Definatly A Robot

21 they/them Marine Bio nerd and Robot Dork Non specific blog

[general-gh0st]

Reminder to myself.

Hey, you got this far without any help. You did this, and you can do it again. Keep trying, don’t give up.

They shot down your dreams once , don’t let them do that again. It’s not about money, it’s not about not about them. This is for you.

I am so proud of myself.

[alleesaur]

rolling rolling rolling

[onlyplatonicirl]

Oh man I haven’t had a new interest in a while. It’s always been the same three things on repeat. I wonder when I’ll st-

Ok.

[moonlight-in-the-sea]

travel shenanigans! — ft. ryland grace, colt seavers, simon (iron lung)

.✦ ݁˖ ryland grace needs a specific set of conditions to enjoy travelling. he doesn't enjoy getting out of his comfort zone often — he simply doesn't feel the need to unless there's a special reason. he's not only used to familiar environments but finds comfort in them. not having to think about details like knowing where to go, how to get there, how long it will take to get there by walking or other alternatives like biking etc. lessens his mental load to such an extent that he doesn't see the point of adding them back on his plate.

unless something piques his interest. then he takes the reins, fully in control and more than equipped to handle everything thrown his way.

said interests are usually related to history, museum and exhibitions and the like. he thoroughly researches everything. makes calls if he has to, or just to clarify some things; which is also one of the rare times he throws his title around.

"good evening, doctor ryland grace speaking. i was calling to clarify some details about "the genomic revolution" exhibition currently taking place in—"

he also takes it as a personal challenge to have as much knowledge about wherever you're visiting as a tour guide. perhaps not as extensive, but enough pass as one by other onlookers. he always gathers a small crowd when he starts a "lecture" in front of an artifact or panel, and some people even raise their hands like students to ask for details, and he allows them to speak out out of reflex. he has so much fun facts to keep his kids engaged as it is that he doesn't mind adding a few more to the list even if he may not find a chance to use it in his lectures.

pro tip: on the off chance that your interests don't align, get him frequent snacks and bait him with good local food. he knows exactly what you're doing, but can't find it in himself to mind.

.✦ ݁˖ colt seavers is a pro travel veteran. he probably flies more often than he walks, which wouldn't be all that surprising considering the extremes that are his job. knows the ins and outs of every airport available, has access to private lounges and then some, and overall just knows his way around. all you have to do is bring yourself and your passport and he's got everything handled to a tee. carries your bags, seats you somewhere comfortable and brings you your preferred beverage or snack, and most importantly, he has anything you need packed. hair ties, eye drops, compression socks, a manicure set, cough drops, anything.

his relaxed attitude has a way of rubbing off on you, really. it's like his presence alone overrides any semblance of panic, anxiety or frustration. your flight could get delayed for 8 hours — hell, cancelled without any alternatives in sight, and he can find a way to keep you from thinking about it not one second more than it needs to be pondered. keeps you so well entertained that you might forget to check the gate number the second it gets released to make your way to it.

social anxiety fears him. small talk comes easily to him, and he doesn't shy away from asking around — especially to vendors, even if he doesn't speak the language. which is rare, honestly. he probably knows enough to get around no matter where you are, and even if not, he can communicate well enough with his body language to get things across.

somehow he always ends up finding something extreme to try, too. bottomless mimosas. fire noodles that have a warning for heart attacks on the menu. a challange that covers your tab if you can eat fifteen pizzas in one sitting. usually it's food related, but occasionally it morphs into something like bungee jumping off canals or ziplining between mountains. he promises to hold you. he promises very intently with dangerously adorable puppy eyes.

.✦ ݁˖ simon has two wolves inside him. one, of child-like curiosity and wanderlust. the other, fully alert like a trained soldier awaiting danger to jump out any minute, combined with the paranoia of being in an unfamiliar environment, maybe even culture. give him two to three business days to process everything around him — the streets, the layout, where you'll be staying, what you'll be eating, how and where to get food and water, and whom do you interact with and how — to be able to somewhat relax. once he familiarises himself with the environment, he starts letting loose just the tiniest bit, though he's still hyperaware of his surroundings.

he refuses to let go of your hand, especially if you tend to wander. please don't. he has nothing short of a heart attack when you're out of his sight and he can't find you, specifically if you didn't tell him where you'd be going before (bathroom, that painting over there, that souvenir shop, wherever)... new rule. hands interlocked at all times.

always offers you the first bite of everything, even if you've gotten the same thing, or even if you've gotten separate things. he waits until you've had your own bite (and then one of his) before he even thinks to eat himself. it's just an instinctual way of him showing you how much he cares. all he's known since childhood was limited resources and lack of food, so that makes sharing, let alone offering your food to someone a big deal to him.

he's ridiculously adaptable to every situation, too. very much a provider in every regard, and adjusts himself so he matches your pace. oh, it's raining? you should take shelter just in case. whether he'll stand under cover with you depends on his mood (he likes the feeling of raindrops on him, the sound too) but he ushers you to shelter all the same. you're cold? take his jacket, and his scarf. you're hungry? he's already scouting for places you can eat. oh, you don't want to eat unless he does? alright, he apparently forgot to mention he was absolutely famished. don't know what you want to eat? well, he's so starved that he can't think straight, so you have to choose.

"no, really. i'm so hungry i could eat you."

"hey, now— down, boy."

[malicious-selkie]

sleeping in a cuddle pile with Ryland "Buff Nerd" Grace and Simon "Huge Badonkers" would fix me

[cinnabuns4me]

Hi this is my first time making a request ever, but I was wondering if we could see Simon where instead of dying he gets thrown onto our Earth where some person who just saw the movie and ends up comforting him and showing him the stars?

Also, Curious Creature gives me motivation to keep being a silly little being, so thanks!

Safe and Sound Beneath the Stars

Simon (The Convict) x Reader

Requested

Type: Hurt/comfort, fluff

Warnings: Blood and injuries, non-sexual nudity (Simon bathtime!), trauma, panic attack

A/N:

Anon the way you literally read my mind, I love you 😭 I've been thinking about this idea for a while before this request, but didn't think anyone would want to read it—NOW I HAVE AN EXCUSE THANK YOU 😤

For the sake of plot MC kinda lives in a wooded area that's more isolated, cause y'know, if someone saw a bloody man laying in front of the house that's a bit concerning. He also has his arm, cause he'd end up bleeding out if he didn't and we don't want that

Anyway, this entire oneshot is basically Simon getting pampered like he deserves, and it's a long one (about 10.3k words) so have fun <3

Music filled the interior of the car, loud enough for the driver to mindlessly bob her head to, yet quiet enough to keep her concentration on the road. Her fingers tapped along the steering wheel to the beat every now and then, a subtle hum escaping her lips that were stuck in a smile, content with how the day was going so far.

(Y/n) had met up with her friend for a late lunch, having spent the entire time babbling to each other about the recent movie they saw the day prior—Iron Lung. Both were so excited to talk about it and exchange their thoughts with one another that they had barely even touched their food. A to-go box sat in the passenger seat of her car with nearly a full sandwich and chips, along with a lemonade in her cup holder.

After spending nearly two hours chattering away about the film – and some catching up with each of their lives – she debated going to see it again. Maybe she could today after dropping off her leftovers. It was the weekend, and she didn't have any other plans besides that previous meet up with her friend.

