucking can, Xavier! Y’think what? I’ll find some bloke in this shit hole city? Go lookin’ in a bar and bring him here? Here?” His hand slices toward the bed they’d just shared. Benji’s laugh is more a snarl, just as cold. “That’s your bed—”

“No it’s not!” Xavier laughs and that’s a howl, like a dog barking. “I sleep on a pallet in a fucking clocktower.”

“Well who told y’to do that, dickhead?”

“Where the fuck else do I sleep?” Xavier’s voice raises loud enough that something in the room shakes and falls over. Something cold and slithering and ancient feels along his skin.

“Here!” Benji’s voice matches in volume. And then it softens. And the softness is louder somehow than the yelling. “Here.” He repeats, with the heels of his palms pressed against his eyes. His arms quiver. “Fuck you, Xavier. Y’could sleep here. You could.”

“Spirits, you’re mean to me,” he huffs nastily, snatching Benji closer. The space between them is feverish. His hands shake where they hold onto broad, strong hips. There’s only fabric between his palms and Benji’s skin. His warm, smooth skin. The memory of that skin haunts Xavier. “Always knew how to make me mad, didn’t you?”

“You started fights,” Benji replies in a hoarse voice. His pupils are coin sized, shiny and bright in the dark. There’s a flush to his cheeks, this sudden dark magenta color that is beautiful on his brown skin. Xavier feels a guilt that can’t be ignored because of how much he’s missed that color—how much he’s missed this closeness.

He’s always missing Benji. It’s a constant wound in his side, a thorn underneath a fingernail. Never leaving; the painful tug of it the only tether besides hate and vengeance and violence that Xavier has to this mortal world. Without it, maybe he would burn out completely and become the void he’s meant to be.

But there is so much shame because he doesn’t just miss Benji. He misses—touching. He misses holding. He misses running his tongue along the divots of Benji’s muscular chest. He misses feeling the stretch and burn and rocking motions of sex, he misses the sensation of their bodies sliding together. The taste of his tongue. Misses Benji’s whispered words and his strong hands and—

“You ended them,” Xavier murmurs back. He feels dangerously close to what it is like to be The Outsider. He feels violently close. His shoulders shiver with the anticipation, breathing deepening. The world groans once more around them. Darkness shutters the windows, preternatural. Defiant and cold. This is what he was afraid of. What he was worried would happen—what he knew would happen. Xavier can’t control whatever God sits right underneath the skin and Benji always made him feel feral. Even human.

But when he looks away—

Hands connect with his chest, sending him sprawled back onto the bed behind them. The suddenness of it surprises Xavier enough that a crack splits down the mirror in the corner of the room. Neither of them even notice, neither of them look anywhere but each other. Benji crawls onto the bed and the sight alone causes Xavier to whisper out a sound. He swallows a thick feeling in his throat, his hands raising to touch. Please, to touch. Benji continues his crawl forward, his eyes shiny in the dark of the room. His posture powerful.

Weight sinks onto Xavier’s lap, making him bite down another sound. It comes out strangled. The shifting body above him makes his eyes screw shut. Pleasure, long forgotten and ignored makes him moan. It feels so good it makes his head swim.

“I missed you so much,” Xavier admits and when he opens his eyes, Benji is seated, straddling his thighs. It feels hollow, because it cannot describe the actual sensation. The painful yearn that has flayed him alive.

I thought it was better this way. I thought I was making things better.

“I’ll stay,” he says. His hands take Benji’s thighs. He remembers the shape of them. They’re just as strong as his memory. He wants Benji naked, wants him striped of every barrier.

“Wasn’t gonna let you leave, Xavier,” Benji promises in a voice heated like metal.

There’s a man across the city praying at an altar with a dogs head painted above it—and there’s another in a manor paying for extra guards that will be useless in two weeks time when Xavier puts a sword through his heart. There’s a young girl scurrying the street because she’d painted the symbol of The Outsider across a wall, because she thinks He’s the only God worth worshiping anymore—and there’s another woman sitting at her desk, turning the pages of an ancient book, paper yellow at the edges, thin as flayed skin, thinking of ways to Undo whatever went wrong with Gabriel Giarizzo-Cohn’s mistake of a sacrifice—

And all the while that very Outsider is laying in a bed. Their bed. His pale, cold hands spread across thighs tight around his hips. He stares up with sea foam green eyes while Benji stares down at him. Not letting him go. Not again. Not for a second time. The world feels like it starts and stops there, Godhood forgotten in the glow of that hot stare.

Xavier is the first one to frantically move. To lift his arms above his head, the searing feeling of Benji’s palms across his torso and chest shoving the scratchy cotton material up. Words disappear, but sounds don’t. Benji groaning with the sensation of Xavier’s hands clutching desperately at his waist. Xavier making breathy, whimpering sounds from every kiss to his throat, his chest, the swell of his bicep even. Teeth replace lips and a tongue sooths over the little pleasurable hurts they cause.

The string of his pants is yanked open, fabric pushed down. Xavier’s body tenses and flexes, back arching from the bed. Benji’s mouth tucks into the hollow of his throat and he murmurs encouraging familiar words that have not lost an ounce of their heat; that’s it gorgeous, c’mon, Xavier, give me it, beautiful. He pants, head tossed back, eyes rolling at the sensation of Benji’s hand around him. Tugging faster. Thumb swiping a sensitive tip. Xavier is burning, his stomach muscles dancing.

And then he cums, so quickly it feels like a dizzying blow to the head. He goes lightheaded and breathless. Calves tightening, hips twitching. Benji’s mouth draws away. Weight shifts on the bed once more and all too quickly does Xavier realize how quickly that went.

“I—” he sits up, braced on elbows. The hot knife of embarrassment is surprising in his chest. It’s so human that he feels so unmoored and panicked. And those feelings too are so mortal, so definitively unlike what he’s slowly becoming, that it makes his chest flutter with uneven staccato breathes. “I’m sorry—I—” His words tumble thick and wet and ashamed until Benji darts toward him.

Their mouthes collide. It’s a messy, misdirected kiss that catches the corner of Xavier’s lips more than anything, but their heads tilt to capture each other better. A kiss, a real kiss. Their first since—their tongues slide together, Xavier’s hand tangles into inky black curls. They moan open mouthed against one another, wet and messy and needy. Benji’s desire tastes heady. His strong, warm hands roam upward, slide until they’re firm around Xavier’s shoulders. His strength is unexpected even teh second time as Xavier is flattened to the bed. His head hits the pillow and he gasps.

It feels so good—it feels too good. Shoved down, Benji’s hungry stare above him. There can’t be any humiliation then; just the basic human desire to be touched again. And again. And again—with someone who wants to keep touching.

Again and again and again.

—

He’s dozing. Its a sensation he almost forgot existed. Eyes fighting to stay open, breathing slowly evening and then hitching every time he blinks himself awake. It’s warm and pleasant, like bathwater warmed to the perfect temperature, like the giant tub Benji had once found and bought himself with his little funds just so they could both fit. Xavier’s cheek is pressed to Benji’s stomach, arms wrapped firmly around a body he never wants to let go of again. A dark hand cards through his sweaty, messy hair. The feel of his breathing is so soothing it nearly pulls him under again.

“The bed still creaks,” Xavier mumbles instead.

Benji, blessedly, fucking laughs. It’s a throaty sound, because they’d just spend the last few hours being anything but quiet with each other. His stomach moves with it and that just makes Xavier turn to face it. His nose nuzzles into the hair, broad abdomen. He moves to lathe his tongue from navel up to rib. There’s a scar there he doesn’t remember. It scares him, because he could find out. He could know, but—like dozing, he imagines daydreaming. Of laying in this bed forever and asking about every new part of Benji.

His gray hair included. Xavier’s eyes narrow on that spot of gray that blossoms from his temple. His tongue continues up as Benji groans out, low and appreciative, teeth tugging a nipple meanly until he settles his chin to Benji’s sternum.

“Sorry, never got ‘round to fixin’ the bed. Bit busy, yeah? Guardin’ Maran left and right from swarmin’ ladies that want to marry him for the oil fortune and all.”

“Oh, poor Maran.” Xavier puts a knuckle to his eye, pretends to wipe a tear, pouts.

“Told you to fix the bed, anyway, didn’t I?”

Xavier opens his eyes wide, innocent. Benji’s hands cup his cheeks. He doesn’t even flinch when thumbs brush the edge of his pale, jagged scars. He doesn’t stop to wonder if Benji might secretly think he’s the hideous replica of his dead lover. It doesn’t pop the bubble they’ve formed, for this night alone at least.

“I was busy.”

“Bein’ a lazy dog.”

“You dare,” Xavier growls, rising, bracing hands on the bed on either side of Benji. He curls back his lip, brows knitted, face a mask of pretend fury. “You can’t insult The Outsider.” Benji’s hands move from his face. Fingers dance down his throat, down bruises that Benji has left with his teeth and mouth. Bruises that shouldn’t ever have formed, loving marks that Benji never should have been able to place. Proof that The Outsider was also, sometimes, just a man.

“No,” he says as his hands move until they dig points into Xavier’s lower back. Until he shoves them together firmly once more and Xavier is between Benji’s thighs. It’s intimate, to be touching like this, to be wedged together, unselfconscious. Skin to fucking skin. “M’not talking to The Outsider. I’m talking to you, Xavier.”

I am The Outsider, Xavier doesn’t say. Not when Benji’s leg is hooking around his waist and pulling them that much closer. The sensual roll of his body upward is suggestion enough for what he wants. And maybe—maybe Xavier could just be—maybe in this creaking bed, on an estate that belongs to a man that had singled him out for ritual murder—maybe Xavier could just be a man in love and not whatever hate filled chaotic entity he was meant to be.

If anyone could tame something so wildly inhuman and so mournfully dead, it would be Benji.

Xavier’s hand nearly crushes the headboard with every thrust into him. The darkness never clears from the windows, but it doesn’t feel like an omen, but something protective. Benji’s arms feel stronger than nature around his shoulders, stronger than magic or sacrifice. They kiss, hungry devouring kisses that don’t pause or interrupt the furious rolling movement of their bodies.

After that one, they finally do actually sleep.

—

Benji forgives Xavier for not being there when sunlight breaks through clear windows. He can feel that from inside, wherever Benji lives. His heart, his pathetically mortal but beautiful heart that will solely beat because of the connection that no knife could have ever fully severed. He sits on the edge of that clocktower, a knee tucked under his chin as he looks at the murky, ugly horizon of Dunwall.

He feels sore.

It makes him grin, something like the old smile, even with the scar that wrinkles over his nose. He feels sore—it should scare him. No man or woman has ever managed to actually hurt him, since he was crashed onto the shores, onto the rocky wave breakers of the ocean. But Benji’s teeth are a ghost beneath his jaw, over his torso, on his inner thigh.

The wind ruffles his sex mused hair. His eyes close to the weighted feeling of sunlight on his skin.

#writing #dishonored au #xw #bp #xw x bp #this one is evil evil

[waywardstation]

I had an epiphany on those fake scenarios, which also ties back to a previous ask of mine that the rift energy could pose risk because it could work like a beacon to more rifts.

At first those scenarios happed because Emmet tried to think of any way he could have avoided what happened. It slowly spiraled out of control and made worse by the rift energy.

He's avoiding the real memory. Of course, it's because it contains the moment Ingo sacrificed himself to save him.

I think it's not the only reason.

Even with the loss Ingo of wrecking him, and the rift being the reason Ingo was lost, the rift on its own would've been terrifying. Humans aren't meant to witness these kind of things, let alone experience it even for a few seconds as Emmet did. It might have even been appared that it was targeting Emmet specifically. He might have seen the shadow of Something.

Which adds another level of guilt and a lot more terror. Ingo was taken because something targeted Emmet. Who knows if it won't try for Emmet again?

He represses that part of his trauma, ignores what happened to him, acts as if he's fine. Focuses on Ingo before MG Ingo uncouples those memories.

But the terror remains because his unconsciousness remembers. The feeling festers because he won't face it, and because he senses the lingering rift energy. Maybe part of him hopes he'll be taken, to find Ingo, while the larger part avoids the fear at all costs.

WOW ANON that is a great concept!!! I can only imagine the cosmic horrors you would see looking into a gaping gash in space-time! Seeing something like that would be very difficult to comprehend (maybe this is also why in Ingo’s mind station, the final, most secure memory car locked away is his recollection of falling through the rift)

And you’re right! It was originally going for Emmet! That’s the whole reason why Ingo had to pull him out of the way in the first place!

The mind, and what it can consciously and unconsciously remember is an interesting thing. I listened to a video once documenting an instance where a man had gone through something seriously traumatic, but his mind was (medically forced) to forget the memories of the event. He had no recollections of the actual events, but his mind and body subconsciously remembered something traumatic had happened, and it set in pretty deep anxiety and paranoia, and it got very bad.

Now I don’t know if I want this AU to get this dark haha. I don’t want to put Emmet through that much. But it is quite amazing what the mind can do with information of events, and how different layers can treat and react to it differently. So to see Emmet repress what happened like that, and see how the mind station interprets and deals with that behavior would be very interesting!

Thank you for your thoughts Anon! What a concept to consider!

#train of thought au #tot au 2 #state of mind au

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[haunthouse]

welcome to a meta that, in retrospect, seems glaringly obvious, but that has hit me like a freight train this morning. we’re talking about the lonely as a ghost story.

ghosts as an entity are inherently about disconnect. but kaylee, i hear you say, ghosts are dead people, wouldn’t that make them in the end’s domain? but when it comes down to it, death is a good framing device for ghosts (and yeah, it’s necessary to make ghosts), but people don’t tell ghost stories just because they’re afraid of death. ghost stories are told because ghosts are irrevocably disconnected from the living in a way that terrifies us — sometimes they’re intentionally scary, knocking shit around or yelling boo!, but a lot of the time they’re just... there. and that’s the terrifying part. something that’s there and shouldn’t be; something that can’t interact with the world around it and is completely, utterly, terrifyingly alone.

ghost stories are about isolation, about being a person without any of the framework that being a person requires, without society or connection or love. being unseen and unheard and unknown to all around you — and trying so hard to reverse all those un-words, to be seen, heard, known. that’s exactly the domain of the lonely!

and onto the meat of this meta: all nine lonely-centric statements (and the journey of one martin blackwood) through the lens of ghost stories.

(spoilers for mag170 at the end, but each episode section is clearly marked, so feel free to skip it if you haven’t gotten that far yet!)

MAG013: ALONE

the first lonely statement we get (and also the first in-person statement! which is such a good inversion of the lonely being about lack of connection! jon doesn’t do a great job of comforting naomi, but he does stay with her as she gives the statement when she asks!! that’s beside the point but it is something i really love), and right off the bat, the ghost vibes are off the charts.

truly i am feeling absolutely idiotic for not really thinking about the ghosts-lonely connection before now because this statement? peak ghost story.

naomi’s fiance dies. naomi has several near-death experiences (crashes her car, then is hit by another car and winds up in the hospital), which is also a staple in a lot of ghost stories; nearly dying is set up as a way to get the living closer to the realm of ghosts, able to interact with them more clearly. it was a dark and foggy night in a graveyard, and standing at evan’s (open, empty) grave, naomi hears his disembodied voice leading her home.

when ghost stories are told from a distance, they’re about the horror of it — disembodied howling, faces in the window that keep you up at night. but when they’re told by someone close to the now-ghost, they’re love stories. it’s my grandmother hearing her father’s breathing one last time after his death, giving her a chance to say goodbye. it’s a familiar and loving presence, comforting you. that’s what naomi’s story is — the ghost of evan showing his love for her one final time.

MAG033: BOATSWAIN’S CALL

so, ships are meant to be places of community, right? ron @gerrydelano​ has a really good post about this regarding shanties. but ghost ships are an established trope of ghost stories: the inversion of what a ship should be, lacking all life and community, silently traversing the waters on its own.

the tundra is a ghost ship. it’s quiet (”very quiet... it was like they were doing everything in their power not to think about each other”) — the people there move around one another as if none of them are there, all so taken by the lonely. their cargo containers are empty. all they’re transporting on that ship is the ghosts of those aboard.

this episode falls into the trope of ghosts want the living to join them — though there’s still a mourning atmosphere when sean kelly is taken fully by the lonely, that final bit of life on the ship extinguished. (”no one said a word, but i could have sworn a few of my shipmates were crying.”)

MAG048: LOST IN THE CROWD

this one’s one of my favorites! andrea nunis’ statement deals with different kinds of loneliness — she begins it with explaining that she prefers to travel alone, but later, that loneliness is something terrifying. she’s in a crowd of unrecognizable people, unable to fit herself into the world she’s seeing — she’s completely separate from the rest of the world. she’s a ghost. 

“it wasn’t italian being spoken ... or any other language i recognized. the more i listened, the more i realized it wasn’t a language. there were no words, it was just noise.” “their faces were a blur, each and every one of them.” and, the crowning point: “i tried to talk to them or to shout, to scream at them, but there was no reaction.”

by being taken in by the lonely, andrea’s been turned into a ghost. she cannot interact with or even recognize her environment, and that’s the real horror — it isn’t just being alone, it’s being surrounded by something that should be familiar; a crowd is something she’s been in a thousand times, as someone who travels a lot, and people are the most familiar thing in the world, like looking in a mirror! but it isn’t. everything is strange and she is outside of it all and that’s what a ghost is.

and her connection to her mother is what pulls her out. people have talked at length about how love is the antidote to the lonely so i won’t go on too long about that, but the connection between that & ghosts’ relationships to the living often being what keeps them around is sure something.

also, after getting out of the lonely andrea says “i made sure i was always in sight of at least one other person” — and there’s something to be said there about needing to be seen to be real. 

chiara @red-reys​ brought up this feuerbach quote which fits very well: “that which i alone perceive i doubt; only that which the other also perceives is certain.” being the only one to perceive something (for example, a ghost), or the only one who is utterly unperceived, is a very lonely thing — it isolates you entirely from those who do not perceive it. being perceived, or having someone else see what you see, can give you an anchor.

wow i’m sure that won’t come back later!

also, far be it from me to talk about this statement without mentioning gerry keay. because it means something that he’s the one to give andrea the tools she needs to pull herself out of the lonely. gerry is someone completely lacking in human connection, who is literally haunted by the ghost of his mother and later is seen as a ghost himself. gerry doesn’t have friends; he tells jon “i always wanted my friends to call me gerry,” but in a tone that makes it clear he didn’t have anyone who could’ve. and of course he didn’t. a life so entwined with the entities and cut so short, a life so ruled by the cruelty of others that he certainly did not want to rope anyone else into. 

though gerry’s never directly stated to be affected by the lonely, he’s certainly lowercase-L lonely at the very least, and he’s certainly got enough experience with ghosts to understand the lonely. 

gerry is the trope of the helpful spirit. he’s the ghost who’ll give you directions on a deserted road and disappear when you turn around. he gives jon the information he needs to understand the entities, he gives andrea the information she needs to not become a ghost.