The once smooth road turned into dirt with small, bumpy rocks. What was once a city scenery with various buildings and people bustling around, bled into hues of green with various plant life and trees that towered over her car. Living in a wooded area with less people was comfortable, a safe haven from the hustle and bustle of everyday life—especially the growing noise of cars every morning, she loved not having to wake up to it anymore.

There may have been some downsides to being isolated, ones where the hours of watching too many crime documentaries began to creep into the back of her mind, reminding her of the terrifying reality around her. Even then, she found it far more soothing than any cramped apartment in the city could offer, gladly accepting of her fate if it meant she could be without noisy neighbors.

Plus, there's no way anything bad would actually happen. She's been living in this wooded area for so long now, and the most exciting thing that ever happened was witnessing a wild bear munching on berries nearby, or a skittish deer scampering off through the woods.

It was perfectly safe, peaceful in every possible way. As she pulled into her driveway, she couldn't help but bask in the serenity—the warm sun bathing everything in a natural glow, the tree leaves swaying and falling in the gentle breeze, the occasional wildflower blooming amongst the vegetation, a bloody and battered body laying in the grass on her lawn, the soft sounds of—

Wait.

A what?

Her blood ran cold, stomach lurching with a mixture of apprehension and nausea, while her fingers tightened around the wheel she still held like a lifeline.

Surely that couldn't have been right.

No, she'd watched too many crime documentaries and now it was affecting her subconscious, making her see things that weren't there.

Right?

Slowly she returned her gaze to where she saw the body, only to freeze up when she realized she was definitely not imagining it. There was very much a silhouette of a man laying in her lawn, unnaturally covered in blood—so much blood she nearly found herself wrenching at the sight of it.

With difficultly she swallowed down the bile that threatened to crawl up her throat, her mind running haywire on how to address the horrifying situation.

Should she call the police? Lock herself in her house until they arrived to determine his death and search for the killer?

Well, that was assuming the man was dead and someone had been the cause of it. Even then, something in the back of her mind didn't feel like that was right. How would a murder end up with that amount of blood, to the point the viscous liquid was coating the entire body and pooling around on the ground?

Now that she thought about it, it actually looked rather familiar. But that would be a stupid connection to make.

As if her body had a mind of its own, she cracked the door open and began to inch her way out of the vehicle. This was dumb, she should've been calling the police right now, not dragging her feet towards the – presumably – dead body slumped in her yard. Yet it was like instinct was tugging her forward, something foreign urging her to investigate.

The closer she got, her nose began to scrunch up from the scent of iron and a hint of rot. Though, the smell wasn't nearly as revolting as a corpse should've been, and her eyes began to widen when she got close enough to see the man's body move up and down with breaths that were concerningly slow and shallow.

By the time her shoes had squelched into the blood surrounding him, she could only stare down at the person in disbelief for a long, defeaning moment. Any thoughts from before of this being a murder flew out the window, but the new thoughts that rushed in place of them didn't make sense, an unfathomable outcome that was theoretically impossible.

No, she had to be losing her mind. There was no possible way that the body at her feet, coated from head to toe in blood, was the character from the movie she watched with her friend yesterday.

There was no way in hell, that Simon was laying at her feet. The character who died at the end, nonetheless—he looked the part for sure, aside from still having his arm intact.

Yeah no. She definitely hit her head or something and was hallucinating. That's the only logical explanation to this.

A groan came from below, to which she recoiled on instinct, nearly slipping in the process from the blood underneath her. She hastily stabilized herself, her eyes snapping back down to his body once she regained her balance. For a second she held her breath, expecting his eyes to open or his body to shoot up, only for his head to barely lull to the side before going completely still again.

Okay, maybe this wasn't a hallucination, considering she almost fell on her ass from the slippery blood tainting the grass. But how was this even possible? How did he end up here, and alive no less? How would this—

(Y/n) nipped those thoughts in the bud. There wasn't anything logical about this situation and no way for these questions to be answered, so she'd end up in an endless loop of confusion and drive herself crazy.

With a deep breath to calm her nerves and tame her spiraling thoughts, she decided it was best to assess the situation in a rational manner. Act first, ask questions later—preferably when he was no longer covered in a disgusting amount of blood.

She made a quick trip from her car to her house to drop off her belongings first, then left the door open as she trailed back towards his body with a towel in hand. Ever so carefully she used the towel to loop her hands underneath his arms, using every ounce of strength she had to slide him out of the crimson pool surrounding him. Hopefully no one would drive by and see that in her yard later, that'd be difficult to explain.

Simon remained unconscious the entire time, a grimace forming on her face when she recalled everything he had been through. She hoped he didn't have too bad of a concussion, since she wasn't exactly sure how to help with that. For now, she'd focus on his external injuries to the best of her abilities.

The blood covering his body was swiped off with the towel, until it was drenched in crimson, and his figure was finally visible through streaks and smears of red. To her relief, he didn't look nearly as deformed and irradiated as he did at the end of the movie—still busted up with bruises, gashes, and scratches, though nothing she couldn't manage. That was puzzling as well, but she chose to be grateful over that fact.

Next came trying to drag him into her house to her bathroom. She groaned quietly to herself, knowing she'd be scrubbing out blood from her hardwood floors and carpet after the fact. Whatever, it was fine, he'd be safe and clean and that's all that mattered to her at the moment.

Concerned for his wellbeing, it fueled her movements to get him inside as quickly and carefully as possible. It was difficult – he was bigger than her and weighed as such – but eventually she ended up with him in her personal bathroom, gently propping up his form so it was slumped against the wall.

She huffed, trying to catch her breath as she eyed the red stains trailing along the carpet of her bedroom. Then her gaze flickered to the tub on the opposite side of her, debating how to go about this.

Apparently she wouldn't have to for long, for the body in front of her shifted, a deep groan coming from his larynx. Her (E/c) eyes snapped back to Simon, startled when lidded, brown irises were staring back at her, layered with confusion, exhaustion, pain and a flash of fear followed by a defensive anger—too many emotions, signaling his overwhelmed state.

He tried to use his hand to push his body further up, only for him to hiss, immediately crumpling from the pressure that shot a hot spike of pain up his arm. His body began to fall in that direction, losing his center of balance from how he was propped up earlier.

Acting on instinct, she went to crouch by his side, her hands shooting out to gently stable him. "Hey, easy! You'll hurt yourself, relax." She rushed out worriedly, frowning when he flinched from the contact.

Yet he couldn't get himself to move away, a whimper slipping past his lips at the ache in his chest from even breathing. "Wh–who... the fuck... are y–you..?" He managed to sputter that out, trying and failing to make his weak, raspy voice sound intimidating. "Where... where..? What happened–? I–I think I... died? I saw the... the light..."

His disoriented mumbles and trembling body felt like a knife to the heart. It wasn't that difficult to see through the thin veil of hostility he tried to uphold at first, quickly cracking as the memories flooded back and along with it the terrifying reality he had faced.

That should've been his end, one that he had accepted even if he wasn't going down without a fight. Now here he was, with an unknown woman kneeled in front of him, in clothes that were far too pristine and seamless – aside from the blood staining them – staring at him like she was concerned to death.

Was she apart of the C.O.I.? Had they managed to save him before that thing got to him? No, he heard Ava's submarine get torn apart by it, he swore he did. He vividly remembered that, along with the blood that poured into the vessel as it bursted open from the sharp jaws of that creature, various teeth shredding through the metal like butter before he blacked out.

That should've been the end. He should've been dead. Why was he here? How was he here? Where even was here?