MAG057: PERSONAL SPACE

alright so this one is, admittedly, more cosmic horror than anything else, but if y’all’ve seen any of my comics you probably know i’m very passionate about space ghosts & haunted spaceships. and as such, i’m extremely interested in how the daedalus mission echoes ghost stories.

carter chilcott’s story pretty directly acts as a ghost story — unable to communicate with the others on the ship even when he tries, unable to interact with the world to the point of looking out the window at one point to find the world entirely missing. this is all stuff i’ve said already about the other statements, so i’m glossing past it, because what interests me more is the daedalus as malicious architecture.

because the daedalus was created specifically for this union between vast, lonely, and dark (all of which i think have significant ghostly tie-ins). everything about how the ship itself and the mission came to be is a mystery, even to those involved — manuela says “i don’t know how he convinced the lukases and fairchilds to help finance the project,” “i don’t know if they were working on rituals of their own,” “exactly how the launch was arranged, i couldn’t tell you.” 

a piece of the traditional haunted house is a sort of timelessness, and mystery inherent in its building. hill house in shirley jackson’s haunting of hill house “seemed somehow to have formed itself, flying together into its own powerful pattern under the hands of its builders... it was a house without kindness, never meant to be lived in, not a place fit for people or for love or for hope.” the oldest house in the game control is malicious architecture at its finest, and it’s called the oldest house. it predates people. it exists as a giant piece of brutalist architecture smack dab in the middle of new york, but no one knows why or how it came to be. as a real-world example: the winchester mystery house is wrapped up in mythos about its creation. was sarah winchester just a lonely old woman with a hobby for architectural design, or did she create endlessly spiraling staircases and doorways with a steep drop into the yard to keep ghosts away? who knows! we sure do like to speculate, though.

yes, i’ve talked about this in tma metas before. highly recommend jacob geller’s control, anatomy, and the legacy of the haunted house for more of this content.

even manuela dominguez, the only person on the daedalus mission who actually knew what she was doing and wasn’t just there to be a victim of entities they did not understand, does not know how the mission came to be. 

and the entire purpose of this spacecraft is to be malicious to its inhabitants! the very architecture is meant to make the people within into perfect snacks for their respective entities! the station is cramped (”so cramped that i could only fully stretch out in the section used to exercise,” says jan kilbride), but when the vast takes hold it’s suddenly endless — “a hollow pretense of a shell that did nothing to separate me from the void.” (cue me shouting about how much trust we put in the places we live, and whether or not that trust is warranted, how easily it can be turned against us!)

a few other bits of this statement that really echo ghost stories: “twice i was woken up by the sound of the door opening, only to find it as tight as it had ever been. throughout the daytime i would occasionally hear footsteps, which shouldn’t even have been possible in zero gravity.” and then the empty, ghostly spacesuit that floats past chilcott’s window — there are so many stories about disembodied wedding dresses or mourningwear walking the halls silently, so why not a spacesuit?

i started this section saying this statement was more cosmic horror than ghost story but i’m finishing it by saying this is actually one of the clearest representations of haunted architecture in the whole podcast. (other examples off the top of my head include upon the stair & a cosy cabin, the latter of which i actually already wrote a meta about.)

MAG092: NOTHING BESIDE REMAINS

the moment i started thinking about the lonely-ghosts connection i remembered this episode, because it’s so clear. complete disconnect, existing entirely alone in a shadow of the world you once knew, unable to interact with the living in any way.

very small bit but. “as the cab pulled away, it seemed to have no driver that i could discern” vs the theme of ghost carriages in older ghost stories. i am looking directly at it.

barnabas bennett can “almost think i hear the mocking joy of my friends, but there is nobody here.” he can see evidence that life continues around him, unseen — “i know that what is done by those i cannot see might be felt here — i have found glasses broken and pages torn that were not so the night before.” just as a ghost is unseen to the living, the reverse is true: bennett can see others having an impact on the world in small ways, and his letter is found by jonah, but he can’t really affect the world in any real way.

MAG108: MONOLOGUE

this one is so exciting to me because theater ghosts are a huge trope in ghost stories! theater people are some of the most superstitious people you’ll ever meet! especially regarding ghosts having an impact on their shows — there’s the superstition regarding The Scottish Play™, the tradition of leaving a ghost light on onstage to appease the spirits. there’s that time all the kids in my production of brigadoon when i was in middle school circled around the makeup mirrors to play bloody mary and got thoroughly chewed out by the adults in the cast. theater’s full’a ghosts!

(i think it’s something about the intense amounts of history behind it — and how, in playing a part that a thousand people have played before, you’re echoing their exact words, becoming a repetition of those long gone. and on a stage, blinding lights in your face washing out any view of the audience — you could, technically, leave the stage and interact with the people down there, but it seems pretty entirely impossible when you’re up there. you’re being perceived but can’t see in return. you’re essentially a ghost putting on a show for the living on a loop.)

the statement-giver for this one, adonis biros, echoes a lot of those sentiments, actually. “your words heard by no one — and in that no one, an entire universe.” “have you ever had stage lights in your eyes? ...you can look out into the audience and see nothing at all. just you.”

i said before that “when ghost stories are told from a distance, they’re about the horror of it — disembodied howling, faces in the window that keep you up at night.” the disconnect between the anonymous audience and the singular actor onstage makes the distance here extreme — so this is the sort of ghost story that’s unquestionably a horror story, focusing on the most chilling aspects of ghosts. their inhumanity, their anonymity. the theater masks adonis sees in the audience are “empty. it was a hollow shape of a man that had no life, no presence to it.” even adonis himself says he “had no doubt that what i had seen was some sort of specter or omen.”

he sees a “masked mockery of a human figure” in a window while walking at night. ghosts looking through windows is enough of a trope that once, when i went on a ghost tour in williamsburg, at least half the stories were about people seeing ghostly faces in windows, and i completely freaked out when i saw someone moving around in one of the houses before realizing, oh, some of them are still actually occupied.

this one’s undoubtably a collaboration between stranger and lonely, but i think that intersection’s one of the best for ghost stories — something not-quite-human-anymore, if it ever was, haunting you.

MAG150: CUL-DE-SAC

a lot of the bare bones of this statement are things i’ve already covered, so i’m not gonna go too in-depth on it. herman gorgoli’s statement is about disconnect (from alberto, and then from the rest of humanity), about isolation, about houses-gone-wrong (his and alberto’s house in cheadle, which he views by the end as a place imprisoning him, and the titular cul-de-sac).

we’ve seen the malicious architecture trope in the form of the daedalus already, but this time it’s on earth. it’s something that should, by all rights, be familiar. the houses in the suburbs are all the same, but it’s at least a sameness you know. but they’re all bereft of any irregularities, ghostly echoes of what a house should be.”there were no lights on in any of the houses.” he even finds a dead body in one of the houses — but the woman who’s body he finds is not the one haunting them.

it’s herman haunting the neighborhood, until his love for alberto brings him out. herman making his way through houses he cannot interact with in any meaningful way, whos details he cannot interpret. “how many corpses lay waiting behind the placid facade of this endless false suburbia?” he wonders, and i have to imagine he’s also wondering if he’s already joined their ranks, if he’s the haunting in a haunted house.

and connection brings him back and the houses are no longer empty, no longer waiting for a ghost to take resident in their hallways.

MAG159: THE LAST   (& martin’s journey in season four, generally)

we’ve all analyzed 159 within an inch of its life but i’m here to do it again, with the context of martin’s whole journey into the lonely. because the lonely turns people into ghosts. the lonely takes away humanity and life and leaves a hollow echo in its wake.

literally the powers lonely avatars have involve turning invisible. what else is often associated with invisibility? ghosts. checkmate. i’m running out of steam a bit but i swear these are good points i’m making. trust me.

what makes ghost stories so good is that even if the narrator is not a ghost themselves, just experiencing a ghost puts them at a fundamental disconnect from society. it’s something disbelieved by so many people. (there’s parallels to be made with mental illness here, but i... don’t really feel like making them right now. they’re definitely there, as is the very potent lonely-depression connection that made ep170 hit so hard for so many of us.) in hill house, the more eleanor is wrapped up in the goings-on of the house, the less she’s able to relate to the other people there. the closer martin becomes to the lonely, the less he’s able to talk to the people around him — he’s told not to talk to them by lukas, but he’s also just... unable to relate. their experiences are different than his, at this point.

nicole @brunetteauthorette99​ said something really good in our conversation about this, about ghosts “being stuck in... spaces that have moved on without them, reenacting their defining moments in life over and over again without the possibility of change.”

martin is stuck in the institute. he probably has an apartment, but we don’t see it, and i can’t imagine he as he is by season four has put much effort into decorating it or making it feel like a home. every place is impersonal — somewhere he exists without really living.

and the institute moves on without him. jon goes into the coffin and martin doesn’t know until he’s already in there. and martin can impact his environment only in small ways — leaving tape recorders on the coffin in an attempt to anchor jon home, leaving the tape of jon’s victim for melanie, basira, and daisy to find. he will not or cannot speak to or touch other living beings, just move objects around in a desperate attempt to get a message across, a ouija board of tapes and post-it notes. his moment of rejecting the lonely’s plans in 158 is dropping the knife peter has given him — another expression more through his interactions with his environment than any human connection.

martin says the lonely always had him, and with how much his story revolves around people who may as well be ghosts, that’s true. his father disappeared and left only the image martin had of him in his mind, only the echo he himself provided in the mirror, the ghost of someone who hurt him overlaid on his own reflection. his mother was only present so far as she could be malicious, disapproving; a vengeful ghost, taking out the revenging instinct she had for martin’s father on martin. and then everyone else martin cares about dies — sasha’s gone and not!sasha acts as her malicious echo for a while; tim dies; jon dies. and yeah, he comes back — but he’s different. a ghost of sorts. martin’s already pretty ghostly by then, too.

so martin is, essentially, a ghost throughout season four, and probably beforehand, as well. jon literally! asks martin! if he is a ghost! in season one! which brings us to 159: “are you real?” martin asks the first living person he’s really talked to in who-knows-how-long. because martin doesn’t feel real, so how could anyone else be? “nothing hurts here” may be a contradiction of the literal experience of ghosts we see in tma (gerry saying “it hurts, being like this”), but is a very real perception of ghosts in ghost mythology as beings beyond pain, beyond the suffering of being alive. sometimes they exist to cause others that suffering they can no longer feel, but a lot of the time, they’re just melancholy, having forgotten what it’s like to be a person or hanging on just enough to yearn to return to that feeling of life.

“i’m the reason he... i did this to him as much as you,” jon says. in ghost terms: martin died for him. of course his connection to jon, then, would be the only thing able to bring him back.

mag159 is an orpheus/eurydice story — people have made posts about that before, i’m sure, and i have too, how jon and martin invert the orpheus archetype by being saved rather than damned by the act of sight. and it feels obvious to state it, but for clarity: eurydice dies. orpheus, alive, tries to save eurydice from the underworld, where she is a spirit, a ghost, an echo of herself.

MAG170: RECOLLECTION   —   (SPOILER WARNING!)

this episode is the reason i’m making this post, but i may as well copy-and-paste the entire transcript for this section, because there is truly not a single part of it that doesn’t resonate as a ghost story. 

the lonely house as a malicious location. the chairs are all uncomfortable, the house is large enough that just by wandering it (as a ghost might) martin grows tired enough to sit in them regardless. the decorations are wrong — all the rooms are the same and martin doesn’t like it, said he doesn’t know “why i’d decorate my house like this.”

it isn’t a small house. there’s a reason a lot of ghost stories take place in twisting mansions where you can never quite find your way back to where you started. ghost stories thrive on that isolation, that loneliness — if you see a ghost while you’re alone, are you sure you’ll be believed? doesn’t that just isolate you further? architecture can twist around those within it until they’re trapped, doomed to haunt it themselves. “it's such a - such a big house, my house, there must be other people!” martin says. 

but the only others in the house are ghosts like martin. 

“hundreds, thousands of lost souls, wandering the halls. hollow memories, with eyes full of tears. i’ve seen them. they’re all trying to remember.” 

“i found someone else, wandering around. they were all thin and gray. faded. like they’d been here for ages.”

the ghosts cannot remember their names, why they are there, whether or not it is their house they exist in. they’ve become near-inseparable from the fog around them and the architecture that holds them hostage.

and the house itself, it takes all of that, and its quirks — the size, the chairs, the decorations, all of which martin openly does not like — are all made from the people haunting it. the house is wrong because the people within it can no longer change it. martin’s comment on the decorations sticks with me because it’s such a simple example of this: presumably, he could affect the house in some way in the past, but he no longer can, and he’s stuck with the results of his past mistakes, echoing over and over from room to room. the impacts remain even when the people have faded so far as to be practically nonexistent.

and once again: love is what makes him remember, over and over. he remembers jon, and then the lonely steals that memory — but the remembering is what’s important, because the act of loving anchors martin, and it helps him remember who he is, repeating his name over and over.

ghosts lack identity. whether it’s because they’ve been forgotten by all who knew them in life, whether it’s because it’s too painful to hold onto that when they can no longer do anything with it — we assign names to ghost stories, connect them to the living, but there’s always a disconnect there.

and that’s what helps jon find him, helps martin keep himself from fading out again. and even jon says “you were faint” upon finding martin. martin was a ghost haunting that house.

but not anymore.

the lonely is a ghost story. the lonely is about people who’ve become unmoored from human connection and their own identities, who haunt places, or who’ve been lured into places that are hauntings in and of themselves and have no choice but to take up residence as ghosts within those walls.

and ghost stories, often, are love stories. love keeps us tethered to life, and love is what saves people from the lonely, over and over again.

#the magnus archives #tma meta #martin blackwood #the lonely #mag170 #kaylee.txt #kaylee.meta #dfgkjngfd HELLO i didn't mean for this to get quite so long but ty if anyone actually reads it!!!! #this is longer than most fics i write. whoops.

[oflgtfol]

ok i'm truly sorry to keep talking about this but i just got out of the shower where i do all my most in-depth thinking

earlier i said that this whole like fear of depths/caves/etc is like cosmic horror but i don't necessarily agree with that anymore. they're similar, but not the same, i don't think

i'm no expert on cosmic horror but my understanding of it is that it's all about things too large to fathom, too powerful to comprehend. it's about voids and big vast empty spaces and overwhelming experiences that humans aren't meant to witness

and so this fear of depth thing is similar in that it's about the horror of being at the whim of something beyond your control, how you're helpless against this thing that's unfathomably more powerful than you, but the nature of the "thing" in question is different than cosmic horror

where cosmic horror is all about being big and empty and overwhelming, the fear of depths is the total opposite. it's about small, narrow spaces, so filled to the brim with rocks and water and, well, you, that you can barely move. and instead of your senses being overwhelmed, it is about sensory deprivation. instead of being torn apart, it's about being crushed and suffocated. instead of alien creatures and phenomena you cannot even comprehend, it's about the very earth beneath our feet. it isn't about new things beyond the realm of humanity - it's about reacquainting yourself with the mundane and no longer taking it for granted. you don't have to go to space or into the deep ocean, you can just go right into your (figurative) backyard and find horrors beyond your imagination

so i think it's related to cosmic horror in that they evoke similar feelings, and overall create the vibe of "the universe is fucking terrifying and we're just bumbling our way through it, blissfully ignorant to the terrors beyond our understanding." but it's not quite the same as cosmic horror, since those feelings are evoked in entirely different ways

#i cannot stop thinking about this sorry #it's like wake up babe new type of psychological horror just dropped #brot posts #cave posting #hopefully this is my last post on the matter LMFAO sorry #🕳

[yanderecandystore]

TUMBLR DIED BEFORE I COULD FINISH BUT imagine the collector unsuccessfully attempting time and time again to trap a ( albeit disguised ) god that turns out to either be much older/wiser or much stronger then he is. chaos ensues

Hey boo! Don't worry I got your ask. Tumblr can be so rude sometimes, all you need is your WiFi to drop one bar low and all that you have done is gone in an instant.

This may be a little different than what you expect, but I still hope you enjoy it!

TW/Tags: Smoll caos with a hint of potential fluff/angst (because I'm feeling soft, kay? 🥺) // God complex coming both sides, so there is a lot of sassiness // I think that for the sake of this headcanon, reader will be an humanoid-looking god // I'll give the reader the ability to choose which type of entity and title they have, but that may cause a little bit of disimmersion when it comes to reading, so yeah just an warning.

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

This has nothing to do with the headcanon, but Papyrus is the best skeleton boy you'll ever meet [Yandere!Eldritch OC x God!Reader - Headcanon]:

So, I would imagine that your first encounter would be very, very interesting.

I'm gonna let you choose which type of god you're in this headcanon. Are you one of the greek gods? Perhaps an african god? One of the various entities in Asia? Or are you completely different from all of them? Are you a cosmic entity that just so happens to look like a human? It's up to you darling.

You, [Y/N], were simply walking around a garden you grew to appreciate. At first you thought that receiving this type of gift wasn't really needed, but having buildings built in your name and glory it's pretty flattering. A whole garden built in your image, the statues fit this place perfectly, the only thing missing is the shrine that the humans are currently building.

What a lovely day, right? Yet, the sound of something being pulled out of the ground with immense force made you realize that there was a newcomer to your garden.

Maybe you're familiar with the white masked creatures from the beyond, or may be not. Maybe you just see them as a strange monster that has started to… steal the trees in your garden? You can't tell whether to laugh or to take great offence to this ridiculous sight.

A being tall and grand as the sky above, stealing plants from your garden, but to what cause exactly? What is their gain? One can't help themselves but to be curious over such a fascinating sight.

Your approach to the situation is one of pure mischievous nature, but not letting your guard down, as you aren't so sure what this stranger is capable of doing just yet.

"- Well, hello." You try to take their attention out of your beautiful flowers. He wasn't picking one by one, he was taking the entire bush and… Consuming them? There is an immense amount of light every time he puts them behind his mask, what could be underneath that if not a face?

"- Oh! Greetings." He says turning his head to look at the direction of the voice, only to be met with a little human greeting him. He still doesn't seem to be really bothered by your presence, as he continues his activities as usual.

"- Gorgeous flowers right?" You ask, still wondering if he realizes that none of these plants are his.

"- Indeed, it's beautiful specimens such as these that need to be guarded somewhere more safely, don't you think?" He asks, although his whole time is pretty distant from the present conversation. He probably does think you're just an ordinary human.

"- Yeah, I sure think that the owner of the garden is taking good care though." You respond, hoping he has some sort of sense to understand that he is in a private area, taking things that aren't his.

"- Well, they seem pretty lonely over here, and besides, I haven't seen anyone taking care of them." He probably already noticed what you're doing, trying to make him feel bad for taking them away. But honestly, he didn't saw anyone here to take care of them, so it may as well be from no one.

And if it is from no one, is his now.

"- Are you perhaps the owner of the garden?" He asks, now paying close attention to you. You seem to be an upper class human, lavishly adorned by those jewels and fine silk, it would make a lot of sense of you were the owner of such an extravagant place. Are you perhaps made at his entrance into "your territory"?

"- Maybe I am, maybe I'm not, why the curiosity?" You ask while making your way to seat down at one of the stone benches near the creature.

"- Just wondering why you're so interested in my presence. I guess I'm not wanted here." He was going to go back to… Wherever the hell he is from, but you decided to stop him right there.

"- Wouldn't it be rude for you to leave without making an proper introduction to the host? And hey, what kind of host am I if I let you leave this place while having such an unpleasant experience?" You make a little sign to tell him to seat with you. I mean, metaphorically, he can't really seat at that tiny little bench with you.