Nothing looked familiar, his brown eyes frantically scanning the bathroom and only causing him to spiral further. There were facial items strewn across the counter and decorations hung along the walls, luxurious products that didn't exist, that they didn't have access to on the station after the Quiet Rapture.

Where was he? What was happening? Why wasn't he dead? Who was this woman? Where was the C.O.I.? Why wasn't he back in a cell if he truly survived? But how would he have even survived that?

It wasn't possible, this couldn't be real. None of this was making any sense—

(Y/n) could see the alarm setting in right before her eyes, both her hands latching onto his shoulders to grab his attention. Simon's gaze snapped to her face, wide and afraid like a wild animal that had been cornered, trapped in a place they weren't supposed to be in.

His breaths were coming out in ragged pants now, panic consuming him whole as he trembled like a leaf in her hold, mind too muddled to even think about trying to scramble away from her—not like he could in his wounded state. His muscles remained tense beneath her fingertips, rigid to the point she worried about the strain on his body.

So, with a slow deep breath, she tried to answer at least two of those questions as calmly as she could. "I'm (Y/n), and you're at my house." She noticed the way his face shifted at that last word, adding another layer of puzzlement to this mess that she didn't have time to explain right now. "Listen, you're covered in blood and injured. I know you have questions, but I need to clean you up first. Is that okay?"

There wasn't any sound aside from his uneven breaths, either unwilling or unable to form a proper response. The only reaction she got was the smallest shift of his eyes, squinting in a manner that told her he was skeptical—of her, of the circumstances, of literally everything happening right now.

She couldn't blame him, since she'd be freaking the fuck out as well if she were in his shoes. Hell, it was taking everything in her not to lose her shit right now because of how bizarre this was. She couldn't begin to fathom what was going through his mind, and she felt absolutely awful for him.

Her thumbs rubbed gentle circles where they rested along his biceps, a mindless action to soothe away the hard muscles beneath the tattered cloth. "I promise, I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to help." It was a mere whisper, trying not to overwhelm him anymore than he was, yet desperately needing to reassure him.

Those dark brown irises studied her for a second longer, searching for any signs of dishonesty or malicious intent beneath her benevolent countenance. When he found none, it was a flip of a switch, like his mind and body finally gave up on trying to fight back against an enemy that wasn't there.

A long, shaky sigh escaped him as he physically deflated, breaths slowly but surely starting to even out. His head was still pounding, lost as to how all of this happened, but he tried to suppress it for the time being. Instead he focused solely on her words and the touch on his arms, registering it as comforting rather than threatening.

Simon practically slumped into her grip, exhaustion creeping into his aching muscles and bones as he barely gave a nod of agreement. As if confirming he made the correct decision of trusting her, relief flooded her (S/c) complexion along with a hint of a smile, one that couldn't possibly hold any animosity.

"Great, okay! I'll take care of you, I promise." She responded quickly, anxious to get to work now that she had his permission and he seemed to be more at ease with her presence. "Let me run a bath, then I can help with your clothes. I should have some spare clothes from when (M/f/n) stayed here, too..."

The last part was mumbled mainly to herself as she drew away from him, trailing to the bathtub so she could start filling it up. A tired grunt came from behind her, which she took as an acknowledgement to what she said, likely too frazzled to respond with words.

She didn't mind, allowing him to rest while she rushed out of the bathroom to grab a spare change of clothes. When she came back she set those and two towels on the counter, before moving to check on the tub filling with warm, soapy water—unaware to the tired eyes following her, a flicker of interest amongst the disorientation.

Once the tub was full, it was a bit awkward to help Simon out of his tattered and blood-soaked clothes. She tried to be as careful as possible, helping him wiggle out of his clothes from his sitting position on the floor, apologies falling from her mouth whenever he'd suck in a sharp breath or let out a low whimper.

Out of respect, she looked away when he got his last pieces of clothing off – including that damned harness – blindly helping him to get to the tub. He managed some strength for that short period time, until the water splashing indicated he had made it, along with a groan that had her head whirling around.

"Is it okay? It's not too hot, right?" She asked frantically, worried she might have gotten the temperature wrong for his needs. That was until she studied his scruffy facial features, her own softening upon seeing how all his concern and embarrassment melted away, his muscles loosening up the minute the warm water soaked his skin.

Simon's eyes were closed, looking like he could fall asleep right then and there. "'S good." Was all he mumbled, voice low and hoarse with exhaustion.

(Y/n) immediately calmed down at the confirmation, turning back around to retrieve some bottles of shampoo, conditioner, and body wash. She had a few to choose from scent wise, and settled on a raspberry vanilla set she had—one of her personal favorites.

She made her way back over, cracking a smile when she noticed Simon had peeked his eyes open to see what she was doing. They closed when she was nearby again, and she took note of how his shoulders fell, as if he had tensed up again upon noticing her absence.

Carelessly dropping the bottles on the floor and unhooking the shower head from above to lay on the side, she went to drag a nearby stool closer to the tub before rolling up her blood-stained sleeves. "Can you tilt your head back so I can get your hair wet first?" She asked while turning on the water, aiming the shower head into the tub where it began to spray.

She was a little surprised when he complied easily, but she supposed the feeling of being surrounded by warm water was keeping him at ease—that of which, was already shifting from clear to pink from the blood seeping off his form. Gently she cupped her free hand over his forehead and upper eyes to block any water from running down, an amused breath leaving her when a puzzling noise came from his throat.

Once his hair was wet enough, she turned off the water and set the shower head aside to reach for the shampoo bottle. Pressing it open and squinting a generous amount into her palm, she set the bottle aside before lathering it between both her hands. Then she leaned forward so she could reach his head, beginning to scrub the soapy substance into his disheveled, tangled locks.

The water had rinsed some of the blood out of his hair, yet her hands began to stain red the longer she massaged it into his scalp. Not that she minded, not when Simon's quiet sighs and low hums reached her ears, even tilting his head to press more into her hands like it was the first comforting touch he'd felt in ages.

She decided to lather his dark locks longer than she normally would've, her nails occasionally scratching against his scalp to coax a deep, pleasant rumble from his chest. Eventually she had to pull away to grab the shower head, nearly laughing when a silent huff left him, his head turning in the slightest to peek at her like he was questioning why she had stopped.

In return she simply smiled, trying to ignore the heat creeping onto her cheeks at the sight of his lidded, borderline pleading stare. She repeated the process from earlier, cupping his forehead to gently tilt his head back, rinsing out the suds from his hair. The fruit smell wafted into her nose, much more pleasant than the metallic scent of blood.

She did the same thing with the conditioner, taking her time with coating it in his hair until the strands were a silky smooth texture—along with extra scratches on the scalp since he seemed to enjoy that, practically becoming putty in her hands. That was rinsed off a couple of times, until she was satisfied with his newly clean hair, the soaked, dark locks cascading downwards to brush against his shoulders.

Her fingers ran through his hair, carefully untangling any twisted strands, before she trailed her hands down to cup each side of his face. Gently she turned Simon towards her, his eyes cracking open again to peer at her. There wasn't any questioning in his gaze this time, leaning into her palms and letting her do whatever she needed to, completely trusting and pliable like she was his savior.

Dipping one of her hands into the soapy water, she raised it to delicately wipe away any remaining blood and grime caked on his face. She was careful, tracing along the defined features while avoiding getting any water near his eyes, and scratching her fingers along the short beard hairs around his jaw and mouth.