This interesting encounter lead to an surprisingly interesting conversation between two beings that are very similar yet aren't fully aware of it. The Collector sees you as a really intelectual human, almost so close to understanding his own feelings towards the other creatures around him, and you think he could be just another kind of monster with an oddly endearing superiority complex.

The type of "yes, sir, I do shiny like a thousand stars" it's strangely very entertaining to watch. You're both art lovers, and seem to have an great fascination with the living creatures around you, even if they're a "beneath" you two.

If only this conversation could least longer, if only he could held his hoarding erge, but he couldn't.

"- This conversation has been the best I had in eons!" He squeals in excitement.

"- Yeah. The feeling is mutual." You say being completely honest. Although, he didn't think you were being serious on each word you said.

"- I think we'll have a great time when I put you in the jewel box." He starts to stand himself up, his legs making mechanical noises that almost overpowered the sound your voice when you said:

"- Uhn…. The what?" You asked genuinely confused about this turn of events.

"- Oh! Well, I like to call it jewel box but if you want an precise description is an pocket dimension containing my vast collection!" He says absolutely eccstatic about this! His hand starts to go towards your small form, successfully picking you up in a really gentle way.

"- An collection? Of what exactly?" You decided to go with this just out of curiosity. This is starting to become concerning and interesting!

"- Of living creatures such as your beautiful little self." He answers, but without waiting your response, he pulls his mask slightly to the side as an strong amount of light hit your eyes making you temporarily blind.

He thought he had managed to transport you with the plants he had stolen to his little storage dimension, yet he was proven wrong when he heard an voice say:

"- Wow! That was…. An interesting and short ride! Absolutely terrifying!" When he turned around he saw you adjusting yourself as you speak. Man, who would've thought being transported to another dimension would be like this?

And of course, he is shocked. How??? How did you do that? How did you managed to get out? Have you even went inside??

He was starting to check his mask to see if he could feel anymore new cracks, or if the mask was damaged in any way. Luckily for him, his mask hasn't been damaged at all, yet he was still left with unanswered questions.

"- H-How?" This is the first time in his life he has ever stutter, he felt so confused and afraid because he couldn't understand what the hell just happened!?!

You turned your head to look at him, your once welcoming mischievous face wear a more serious expression, almost an scorn.

"- So, this is what you meant by loving the "lesser creatures"? The ones that can't protect themselves from the almost of power you harbor? You capture them and put them in your personal little playground?"

You asked him, scolding him as you came forward to his towering form. You looked straight up at his eyes. Or more accurately, his masks holes for eyes. He is so shocked at this outcome that his first reaction is to distance himself from you, walking back in desperation.

If any of his kind saw this pathetic display, they would probably laugh at him to no end.

"- I should have known better than to trust someone so soon. I should have banned you from my garden, but now? I'm kinda glad I got to see your true nature-" You didn't stop your march towards him. You only stopped when he was corned by the mountain against his back "- You vile mons-" You were cut off in the middle of your rant by a large hand picking you fast as he tried once again to shove you into his light. Into his dimension.

He needed to confirm he hasn't went insane. No, no, this couldn't be possible, it had to be impossible!

How can you stop the teleportation midway and go back like nothing happened???

"- Were you listening to anything I said?" You once again appeared near him, clearly mad at his futile attempts of imprisoning you.

He… Is shaking. Uncontrollably. His body is shaking in such a pace that even the mountain behind him seem to be suffering from the earthquake caused by his sudden shaking.

You weren't understanding what was happening, and before you could try to get some answers his whole body freezed the moment an crack was audibly coming from his mask.

He was getting so, so stressed over this predicament. He needed to calm down. He needed to understand what was happening and who were you to be able to do this to him!

"- I.. I have underestimated you." It's all he managed to say. It's all he could process at this moment.

"- Well, I guess I did as well." You thought he was only another monster hanging around your garden. You didn't expect such powerful abilities being used to harm others.

Your later encounters were, well, kinda bittersweet at first. He kept stealing jewelry and kidnapping habitants of your world. You did try to fight him, but you soon learned that he was essentially a walking bomb. A cosmic one at that. To kill him, you need to break his mask, breaking his mask causes an immense explosion that will consume everything around it, and then turning all that mass into a new star with a new solar system.

And there is a slight possibility of him rebirthing with the star and the new planets. You were considering consulting other entities to create an weapon capable of destroying his kind without causing too much destruction. You have yet to decide your next move.

You two had, interesting encounters. No fighting, no trying to harm or to trap one another. Just… Talking. Just like you two did in your first meeting.

As the centuries pass you notice how he still wants to keep you in his little playground, which still disturbs you to no end, but at least he has stopped picking more victims to his dollhouse. His attempts are still futile and naive, yet, you can't help but feel concerned about his cracks in his mask. Not only the possibility of it breaking causing an massive massacre against all that you love and care about, but- You can't help but be worried about him.

You have soon learned what the cracks means to his kind.

"- Hey, look, stop- Sigh, stop trying… Please." You try warning him, not wanting to see him overstressed again.

He looks at you, and although his mask doesn't show, you feel that he is looking at you with confusion and tiredness. He knows you're just like him, so it makes sense that you can't be trapped inside his dimension.

Is, kinda of a thing about his kind. There is an common understanding that if you love something, you put it where no one will be able to harm or take it away. They can't physically put each other inside their pocket dimensions, but saying that you do it for them if it was possible is kinda an emotional phrase to them. It's an weird equivalent of "I love you", but they aren't aware of how this types of feelings work, so whenever they say it, is supposed to be really special.

Even if to the majority of the universe, it sounds incredibly concerning and possessive.

He just- He just really wishes he could take you with him, to keep you with him.

He doesn't understand why, he just really wants to, and the frustration of not being able to is killing him (literally).

"- Why are you-" He tried to muster an question, but he feels so weak and pathetic that he can't even ask you why you care about him. You interrupt him, shushing him up in hopes of it easing his mind.

"- Just, please, don't say anything. Don't think about anything. You'll get yourself hurt if you do."

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

Jesus Christ, I'm really sorry if this isn't what you were waiting for anon, I'm really sorry but I still wanted to share it so here it is- 😭

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

#yandere #sheep stuff #yandere oc #sheep's stuff #yandere x reader #yandere oc x reader #yandere oc headcanons #yandere headcanon #yandere monster #yandere monster x reader #yandere eldritch #yandere eldritch x reader #yandere eldritch x god reader #aaaaaaaa #special delivery headcanons #special delivery request

[lasarcasticpanda]

SO i may have binged 194 episodes of The Magnus Archives in six days and have a lot of thoughts and feelings

im actually real terrible with horror, im made of pure cowardice and anxiety and terror, so not super advisable to just tear through the whole thing in such a small amount of time lmao (bright side: my daily anxiety meds knock me the fuck out, so i get to just pass out instead of staring into the dark of my bedroom)

but honestly, this is one of the best written, produced, and performed pieces of fiction ive consumed? definitely one of the best bits of cosmic horror.

and like, i know this falls into the murky area between “cosmic/lovecraftian horror” and “urban horror”, but i label it more in the vein of cosmic just due to the size and nature of the horror aspect. 

either way you choose to label it, it’s so well done. from the get, it’s just so good at the anthology set-up, introducing the audience to small instances of indecipherable events as told through the lens of a skeptic, who is really only a skeptic in the sense that he doesn’t put a lot of weight behind experiences he hasn’t had himself or that which isn’t similar to his own (which is fun all by itself - the idea of a skeptic who ISN’T skeptical of unnatural forces, but more of the intricacies of said events). And someone who, until later, you don’t really understand why he’s willing to accept some statements at face value, but not others, even being flat out dismissive and somewhat unsympathetic to those he deems “impossible”.

and as it goes, you start getting the sense of something larger bubbling. it’s so well done, incredibly well-written and produced. it gets you to a point where you start hearing familiar names and places and ideas and you just immediately zero in on what’s being said, to try and piece the puzzle together. it has such a way of grabbing that attention, where if you hear anything about a book or a specific location or a last name, you just know something important is going to be in this episode and you tuck it away for later.

and when things start finally piecing together, the sheer satisfaction you get at the moments where characters come together and have the same realizations and notices that you do, the moments where a secondary character comes in and puts it into sharp focus and the rush you get of just “i KNEW that” or “that’s surprising but it makes so much sense” is so incredibly validating. especially compared to the sudden surge in writing that “surprise twists for your audience is good, your audience should have no idea” is somehow considered good, accomplished writing. 

the SOUND DESIGN as well - imma sucker for sound design and it’s utilized magnificently here. my favorite is Michael the Distortion’s voice (along with another character, but this isn’t meant to deal with too many spoilers or specific events, so im not gonna name them, but the following still applies) - everytime they pop into an episode, i listen to it over at least two or three times. because the WAY they get the echo in their voice to sound so empty but contained, especially when compared to the other characters they’re interacting with. and how their laugh doesn’t sound like short sounds, but more of one long, extended breath of laughter that bounces around the area in such an unnatural way. both thrilled and terrified by it.

but honestly, probably one of my favorite things about this? the queer representation in something as existential as cosmic horror. usually, queer rep is used a catalyst for a character to commit a terrible act - they were bullied horribly as a kid, they repressed their sexuality, they conformed against their will, they were shunned, they’re sexually repressed, etc, etc, all of these things tend to just be fuel for why a human monster commits such atrocious acts or sides with the “evil” in the story. and sure, there’s a space for that i suppose (not something im terribly interested in, but either way), but representation isn’t about having the same layer over a group of people repeated over and over. 

here, it’s so natural and casual and there is never a direct correlation between horrible things done and anyone(thing)’s sexuality or gender identity. and there’s never a conversation about these things - no moment where someone has to explain they’re asexual or gay or trans or lesbian or bi or pan, no posturing or pandering to the audience about “what it means” to wear these labels. it’s a facet of their person, but it’s not their entire personhood and that is SO refreshing, especially coming from the horror genre. when a character does something awful or stupid in the name of protecting someone they love, their sexuality or gender identity isn’t used as some additional tragedy to the situation.

tl;dr the magnus archives is a workplace comedy about cosmic horror and a bunch of queer people just vibing. and im so in love with it, i can’t talk about it enough.

#me myself and i #tma #the magnus archives #F in the chat for my roommate who has to put up with our living room lights being on all the time now lol #should be noted though that even though the queer rep is great you shouldnt watch the podcast FOR that reason #my dumb jokes aside it IS a horror story first and with good reason so like #take that into account #not safe cause you're gay #and the horror stretches across MULTIPLE types of phobias and horrors so theres that as well #long post

[trashyazeohane]

Perforated stars

Part 1/Part 2

Summary: “You don’t look scared at all.” Gary huffed, hinting on a joking tone, but a sudden shiver appearing in the last word sold him out.

“Very flattering of you to say, but I’m terrified like most of the time.” Avocato said, feeling the words scratching his throat.

“Really?” Gary asked, glancing at him.

There was something in his eyes, some hidden need, some kind of pulse that thrummed and beat and vibrated. Some kind of emotion Avocato couldn’t exactly name. Just something that made Avocato all messy inside.

Additional comments: Fluff, Slow Burn, Angst

Not beta-read, so it may contain some mistakes!

You can also read it on AO3! Enjoy!

Part I ミ★

Avocato was confused. This was a good word to use in his current situation. Confused. Or maybe perplexed. That word worked too. A little bit lost, but he was used to this feeling. But right now it was a tad different confusion than usual.

Mostly because it was related to Gary and the human was, well, confusing.

Not in the bad meaning of this word. Definitely not. He was just so different than Avocato that most of the time he couldn’t make heads or tails of what Gary was thinking.

So he usually didn’t think too much about the reasons and just let Gary do whatever he wanted.

And it worked until now.

Now something had changed. Well, that was wrong. A lot of things had changed. Avocato had been dead, or to be more precise almost dead in his case, but he had been back. Only to be possessed during the very next day and had been forced to leave the crew and his little boy again.

(Avocato would never forget what he had made Little Cato do. He would never forgive himself either for that, for making him live through so many horrible moments. That he had forced his son to do unimaginable things, weaving terrible memories. But God, how proud he was of Little Cato was beyond his heart’s comprehension. He felt like bursting from pride whenever someone simply mentioned his son. Or should he say ‘their’ now?)

Being possessed hadn’t been nice, but if Avocato had to be honest he had to admit that he didn’t remember everything. There had been bits and pieces, voices, images and pictures mingling in his head. There had been times when he could have looked with his own eyes and there had been times when the only thing around him had been darkness, filled with voices from the past. Time had been forgotten, consciousness had been something that had slipped through his fingers like cosmic dust. He had been there and not, both in the same time.

(There had been times when he had forgotten that in the end he had been a living being with a body.)

It wasn’t a part of his life he wanted to remember. Now he was glad he had got his body and family back.

He was getting distracted again.

The whole point was that Gary had been acting confusing.

After Avocato had returned, the whole crew had been acting differently around him. Scared. Almost like they had waited for him to leap, attack and tear the throats apart, leaving the bodies to float in the space. The only people who had not been treating him strange had been his son and Gary.

(Who actually had quite a big fight with the rest of the crew about how they had treated Avocato.)

Now, after some time had passed, everything seemed fine. Well it had been fine, until some time ago. Well even now it technically wasn’t not fine, it was just different.

Because Gary was acting weird. Like not his usual weird, but different type of weird. What was even worse was that it wasn’t an unwanted type of weird. Hell, even worse was the fact that Avocato really liked it, though he would prefer for this weirdness to not make his mind a fuzzy mess and his heart be two steps away from a cardiac arrest.

(But he had gotten used to these things. Or at least he thought he had been used to them. But during the past few weeks he had found out that he had been as vulnerable to them as long time ago.)

“And Uno!”

“Wait, were we playing Switch the whole time?”

“I thought we were playing Poker?”

“What?”

Avocato sighed and put down the cards. To be fair he had gotten lost what they had been doing until now.

The fact that Gary was proudly puffing out his chest wasn’t exactly helping him. Especially as he was wearing that goofy smile which did things to him. Bad things. Strange things. Uncomfortable things. Cosmic things.

Little Cato – who was sitting next to him – also put down his cards, showing a perfect collection of all Kings, and then slumped down on the couch.

Nightfall frowned and also moved the cards down, not showing anyone what exactly she had been playing. Though it seemed like she had hard time understanding what was happening around her.

Avocato wasn’t surprised. It was already late. Some of them should be sleeping right now.

And almost like on cue his son opened his mouth and yawned loudly, moving his arms to stretch them above the head, reaching for the stars.

“I’m going to sleep.” Little Cato said, then swung his whole body up to stand on his feet and put his hand on the table, spreading and messing the cards. “G’night.”

But it was fine, the game apparently ended with no winner.

“Good night.”

“Sleep tight.”

“And sweet dreams.”

Even if Little Cato wanted and tried to hide the smile, he was pretty miserable at it, so Avocato immediately saw his mouth stretching.

Little Cato lifted up sleeping Mooncake, to cradle it in his arms, and quickly walked out of the common room, shuffling his feet on the floor, barely lifting them up.

Avocato needed to sneak past Little Cato’s and Fox’s room later on and check whether he really went to bed or not. Little Cato had a tendency to simply curl and sleep on the first vacant place found while being seconds away from dozing off. So he wouldn’t be surprised if he found the boy in some vent system for example.

“I think I’m going to sleep too. It has been a tiring day.” Nightfall said, standing up too and moving her shoulders in circles.

Yeah, running after KVN who had stolen a quite important part of the ship because it had been shiny and sparkly had been definitely an exhausting experience. Ash had managed to capture him in the end, but after almost making the ship crash, so it was understandable that everyone deserved a break.

“Okie dokie, good night.”

“G’night.” Avocato murmured.

Nightfall nodded and then slipped away from the room without a sound. To be fair, if she hadn’t said it out loud, neither Gary nor Avocato would probably notice her going out. She was like fog when she wanted to, moving, sliding through space and time without a trace.

So this left Gary and Avocato alone.

And if he had to be honest Avocato was really, really tired. He dreamed about nothing more than a pillow, a blanket and the cozy darkness surrounding his mind, however he didn’t utter a thing.

Gary reached, collected the cards and started to shuffle them.

“Beggar-my-neighbor?” He asked.

There was a hint of sugary dreams intertwined with his voice, almost like he too was on the verge of lulling away to the dreamland. Yet he stayed. He didn’t even move to walk away, almost like –

(Almost like –)

Avocato wasn’t sure about the answer. But he knew Gary didn’t move, even though it was clearly visible he was tired and wanted to sleep. He persistently stayed and clumsily shuffled the deck.

“How many card games do you actually know?” Avocato asked, raising his eyebrow and crossing his arms on his chest.

Gary grinned widely.

“A lot.” He made two stacks of the cards in front of himself, but left both hands on each of them. “So?”

“Give them to me.”

Gary did and they started the first round.

***

Returning to reality had been way harder than Avocato had thought it could be. Mostly because he simply never had thought he would have to do it. He had expected a lot of things to happen in his life.

Being possessed by a mysterious entity, almost killing his best friend, being forced apart from his family and then being rescued had been definitely not on the list.

But it had happened.

Returning to reality had been hard. Avocato had felt like everything had changed. And it had changed, no, it definitely had had to change after such long time had passed. Yet because so much time had passed Avocato had hard time finding himself in the new reality.

(Time jumping while being almost dead and then being dead mentally could have such consequences.)

The hardest part for Avocato had been finding himself in the new life.

First, Gary had adopted his son, which well, to be honest it was pretty great. Amazing even. Astonishing. Okay, maybe at first, when he had found about it he had kinda frozen like his body had been floating in space without a suit. But it hadn’t meant that he had been against it. On the contrary.

(It filled his heart with joy to see how much Little Cato relied on Gary, who seemed to love doing it, taking care of their son.)

Little Cato was Avocato’s stable connection to the past. His beacon. His lifeline. His lighthouse. His satellite. He knew that no matter what, his bond with his son would stay the same. It was a constant in a formula, a symbol that simply was there, comforting, loving, familiar.

Gary had been like that too, at the beginning. But then after some time it had shifted, changed, morphed into something different. Not unwelcomed, just different.

(Nice different, but Avocato pushed these thoughts away. It was better not to dwell on them when he didn’t have any chances. There was no way that Gary – that he – no, it was impossible.)

Voluntarily spending more time with Avocato was one thing. At first he had thought that it had been due to missed time which could be spend together. Then it had changed into thinking that maybe Gary had been scared that Avocato would simply disintegrate while he hadn’t been looking. But it also hadn’t been that. Or maybe it had been at the beginning, but then it had changed.

In the end, right now, Avocato thought that Gary wanted to spend time with him as friends, best buds, BFFs or whatever he called their friendship. But even this wouldn’t explain the amount of time Gary spent with him. Almost like he was searching for excuses to stay with him, talk, joke, converse about past and future or just to simply stop in the time and enjoy being there.

For example, Nightfall was Gary’s close friend too and he wasn’t losing sleep just to play a card game with her.

“So we were just there, jumping off the ship!”

“Somersaulting in the air!”

“While screaming!”

“Little Cato a few meters behind me! I thought I would die!”