The entire time he didn't move, cheek resting comfortably against her palm, where her thumb absent-mindedly caressed the rough skin. For a second she thought he might've fallen asleep, chest rising and falling in slow, steady breaths that brushed along her skin. Unlike earlier he looked at peace, no panic or hostility or fear—pure content, a simple bath managing to wash away those worries within an instant.

Unfortunately, there was another pressing matter as she glanced down towards his chest and arms, noting the bruises, cuts, and gashes littering his tan skin, irritated and red. Carefully she slipped her hands away, offering an apologetic smile when his eyes lazily blinked open to find her, akin to a puppy desperate for attention.

She went to grab the body wash, placing it on the edge of the tub. "You can work on cleaning the rest of the blood off while I grab the first-aid kit from my closet." She suggested, deciding it was better for him to do that part himself—the hooded stare he held on her seemed to disagree.

She ignored it, hastily shuffling her way out of there so he couldn't see the red hue dusting across her face. Stepping outside her room, she greeted the cat at her feet, and headed off to the closet. The Portuguese— Sorry, siamese cat trailed after her eagerly, curious as to what was happening.

Grabbing the first-aid and heading back to her room, she felt bad when her furry friend tried to squeeze inside with her. She kneeled down, ever so gently urging the cat backwards while using the kit to slowly nudge the door closed. "Sorry, I know. I'll be out soon."

With a sigh she stood back up and walked towards the bathroom where Simon was waiting expectantly, an odd look on his face when she went to set the kit on the counter. One glance confirmed he must've cleaned himself, since his body was spotless – aside from the injuries – and the water was now a bright red instead of pink.

While she opened the kit and shuffled through the contents, she paused when he spoke up. "Talking to someone?" Her head turned at his tone, the skepticism from earlier seeming to slither its way back in when he remembered he was in a completely foreign place.

The smile that curled on her lips was humored, finding it funny that he was unknowingly getting defensive over a cat. "Yeah, my cat, (P/n)." She responded, nearly laughing when she saw his glare falter. "She hates when the door's closed so she's waiting out there."

"Oh." That was the only sound that left him, his gaze flickering down towards the dirty water surrounding him with a wince. He cleared his throat, quickly trying to move on from his false alarm. "I, uh, I don't think I've ever seen one in person..."

As she was setting aside some bandage wraps, adhesive bandages, isopropyl, ointment, and some stitching string, she blinked, closing the kit while she turned her head towards him. Well, it did make sense since he grew up on Mars before moving to Eden's station, and she'd assume there weren't many animals—if any, seeing as adapting animals to a different planet was near impossible compared to humans.

She wasn't sure, but chose not to dwell on it for now. "No? Well, you'll love her. She's very sweet." With that said and her supplies set, she swiped the larger towel of the two off the counter. "You should get out and dry off. Do you need help?"

Simon shook his head, water droplets splashing from his dripping strands of hair. "No, no. I can– fuck!" He tried to get up, only to let out a curse when his body ached in protest, various wounds and bruises wreaking havoc on his physical state. He sucked in a sharp breath, face contorted from the pins and needles that seemed to prick at every inch of his skin.

A frown pursed on her lips as she stepped her way over to the tub. "It's okay. I want to help you, remember?" She reminded him gently, hoping to ease away whatever shame he may have felt.

He huffed, staring at her with furrowed brows and a slight scowl. "Why? I still have no fucking idea who you are or how... how any of this is happening..." His voice tapered off at the end, his frustration overpowered by how lost he was, unable to wrap his head around any of it.

To that, she heaved out a sigh, already dreading the thought of that conversation. "It's going to be a long explanation, one that I don't really know myself." Was all she could offer before lightly waving the towel that was in her hand. "So can I at least get you patched up before I end up confusing the fuck out of both of us?"

There was a stare-off between the two, conflicted brown irises boring into sympathetic (E/c) ones, the silence stretching by the second. Eventually he broke eye contact, awkwardly flickering them downwards as he gave a reluctant mumble of, 'Fine,' underneath his breath, one that sounded less than happy about it.

That was enough confirmation for her as she got to work on helping him out of the tub. She took it slow, her grip on his now smooth, clean skin careful yet firm, keeping him upright while his body's injuries fought against him. Once he was standing she was quick to wrap his torso in the large towel, providing him with some decency.

Every small noise of pain he made while she helped him step out of the water chipped at her heart. It wasn't hard to tell how exhausted and frail he was, even struggling to do something as simple as standing as she had to let him lean his weight against her side before his legs could give out.

After this, she was wrapping him up in her fuzziest blanket and letting him take a nap while she fixed him some stew. All her brain could focus on now was taking care of him, on comforting the poor, traumatized man in her arms that had faced horrors incomprehensible to the human mind. He'd been through so much, both during the events of the movie and years before that. A peaceful slumber on a fluffy mattress surrounded by various pillows and a big, fuzzy blanket was the very least he deserved after that hell.

Now with him seated on the stool, body properly wrapped up and shielded by the towel, she first went to grab the smaller towel and a brush. Needing both her hands she bit the handle of the brush between her teeth, ignoring the odd stare Simon was fixing her with when she trailed back over to him.

It didn't last for long, his eyes squeezing shut as the towel was plopped on his head of dripping hair, his body flinching on instinct. Then her hands began to gently ruffle the dark strands, soaking up the excess water as best she could.

A breath escaped him, keeping his eyes closed while she massaged away the troubled thoughts bouncing around in his head. Her fingers carded through the wet strands, holding onto them while she ran a brush along them, trying to prevent it from snagging on any knots. Every movement was careful, so unbelievably gentle that his heart ached, unfamiliar with the tender treatment.

He didn't allow himself to think, didn't allow himself to question what was happening, simply letting his exhausted mind take a break as he quietly relished in the attention—the bristles of the brush dragging along his scalp, her fingers ghosting his skin where she'd hold his hair, the sound of her soft, even breaths above him, the warmth of her presence surrounding him. She was his tranquility, a blind trust on his part, but something about her hushed the constant fight or flight buzzing through his body.

Truthfully, Simon could've fell asleep right then and there when she discarded the brush and began combing her hands through his hair. The action coaxed a hum from his throat, low and satisfied, to which he heard a hushed breath from her, no doubt amused. She was doing it on purpose – his hair was already untangled – yet he was more than alright with that when her nails scratched and pressed into his scalp, sending shivers down his spine.

Unfortunately the next part wasn't nearly as pleasant. There was no way around it when it came to treating his wounds, though he could appreciate her trying to be quick about it through mumbled apologies. The bath had almost made him forget all about it, until the alcohol seeped into each one and reminded him of the number of injuries his body sustained—more than he expected actually, and made him question how he was even conscious at the moment.

By the end, there were two bloody towels on the floor, empty bandage rolls, remnants from the sticky bandages, a few stray strings from minor stitches that had to be done, a half-used ointment container and an alcohol bottle. Alongside that, her tub was full of red water, and crimson stains smeared across her floor and walls.

It looked like a crime scene, as did the rest of her house when she remembered the blood trail. Yeah, she wasn't looking forward to the clean up.

However, the difficult part was done, with him looking much better all patched up and dressed in some sweat pants and a t-shirt that may have been a little tight on him. (Y/n) averted her gaze, a hint of a blush staining her cheeks as she cleared her throat.

"I'm sure you're tired. You can sleep in my bed while I prepare some food for you." She spoke up, maneuvering around him to drain the water, blood and grime mixture in the tub. "Or if you want, you can eat something first then take a nap. Whichever sounds best to you."

Simon let out a hum, a sound that indicated he was more than tempted to pass out right then and there. "First one. Think my body's ready to give out on me." He mumbled, arm already raising up after she walked back around him, for the first time willingly awaiting her assistance.

Maybe he was too drained to be defensive now, or maybe he had accepted her presence as being trustworthy enough not to bother—whichever it was, she was thankful for his cooperation. She looped his offered arm around her shoulders, one of her own slipping around his waist for stability, leaning his weight into her side while she guided him into her connected bedroom.

She let him get comfortable on the bed, her hands grabbing at the fuzzy blanket at the bottom to pull it over him. As she bundled him up in the soft material, a smile twitched on her lips from his drowsy state, dark locks of hair sprawled over the pillow and eyes barely able to stay open. It was like the minute his body hit the fluffy mattress his brain shut off, ready to finally get some long-awaited rest after being constantly overloaded by horrific events.

Without thinking she reached out, gently brushing some stray hairs out of his face. That was all it took for his eyes to fully close, and as her hand barely hovered along the side of his face, he was drawn to her touch, pressing into her palm like she was his sanctuary. She almost didn't want to pull away, seeing him look so at ease for once.

"Comfortable?" She murmured questioningly, her thumb lightly trailing back and forth along the rough skin of his cheek. A rumbling noise of confirmation came from his chest, tilting further into the warmth of her palm. "Alright, get some rest. I'll be back with some stew when you wake up."

After a moment she ever so carefully slipped away from him, surprised to find out he had already fallen asleep, nothing but light, even breaths making his chest rise and fall. She was as quiet as possible when opening and closing the door, needing to hush her noisy cat when she began to whine at her feet.

Okay, Simon was asleep, so now she needed to get to work on some food... and finding a way to explain all of this without sounding insane.

But first, a change of clothes from her laundry room was very much needed when she recalled the blood staining her outfit. Good thing she forgot to put away her clean load of laundry.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

(Y/n) stood at the stove, mixing together the ingredients in a large pot, a thick, savory smell wafting into her nose and filling the entire kitchen. She had decided to make a simple beef and vegetable stew, figuring it'd be flavorful and filling. If he was still hungry after that, she had that untouched sandwich in the fridge he could munch on.

She tapped the wooden spoon on the side of the pot before setting it on spoon rest. It'd been a good couple of hours since Simon fell asleep, with her occasionally popping her head in to ensure nothing was wrong. Aside from that, she spent most of her time scrubbing out the blood stains dragging along her carpet and hardwood floors.

Since it had been some time, she figured he'd wake soon, thus decided to start on the meal she promised him. (P/n) circled her feet while she stepped away from the stove, meowing insistently and rubbing up against her legs. As per usual whenever she was in the kitchen, her cat decided it was time for her meal as well.

Popping open a can of cat food and mixing it with some kibble, she walked over to set the bowl next to her water on the ground. An amused breath left her as she watched the siamese cat dig in as if she had never tasted food until that point.

After washing her hands she went to stir the pot again, only to jump in her spot, nearly dropping the spoon into the stew from the distressing yell that echoed throughout her house. The spoon was quickly casted aside, her feet rushing towards the direction of her room. (P/n) spared a curious glance, before resuming eating like nothing happened.

(Y/n) slammed her bedroom door open in alarm, not sure what to expect yet prepared for the worse. Fortunately, there wasn't anything horrible like she thought—no intruder, no worse injuries, no returning blood, and most importantly no lack of Simon. Unfortunately, the sight of him had her heart shattering to pieces.

Simon was sitting up in her bed now, eyes wide open and wild as they flickered around the room. There was nothing but dread in his expression, as if when he woke up from whatever nightmare he was having, he was expecting to be there—to still be stuck in that damn sub, nothing to do except wait for his death that he thought he had already experienced.

His form was trembling, chest heaving up and down with unsteady breaths, unable to fill his lungs with enough air in his panicked state. Handfuls of his shirt were grasped in his palms, regarded with an odd stare along with the visible bandages covering his arms. The time before he'd fallen asleep had been drowned out by the flashing memories of his punishment, that short moment of peace and softness feeling more like an inconceivable dream than his actual one.

Upon her entrance his gaze snapped to her, flinching from the loud bang of the door hitting the wall. He blinked a couple of times, scanning over her until slowly a hint of recognition began to break through the fear.

He swallowed thickly, looking down at his hands as they fell to his lap covered by the blanket. "You... you're real..?" He mumbled in disbelief, still trying to catch his breath and calm his racing heartbeat. "Th–this is..?"

The recollection of events was slowly coming back to him, though it was like he couldn't believe it actually happened, that he was even alive and ended up somewhere entirely different. It could've been a dream or a hallucination, one he was expecting to snap out of and wake up on the hot, metal floor of that submarine, the warning alarms of a hull breach blaring around him.

Except he didn't. He was still here, in a bed that his weight had sunk into and was by far the most comfortable mattress he had felt in years, along with a woman who treated him like a human more than the people in his mind had.

Cautiously, (Y/n) began to step towards the bed, similar to approaching a frightened animal. "It's real. You're safe, I promise." She reassured as gently as possible, sitting on the edge of the bed at a respectable distance. "You had a nightmare about what happened before, I assume?"

A long, shaky breath left him, one of his hands running through his hair in a stressful manner, pushing the now soft, untangled locks out of his face. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, his body relaxing from its defensive posture.

"Yeah, something like that..." That was all he muttered in response, making it evident he didn't want to divulge further. Not like he needed to, since she already knew about everything he went through.

A noisy meow interrupted their brief conversation from the doorway, causing him to avert his gaze to the source. (P/n) came padding into the room, locked on the new person while she was already leaping up onto the bed.

Simon stared at the fluffy creature with intrigue, who was currently sniffing at him. "Your cat?" He questioned, earning a hum of confirmation in return. "She's cute and... smaller than I was expecting."

She couldn't help the quiet, amused puff that left her at that. "Much better than just seeing a picture of one, right?" She asked with a soft smile, relieved to see him calming down.

He only managed a nod, looking uncomfortable the longer (P/n) kept sniffing and nudging at him. "What exactly is she doing..?" He asked uncertainly, not sure how to react to it—he couldn't even recall if he'd ever been around any type of animal as a child.

Seeing someone that was known as 'The Butcher' once, be on edge from a small cat was simultaneously amusing and endearing. Her smile widened when he hesitantly raised a hand towards her, allowing her to smell him and then freezing up when she bumped her head against his palm. He didn't dare move, and she couldn't tell if it was because he was afraid of hurting the cat on accident, or of her potentially harming him.

"She was just getting used to you." She answered softly, raising an eyebrow when her cat continued to bonk her head against his head with a whiny meow, yet he remained as stiff as a board. "You can pet her. Don't worry, she's completely harmless." She said with a breath of a laugh, reaching out to demonstrate such.

Her hand glided across the soft fur of (P/n)'s back, earning her a delighted purr as she arched into her touch. Simon watched her silently for a second, before slowly reaching out to ever so carefully brush his fingers over her head and ears, as if he were afraid the slightest amount of pressure would hurt the little thing.

The cat's purring became louder, sounding like an engine as she eagerly leaned into his hand. Then she padded further onto the bed, right onto his lap where she decided to lay, circling a couple of times before curling up into a ball. At first his hands hovered above, letting her get comfortable before he gently rested them on her, one hand on her side while the other continued to run along the back of her head.