“But then bam! I finally managed to grab him!”

“And I survived!” Gary proudly said, then moved his hand to wrap it around Little Cato and ruffle his hair with the other one. “Thanks to this guy!”

“Ugh dad, stop!” Little Cato whined, trying to swat the attacking palm away, but failing miserably.

Maybe in the end he didn’t try that much. Maybe he simply just did that to keep up an image, a hologram, but deep down didn’t really mind that. Judging by the smile dancing and floating on his face it was definitely the case.

Avocato really loved seeing them interact. It was astonishing how free, how fitting, how comfortable they seemed with each other. It looked like they could understand each other without words. And the amount of affection being exchanged was incredibly sweet. Their relationship was like a binary star with love and trust in the center.

They really were fit for each other.

“Nevertheless I’m really grateful.” Gary said, sung it even and then turned his head to Avocato. “And this, my dear friend, was how we escaped Morinx S-27.”

Avocato couldn’t force himself to tell them that he had already heard the story two times. He loved seeing the utter joy on their faces too much to butt into the sudden storytelling moment that would erupt from time to time.

“That’s great.” Avocato said and nodded. “But now finish your vegetables, Little Cato. Don’t think I didn’t notice you trying to distract me.”

Little Cato smiling face quickly turned sour. His son flopped, even slumped down on the seat, turning into a jelly with a frown. A quite endearing look, especially as his whiskers moved and nose scrunched adorably.

Unfortunately for Little Cato, Avocato knew all his tricks. Even after being possessed and repossessed by himself.

“But they are disgusting.” Little Cato whined, slumping even farther down on the seat, slowly, but steadily disappearing beneath the table.

Avocato pointed his spoon at him.

“Eat or no more wild rides on Nightfall’s plasmic bike.”

After hearing that Little Cato’s eyes widened comically and he moved closer to the plate to start almost devouring the remaining vegetables.

Gary laughed at that, making that short, kinda broken snort which tore from his body. But it was such an honest, sweet, enthusiastic, real and so adorable sound that Avocato twitched after hearing it. He was so glad that no one paid him any attention.

Both Ash and Fox had already left.

Avocato looked at his own plate and the remaining food on the spoon.

He loved that kind of moments, when there was nothing happening and they were just drifting through the cosmos with the traces of antimatter moving past them. The stars passed behind the windows, blinking and shimmering, waving and winking at them, watching as they were slowly floating across the universe.

They didn’t have many calm days, so Avocato treasured each and every one of them.

“Can you pass me the salt, Brocato?” Gary suddenly asked.

Avocato looked up, then glanced down at the container near his hand and grabbed it to pass it forward.

It was supposed to be a quick exchange.

Gary reached forward, leaning a little bit above the table, and then took the salt container while sliding his fingers delicately across Avocato’s paw.

And damn, his heart betrayed him again, jumping wildly as all nerves tensed and stressed, while his mind blackened out and then came back online in less than a second.

Gary slowly moved back to season the rest of his food.

Avocato’s hand floated above the table for too long to call it normal, so he quickly moved it back after noticing.

His fur and skin burned in the place where they had touched. It had been like electricity had run through this place, tensing the muscles, making it all vibrate beneath the skin. The contact hadn’t been long, hell, it had been short, but for Avocato it had felt like eternities and light years had passed.

It had been just a touch! Something simple! Something that happened everyday! Why was Avocato acting like that?

Avocato swallowed hard, brushing his fingers together and still feeling the warmness on his hand.

(Please, don’t give him hope. Avocato didn’t need that. He had agreed with his fate, he didn’t need it.

Even though he wanted it.)

***

The crew was bigger and different.

Hue had a body. A kinda not fully functioning body, but it was a moving, mechanical body. There was also Nightfall – who really had surprised Avocato after meeting her – and then Ash and Fox – Clarence’s ex-kids. He knew that man was no good deal. And of course, AVA, the new AI of the ship.

Getting used to them had been a feat, but Avocato had found out he quite liked the new company. They were good people, a little bit lost and kinda strange, but everyone who was around Gary was weird in some aspects.

Maybe it was due to the weirdness of the man himself. Because Gary was weird, but weird in that good way. Strange was his fixation with cookies, his giddy and too joyful mood and his love of touching others, trying to get close to them and show them his affection.

Yet there was something even more off with Gary approaching and touching Avocato. Not in the bad way, but in a kinda unusual way.

Like why did it feel like Gary was doing it on purpose, catching every occasion like butterflies to be able to touch him? A pat on the back. A small shove to the arm. A pinch to the cheek. A poke to the side. Pointing at something on his armor. Asking to pass something. Finding weird excuses to do something.

(Avocato’s favorite moment had been Gary running to him to compare their hands’ sizes.)

Maybe there was no undertones to it, maybe Gary was simply like that. And some part of it was true. Gary was like that. He liked touching people, aliens and other beings. It seemed like a moment without getting near to someone was a wasted moment for him.

But there was something different in the way Gary approached him. It almost seemed calculated, in lack of a better term. Like Gary was just waiting for an opportunity to do this or that. It wasn’t spontaneous in most cases, more like pre-reacted a thousand times in the head and then played out in real life.

And every time it had happened, or well after that, Gary had been wearing this goofy smile.

“Okay so you’re taking Ash and I’m taking Little Cato?” Avocato asked, uncrossing his arms.

Gary nodded.

“Sure, yeah, that works for me.”

They moved closer to the two lumps laying haphazardly on the couch in the main living area.

Avocato slowly scooped Little Cato up, making place for Gary to do the same with Ash, letting her head rest on his arm and drool on the jacket.

Little Cato mumbled something in his sleepy state and curled in Avocato’s grasp, making him grin happily under his nose.

Avocato looked at Gary who bobbed his head at him.

Together they slowly moved through the ship, getting the kids to their respective beds. First it was Ash as her room was closer.

After knocking on the door and not getting a response, Gary opened the door, huffing and puffing quietly under his breath as he did so. The room was empty and both bunkbeds were unmade.

Gary laid Ash down on the bottom bed, moved her body around so that the blanket which was beneath her would be free and then covered her body almost to her nose. His hand stayed there for a moment, almost like he was checking whether she was breathing or not, and then moved it to her forehead, pushing the pink hairs away. There was a sudden beat of silence, a short buzz of machine going on somewhere nearby, a sudden stillness to the world as Gary leaned and pecked Ash’s forehead.

It was a strangely timid and private moment. A gap in space-time continuum that deserved a break. A tiny pause in the flow of accidents that tore the hearts apart. A supernova of peculiarity and sweet emotions.

Avocato felt really out of place. He wasn’t sure what he felt towards the new members of their team, squad, team-squad. He didn’t dislike them, but he also didn’t know them long enough to trust them completely.

Gary, on the contrary, seemed to love them. Seemed to burst with energy whenever they were nearby. Seemed to simply expand and grow like universe whenever Fox, Ash or Little Cato asked him something.

(Avocato really loved seeing Gary interact with Little Cato. It was clear as the day that he loved his, no, their son. And he clearly loved Ash and Fox too. But somehow it was a little bit different with Little Cato. It didn’t mean that he loved Ash and Fox less, no, the emotion was clearly visible on his face. But Gary and Little Cato had a weird connection even Avocato couldn’t explain.)

“You’ll grow to love them too.” Gary said, when he stood up and moved to exit the bedroom.

Avocato shrugged. He didn’t want to agree or disagree with this opinion or statement.

The trip to Little Cato’s room was a quiet one, interrupted only by beeps and whistles of machinery around, controls going on and off somewhere in the distance, like a never ending companion on a lifelong travel. A breathing lifeform made of metal vibrated beneath their feet, huffed and sighed with every step they took.

The door to Little Cato’s and Fox’s room opened without a problem.

Fox was already there, asleep, wrapped like a cocoon.

Gary grabbed the metal rails and hoisted himself up, leaning above Fox and kissing the top of his head.

Avocato grinned under his nose, put Little Cato on his bed and warmed him with a blanket secured tightly around the small body.

The boy stirred a little, murmured something under his nose, furrowed his eyebrows and then turned on the bed, messing the fur on the top of his head and cheeks.

Little Cato looked adorable, curled up like that. And maybe it was the calmness of this moment, a sudden need that erupted in his chest, a hidden whisper, or simply something that he wanted to do. No matter what it was Avocato also leaned down and kissed the top of Little Cato’s head.

“Aww you’re mimicking me, you copycat.”

“From what I remember I was a dad first. You just followed in my footsteps.”

“Says a person who asked me to take care of his boy.”

“I don’t see you complaining.”

“That is because I’m not.” Gary said, shrugging as he jumped off the bed, only to immediately kneel down.

He tucked Little Cato more, straightening the blanket as his hand glided on the surface. And just like with the others Gary leaned forward and kissed Little Cato’s forehead, letting his lips rest there for a few seconds.

Avocato smiled under his nose as he leaned on the doorframe and observed the scene, cataloguing every moment in his mind and heart.

Gary slowly moved away, caressed Little Cato’s cheek with the back of his hand and tugged him in one more time.

“Sleep tight, Spidercat.”

Little Cato murmured something and then snuggled further into the blanket.

Gary patted him one more time and then stood up, letting all the bones crack and rattle.

“Come on, let them rest.” Avocato said and then exited the bedroom, glancing at his son.

Gary quickly followed him and then reached his hand up above his head, stretching it when the door closed behind him, leaving them alone in the empty corridor.

There was a short moment of silence, wrapping them into its embrace. It could be even called a calm silence, comfortable one, until Gary opened his mouth of course:

“You know what we just had?”

Avocato had no idea.

“What?” He asked warily, feeling like he already didn’t like the answer.

“An indirect kiss.”

And Avocato was right. He didn’t like the answer.

“Way to ruin the moment, baby.” He sighed, feeling like the energy simply disappeared from his body, making him incredibly dull, empty like a vacuum.

Gary laughed, making his shoulders shiver and tremble, with a hesitant, awkward undertone at the end. It was a pure sound, kinda skittish on the side, but honest and true nevertheless.

Avocato felt like he fell for him even more.

***

Trying to get used to the new life had been really weird at the beginning. Everything had seemed off, strange, not fitting. Like he simply hadn’t been supposed to be here. Like a star in an asteroid belt.

And some part to of it had been true. He wasn’t supposed to be here. He should be dead, drifting in the cosmos, in the middle of nowhere, waiting for his body to discorporate.

But he was alive. He was living. And he was having emotions and feelings, strong, deep feelings that burned him to the core.

Avocato couldn’t explain some things Gary said. Almost like he was searching for some reaction. Almost like he was hinting at something. But it couldn’t be true, it couldn’t be real. Avocato’s brain simply didn’t want to believe it.

(It would be too good to be true.)

Gary would say things that would imply other things. He would make jokes in that awkward voice of his, sometimes too high, sometimes too low, that strung a specific cord inside Avocato’s chest. He would insinuate and hint and there were times when it seemed like Gary was waiting for something, was searching for something in Avocato’s reactions.

Yet he didn’t know really what.

Avocato’s brain was at constant mess, in a fight with itself, where the synapses were snapping and clawing at each other.

Gary probably didn’t know what he was doing to Avocato. Of course he didn’t. How could he know when Avocato never had told him about his feelings? At first he hadn’t been sure about them. Because hell, who falls for a person they were supposed to kill, which in the end captured them and then became their best friend? No one! He had thought that he had become simply too attached to the human due to the lack of many emotional connections through his life.

But then Quinn had appeared and Avocato had noticed that it hadn’t been a very strong friendship unfortunately. It had been – and was – something way more. Something that was bigger than friendship, something that was like it and not, both in the same time.

He wanted some form of closure.

Avocato had tried to be happy with what he had had, but deep inside he had wanted more. More he couldn’t have. So why dwell on it? Why think about the unchangeable? Why ponder about possibilities that may never come true?

Plus back then he had had more important matters on his mind. Saving Little Cato.

They had done it together, then Avocato had died or almost died, or died and not, both in the same time? It was really confusing with the time jumping and staying behind.

The point was that Avocato was back, together with Little Cato, and now he had time to ponder. Especially as there was no Quinn around.

Maybe they hadn’t started on the best terms, but he admired her strength and devotion. She was a good person, very smart and brilliant. And he didn’t hate or dislike her, no, even on the contrary, he had quite fond feelings for her.

It just really hurt.

But Avocato had no doubt that Gary still loved her. He was constantly saying that they had to save her and Avocato had to agree with him. They needed to do that. Quinn deserved it.

And Gary deserved her too.

So they did it. They saved her, snatching her away from the Final Space after a long and tedious battle that left them breathless and way too many times close to dying than it was comfortable. But they all survived it, they were there, happy and alive.

(The whole world was wrong again. They hadn’t fixed even one thing, it had seemed like they had messed it up even more, leaving tear after tear in the space-time continuum, breaking the cosmos and galaxies apart.

And the fact that Invictus was still out there wasn’t a good sign. That was a thing they had to deal with at some point. But now, all of them were safe and sound aboard the Crimson Light.)

Avocato expected Gary and Quinn to hug and kiss and just do something after the haze of fight died down and they could catch a breath. He prepared himself to have his heart shattered once again in a million tiny atoms, just as he was slowly starting to glue it back together, piece after piece. He knew it would be hard to watch but at least Gary would be happy. He would grin blindly at them and everything would be fine for now.

Yet it didn’t happen.

Nightfall elbowed Gary as he was nervously glancing at the ground and intermittently  at Quinn, who was trying to pat the flames on her clothes down.

Gary lifted his head, looked at Nightfall and it seemed like they had an entire spacious conversation during this short moment.

In the end Gary slumped his shoulders and turned around.

“Quinn, we need to talk.”

The girl looked up at him, with a sweet, hopeful glint shining in her starry eyes as a smile appeared on her mouth.

“Sure, we definitely do.”

Gary winced, grabbed her hand and then they both exited the hangar, leaving the rest of the team squad awkwardly standing there.

“So, that was new.” Ash finally said, moving to the rest and combing her covered with dirt hair with the fingers.

Nightfall clicked her tongue and moved to Ash to get the bigger debris from her hair.

“Gary and Quinn just need to have a very serious talk.”

Little Cato approached them, followed by Fox, who was checking something in his hand.

“Uh shouldn’t it be all fine now? We finally saved Quinn.” Little Cato inquired.

Avocato reached and wrapped his son in a hug, bringing his body closer to feel the familiar heat radiating from him. He had to take Little Cato to the Medbay to have the wounds checked and taken care of, not matter how small they were.

Nightfall smiled sadly at him.

“I’m afraid it’s not so easy, Little Cato.”

The boy lifted his eyebrows as he leaned towards Avocato, glancing up at him in search of the meaning of the woman’s words.

Unfortunately he also didn’t know what Nightfall had been talking about. Gary and Quinn should hug, kiss, talk, then hug some more and everything would be back to being brighter again.

Gary and Quinn talked for a pretty, pretty long time, during which Avocato and Nightfall got Little Cato, Ash, Fox and Mooncake to the Medbay and took care of their wounds. After that was covered and the little ones were sent to their beds, together with Hue, KVN and AVA, Avocato and Nightfall assessed the damage done to the ship, what needed to be done to repair it and what should they do from now on. But no one really wanted to talk about that just yet, so they ended the topic and returned to their respective rooms to get very much deserved sleep.

And Gary and Quinn were still talking.

(Or maybe they weren’t talking at all.)

Avocato didn’t really want to think about possibilities, about what they actually could be doing. He tried to fall asleep, something his body desperately needed right now, but found out that no matter how hard he tried to drift away, he simply couldn’t. His mind and heart were still buzzing with the excitement of the fight.

He couldn’t call it a won fight per se anyway. It left a bad aftertaste in his mouth at so many lost lives. They had been really lucky they had managed to get out of there alive, get out of the dying planets and destroyed ships, when so many of other living beings hadn’t made it and couldn’t escape. Their souls had been dragged away from their bodies which now floated somewhere in the cosmos with no place to bury them.

So many destroyed celestial bodies, so many lost lives. Poor lives that had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Consumed lives that had lived in peace until then, not knowing about the war that had started.

It seemed like they were destroying everything.

In the end Avocato stood up and paced around the ship, calming his mind to the tune of the working machine. An engine pumping energy into the whole ship purred tiredly beneath his feet as he walked, huffing and puffing with its metallic lungs.

The ship seemed utterly off with no soul around as he quietly walked through it, trying to find a sole place to sit down and disconnect from the world for a bit. Almost like he was moving in a dream, floating in between states of consciousness and not – an askew part of the dimension, a weirdly torn part of the string that made their universe.

The stars blinked and shimmered behind the window and Avocato wondered for how long they could do it. Was the end of the time already breathing on their necks? Did they even have a lot of time? He wasn’t sure. He knew that the world was messed up and it was their fault.

Avocato sat down on the ground and stared at the expanding cosmos in front of his eyes, blocking his mind from all thoughts that pushed and knocked and tried to take down the doors to his consciousness. But for now he only saw the astral place spreading in front of his eyes, calming him down for a moment.

He wasn’t sure how long he was sitting there, but probably for too long.

“Avocato? What are you doing here?”

He twitched and then lifted up his head. He already knew who was coming thanks to the voice. He would recognize it everywhere, in a millisecond, during a spark where the atoms break into two.

Gary was slowly approaching Avocato, the dirty and destroyed clothes still on him. He looked utterly exhausted with the dark bags under his eyes and the remains of his own blood already crusting on the cheeks and beneath the nose.

“I couldn’t sleep.” He answered honestly.

Gary let out a dry chuckle.

“After a day like today?”

“Well, I think there is some leftover adrenaline inside my muscles. Like my brain is waiting for something to happen.”

“Uh yeah, actually I totally can understand that.” Gary scratched the back of his head, looked at the view Avocato was observing. He cleared his throat and then pointed at a space of ground next to Avocato. “Is this seat taken?”

Avocato snorted.

“No, it’s free.”

Gary smiled tiredly and then flopped down next to Avocato, crossing his legs on the ground.

For a blissful, beautiful and terrible moment they only stared at the space in front of them. There were clouds gathering in the distance, bright, enormous, fluffy gases – nebulas – swirling together, trying to form something incredible and new. There was a lone comet flying far-flung. A moon of a planet that was nearby slowly rotated around it, together with its twin.

It was a beautiful place to be. And also terrifying.

Avocato tried to find something to talk about, something easy, something nice and calming.

And then of course he dropped the bomb.

“So, how are things between you and Quinn? Everything’s okay?”

Fuck his life. Why had he asked that? Of course everyone was curious about what they were talking, although it seemed that Nightfall knew the most and wasn’t sharing it with anyone, protecting their privacy.

Gary twitched and then started to play with the thread sticking out from his pants.

“Everything is… well… fine. Between us I mean. I think. I hope.”

Avocato glanced at him.

“You don’t look fine.” He stated.

Because it was a fact. Gary looked miserable, not only because of his outward appearance, but there was something in his eyes, inside of him, something that simply was torn apart and he didn’t know how to stitch it back together. His eyes almost screamed for something, or maybe they screamed at the world, at the unfairness of it all, at the wrong and devastation that spread around while they could do nothing but cry.

“What gave it away?”

Avocato wanted to say that a lot of specific and small things, but shut his mouth. He didn’t want to let Gary know that he had observed him thoroughly. So he only said:

“Everything.”

A dry laugh left Gary’s lips as he tugged on the thread violently. It didn’t come out, but stuck persistently to the trousers. But other than that he didn’t answer. Just looked at the world passing them by.

So they simply sat there together, staring at the space and breathing slowly in and out. They were alive. They were here. They got everyone back. They were breathing. It should be alright. It really should be.

But it wasn’t.

It simply wasn’t because the world was slowly tilting towards destruction with Invictus on the loose and the Final Space and all the titans being seconds away from consuming their world, tearing it into pieces and destroying every atom in its wake, moving protons away from each other and stealing electrons.

There was a delicate movement to his right and a warm heap landed on his shoulder. It took Avocato awfully long time to notice, through his wildly beating heart, that Gary rested his head there, simply as that.

“Do you mind –“

“No.” Avocato quickly said. Too quickly, if he might add. “It’s okay.”

It really was okay. More than okay.

Gary was breathing slowly, letting the air out in puffs and huffs as his head maneuvered a little to find the best position on Avocato’s shoulder.

There was another long spasm of time, a terribly protracted seconds that prolonged themselves into oblivion as they stared at everything and nothing both in the same time, until Avocato heard a soft sniff nearby.

He snapped his head in Gary’s direction.

“Hey, is everything really–“

“We’ve lost so many living beings today.” He softly whispered, voice so quiet it was almost not even there.

But it was there and it strung a painful string inside Avocato’s chest, making him hitch his breath for all the wrong reasons.

“Yeah, yeah we did.” Avocato nodded, shifting a little so his body was a bit lower, which made leaning on him hopefully also easier.

(He didn’t want to lose the contact, that spark of happiness in the dark cloud that seemed to envelop them, seemed to thunder above their heads, saying that the rain and storm were on their way.)

There was something wet hitting his shoulder as another sniffle left Gary’s lips.

“It’s my fault.”

“No, it’s not.”

“It is.” Gary fought back, croaked even, seeming to be on the verge of breaking.

“No, it isn’t. We and them were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. You didn’t kill them. It wasn’t you who took their lives away.”

It was the truth. He had seen today hundreds of lights disappearing from brave faces, he had seen smiles turning into grimaces, into startled mouths opened to scream and shout. He had seen the hope, the beautiful hope, flicker and die quickly under the sheer force that had bent their knees in the face of Death that simply had taken their hands and helped guide them to the other side.

There had been blood, so much blood and screams and shouts and pain and tears and misery and pain and pain and pain.

But it wasn’t their fault. And it definitely wasn’t Gary’s fault. Nor was it anyone else’s on their side.

Avocato slowly reached his hand, trying not to jostle his companion, and then rested it on Gary’s shoulder, bringing him in for a close hug.

He knew it wouldn’t fix anything in the world. It was broken apart, maybe beyond abilities to be repaired. Maybe they were on the way to doom, to their death, to the annihilation that would swipe them away. Maybe there was no hope in the future and every thread connecting their fingers would be burned.

But Avocato still decided to not lose hope.

He hugged Gary closer and let the tears flow down, freely, letting him cope with the loss, hopefully helping him overcome the traumatic moments of today.

He did it even when Gary fell asleep.

And if he carried Gary to his room, then who was here to see and judge him?

***

Avocato had problems with showing his true feelings. It probably, scratch that, definitely was due to the environment he had grown up in. Showing emotions, or worse, weakness had been unacceptable. They had had to be strong, they had had to be brave, they had had to do everything Lord Commander had said. Or else there had been painful consequences.

Showing emotions was a sign of the biggest trust.

(Only Little Cato had seen him crying.)

Yet Gary had done it. Showed him the biggest sign of trust someone could. He had believed him, leaned on him and showed what had been troubling his heart.

Avocato felt awfully happy and devastated about this idea, both in the same time.

Life after the fight, at least those few first days, wasn’t easy. The gloomy atmosphere seemed to be etched into the ship circuit. Everyone’s heads were down with hands tightening when a memory flew by. The never-ending presence of failure followed their every step.

But at least Quinn was with them.

Avocato expected her and Gary to spend every minute together, almost glued to a hip. He expected to see them kiss each other’s cheeks or foreheads or mouths, hug from time to time or simply glance at each other.

They did glance at each other, but with a different tone to it. There was no soft touches on the side, no quick smooches here and there, no desperate hand holding, nothing.

At first he thought that it was due to the atmosphere that walked around them, but it wasn’t that. It was something else, something deeper, gravity waves of emotions.

Something changed between them, that was for sure. But Avocato couldn’t make the heads or tails of it, nor did he think it was his place to ask, so he let the matter be.

(Some part of him was happy that they didn’t show their affection everywhere on the ship.)

It seemed that Quinn also had hard times with accommodating and fitting in with so many unfamiliar people around. She had the best contact with Hue, KVN and apparently Little Cato. With whom Avocato found her speaking quite a lot.

She was talking with him too, but there was always a tone of awkwardness to it.

“Hey, do you know where butter is?”

“That yellow thing which goes on the bread?” Avocato asked.

Quinn nodded, a little bit taken aback.

“Yeah, that.”

“In the cupboard on your right.”

Quinn turned and reached for the shelf.

“Why are you keeping butter in the cupboard? It should be in the fridge.”

Avocato shrugged.

“It’s pretty cold in the cupboard.”

Quinn glanced at the cupboard, then at the butter she now held in her hand, then one more time at the cupboard only to sigh loudly and flop down on the chair in front of Avocato.

He took another sip of his drink, looking through the news on the tablet in front of him. The bounties on their heads were increasing every day and Avocato wasn’t sure whether to be flattered by it or incredibly scared. Maybe a bit of both.

It seemed like Quinn wanted to say something as she was currently drilling holes in his head with her gaze and not making any sandwiches even though all the components were on the table. Avocato decided to let her start speaking whenever she wanted.

In the end she finally made sandwiches

So they sat there, eating, drinking, glancing through new information across the universe, until one of them broke.

Quinn cleared her throat and looked at him. There was something confusing in her eyes, a sudden resolve that didn’t want to be tamed nor couldn’t be controlled, a sudden pure strength that shimmered like a moon – reflecting the power of someone’s else, a sweet inspiration.

“Avocato, I…”

He lifted his head, looking at her and closing the news on the tablet.

The strength was still there, but it was mixed, couldn’t be really described, escaped every trap that the girl tried on it, playing with her like she was only but a mouse.

“I know we didn’t start on the best terms, but I want you to know that I…” She looked to the side, scratched her cheek, then moved the curls away from her forehead only to look him back in the eyes. “… I think you’re a good person and well… I trust you… with Gary and well… Yeah, I trust you.”

Okay. That was pretty… pretty strange to drop such a bomb in the middle of the morning, but at this point in life and with such a crew on the ship Avocato should get used to it. Only he didn’t, so now he only stared perplexed at the woman with his finger still floating in the space close to the tablet.

“Uhh… thanks?” He said slowly, not sure if it was the right answer to give in this situation, but it seemed okay enough to say it.

He wasn’t sure whether anyone should trust him. He had done very bad and terrible things. Really horrible things that plagued his mind during nights, woke him up with hands around his throat and blood splattering on his face. There were faces he knew he would never forget, eyes filled with fear and tears and mouths hanging open in a silent scream for help.

Avocato could never forget those poor souls.

(Avocato didn’t deserve to forget it.)

He didn’t think he deserved the trust everyone around was giving him. He didn’t deserve the amount of hope they were showing him when they were entering another fight. It was badly misplaced.

But they saw something in him he didn’t exactly could see himself.

And he wasn’t going to let them down this time, nor ever again.

Quinn smiled at him and Avocato noticed that it was probably the first time she had done it towards him. They had behaved normally around each other, or well tried to act normally, polite, nice, but there had been always something off about it.

Back at Galaxy One they had been more often seen jumping at each other’s throats with the difference in their perspective, with divergent weight of morals and hearts, but now, after so many things had happened and changed it seemed like they found a silver lining of understatement.

Plus seeing her face, alive, smiling calmed Avocato a little.

He had no doubt that Gary had to do something with Quinn changing her mind about him, but he wasn’t going to question it. He liked her and definitely preferred her covering his back with trust than pointing the gun at it.

***

Why and how Gary changed people’s opinions about Avocato was another mystery Avocato simply couldn’t solve. He didn’t have enough pieces, enough evidences to even form a proper theory around it. So he left it at that and accepted it as another Gary’s confusing trait.

Not that he minded that much. He wasn’t good with people and aliens and other life beings and forms.

Slowly Quinn found her place on the ship. There were still some awkward moments when she stared at Gary and he did it back with some kind of remorse in their eyes, but these were sparse.

Avocato wasn’t sure what had happened between them and he wasn’t really keen on asking about it. It was their private thing, he shouldn’t interfere.

(But he couldn’t stop himself from being a little bit curious. Because it seemed like they weren’t together. There was clearly a deep connection between them, but the spark was lost.

Avocato hated himself for felling hopeful.)

He paced around the ship slowly with a towel wrapped around his shoulders, hanging on the wet fur. Or mildly wet fut. He knew if he stayed longer in the drying chamber he would fall asleep, so he decided to finish drying himself with a towel.

The ship outside of the warm showers was cold, freezing even. It made all the wet hairs on his back and arms stand up, so he fastened his pace to get to his room quicker and turn on the heating to drift away into hopefully dreamless sleep.

Most doors were already closed, signaling Avocato that almost the whole crew was asleep. He didn’t mind, he got used to being the last one to do it.

(Often accompanied by Gary. They had spent quite a lot of nights playing cards in the main room of the ship.)

Gary’s room was open, which wasn’t actually that surprising. What was off was the soft light coming from between the small, thin gap that was there. What was even more astonishing was a soft tune sneaking between it and scattering across the floor, clearly coming from that room.

Avocato sneaked closer to the gap, being cautions of his steps and the sounds he was making, and leaned forward, stealing a peek inside.

He definitely didn’t expect to see it.

Gary was leaning on the wall, sitting on the bed and humming a soft tune under his nose as his eyes were illuminated by the holographic tablet he held in his hand and clearly read through. On his lap laid Little Cato, whole body curled and hidden almost fully under a blanket thrown over it. There was a steady rhythm of his heartbeat, mirrored in slow rises and falls of the chest, showing Avocato that the small Ventrexian was fully asleep.

That didn’t stop Gary from leisurely moving his hand through the cyan patch of fur on his son’s head, playing with the strands and scratching him behind the ear occasionally, which also flicked form time to time.

(There was also a small lamp in the corner, giving a soft hue to the whole room. Never turned off.)

Mooncake laid nearby the wall, squished between Gary and Little Cato and snoring peacefully, while giving a few sounds ever so often.

Avocato knew they were close. They had to be. Gary even had adopted his – their – son.

He had seen them interact a thousand times already.

But it didn’t stop the sudden beat of the heart from going haywire when he saw moments like that. Peaceful. Calm. Tranquil. Comforting. Fitting.

Gary looked utterly happy, moving his hand slowly while his eyes scanned the letters, coordination, galaxies and space stations nearby that they deeply needed to avoid. There was a tired smile, hiding in the corners of his mouth, in accompaniment of the hair standing in weird directions.

Little Cato exhaled slowly and snuggled closer.

Gary glanced down, smiled more and then returned to reading. Or at least he seemed to want to do that, but his eyes moved, glided along the small crack in the doorway and then their eyes met.

“Avocato?” Gary’s mouth said, barely letting the words out.

He didn’t have to be so quiet. When Little Cato was asleep even a comet crashing through the roof wouldn’t wake him up.

Should he step inside? There was no need for him to do that. He could wave his hand and let them be, give them much needed rest. But there was something enthralling in the picture he just had seen, something that called to him, something that made him want to be a part of it, not a spectator from the side.

It was a stupid need, but he simply couldn’t stop it.

So he opened the door a little, which hissed as it moved to make place for him to step inside.

“Hey.” He whispered.

“Hey to you too.” Gary murmured, showing him a line of white teeth. “Why aren’t you sleeping?”

“I was taking a shower.” Avocato said and then pointed with his head at the lump laying in Gary’s lap. “I would ask you the same thing, but I can see you have your hands full.”

He chuckled, curling one strand of baby blue hair around his finger and brushing it with his thumb.

“Quite full indeed.” Gary said and then much softer added. “But I can’t say I mind.”

Little Cato tilted his head a little, like he was seeking the warmth that seeped from Gary’s fingers, and then moved to rest his cheek on the human’s stomach, one hand gripping the t-shirt, forming an ocean of wrinkles there.

Gary didn’t look like he minded. If anything he looked even happier than before.

The image, the atmosphere, the sweet warmness that seeped from Gary and Little Cato was so serene, so calming that Avocato’s heart just yearned to flop down on the bed next to them, lay his head down and lull away too. It was a deep need, powerful like a cosmic wave, thermic in its wake, even more endearing by the fact that he simply just had to step forward.

But –

“You can stay the night.” Gary suddenly said, not looking up at him, but staring fondly at the Ventrexian in his lap. Then it seemed like a sudden blast, a meteorite crashed in his mind, because he snapped his head up and mumbled. “If you… I mean… If you want to, of course.”

There was a soft hint, a delicate, darkish hue to Gary’s cheeks, navy blue in colors in the faint light coming from the holographic screen and lamp that just tore Avocato’s heart apart.

He didn’t want anything more than just that – no innuendos, no higher reason, no adult stuff that sometimes sneaked into his mind. Just a calm night shared with his loved ones.

No, he didn’t deserve that. He had hurt them enough. They were happy now, why should he interrupt this small piece of time filled with joy with his presence?

“No, it’s okay. I’m good.“ He wasn’t, but it wasn’t their problem either. “I’ll see you in the morning?”

Gary nodded, quickly replacing something on his face with a small smile.

(It definitely hadn’t been sadness. Definitely not disappointment. It couldn’t be. Why should it even be there? No, Avocato had to be seeing things. He had to be. It was quite late and Avocato didn’t have enough sleep lately or like ever.)

“Yeah, uh, sure. Totally. We’ll see each other in the morning. I’m super fine with that.” Gary cleared his throat, moving the screen to hide his mouth. “Yeah, yeah, fine. Good night.”

Avocato smiled.

“Good night.”

And with that he left the room, feeling like he was leaving something precious behind.

***

It seemed like Gary almost naturally knew what Avocato wanted, even before he could simply form the thoughts. Or always seemed to know what to ask, shaping, molding the needs into the words.

A peculiar talent indeed. A rare one. A very confusing one.

Especially as it was getting harder and harder to resist some of them.

Avocato never had been a very touchy and warm person. Years of killing people could do that to living beings. They start to lose the sense of humanity, they stop seeing the spark of life in the others and start treating them as a burden, a hindrance they need to take care of.

Avocato had hated himself for doing and thinking like that.

Living beings had been pawns he had had to destroy or move to another part of the board. Conceal emotions. Don’t think about their families or friends or loved ones. They had been just a collection of atoms, a cosmic dust, a moment, a light that needed to be blown out.

Then it had changed when Little Cato had been born. His whole world had shattered into thousand, if not million, pieces and had formed something entirely new. Not something stable at first, but Avocato immediately had known, right after seeing his little son, that he was going to try his damn hardest to make it all work.

He would steal a thousand stars for his son. He would break the space–time continuum. He would snap and tie back the strings of reality. He hadn’t always showed it. Hell, he probably never had showed it. A great mistake. One of the biggest mistakes of his life.

But he had gotten a second chance. Or well actually a third chance, maybe even a fourth one if he could count right. But these two in the middle didn’t count because he hadn’t been long enough here to actually use them.

Little Cato had been and was his sunshine, his hope, his sun, his moon, his gravity and his light. Everything he had done and did was for him.

Avocato loved spending time with Little Cato, whether it was eating breakfast or dinner, steering the ship, playing random games during games nights which happened almost every day or simply spending time while doing nothing.

Now unfortunately wasn’t one of those times, but Avocato still was going to enjoy it.

“And remember, if your gun jams, there is an additional one on your left.” Gary said, pointing at the holster hanging on Little Cato’s belt.

The Ventrexian sighed loudly and pushed Gary’s hand away.

“Dad, come on. I know how to shoot and I know where I have my weapons.”

Avocato smiled.

“Gary, chill. He’s a Cato, using guns is in our blood.”

Little Cato grinned to him.

“Oh is it now, Avocato? I clearly remember someone forgetting to bring his backup ammo for the last mission.” Gary said, straightening his back and crossing his arms on his chest.

Oh, he hit a point.

“I made it work in the end, didn’t I?” Avocato smirked.

“Throwing a gun at the enemy doesn’t count!” Gary huffed.

“Hey, if there is no ammo, you use whatever you can as an ammo.” Little Cato added, adorably grinning from ear to ear.

“Well said, son.”

Little Cato almost bubbled with excitement, jumping in place and whispering encouraging words to himself. There were sparks leaping from his eyes, shimmering for a second like burning particles of metal. He radiated energy like a comet moving through the space.

Gary sighed at that.

Avocato smiled under his nose and checked the energy stabilizer in his gun. There was nothing better than plasma weapons. Deadly, yet longer-lasting. A small ampule of energy was enough for many rounds of ammo.

“Can we go?” Little Cato asked, swinging back and forth on his heels.

Avocato was just about to answer that they should actually move to the drop zone, when Gary one more time butted in.

“Oh no, you can’t, bud. Not without your good luck charm.”

Little Cato stopped swinging and looked at the man, rolling his eyes brutally.

“Dad, no. I don’t need it!”

“Let me be the judge of that.” Gary frowned and then leaned to peck Little Cato quickly on the forehead.

The Ventrexian frowned, trying to look as disgusted as he could, but failing somewhere in the middle as the smile broke on his face, snapped it in two like a meteor.

“Dad, stop, you’re embarrassing me in front of everyone.” Little Cato whined, moving his hand to his forehead, but not brushing the place, only gently resting his paw there.

“You have to live with it.” Gary said, moving to straighten his back.

Avocato wasn’t sure exactly why he opened his mouth. Everything was fine and dandy, maybe even sweet due to the situation that had unfolded in front of him like a Mobius strip, and he had to break it.

(Maybe the needs that had been locked inside of him finally had enough and found a small opening in the corner, clawing their way out. Maybe it was an urge to share something similar, something pure and sweet and calm and comforting all in the same time.)

“How come Little Cato got a good luck kiss, but I didn’t?”

And he failed miserably. Someone give him a round of applause.

The hangar, previously filled with so many voices, became instantly quiet, silent as space spreading behind these metal walls.

Avocato’s heart stopped beating for a moment after the words had left his mouth. There was a hollow void inside his chest, an emptiness that sucked everything into it. A sudden pause of the time which prolonged the awkwardness into infinity.

Gary looked at him with the mouth a little bit open and eyes wide as moons.

Avocato clenched and unclenched his fists a few times, trying to come up with an idea on how to get back his words. Maybe he should play it as a joke? Would laughing work? Maybe he simply can pretend that he hadn’t said that? He just had to do something to escape the sudden stillness that had appeared inside the hangar.

But before he could do anything, Gary moved closer and nervously smiled.

“Well when you put it like that, I admit it wasn’t fair.”