(Y/n) watched the interaction, noting the softness in those brown irises while gazing upon the feline. It was probably the most relaxed she'd seen him so far. Maybe the cat was all she needed to convince him he was in good care, that even this little creature was at ease and carefree in a space like this.

"The stew is done, if you'd like some." She quietly broke the silence after a minute of listening to (P/n)'s purrs, shifting Simon's attention from her to the woman sitting beside him.

The dark-haired man visibly perked up at the mention of food, paired with a perfectly timed rumble of his stomach. His head ducked down, focusing on the cat again to hide the embarrassment creeping onto his face. "That, uh... That'd be nice."

She let Simon chill with her cat while she went to prepare their food at the island counter. With his bowl, she made sure to scoop in a generous amount. That man had been down in that submarine for days without food, if she recalled correctly. Even then, with the limited food supply they had – and the quality since he was in the C.O.I. prison – he deserved a good amount of a hearty meal.

Turns out she had been right, because she'd never seen someone scarf down food so quickly. She was eating her own at a normal pace, occasionally glancing at the man that was shoveling food into his mouth like a chipmunk. Not that she could blame him, she'd probably react the same way if she were in his shoes. Though, she'd definitely be housing some (F/f) if she had the option.

During that time she had gone through the complicated process of trying to explain what happened, minus the mention of him being from a movie she watched—she couldn't handle the existential dread that might occur from that.

Overall he appeared to understand, despite not being able to make sense of how it happened in the first place. He mentioned something about a light before he 'died', then concluded it had to do with why he ended up here. Other than that, he was as clueless as she was. However, he didn't seem opposed by any means, more than satisfied with the result of where he ended up now that he didn't need to constantly fear for his life and the end of humanity in a planet-less universe.

They both finished their food, and she swore Simon was already looking better, a simple meal and some water managing to return the life to his person. It brought a smile to her lips, seeing him slowly heal and knowing she was the cause of it.

She went to grab his empty bowl, heading over to the sink before pausing. "Did you want more?" She asked, glancing at him over her shoulder. She did give him a good amount, though she felt it'd be rude if she didn't ask.

Simon stared back at her, quiet for a second like he wasn't sure how to respond to that. "Can I have more..?" He sounded both surprised and uncertain, like he'd never even thought of seconds as a option.

She wasn't sure if he'd already forgotten everything she told him, or if he was so accustomed to measly rations that his mind couldn't fathom it. Either way it chipped at her heart, a frown on her lips as she set her own bowl inside the sink.

"If you're still hungry, then of course you can. You can eat as much as you want." She answered while setting his empty bowl on the counter. Then she lit up a bit, facing him when she remembered something. "Or I have some brownies I made the other day. You can have one or two of those for dessert."

The man looked like a little kid at the mention of dessert, an unattainable luxury after the Quiet Rapture. "Fuck, I can't remember the last time I've had anything sweet." He uttered, mouth practically watering at the thought.

She took that as her que to grab the glass pan, walking over to him with it. "I can't imagine never having a sweet treat after dinner. I think I'd die." She joked, popping open the lid to reveal the chocolate squares inside. "Help yourself."

Taking a square for herself, she handed one to him as well, which he eagerly took. "Thank you. Y'know, for this and everything you've done so far." He sounded genuinely appreciative as he bit into the brownie, sighing pleasantly at the moist, chocolatey goodness spreading across his taste buds.

She waved him off, juggling between eating her brownie and grabbing a glass container for the remaining stew. "I did what I hope any other person would do when they see someone who needs help." She shrugged, finishing off her dessert so she could start filling up the container. "Though, you did scare the fuck out of me at first, looking like a dead body in my lawn."

Simon rolled his eyes, already grabbing another brownie from the pan. "Sorry, I should've cleaned myself up before magically appearing in your universe." He remarked, voice sarcastic yet light-hearted. "I'm glad it was you though. These are fucking amazing."

"You show up just to eat all my brownies. How rude." She went to put the closed container of stew in the fridge while she said that faux complaint. For a second she eyeballed the dishes, decided she'd do them later, then trailed back to him to grab another as well.

"Can't help it. They're good." He'd taken a bite before talking, the words muffled by a mouthful of chocolate. "You should make more."

She glanced at the last one in a pan, finishing up her own and leaving that for him. "Maybe tomorrow, it's getting late." She suggested instead, then perked up, suddenly remembering something she'd wanted to do after he woke up. "Wait here! I have to do something!"

(Y/n) was already running off, his brown eyes following her with a strange look. "Okay..?" He mumbled, slowly turning back around to grab the last brownie and munch on that.

By the time she came rushing back – after he'd caught glances of her zipping from her room to the back of the house with stuff in her arms – Simon was sitting with (P/n) in his lap again. So far he seemed to be fond of the small feline, keeping one arm secured around her while he scratched behind her ear.

The (H/c)-haired woman was grinning as she came to a halt in front of him. "I have a question." She blurted excitedly, causing him to raise an eyebrow and hold the cat a little closer. "I saw an article once that said the sunsets on Mars are blue. Is that true?"

His eyes slightly squinted, face scrunching up in confusion at her out of the blue question. "Yeah, it is... Why? Is it different on Earth?" He asked back, curious as to where this conversation was going.

She found that sentence so strange to hear, the idea of a human being unaware to how things were on Earth. Nonetheless, it gave her a chance to show him one more beautiful scenery besides the original one she had in mind.

She didn't answer his question directly, rather holding her hand out as an invitation, an enthusiastic smile on her face. "You can come outside and see if you'd like."

He eyed her outstretched hand then the cat in his lap, carefully grabbing her and easing her to the floor. After standing up from the stool he grabbed onto her palm, much to her own surprise. His hand easily enveloped her own, warm, calloused skin and bandage wrapping slotted against her smooth skin.

She didn't let it affect her for long, those brown eyes watching her expectantly and causing her face to flush. "Just, uh, follow me. I set something up outside." With that she began to gently tug him along with her, never once breaking their interlocked hands.

Simon trailed after her wordlessly, eyes scanning around the various trees and plant life growing around them while she lead them to a clearing. From there the outline of the city could be seen, along with the horizon where the sun was setting, hues of red, orange and yellow painting the sky, while soft, pink clouds hovered above.

Ahead she had set up a little blanket on the grass, along with a couple of pillows and an extra blanket on top for comfort and warmth, and some flashlights for later. She eagerly guided him towards it, seeing as he was too busy taking in all the sights around him—ones he hadn't seen or were painfully reminiscent of his home planet, of a world before everything vanished.

(Y/n) settled herself on top of the blanket, tugging Simon to sit down beside her, his leg and side bumping into her own as he did so. She debated on whether or not she should let go of his hand, though decided against it. Judging by the fact he let his hand stay in her own on her leg, she assumed he didn't mind. Rather, it seemed he welcomed the touch, his body subconsciously leant into her own where they sat against each other—he probably wasn't used to physical contact in an affectionate sense.

For a while there wasn't a peep between them, both simply watching as the sun sank below the horizon and the dark blues and purples of the night sky took over. It was peaceful, nothing but the sound of nature around them—insects buzzing around, the gentle swishing of the tree leaves, an occasional rustle from the brush whenever little critters scampered around the area, paired by the distance warbles of the birds high up in the trees. It was relaxing, more so than the noise of the city drowned out in the distance.

Once the last slivers of light had began to fade away, she spoke up. "I know it's not as cool as a blue sunset, but it's still pretty." She murmured, unwilling to raise her voice and break the delicate, soothing atmosphere that surrounded them.

"Yeah, it is." A sigh left him, matching her hushed tone while he continued to stare at the fading light. "I've forgotten how much I've missed this... how much was lost." There was a deep melancholy in his words, torn between the lingering despair of his world and the hope of starting anew.

(Y/n) waited to respond for a minute, grabbing the spare blanket and shifting his attention to her. Wordlessly she threw one half around him and snuggled into the other, warding off the nighttime chill. Not once did her other hand break away from his own, still clasped over her leg while her other rested near it to keep the blanket close.

She leaned into his side, her head mindlessly falling to rest on his shoulder while her eyes searched the night sky, a satisfied smile slowly curling on her lips. Right after she felt Simon gently rest his head on top of her own, his arm mimicking hers to keep them fully tucked into the fuzzy material.

His body was warm against her, strands of dark hair tickling at the side of her face and his hand subconsciously squeezing her own. She could feel him nuzzle closer to her, like she was the only thing that could bring him comfort and safety—or rather has, given everything she's done for him thus far. Nonetheless, it warmed her heart.

Smile slowly turning into a grin, she found the right time to speak. "Not anymore. It's all here again." Her voice was a whisper, moving her hand around the blanket to gesture to the sky for a brief moment.

Simon's gaze moved away from looking at her, his breath catching when he found the night sky awaiting him, specks of white twinkling amongst the endless darkness that had long since disappeared. They were all there, some larger than others, some burning brighter to stand out more, and some forming constellations that he had long since forgotten. With those stars, the shape of a crescent moon glowed beside them.

It was all there, right before his eyes. Like it never even left, like it had all been some cruel, sick nightmare that he had finally woken up from.

His vision began to blur at the edges, yet he didn't dare look away, already trying to memorize the location of every star like they'd start fading away at that very second. He'd missed looking at the stars, missed the little amount of hope they gave him. God, he couldn't even remember the last time he saw one, the last star that fizzled out from existence to leave them in a cold, black void.

A light touch against his face startled him, his dazed eyes snapping down to her face. Both of their heads were lifted now, and he hadn't realized he'd started crying until her thumb delicately swiped away a tear trailing down from his eye.

"Hey..." There was a frown on her lips, her other hand breaking free from his to cradle the other side of his face. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you. I thought you'd like to see them again since..." She trailed off, uncertain on how to address the matter and worried she crossed a boundary.

Yet that panic faded nearly as quick as it came, the blanket slipping down around them as his hands came to rest over her own. A few tears continued to trickle down, though he merely pressed into her hands whenever she wiped them away, the facial hair along his jaw scratching at her palms.

Simon let out a shaky breath, eyes closed with an emotional smile on his lips. "You didn't. I'm– I'm very happy." He reassured her, all while trying to keep his voice from wavering mid-sentence. "I just... can't believe this is real. I never thought I'd be able to see the stars again."

Those (E/c) eyes softened, filled with nothing but promise. "Well, now you can see them as many times as you want." She whispered, thumb lightly caressing along his cheekbone. "I can even set up a picnic dinner tomorrow, that way we can do this again. Oh, and I have some hot chocolate we can make as well, and stuff to make some s'mores if we make a little campfire!"

She was rambling a bit in her excitement and Simon listened to every word, eyes now peeked open to watch her with a newfound fondness. He wasn't sure he'd ever had whatever a 's'more' was, but judging by her eagerness, he'd assume it was something as delicious as that brownie.

Regardless, he was looking forward to it, to a tomorrow that was no longer overshadowed by the dread of an empty future. More importantly, he was looking forward to spending more time with her.

"I'd like that, thank you."

The two spent some time longer outside, huddled back in the blanket and leaning into each other. (Y/n) pointed out some of the constellations to him – at least those she could remember – while also trying to make their own shapes out of the clusters of stars.

Sadly, it couldn't last forever, as Simon had began falling asleep at one point, his head continously lulling to rest against her own. His mind and body were still exhausted, seeing as a couple of hours napping could only help so much.

So they ended up gathering the stuff and heading back to the house, greeted by a sleeping (P/n) sprawled out on the couch. She'd have to scooch over and share the space tonight, unfortunately for her. For now though, (Y/n) carelessly tossed the items aside in the living room and guided Simon back towards her bedroom.

"You can sleep in my bed again." She stated while fixing the pillows and pulling back the cover. "I'll be out in the living room if you need me, okay?" With that said she went to take her leave, only for a gentle grip on her wrist to stop her.

"Wait." The word was blurted out before Simon could stop it, his expression mirroring her surprise for a split second. Then it morphed into shame, his hand quickly releasing her while his gaze averted elsewhere. "Could you, maybe... maybe, uh, st... stay?"

She blinked at him owlishly, processing what he said to ensure she heard him correctly. "Stay as in... sleep alongside you?"

Simon looked like he already regretted saying anything, turning away to hide the heat rushing to his face. "Fuck, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked, that was– Sorry." He rushed out an apology, mentally cursing at himself for creating this awkward situation in the first place—for letting his longing and fear get the better of him.

"No, it's fine. I can stay, if you'd like." She was quick to qualm his worries, her feet padding over to stand beside him. "I don't mind, I was just making sure that's what you meant. Or I could grab those pillows and blanket and set up a spot on the floor, if you just want company."

He fidgeted where he stood in front of the bed, sparing a glance at her that was uncertain, yet notably pleading. "I mean... it is your bed." Was all he mumbled in response.

To her, it was his awkward, indirect way of saying he wanted the prior option. It was adorable to her, not really expecting someone like him to be so soft. Then again, maybe he was only that way with people that cared about him and vice versa.

"That it is." She confirmed, a playful smile on her lips to hopefully relax his mood. "So I guess that means I should sleep in it, too."

She could see a hint of a smile start to form on his face. "Guess so."

With that settled, she went to shut off the light and close the door, only leaving a crack open—(P/n) liked to sneak in at night sometimes to cuddle. She didn't bother changing clothes, deeming her current outfit loose enough for sleeping in.

Wordlessly she settled in the bed next to Simon, pulling the covers over the both of them. He was laying on his back, bandaged hands crossed over his stomach and form stiff as a board. Even though he was staring at his ceiling, nothing but the dim light of the moon casting a glow in the room, she could see the dread creeping back in.

It clicked then why he wanted her to stay—he was terrified of waking up all alone, back in that submarine like none of this was real. He wanted her presence to keep him grounded, to wake up to and remind him he was still there, that it hadn't been some sick and twisted scenario his mind made up.

He was terrified, and that's why she found her body moving so easily, cuddling into his side and snaking an arm around him. It was like her touch alone flipped a switch in his brain, his body immediately melting into her as the tension faded from his muscles. He shifted to face her as well, his own arm curling around her to drag her closer, while lidded, chocolate eyes gazed into her gleaming (E/c) ones.

With a smile on her lips, she leaned up to press a fleeting kiss to his cheek, before burying her head underneath his chin. "Good night, Simon." She murmured, her fingers tracing random patterns on the back of his shirt. "I'll see you in the morning."

A drawn out breath dusted along the (H/c) hairs on top of her head, before he tilted his face down to rest there. "Good night, (Y/n)." It was muffled against her, yet he sounded relieved.

After that, she didn't let herself fall asleep until she was certain he had, the sound of his steady breaths reaching her ears and brushing along her head. Content, she let her eyes flutter shut, basking in his warm embrace and the promise of their tomorrow.