Avocato felt like he was dreaming. Because he had to be dreaming. It couldn’t be real. There was no chance that he was actually awake and not turning on his bed. But if it was a dream then please let him sleep for at least one more minute.

Gary leaned up, moved closer, impossibly close, so close that Avocato could sense the warmness seeping from the human body, traveling, enveloping him. There was a familiar scent trailing after him, smell that made all his bones melt and mind become a galactic mush.

It was a short moment, a sudden spark of a dying star, or maybe the beginning of a new one, when the gases all combine to form an explosion that could make everyone kneel.

Gary pecked Avocato’s cheek, letting his lips stay there for a second or so, before slowly moving back, glancing hesitantly at Avocato like he wanted to gauge his reaction.

And well, Avocato was a lost man. His heart beat rapidly in his chest, thrumming loudly like an overworked engine that was on the tip of exhaustion. It hammered and knocked on his ribcage so vehemently that he was sure it was the most audible thing in the entire universe.

The place on his cheek was burning.

Gary smiled at him and stepped away, moving his one hand to scratch the back of his neck.

The silence stirred around them, until even it finally broke down.

“How come they get good luck kisses, but not me?” Fox suddenly asked.

“Hey, I was on a mission two weeks ago and I didn’t get any either.” Ash added, moving to her brother and crossing her arms.

“That is because you sneaked out, not went on a mission.” Gary quickly clarified, looking at her. “By the way you’re grounded for that, young lady.”

“There was a music festival on a planet nearby!”

“Still grounded!”

“And I still didn’t get my lucky kisses!” Fox whined.

Gary sighed, letting his shoulders drop like it was the most tedious thing to do. But the happiness, hiding in the wrinkles in the corners of his eyes sold him out.

“Come here then!”

Avocato observed fondly the ridiculousness of the situation in front of him, correcting the belt where his main weapons were situated. In the corner of his eyes he caught Little Cato looking at him, so he did the same, raising his eyebrow.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Little Cato said, in the voice that clearly indicated that ‘nothing’ was clearly a lie.

Avocato wanted to pursue and continue the topic, but AVA announced they were getting closer to their destination.

His cheek burned long after that.

***

The affection was never his companion.

A side effect of working for Lord Commander. But that wasn’t the only reason. He had simply grown up while being taught that showing any kind of emotions led to disasters.

Life had quite confirmed those suspicions.

It always had seemed that whenever he had seek comfort and warmness the universe, the people around him and he himself had been punished for that.

(There had been times where he had been afraid of even trying to seek this kind of feelings from other people.)

Things had changed when Little Cato had been born and later on when he had fell in love with Gary Goodspeed.

For Little Cato Avocato would do everything, he would disintegrate and destroy every particle of fear inside of him if his son even needed a hug, pat on the back or comforting kiss on the nose. He had been there through every sickness and every heartbreak and every tears filled night. Until Little Cato had been ripped away from him.

Another confirmation of the suspicions.

But then Gary Goodspeed had appeared and helped him get his boy back, breaking the chain, smashing it to pieces with just a few words and things that couldn’t be described by them – words.

And somehow Gary knew how to sneak past his defenses to give enough amount of affection for Avocato to feel loved.

(Which was a dangerous thing, because after tasting it for the first time he needed more and more, finding urges and needs that plagued his mind.

Maybe it wasn’t a plague, but a calm home.)

Avocato couldn’t remember much from the time when he had been possessed by Invictus. He had bits and pieces here and there, tears in the continuum of space canvas with strings weaved together like a beautiful veil. The most he remembered were the beginning and the end.

(Shooting Gary, almost killing Gary, almost shooting Little Cato. No matter how many times he had apologized, the guilt was still there, a never-ending thread that had a start, but no end.)

Affection was something that should be familiar, yet wasn’t.

Gary patted the flashlight, which flickered and then died down, giving a few coughs of light at the end.

Avocato stared at it, furrowing his eyebrows. That was their last and only one flashlight. Avocato didn’t worry too much, he could see clearly in the dark, but humans couldn’t.

Gary swallowed hard

“It is dark as hell in there.” He murmured, staring into the epitome of darkness.

Avocato nodded.

“It is.”

“Do you think there are like super giant monsters that are gonna eat our brains and then make chairs out of our bones?”

“What?”

“It’s was a yes or no question, Avocato!” “I know, I was just surprised by it.” Avocato grumbled, atounded by Gary’s sudden outburst. “I suppose there is a possibility?’

“Oh no, we’re going to die.”

“I doubt it.”

“It’s easy for you to say, you have like twelve guns on you.”

“Eh, fourteen actually.” Avocato shrugged, loading one as he spoke.

“Even better!”

Avocato sighed, glanced into the dark abyss that spread in front of them, consuming every particle of matter that dared to go inside and then looked back at Gary who anxiously looked at the sight before him.

Gary was wriggling his hands together, playing with the hems of the sleeves as he stared at the entrance, mulling the idea over by biting his lip. His shoulders were tensed, the sudden stress almost precipitating on them. The picture was filled with the eyes jumping from left to right, desperately trying to find something to focus on for the next moment.

There was something off about the picture, something unfitting that wasn’t made to be here, like a fifth corner puzzle piece that you try to put in a square drawing.

Avocato stared for a good long minute, trying to locate the source of the problem, trying to find the root of the dilemma that clearly clung to Gary’s body.

He glanced at the cave, then back at Gary.

There was one possibility that was coming as the most plausible one here.

“Gary, are you afraid of the dark?”

The response was immediate.

“No! Me? Of course not! Definitely not! Nu huh!”

Avocato lifted his eyebrow, but put down the shotgun and then affixed it to his back, freeing both hands, so he could grab a smaller plasma hand pistol with his right one.

Gary massaged his one arm with the other hand, looking with his eyes at anything, but at the dark void that emerged in front of them.

Avocato reached with his left hand to Gary, letting his fingers twitch in the cold air of the planet.

“Come on, grab my hand and let’s get this over with, baby.”

It was said in a carefree tone, almost a joking one. But it was a play, a calculated deception to hide how much Avocato’s heart thrummed in his chest and how his mind become fuzzy at the simple prospect that they could hold hands.

Not to mention he wanted to be there for Gary if he needed him. Gary had been his support, his livewire, his lighthouse and familiar home since the moment they had seen each other and Avocato wanted to repay the debt.

He expected Gary to resist, maybe joke a bit, bicker back and forth, but he almost surged forward, clasping Avocato’s palm in both of his hands and holding tightly like he was a lifeline on a wide ocean.

Avocato wiggled his fingers a little, finding a better position and then looked towards the cave.

They moved forward, at first terribly slow, letting the light guide them for a few meters or so, before the void fully consumed every particle of light that tried to cross the boundary. It seemed like the darkness devoured all the wavelengths, letting no color inside. Only the cold, freezing blackness remained.

Even though the void expanded around them, filling every pore of their bodies, Avocato could see more or less clearly. For example he could see that there was a hole on the right after two meters and that if they didn’t move their heads down in ten meters they would hit their foreheads on the stone ceiling being suspiciously low.

The further they were walking, the more cold and freezing it was starting to be and the stronger the hold on his hand was getting.

Gary didn’t talk, as it seemed like every breath was a feat for him. A fatiguing experience that he wanted to stop doing. He was twitching and shivering all over his body, but whether it was due to the coldness or stress Avocato wasn’t sure.

Avocato squeezed back the fingers holding him, trying to send some comforting feelings and thoughts through the link.

Gary immediately gripped back, changing the hold so only one hand was interlocked with Avocato’s fingers.

They walked for a few more minutes. Exactly eight to be more precise, before Gary finally opened his mouth.

“I uh… at my home… I mean back on Earth… I lived uh… quite a long time without the electricity…”

“You did?” Avocato asked, hoping that Gary would catch a bait.

He moved his fingers a little in the hold.

“Oh yeah… After my dad died and my mom left me, I… I lived in our house for some time… I think that the Child Protective Services didn’t actually know I was left alone… They probably thought my mom was still living with me… even though she wasn’t…” Gary inhaled sharply. “I mean… it wasn’t so bad at the beginning…”

Avocato knew it wasn’t the truth. The drop of the tone, the sudden tightness in the voice, the hesitant shivers running through the fingertips sold Gary out.

“There was some spare money my dad had hidden in the vase with the fake succulents… So I used it to buy food and all the stuff…” There was an audible gulp next to him. “I was a kid back then… I didn’t know how rents or banks worked, that you need to pay for water and gas and such things… And well, after some time they…”

“Cut the electricity off?” Avocato finished, glancing tat Gary.

He wasn’t looking at anything per se, mostly staring at the ground that he couldn’t see, like by just focusing hard enough he could maybe spot the obstacles in his way.

“Uh… yeah… One day it randomly just disappeared during the evening. The house became so silent all of a sudden… I didn’t notice before but with it the house had been so loud. The fridge had been buzzing, the boiler had been bubbling, the AC had been hissing. But after that it all… quieted down. And I… I got so so scared.” A sudden break. A hiss. A sniffle. “I felt so alone.”

Avocato couldn’t really imagine what it must have felt like, but he knew a lot about loneliness. A pesky feeling. A horrible companion. A hollow sensation.

Avocato had been alone for most of his life. He knew how isolation really felt like – a weight that held down, with the gravity pulling the strings towards the bottom from where there was no escape.

He wasn’t sure how to respond to that. He wasn’t good at this lifting up other people’s moods. He wasn’t good at being there for others, even though he tried desperately to do that. He simply wasn’t good enough.

But Avocato decided he wanted to try.

So he gripped the hand tighter, letting his thumb brush across the skin and tugging the human closer.

“This had to fucking suck.” He whispered and winced immediately after that.

Yep, Avocato wasn’t the best, he wasn’t even remotely good in comforting people related stuff. It was always Gary’s thing to do, lifting people’s mood with a joke here, a pat there, a hug in-between, mixed with soft words.

In comparison Avocato was harsh and plain, cutting straight to the core.

Gary sniffed and moved his fingers, finding a better hold on Avocato’s palm.

“Yeah, it fucking sucked.”

Avocato wasn’t sure whether he was doing a good or terribly bad thing for his heart, but he tugged Gary closer, letting their shoulders brush, squeeze together like they were two pieces of a puzzle.

“You can hold onto me if you’re scared.” Avocato whispered, feeling like in the spreading void his voice was still ten times louder, shaking the waves in the air around them.

And he really meant it. He wanted to do that. He wanted to be that. Someone better. Someone more.

They weren’t living in calm times, no, they were far away from that. They had to escape countless bounty hunters and people with personal vengeances. They were wanted people, always on the run. The calm times were sparse with the rip to Final Space getting bigger and bigger with every passing day and Titans peeking curiously and dangerously at them from behind the broken threads.

All of them were scared. And all of them needed someone more.

Gary moved closer, wrapping his other hand around Avocato’s arm and almost snuggling him, but not letting go of his palm.

“Thanks.”

Avocato wanted to say that it was no problem, but his mouth failed him.

***

Not many people and aliens liked to talk with Avocato. He didn’t have problems with that. He wasn’t overly talkative person. He could keep up a conversation  if he needed to and he could give orders, but beside that he preferred to remain silent.

Especially when it came to sharing something personal. This was a giant leap of trust he didn’t think anyone should do towards him.

Yet Gary did just that. He shared his secrets, fears, passions with Avocato like it was the most normal thing to do. And Avocato didn’t feel that he was good enough to be gifted with all of those things.

He didn’t deserve any of that. Gary should have come with it to other people on the crew, but not him. Definitely not him.

“Nightfall, Gary you have to jump!” Quinn, standing next to him, shouted into the mic, holding it closer to her mouth to be audible above the clouds of explosions going off around them.

The heavy breathing was getting louder in Avocato’s own com.

“We kinda have our hands full right now.” Came Nightfall’s voice, filled with huffs and puffs and sounds of blasters going on and on.

Avocato barely could distinguish words between the noises of gunshots going off inside and outside the headset.

“Leave them be. The station is going to collapse soon. We’ll open the hangar door and catch you.”

“You better do that, because I don’t really – Shit!”

Avocato glanced at Quinn and nodded to each other, putting on the helmets and fastening the security ropes to their backs. The hangar door opened with a hiss as the vacuum sucked the whole air from the room, almost pushing them outside with the sudden gust of the force. They both kept their place, holding onto rails with one hand and preparing a gun to fire with the other.

The cosmic station K–27β was in utter disarray. Or the part of it that was still intact was quickly dissipating, shaken by the explosions and fire that roamed freely along the surface. The last tank with oxygen was exploding, fueling the fire and letting it combust more.

Just outside the ship there was a landing platform, barely holding onto the rest of the construction. It was squeaking and wheezing as too many pairs of feet scrambled across it, jumping and running around, dancing the Danse Macabre while trying to remain alive.

“I see them.” Quinn whispered into the com in her helmet and glanced at Avocato.

He could see them too, getting closer to the end of the platform, splitting their attention between checking where they were going and observing the crowd of aliens following them.

Avocato readied the weapon and shot five bullets, each and every one hitting the aliens that were pointing their guns at Nightfall.

The woman turned back and her eyes widened. Nightfall then turned to Gary, who was pretty occupied with shooting the aliens which were closest to him, and said something to him, which they barely heard through the com due to the sudden waterfall of shots.

“Little Cato get us closer.” Avocato said.

“On it.”

The ship moved closer, with the open door to the hangar hovering a few meters below the end of the platform.

Quinn sent out another round of plasma bullets, freeing Gary from the sudden anguish that was coming their way.

“Jump, now!” Quinn shouted.

“Nightfall, go! I’ll keep them occupied!”

“But–“

Avocato could see Gary throwing a small parcel at her – the main goal of their mission – and then moving to the front.

“The platform isn’t going to hold much longer. Now!”

Nightfall nodded and then leaped from the stand into the hangar.

For a moment Avocato wanted to move to catch her, but knew better not to do that, as the woman perfectly rolled on the ground and landed in a position with the gun raised up to kill two aliens that were getting too close for comfort.

Avocato was impressed, but he couldn’t watch for much longer as he had more important matters to tend to.

“Gary, now it’s your turn.” He said into the com of his helmet.

“A moment, I’m kinda in a middle of something!” Gary wheezed, rolling across the ground when one alien tried to stomp on him.

The station rattled as another giant explosion made one third of the ship crumble down, letting it float away while still burning like a comet. The aliens, which were standing closer to the edges, swayed and then fell down, moving their hands around to try to find something to hold on or grabbing their necks as the oxygen thinned out and they were left with nothing to breathe.

“Gary, the station is going to collapse! Jump!”

Through the connection Gary groaned heavily as he got up from his almost laying position and quickly glanced back at the three of them waiting for him.

“Okay, but you better –“

Everything shuddered.

This explosion was bigger than the ones before. It was bigger than each and every one before. It shook and rattled and wheezed and screamed and broke until there was almost nothing left.

The following blast of energy that erupted from the core of the station sent the Crimson Light a several meters away, covering their faces with blazing hot air that almost made it hurt to remain there.

The reinforcement of the platform broke in a few places, bending the whole construction to the side and letting aliens slip and fall down to their doom.

Unfortunately Gary was one of them. His hands clawed the metal surface, trying to find some kind of support to hold onto and not fall into the hollowness of the space that would clearly consume him in mere seconds. There was a long red streak of blood that wasn’t there before, running slowly and dripping onto the shirt.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, fuck, shit–”

Nightfall attached the gun to her back and ran forward, stopping next to Quinn and looking around, trying to find some kind of solution to the problem.

Gary clung to a broken metal panel with his dear and precious life.

“Little Cato, can you bring us closer?” Quinn asked, voice trembling at the last tone.

“No, I can’t. Even a meter closer and the heat will start melting the engines! We need to get outta here, fast!”

“We can’t leave Gary!”

Avocato had an idea. It was a very crazy idea which required a lot of trust and strength. And an interstellar amount of faith.

But it was the best idea he had right now, so he hid his gun and said into the com.

“Gary, I need you to let go!”

“What?!” Gary shrieked, waving his feet around like he tried to find a ground or floor that simply wasn’t there.

“You need to let go. I’ll catch you, don’t worry!”

Quinn and Nightfall looked at him surprised, eyes widening for a second, only for the look to be replaced with understatement in the next moment.

To be honest Avocato expected Gary to put up a bigger fight. Maybe whine and yell, maybe angrily, maybe fearfully. He expected shouts that he was crazy. He expected something more, something tremendous.

Yet what he received was something greater than that.

“Okay, okay, I trust you. On three!”

When the three came Gary let go of the metal panel and slipped, falling down into the void of the cosmos spreading beneath and around them.

Avocato had to be precise. A millisecond too fast or too late could cost him dearly. And he desperately didn’t want that. So he observed, waited patiently, twitched and recalculated everything one more time in his head, only to take a step back and then leap forward, clicking his boots to give himself a small boost.

There was a short spasm of time when he feared, when he was terribly afraid and scared that he was wrong, they he would miss and everything would be simply not okay.

But then he reached his hands forward, crashed into the body which fell down due to the last pull of gravity around the station that wheezed and coughed, giving out its final breath.

Avocato quickly wrapped his hands around the human, gripping tightly as not to accidentally let him slip past his fingers, due to the energy of the crash that made them swing down and then back and forth. His one hand moved higher to click a button and make a helmet envelope Gary’s head, who took a sweet deep breath when the material snuck into place.

The station crackled and shimmered with tiny burst of lights and flames going on in different sectors of the last remaining part of the construction that was now crumbling to its destruction.

It wasn’t a part of their plan, but well…

The rope holding them made them swing back and forth, straining itself at some parts, but nevertheless holding onto them strongly.

Avocato exhaled heavily, feeling the warm air coming from his own mouth on his face. His heart seemed like it tried to escape from his chest with the sudden rush of adrenaline that overtook his entire core. His hands subconsciously clung tighter to a body in his grasp.

Somewhere along the process Gary’s hands sneaked around him too and now tightened the hold on him.

Gary was breathing heavily too and if Avocato wasn’t mistaken he could feel the erratic heartbeat in his chest due to the close proximity.

“I got you, baby, I got you.” He whispered quietly, whether to himself or to Gary he wasn’t sure.

But the man definitely heard him as he let out a broken chuckle and lifted up his head.

And then he simply stared at Avocato. Stared for a long time with the blood still running down his forehead, across his cheek and chin to disappear in the folds of his clothes.

Yet there was something in his eyes, something enthralling, something exciting, something more that was burning in the nicest ways. Something familiar, yet never directed at him. Something comforting, yet scary, both in the same time.

“I may be a little lightheaded due to the hit to the head, but I must say that was hot as hell.”

“You almost dying while the station exploded in the background?” Avocato asked, raising his eyebrow, quite bewildered.

“No, not that. That was terrifying as fuck.”

There was a screech in their coms.

“We’re going to pull you in now, boys.”

The rope twitched and both of them were hauled back on the ship while Gary still looked at him with eyes shining and full of something Avocato couldn’t exactly name.

Or maybe that was wrong.

He was terrified to name it. Because if he did, it suddenly would become real.

And he was scared that he might be wrong.

***

Avocato wasn’t really an open person when it came to saying out loud things he was thinking. No, that was wrong. He was straight-forward, when someone asked about his opinion. He didn’t hit around bushes, preferring honest and painful truth to comfortable lie.

But there was a difference in the truth Avocato spoke and the truth Gary did.

He couldn’t really grab the concept. The point was Avocato had a lot of thoughts. They were cluttering his mind like tiny stars, swishing through the universe of his head. They were like cosmic dust and the matter that spread around. They were like meteorites, crashing on the surface of his tongue, they were like lonely comets, sometimes just passing through behind his eyes. But he kept them all behind his teeth, guarding them with pure passion. It was better to keep those thoughts for himself, hidden away from the world. They would bring him nothing good, just more awkwardness and hesitant laughs to hide what he was really feeling.

(Even when there were thousand things he wanted to say to Gary at very random parts of the day.)

Yet Gary seemed to just say out loud the first thing that popped into his mind. His sentences were often disjointed, messy, barely holding themselves together. Yet they were honest and comforting, warm at the finishing syllables, sometimes having a joking undertone.

But he always could say things that were on his mind and almost never seemed ashamed of doing so.

Which didn’t exactly help Avocato that much. When those were simple things, it was okay. A short compliment here and there was okay. Gary was naturally that kind of a person. Plus he always complimented other people too – Quinn, Nightfall, Hue, Mooncake and AVA.

Never KVN.

(Little Cato, Ash and Fox didn’t count. It seemed like if Gary could, he would shower them with praises. It seemed that after adopting Little Cato some kind of dad mode had been turned on and even since he couldn’t stop. Not that anyone minded, no matter how many times they groaned.)

Yet there was something different in a way Gary said things to him.

Or maybe Avocato was simply adding something, giving bigger and different meaning to things that were happening around him.

The whole point was that Gary was incredibly confusing. He did things that Avocato couldn’t clearly explain, nor could he understand. He did things that introduced other, different thoughts inside of Avocato. He did things that just fueled the hope that was sparkling, coming to life in his chest, like a star that was only now being born due to masses of gases gathering and mixing together.

He did things and Avocato yearned.

And it was a dangerous thing. Something that was slowly slipping through the fingers of his control, like a fog, a dust or a smoke, sublimating from something that had been once solid.

“Hey Brocato, what are you doing?”

“Oh uh staring?”

Avocato wasn’t sure how to answer that. He just had stopped walking from the control room to his room as the cloud of thoughts swarmed through his head. He had no higher reason than needing a break to simply think.

Gary smiled at him and then turned his head to look at the window where the never-ending cosmos was spreading around them, getting bigger and bigger with every passing second, consuming matter and atoms in its wake and forming something new, something incredible, dangerous, terrifying and exciting all in the same time.

But to be fair Avocato wasn’t staring at the universe. His eyes just wandered there to find some kind of buoyant to hook himself in just in case his mind would take him far away.

“Mind if I join in?” Gary asked, glancing at him and then returning his gaze to the vastness.

Avocato shrugged, feeling as his heart jumped high in his throat.

“You’re the Captain here.”

To be honest it was mean to be a joke. If anything Nightfall was the captain of the ship, the fearless leader who knew what fear tasted like, the strongest soul that knew the devastation and horrors of the world.

But Gary was, well, still close to the position.

And the sudden grin that he showed him was worth it, even if Gary didn’t exactly take it as a joke. Maybe it was better this way. The way where he could see that blinding, radiating smile.

So they stood next to each other, staring, looking at the universe, their closest companion and their biggest enemy, the greatest gift and the most terrible unknown that was there, ever changing, never a constant, always moving, shifting, switching.

But there was beauty to it.

For Avocato for a long time space and planets had been things to conquer, things to destroy, things that had marginal value if they hadn’t wanted to obey their laws.

However that had been wrong. He had known it back then. He knew it now.

Yet somehow he had never stopped to really admire what was in front of them, next to them and guiding them with the hands on their backs. Until now.

They didn’t speak for quite a long time. Too long time to call it comfortable. Even Avocato started to sense the awkwardness in a form of small prickles on his arms. He moved his hand to rub one shoulder and dared to steal a glance at Gary.

Who looked mesmerized as he looked into space. His eyes were so wide and there was this childish glint in them, a sudden spark, a collision of atoms which formed something incredibly new. It was a joy and fear, a happiness and nervousness, electrons and protons mixing together.

And Avocato felt pulled in, felt like there was a gravitational field so strong, so deep that he couldn’t fight it. It was tugging him forward and forward, closer and closer. Maybe in the end he was falling, moving fast through the hollowness towards the source.

But in this very moment he didn’t mind.

Avocato leaned closer, feeling the tug on his chest that dared him to go forward and he really wanted to do it. He was so close, so so close that he could count all the small scars on Gary’s face.

“It’s scary, isn’t it?”

Avocato blinked and moved quickly back, like a backslash of warm smoke and cosmic dust hit him in the face.

“What, what is scary?” He asked, feeling the need to clear his throat but stopping himself from doing so.

“Space, cosmos, universe…” Gary lifted his hands and swung them at the window. “… is scary.”

“I thought you loved it.”

“I did… I do…” He said, waving his metallic hand around like he tried to find the perfect words, the most suitable combination. “But it doesn’t mean I’m not afraid of it. Because I’m like hella super afraid of it.”

“Why are you scared of it?” Avocato asked, partly genuinely curious, partly to cover the sudden heat that covered his cheeks.

“Well uh for first it’s pretty big. Like super big. Enormous even!”

“And it’s still expanding.”

“Yeah, yeah, so it’s like totally super giant and like we are so incredibly tiny and small and in the biggest picture it doesn’t terrify you? The scale of it? This super big unknown around you?”

Avocato never really had thought about it. He had had bigger problems and worries to tend to before. And now, now he also thought about other things.

“I suppose so? I’m not sure, I never thought about it to be honest.” Avocato said, whispered it even as he stared at the world. Their world.

“Oh.”

There was a beat of silence, a sudden stillness to the air. It almost seemed like the space was inside the ship, wrapping them in its embrace and blocking all the sounds from moving through it.

“Are you scared now?” Avocato asked instead.

Gary glanced at him and shrugged.

“Depending on what you’re asking about.”

“Of space.”

“Not all the time, I’m not. Just when I start to really think about it.” Gary sighed and then moved his hand to scratch the back of his head. “Mostly when I was a kid and space was some faraway place I couldn’t exactly reach. Back then it really, really terrified me. Now the feeling is a little bit smaller. You know, not mini smaller but smaller.”

Avocato could understand the implication behind it, the hidden meaning, the truth radiating behind the words like some kind of wave made of invisible particle. The fear that had moved through the atmosphere was still there. Maybe in the end it never had left Gary’s body, his bones and muscles, had weaved itself into his heart.

It seemed like an everlasting patron on their journey.

“I mean, to be fair a lot of things scare me.” Gary continued, sniffing a bit. ”Now that I said it out loud, I noticed how dumb it sounded. Gosh, sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything, you can just forget about it –“ The words poured from his mouth, swirling in the air, transforming into something new, something that coursed through Gary’s body and was making it tense and strain and Avocato didn’t want to see it.

“Hey, it’s okay.” He quickly said, moving his hand to put it on the human’s shoulder stopping the quivering movements that suddenly rattled the body. “Fear is normal.”

“Easy for you to say. You don’t look scared at all.” Gary huffed, hinting on a joking tone, but a sudden shiver appearing in the last word sold him out.

But Avocato was scared. He had been and was scared so many times. His life was a never ending stream of moments filled with terror so dark that sometimes it seemed like it could swallow him whole. A black hole that pulled everything into it.

“Very flattering of you to say, but I’m terrified like most of the time.” Avocato said, feeling the words scratching his throat.

Avocato felt really vulnerable.

“Really?” Gary asked, glancing at him.

There was something in his eyes, some hidden need, some kind of pulse that thrummed and beat and vibrated. Some kind of emotion Avocato couldn’t exactly name. Just something that made Avocato all messy inside.

Maybe it was hope, some kind of pure hope that crashed and rolled and dove, trying to catch onto something. Like a shooting star, terrified to fall down and yet hoping to rest on a safe land.

It was blinding, but it was also so so warm. Intoxicating, but sweet and bitter. Confusing, but familiar.

And it was true. Avocato had been and was afraid of many things. He was afraid of deep waters. He was afraid of losing his son, losing Gary, losing the crew and losing hope. He was afraid of new things and old stories. He was afraid to make choices that could tip the scale. He was afraid of the road they were taking.

But he wasn’t going to let that stop him from staying here.

So he nodded.

“Really.” He said, sliding his hand down, letting it hang near his body.

There was another pause, a sudden thrum of the cosmic heart that shook the universe. It was the silence which spread around them that made him focus on the heavily beating heart, on the warmness seeping into his fur and bones from the close proximity of the human, on the abrupt stillness and strange force that pushed them forward through time and space.

To where, they didn’t know.

There was a cold, a sudden stinging sensation near his paw, like a comet touched his fur, but then it quickly seeped into something warm. The feeling rested there, barely touching his skin for a few seconds, testing the ground, before it snuck closer, wrapping itself around Avocato’s palm and delicately laying there.

Avocato didn’t have to look down to know Gary caught his hand.

“You know, we can be scared together.” Gary quietly said, the voice almost lost to the stillness. “I know that won’t make the fear disappear, but well it could make it more tolerable. You know, sharing it with someone. And that someone could be me. So you know you wouldn’t have to be so scared anymore.”

Avocato let out a small laugh, a sudden chortle that seemed to simply rip out of his chest, tore through his throat like a rogue.

“Uh rude.” Gary said and moved his hand to dislocate it from Avocato’s palm.

But he didn’t let go. Avocato didn’t let him escape. He moved his fingers, interlocking them with Gary’s ones and gripping softly as to show that he was there. That he didn’t mean anything bad by it. That it was a reaction that simply had happened.

Gary stopped moving.

“Ah uh sorry. I wasn’t laughing at you, it just sounded ridiculous.”

Gary glared at him and Avocato simply knew that the man wanted to disappear.

So before Gary could pull away, he turned to the window and stared at the vast and scary space that was spreading in front of them.

“But I like it. Let’s be scared together.”

Avocato wanted and yearned and all his resolves were crumbling.

Gary was confusing like that, being able to destroy his every wall without even thinking and trying too much.

Avocato looked at the cosmos spreading in front of them, the vastness of possibilities and dangers and happiness and fear. And in this mess and haze he noticed a lone object falling down, leaving a sparkling trace after itself, disappearing a mere second later.

Gary tightened the grip on his hand.

For now he felt comfortable. He felt calm and content, even though there was a storm going outside. Their future was an unknown, it was an enigma, an undiscovered particle moving through the world.

But he had people he trusted around him. People he wanted to protect. People who were there for him. People he loved deeply. And, oh, how Avocato wished things would stay the same.

Only he knew it was wishful thinking.

to be continued

#Garycato #Final Space #Gary Goodspeed #Avocato #Little Cato #my stories? #Perforated stars

[edmund-valks]

What Lies Beneath... the Barn

“Wait, if you can think of that, why do you need me?”

Ilandreline brushed dark hair back from her sweat-slicked brow, carefully pouring molten metal into gear molds.  “Because I can only do the calculations, not the actual magic.  Also I would prefer to be able to validate it before I get my friends sucked into terrifying cosmic voids.”

She was really glad for this setup, even more glad that nobody seemed to notice she’d built a basement into the barn using a disintegrating arcanodrill while they’d been off engaging in weird things like “commerce”, whatever that meant.  Not that she didn’t know what the word meant, but.  Is my internal dialogue supposed to be this bad?  No, it’s not.  Maybe you’re not as smart as you hoped.  Fair.

“Anyway,” she said aloud, setting the fresh gears to quench, “you’re the only one I know who even cares about my planar work, much less understands how to use it in this fashion.  You already made it better, remember?  That second letter of yours?”  She spared a glance for the other elf, trying to gauge her reaction.

Perched on a corner of her workbench, the diminutive ren’dorei was… blushing?  Either that or suffocating; her cheeks were flushed a soft violet rather than her whole face, so presumably it wasn’t asphyxiation.  “Well, I mean, anyone could have if they-”

“If you finish that sentence I’m going to hit you with a wrench.”

She stopped so fast her teeth clacked.

The Fence Macabre’s resident -- whether they knew it or liked it -- engineer continued.  “If anyone could do it, then I’m a fool for not having done it myself, and I’m pretty sure you didn’t just call me a fool.  And second of all, no, they couldn’t have, so stop trying to downplay your work.  You’re smart about this stuff and you’ve got a unique perspective.  You’re a valuable colleague and I’d love for you to be a co-author when I publish this theory.”

More colour rushed to her cheeks, making Sentua look something like a blueberry.  Poor thing!  Whatever the ren’dorei had done to themselves, it had really screwed them out of any fashion choices they may have liked beforehand.  Red and gold just… didn’t… with that complexion.

“I… would like to be published with you, thank you.  Are you sure- Wait, of course you are, otherwise you wouldn’t have said it, right?”  She took several deep breaths.  “Sorry.”

Ila shook her head.  “Don’t worry about it.  You about studied up, ready to try out the first one?”

“Um.  Let me take one more look at the diagram and re-check the math.  Then I’ll go over the runes again.”

“Sure thing, take your time.  I got a bunch of these brass bastards to make anyway.”  Anyone from the Fence who wasn’t her was unlikely to have any idea why she was making multiple copies of something that was already built.  That was probably for the best.  Nobody else really seemed to appreciate the old grandfather clock the way she did.

While she worked, her visitor did exactly as she’d said she would, tracing the structure they’d slowly developed using extraplanar theoretics combined with several known nexus points.  If they’d had access to a superior medium (who wasn’t also wholeheartedly opposed to their purpose), maybe they would have been able to determine if it was going to work without having to craft a prototype.  But what would be the fun in that?

Well, it would certainly involve less child endangerment.

Hey!  That’s not fair, she’s an adult!

...In human years, yes.  How old is she?  Twenty?

Twenty-three?  Give or take a year.

This is wildly irresponsible parenting!

I’m not her parent!

Good point.  It’s really irresponsible of them to let her hang out with someone like us.

No kidding!  What are they thinking!

“Okay, I’m getting started now.  Try to keep quiet and stay over there.  I’m… not sure what this is going to look like when I get it going.”

That made two of them.  Ilandreline very casually moved behind a thickly armoured panel she used in case one of her iron molds exploded.  “Righto, let ‘er rip, Senny!”

Despite her youth, she sure looked like she knew what she was doing.  Having grown up around an assortment of arcane manipulators (as well as normal manipulators), Ila could usually follow spellwork as it happened.  She was utter rubbish at it herself, but that was why she’d done theoretical work.  That way she never had to prove anything except on paper.

The interweaving runic designs began flaring to life, unexpectedly nightblue with pinpricks of starlight within them.  A brief peek without her goggles in place confirmed that wasn’t a trick of the lenses, it was the Real Deal.  Since she had no idea what it meant, if anything, the sin’dorei kept waiting and watching.

A subaural thrum filled the air, slowly building intensity.  Sentua seemed unbothered, continuing to do… whatever a wizard did during a lengthy ritual.  Concentrate or something.  The vibration became more sensible until it started to feel like her teeth were going to rattle from her skull.  Then it stopped and things got weird.

When your family was exiled due to a misunderstanding involving the regular sacrifice over centuries of sentient beings to dark powers, you grew up with a different baseline for weirdness from others.  As a result, this wasn’t the weirdest thing Ila had ever seen, but it was certainly up there.  She pulled her goggles off to see with the tainted vision that same “misunderstanding” had gifted her.

Portals were opening and clothing, like mouths made of eyes, evaporating as soon as they formed.  A loop made of itself (what?) turned outside-in until they disappeared inside it.  Eyes of darkness flared against the backdrop of interminable void within one of the gaping portal-maws and she felt uncomfortably seen.  Maybe I messed up the math after all.

A crackle of power flared through the starlight rune-circles, drawing constellations like the antipodal counterpart of what she’d seen in drawings from Ulduar.  This was a place she recognized, but not in a way she’d experienced it before.  There was the old, familiar whisperings, comforting as ever, slipping over and through her being with their gentle rubberiness.  The sensation of being watched, as always, and knowing what was heard wasn’t her own thoughts; just another day looking at what the authorities of Silvermoon had called “the wrong side of things” when they’d been exiled a couple hundred years back.

The ache in her jaw was new, though.  And… getting worse.  Something was affecting the pressure in the room.  Maybe I should open the door up to the barn, help equalize it?  Ilandreline tried to move but her body wouldn’t respond right.  She tried to talk but nothing came out.  The air felt like molasses, though, and it started to… ooze… into her open mouth in one of the more unpleasant sensations she’d ever encountered.

This is definitely bad, this is going to keep increasing until we pop like overfed ticks.  It wasn’t a comforting thought.  She’d die like she’d lived, though: making bad decisions with dangerously undertested experiments.  Her jaw was being forced wider and wider, until it felt like it was going to pop out of its socket.  Then something did pop and there was a roar like an entire storm’s worth of thunder if it was packed into a giant’s sneeze.

Wetness -- blood?  Probably! -- trickled from her ears, but she could close her mouth again.  She did so, gingerly, rubbing at it.  “Faoh,” she mumbled, unable to make real words quite yet.  Her brain didn’t want to form them, her mouth couldn’t.  She blinked far too often for several minutes before recovering enough to replace the tinted lenses through which she typically viewed the world.

Sentua was still standing, looking… mostly normal.  Maybe slightly dazed; half catatonic?  No more than that, maybe only a quarter.  But she was also grinning like the cat who’d eaten a smaller, weaker cat to gain its feline prowess.

“Ah wubna!” she said in triumph.

“Fwah?” was Ila’s response as she stuck her little finger into an ear, trying to pry loose the inability to understand.  It came back covered in what was definitely blood, possibly with a little extra something she didn’t want to think about too closely.

The ren’dorei worked her jaw a bit, then tried again.  “I did it!”  The words formed right that time, managing to get through the sticky haze in Ila’s ears.  “I don’t know if it worked, but it went off just like we expected it to.”

“Hleva nuhs!”  Frowning, she slapped herself once, then a second time, harder.  Wiggling her jaw from side to side, she formed the words very deliberately.  “Ve...ry… nice.”  Moving over to where the first pocket watch -- more staggered, really, as if she was quite drunk -- Ilandreline examined it.  It looked right.

She turned it just so, opened a back panel to look into the mirrored surface there, checking behind her.  And sure enough, just as she’d hoped, there was the leering grin of a lurking specter, axe poised and with a hungry look in its eyes.  “Hey, fella!  Good to see you again.  We made you portable.”  She laughed, gave a wink that the cursed entity could never see.  “Look out, world!  The Fence Macabre has portable curse detectors now!”

Her new partner came to look over her shoulder and practically jumped out of her skin.  Sentua glanced hurriedly back to the real world then into the gleaming silvered expanse.  “This… this is what you were trying to do?”

“Absolutely!”

“But… why?”

Ilandreline just stared for a moment.  She didn’t understand why people kept asking that.  It was clearly a great idea.  “Because why wouldn’t you want to be able to see what kind of horrific spirits are lurking in an area?  This is a much more portable form of the curse, one that can be replicated multiple times using the demiplanar transpositionalities we derived, augmented through a series of linking and magnifying matrices.  So long as I keep at least half of the original gears in the grandfather clock, I can use the rest to create portable horror viewers!”

Sentua stared at her for rather a long time.  It got awkward.  Eventually she shrugged, though, which was probably for the best.  “Well, as long as you’re happy and it works, I guess that’s good enough for me!  I think I’m gonna go home and sleep, though, if that’s okay.”

“Yeah, absolutely.  Get your rest, that was probably pretty draining.”  She grinned, squeezed the young elf in a one-armed hug.  “And be proud!  You did great.”

“Thanks!  I… don’t know if replicating a curse into multiple other objects was what I thought I’d be doing, but at least it confirmed our theories.”  She grinned weakly, then stumbled off to the designated teleportation corner, keying one of her completion-tokens to zap her back home.

Ilandreline kept turning the pocket watch over, chuckling.  It didn’t tell time worth a damn, but she didn’t care about that.  It had worked.  And she was going to be published again for that work, damn it, preferably somewhere that would absolutely irritate her parents to no end.

Truly, she was living her best life, and it was all thanks to the Fence.

#Wow Rp #fence macabre #warcraft rp

[gw-envs3000-2019]

One Last Breath, and Then Your First

I can honestly say, this has been one of the most challenging courses I’ve taken in the four years of my post-secondary degree. At times, the blog post prompts were the easiest thing I could do, and other times they were the last thing I wanted to think about because I had no idea how to approach it. Over the course of the past three months, the challenge to my creativity has skyrocketed. It’s hard on its own to push yourself to be creative when you’re busy or stressed with other classes, but at the peak of the semester when it feels like there’s so much going on and my mental health feels as fragile as tissue paper, doing something as simple as making a blog post which is supposed to be about my joy and excitement for nature and science communication seems like Mount Everest, especially since at times like this, I’m not really happy, or excited, or optimistic about anything, in fact I sometimes feel like I’m hardly hanging on by a thread and yet I have to either muster up some joy or, more often than not, completely fake it just to get a graded blog post out because neither my wallet nor my mental health can afford to fail a class.

Onto the prompt; moving forward in my endeavors to become a Nature Interpreter or something of the sort (or simply to use the quite helpful skills I’ve learned in this class) I’ll be eager to keep in mind, and question myself as to what type of backgrounds my audience may have (the experiences they’ve likely had, and what makes them tick) in order to effectively spark their interest and show them how our connections and relationships with nature are equally important as the relationships we hold with the people around us. 

Of course, no matter how hard you try, you won’t be able to reach every person in the way you intended, if at all, and that’s part of the process. Even though your audience is there because they already have an interest in what your talk/walk will be about, the ways you decide to approach the topic (influenced by your personal beliefs and experiences) may cause some in your audience to turn off their ears and try to interpret the environment for themselves. And that’s okay too, because I’ll admit there are interpretive walks where I’ve tuned out because I couldn’t really care less about what the guide was saying anymore (because I had misinterpreted what the talk/walk would be about/the stance it would take on the topic) or simply because I could tell they had a very different opinion related to the topic than I did and it was influencing everything they chose to say about the topic. Which, no shade to them, they can do as they please, I simply didn’t show up to the right tour, and I may not be lead to the revelations and discoveries that they intended for me to be lead to; but I’ll end up guiding myself to my own revelations, if any. It’s the same for audience members that I may have one day; they may not reach the revelations that I intended, but as long as the experience that they had helped them to feel some sense of clarity and peace then my job is done. 

Obviously, I’ll always hope that the intended effect is the effect experienced by all members of my audience. To give my audience an new personal understanding of their place in our world, the importance of their actions in a big world where they feel like a drop in the ocean. To illuminate to my audience the terrifying beauty of the interconnectedness of the world, and the wrongs that our world has endured at our hands, that one group of humans have experienced at the merciless hands of another group, in order to educate a new “generation” (that is becoming better educated on a topic brings them into a new realm of life and feels nearly rejuvinating; the beginning of a new life) and change the future of all of mankind. To conserve the natural beauty of the world, in order for future generations to be inspired by it, to be able to use it to understand the importance of the relationships and connections among all living organisms; sentient and not.

In every dull moment of mundane life on Earth, or every sad moment that drags on your feet like lead, we gratefully accept anything to give us that feeling of hope again. Whether through song or story, we learn new things to broaden our minds and to give us the ability to look upon this world with fresh eyes. When we were children, we’d beg our parents to tell us stories of when they were growing up, to hear that we’re not alone in the way we’re feeling and that life gets better; to learn of the bad things people have done in anger and fear, and provoke ourselves to feel inspired to never repeat those people’s mistakes; to learn of  our place in the world, through the life, full of discoveries and learning, of a fellow human being; to feel connected to another living being, and feel even if for only a moment that we’re not alone and people care to feel a connection with us, because they give us their time; the most valuable thing in any living organism’s life.

“Look again at that dot. That's here. That's home. That's us. On it everyone you love, everyone you know, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever was, lived out their lives. The aggregate of our joy and suffering, thousands of confident religions, ideologies, and economic doctrines, every hunter and forager, every hero and coward, every creator and destroyer of civilization, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, every mother and father, hopeful child, inventor and explorer, every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every "superstar," every "supreme leader," every saint and sinner in the history of our species lived there--on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam.

The Earth is a very small stage in a vast cosmic arena. Think of the rivers of blood spilled by all those generals and emperors so that, in glory and triumph, they could become the momentary masters of a fraction of a dot. Think of the endless cruelties visited by the inhabitants of one corner of this pixel on the scarcely distinguishable inhabitants of some other corner, how frequent their misunderstandings, how eager they are to kill one another, how fervent their hatreds.

Our posturings, our imagined self-importance, the delusion that we have some privileged position in the Universe, are challenged by this point of pale light. Our planet is a lonely speck in the great enveloping cosmic dark. In our obscurity, in all this vastness, there is no hint that help will come from elsewhere to save us from ourselves.

The Earth is the only world known so far to harbor life. There is nowhere else, at least in the near future, to which our species could migrate. Visit, yes. Settle, not yet. Like it or not, for the moment the Earth is where we make our stand.

It has been said that astronomy is a humbling and character-building experience. There is perhaps no better demonstration of the folly of human conceits than this distant image of our tiny world. To me, it underscores our responsibility to deal more kindly with one another, and to preserve and cherish the pale blue dot, the only home we've ever known.”

-- Carl Sagan, Pale Blue Dot, 1994

image credit: https://www.planetary.org/explore/space-topics/earth/pale-blue-dot.html

If I’m to become a nature interpreter, I’ll likely only work with small groups (10 or less) because I feel more disconnected with bigger groups, like no one’s really listening to what I’m saying. Whether that’s because there are too many eyes and I can’t meet all of them for a meaningful enough time to feel like I have that person’s attention, or there are too many eyes and I can’t meet all of them and so I feel that they don’t feel that they have my attention. I like a more personal connection with people even if it’s only for a short time, giving up that connection leaves me feeling adrift and purposeless; like everything I had done previously for the tour meant nothing and wasn’t heard by anyone.

I hope to feel that I have the ability to touch the spirit of all whom I come into contact with, brighten their world, and clear their eyes in order to see their world anew for the true breathtaking beauty it offers us with every passing moment.

#prompt

[sparklebitch]

Dan and Phil’s Impact

Okay this is going to be long and rambling because I’m trying to type it on my phone in the car and my thoughts are all over the freaking place and I don’t blame you if you don’t want to read the whole thing I’ll put a tldr at the end lmao.

So first of all I’ve been watching Dan and Phil since like? 2014~ And for a while there wasn’t a minute that went by where I didn’t think about them. Their videos got me through so much shit in my life. Even dumb video game videos were like my reprieve from real life. And yeah a lot of stuff was super cringy and I was definitely borderline one of those creepy people that wanted to know everything about their lives (obvs not anymore lol) but that aside they were such good freaking influences on me? I looked up to them so much and, sure, I have a lot of role-model-worthy people in my life, but no one like them.

Everyone around me is so aggressively religious (although a lot of them are totally cool about it and not bad peoples !! But the rest of them are total dicks) and I felt like I couldn’t... question myself I guess? About literally anything. I felt like I couldn’t question religion, sexuality, the things I liked, what I wanted to do, who I wanted to be. It was like everyone’s lives revolved around church stuff and people were basically born knowing what they were going to do? And there I was, an awkward, sexually confused, homeschooler who had 2 friends that she wasn’t even that close to. I felt like I was the only one in the world like this. Everyone seemed to have a place in the world, except me. I often thought that maybe it was a mistake that I was in this world, that there was some cosmic screw up and that I was never meant to be born. I felt incomplete and it was so confusing and horrible. I was sure that that feeling was never going to go away. I had no one to talk to, no one to explain to me that it was okay to screw up. It wasn’t the end of the world to question things or yourself, everything was going to be okay. All I wanted in my life was for someone to tell me that.

Then I found Dan and Phil. And yeah, they’re two British boys on the internet that will never know who I am. But that’s okay. They don’t need to know me to have an impact on my life. I mean, who’s ever been impacted by a song? A movie, a book, an actor, an artist? The human race is always searching for someone or something to look up to. Religion, famous people, a father figure, a friend. Someone. And that’s what they were to me.

People didn’t understand what it was that I liked about them. And, if I’m being 100% honest, I guess I didn’t really know either. Sure, they’re funny, and the chemistry between the two is very compelling but there was just something about them that spoke to me. I loved them. More than I had loved anything in my life. I looked up to them, and listened to the things they said, listened to the things they believed it. Through them I discovered so many of the things that I love in my life. I started writing and drawing because of them! It’s crazy to think that I am the person that I am today because of them. I can’t imagine what I would be like if I hadn’t watched their videos.

There’s a lot of uncertainty in my life right now as I’m finishing up getting my General Associates and I’m in the process of starting a daycare with my older sister. It’s a lot for me to process because for the longest time all I wanted to do was get away from here. I wanted to go somewhere and be someone new. And it wasn’t until recently that I realized that’s not what I actually wanted. I love my family and my friends, I love living here (aside from the bigots but they’re everywhere so there’s no escaping them). What I really, truly wanted was to be myself. It wasn’t my family and this town that I wanted to get away from, it was the me that I was pretending to be. I just wanted to be myself, that was all. I didn’t care if it was in a big town with new people, i just wanted people to know me. I wish I knew this back then, then maybe I wouldn’t have gone into a tailspin when I was getting ready for college but hindsight I guess ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

When I finished high school it was like I was paralyzed. I didn’t know how to make decisions for myself or do anything on my own. All I knew was that I was not straight, seemingly surrounded by homophobes, and I was very very tired. So, toward the end of summer my mom pushed me enrolled me at a community college near home (which I am grateful for lol) and then I was going to transfer to a university after 2 years. Things started to feel better after that. Around that time I also started taking medication for depression and anxiety and it has only completely changed my life. No longer am I the super quiet painfully awkward person who’s so afraid to say something wrong that she instead stays silent, not telling anyone about my interests or passions in fear that I would be ridiculed, hiding core parts of me while the whole world passes by. I was talking and making jokes, I wasn’t constantly terrified to talk to people or to even simply leave my house to go places. Things were better. I was happier!

But as the time for me to transfer to a university drew near that paralyzing feeling crept back into my skin. I hated my classes. I hated college. I was suddenly plunged back into the world of endlessly scrolling through social media and watching the same shows on tv over and over, isolating myself from everyone and everything trying to ignore the world around me. I felt like everything was hopeless again. I was only occasionally watching dan and Phil videos at this time, having very reluctantly grown away from them (it was a sad day when I realized that I didn’t care if I skipped a video or two. I literally cried that day). But I was bored then, so I started watching their videos again. This was around the time that dan posted his video on depression (that’s a while other long ass post I could make but probably won’t because I’m already tired of typing) and i damn near called my mom (even though she was just downstairs) on the spot to tell her what I was feeling. Hearing that there was someone else out there that felt like I was was enough. But not only that, he explained that recovery is not a straight road. There are twists and turns, there are setbacks. It’s not like I was going to get better and everything was going to magically be awesome all the time. Some stuff was going to suck. I was going to go through shitty times and that was okay.

Because of him, I ended up going back to the doctor and explaining that my meds weren’t working anymore, and I got it taken care of. I feel so much fucking better now than I did before, and I know that it’s okay if I don’t always feel this way. I told my parents that I didn’t want to go to a university and they were okay with it, provided that I finished my 2 year degree at the community college. And while some things still suck, and I’m still worried about my future and whether or not I’m going to meet someone and fall in love, things are absolutely positively 1000% better than they have ever been. And a lot of it is thanks to them. Obviously it was me who actually took the steps I needed to to get here, but it was because of their being my role model that I had the courage to get where I am today.

Dan and Phil have such a unique platform and following. They could say jump and so many people would (metaphorically ofc) jump off the cliff, me included. But they don’t do that. They use their fame to positively impact people. They use their platform to encourage people and talk about important things in life. They share things about their lives in the hopes that it will help even 1 person out there... and I’m not the only one who they’ve positively impacted. The number of people that owe everything to them is crazy.

Okay so now I’m going to go a little bit into labels. (Not too much tho I’m seriously tired of typing lol). Dan talked about them a lot in his video. An entire freaking chapter of it was dedicated to labels. When I was younger I knew that I liked girls. I liked boys too though, so I just shrugged it off as Really wanting to be friends with girls. I didn’t know what the word gay meant until I was like 12 because I was a very sheltered child. My parents never talked about it and the only time I ever remember hearing the word before then was when one of my siblings called another sibling “gay” at the dinner table. The only thing I knew about the word was that my parents Did Not Like it. While I eventually stumbled onto the internet and learned a Lot of things, and a lot about labels, I became overwhelmed. There were so many words with so many meanings, and lot of times people didn’t agree on what the literal definition was. (Like bisexual meaning Only men+women vs. just like.. more than just 2+ genders) So for a long time I identified as pansexual because.. I didn’t know what to do. And based on my experiences on the internet, being bi was basically saying that you were excluding people. Idk it was fucked. The label ‘pan’ didn’t really feel like it fit me either, but it worked for the time being.

Dan’s comments on labels really got me thinking. I don’t think I’m a lesbian, but I don’t really know about bisexual either. When he said that he loved to use the word queer it just.. fucking hit me in the chest like a ton of bricks. I literally couldn’t breath. And it’s not like I’ve never heard people use the word queer. Tons of people identify as queer. But it was just something about the way he explained it? And maybe it was just the fact that it was him explaining it because, as I said before, I look up to him. He has a huge impact on my life. Saying queer gives me comfort. It feels less... restrictive I guess, for a lack of better words. I don’t know if this will be /the/ label for me, but that’s not the point. There doesn’t have to be a label for me. I, no one, should have to be pressured into finding a label so that other people have something to call you?? Fuck labels. Fuck people who pressure you into picking one. You be you.

So, in conclusion (honestly I feel like this has all been so incoherent I apologize) I don’t want to hide forever. I don’t. I hope that some day I can have even a fraction of the courage that Dan has to tell the people that I care about who I truly am. And the first step is telling someone.

So, to everyone who sees it here, most of which probably know or don’t care,

I’m bisexual, bitch. And I use the word queer.

It took so much fucking courage for dan to post that video and I have crazy amounts of respect for that man. I’ve said it a thousand times already, but I’m going to say it again. I’m so. Fucking. Proud of him. And I know he’s probably going to get thousands of stories like this one (if he hasn’t gotten that many already) but I’m going to tag him anyway. @danielhowell , you’ve changed my life. You’ve changed millions of people’s of lives for the better. Thank you. Thank you for everything you’ve done.

Tldr; dnp mean everything to me, even though I’ve grown away from them, they have been and always be a big part of who I am and i am so fucking proud of Dan.

#daniel howell #dan #dan howell #dnp #danisnotonfire #lgbt #queer #bi #bisexual #personal

[fairycosmos]

every time i read one of ur posts i just, lose my got dam mind like! ive never related to anything else more in my life!! u always put it in words! wanting to let love in but feeling like its phisically impossible in this body, as if its just the absolute cosmic truth like i dont even exist! wack!!! 🐛

WOW i adore you!! im sorry you relate to my hellish and sad lifestyle but also glad to hear im not alone, it's super reassuring.....i used to be able to word things decently now i just say it......but honestly it sux cos like. i recognize that love is an incredibly important force/experience/practice like literally the pinnacle of humanity but......seeking it as me? in this body with this face being known like THAT by another person? it's just not realistic 😔 on a very objective level like. it's not even about self hatred at this point it's just Understanding that.....that kind of connection is not meant for me as i am. how could i expect anyone to want my body and my stupidity? i would just feel bad for them. you know what i mean? ANY WATYZ.......yea it all comes back to the terrifying ordeal of being known i guess. it's too difficult, simple as that. :( i do hope love finds you regardless though....maybe it's got nothing to do with what we think about it. maybe it's not controllable in such a way.....💕💘💌

#anon #we aren't alone in feeling this way and i hope you're okay 💖

[niuniente]

"While continuing at an accelerated speed, I was stopped by my grandparents who came out of the Void. They were luminous light bodies that I could recognize by their energy. I could feel them. They were apologetic and wanted to let me know that they were sorry. Through telepathy, they said that now that they are on the other side, they understand that by being gay I had live in so much fear. I had to live in terrified silence during my childhood and didn’t come out until I was 31. By being gay I lived in fear in my own home because my Mom would have beat me or kicked me out of the house. Being gay had a particular stigma associated it because it meant that my sin was unique. I was taught that I was an abomination destined to the Lake of Fire since I grew up as a Southern Baptist in the Bible Belt. In 2009, I had been targeted in a hate crime because I was gay, attacked, and left for dead on the street. I understood what my grandparents were telling me. It made me feel good to hear this apology. They said it wasn’t my time, and that I needed to go back. They radiated love through their energy. I accepted their apology. I said I love you, too, but I have somewhere else to go, as I pointed toward the Light. I affectionately shooed them away. They displayed a sense of humor; almost an arrogance as they honored my wish and moved back into the void. "At that moment I looked up and saw my destination. I was looking in awe at God. It was like everything was happening at once. As I was staring up at God in amazement, every gay slur or violent act ever impressed upon me ran through me with such a flow. Events in my life played back in my mind like a movie. I felt a deep heaviness as I stared directly at an Almighty, Genderless God. I was thinking, 'Was this the Lake of Fire moment? Would I be cast into Hell for being an abomination?' With absolute humility, I uttered 7 words, 'I’m gay, will you still love me?' "The Brilliant, Loving Light formed into Wings. At GodSpeed, He whisked me into His vast spiritual arms while huddling up the Universe. I saw planets, stars, galaxies, and clusters all being brought into a Cosmic God-Hug. On a human, the place where I was taken would be the Heart. As God brought me in for a Cosmic Hug, He said, 'You are my child. I love you. I love you. I love you. Go tell ‘em.' He said it with a Southern accent. He patted me on the back like a coach encouraging his player to get back in the game. "At that moment my grandparents ran into the Light and I was dropped back into my body. This explained their sense of humor and slight arrogance. They knew what was going to happen..."

Near-death experience of a gay person, who met a loving God (x)

#near-death experience #god #spiritual #NDE