A/N:

Okay now I need other people to write their version of this as well, PLEASE I'LL EAT THAT SHIT UP I BEG

[zalliafawn]

Hello everyone! I've started working on the idea of creating a Markiplier ego dating sim. Have you ever wanted to become friends with Engineer, dark, yancy, Illinois, warfstache, etc etc? Maybe even give em' a big ol smooch? Well, you can here! At some point in time! Potentially! If enough people think this is a cool idea. If you want to weigh in your 2 cents, all I ask is that you fill out the google form at the end of this post!

Whether you just want to vote on certain characters being included, volunteer to play test, or even play a role in the development of this project, this is the place to do that!!! This is completely volunteer based, and I don't plan on making any money off of this, or paying anyone. So if you're looking for money, you should probably look elsewhere.

I'm very passionate about dating simulators and game programming, and have always been very drawn to user immersion in stories, and the magic of markipliers choose your own adventures. I want to create something that I would enjoy playing, and people like me would as well. Right now the idea is very surface level and I definitely need to plan it out more, but I want to just gage interest and all that jazz. I'll make a discord server at some point, so keep an eye out for that. If you want to be personally invited by me, and have a link sent straight to your dms when it's created, drop your username in here, and let me know that's what you want!

All that to say, if you want to smooch up any Markiplier egos, now's your chance to tell me which ones you want!

Interest form for Untitled Markiplier Ego Dating sim

Hello! My name is Zallia, I'm a writer, artist, and coding enthusiast! I have about 5 years of coding under my belt now, though most of the

Go at it!!!

[silly-slimer]

GUYS GUYS GUYS If you have ever listened to anything I've ever said (doubtful) then PLEASE listen now

This is such a good game please play it

As a Simon Enjoyer™️I have played this for days trying to get every ending

it is a SIMON DATING SIM

IT IS SAD

SIMON IS HOT

WHAT MORE COULD YOU WANT?

No but genuinely this is such a good game, completely free to play, and I know if you give it a chance you will love it. There are 4 endings (as far as I am aware), and it is just genuinely so good.

A Heart Of Iron by Blue Wolf Angel

A mini game where you romance Simon from outside the Iron Lung.

Idk if the link will work but this is what it is called on Itch.io

[no-b4rk-only-bite]

the boys are seething...

jealousy headcannons because I would love being a menace to these guys hehe

tw: cursing in some bits, but that's honestly the usual for me, mentions of mental torture and descriptions of gore in Anti's part

Darkiplier

boiling on the inside, but won't really show it.

I think Dark is oftentimes represented as a very cool-headed person, someone who barely, if at all, allows themselves to be pushed around, and is generally very... set in their ways. solid. therefore, they'd probably want to think about things like these before they get into a relationship with you, just to survey all their options, but still get caught off guard regardless because, uh-oh, they have feelings?? feelings that make them... impulsive?? oh no. disaster. catastrophe.

a part of them is uneasy because - ew, emotions. they thought they mostly got over those. but falling in love with you is proof in in of itself that they continue to plague them, so they begrudgingly have to accept they have them.

they've spent so much time trying to support everyone else around them that they basically lost themselves in that role - they're a constant, a safety net, and everyone around them who is even glanced at affectionately is usually someone they've deemed is going to stick around. so when they realise that oh, there's a chance you won't, the first reaction, instead of insecurity or destructive rage, is better summed up as solid, indifferent dishing out of 'the fuck you will'.

they know you're attractive. maybe that's not something that made them stick by your side - after all, they'd met plenty of conventionally attractive people in their... existence - but they can objectively say you're pleasant to look at, even extremely so. (more pleasant to feel, to get to know - something the other person would have no idea about. they feel proud to be able to gauge you like that.) suffice to say, no, they aren't sharing. absolutely not. they're pretty sure you know that, so most of the time they believe just a quick reminder will do the trick; showing up behind you and diverting your attention when the person flirting with you is trying something, laying down simple but meaningful touches (like a hand on the shoulder, pulling you in by the waist, fixing your hair/clothes for you...) or, if need be, nudging you in the other direction to distract you.

if the person is being forceful and you are very obvious in your attempts to disuade them? if they continue even after the first 'no'? guard dog privileges. looming over your shoulder, puffing out their chest, shielding you away with their body. it's less threatening towards you, and more protective. they'll only engage like this if they feel you're truly threatened, though after a while of being attached to you the feeling heightens. it's more likely to happen the longer you're together - if you're just starting out, they'll probably let you handle it on your own, but later? oh no, dearest. come here. they'll keep you safe. (the other person on the other hand, they can't exactly vouch for. even if they're a friend of Dark's, the reaction is the same - the full force of an eldritch monstrosity, untamed but reigned into a single look. well, that's just the warning. they will escalate if they have to.)

if you seemingly reject Dark, unintentionally I'm sure, to prioritise the other person in a way that isn't obviously teasing, now then they're going to get angry. you'll be treated to the silent treatment, mostly, because before it couldn't have been your fault, but now? now that you're actively (consciously or unconsciously) picking favorites? fine. they see they're not needed here. (you'll have to beg to have their affection later. they'll only forgive you if you really make it known whose partner you are, both to Dark and to the person you were flirting with, willingly and because you want to, not because they forced you to - despite the fact they kind of did force your hand.)

if you are teasing? now they're amused, instead, albeit a tense amusement that tightens the leash around your neck every time you lightly brush the person's shoulder or lean in a bit too close. unfortunately, as they put it, they have a vice for the little cat and mouse games you like to play. they like the chase, like the thrill - though it usually would easily bounce off their stoic personality - but those are the perks of a more... intimate contact, no? sure. play your game, darling. they'll be here when you're done and tuckered out to give out a solid lesson after, ready to kiss it all better. maybe they'll even play dumb for a bit, just to withold the reaction you're craving. they like when you test their patience, because they know they'll win. they've been waiting for a while before they met you, stalking, watching. you'll crack first. you always do.

"Oh? Now you want my attention? I don't know about that. Maybe if you prove you deserve it."

Yancy

wilted flower that has fists.

best description I could give it, because - although he's easily turning to violence - he's dying on the inside. he knows he's no catch, being a criminal and all, despite how perfect for you you tell him he is. you're so nice, of course you wouldn't want someone like him, someone who's so hard to love, hard to get ahold of. but he sure as hell will try and get you back!

there's three ways I could see him reacting, depending on the situation at hand:

1) clueless. poor dear has no idea you're being flirted with, and just thinks this is someone who's friendly - which is the usual if you're with him in Happy Trails Penitentiary, where everyone is so nice and lovely, even as they're violently stabbing each other. of course they wouldn't flirt with you, everyone knows you're together! those are the perks of being in such a close-knit community - family, as you all are here in pri- the Penitentiary. if he notices something is off, though it would have to be really visible for him to notice, he'd transfer into one of the two other reactions, instead:

2) absolutely furious. sorry, I meant murderous. especially if this is someone he's known for a while, or who he'd been friends with prior (now that he's out of prison, if he is) and especially if he sees you're uncomfortable with it. almost ignores your distress in favor of getting rid of them first, and, oh, the rage is painfully obvious on his face. this is where you'd have to jump in to remind him, hey, you're still on parole and have to keep up good behavior, (or that he has an audience mainly made up of prison guards) or snatch away his pocket knife so he doesn't do anything... impulsive. he's way too good at being impulsive. he'll resign to keeping to a safe distance, shooting death glares to the person like launching bricks off of a six story building while you cling to him, keeping your hands on him and grounding him. yeah, he's barely holding it together.

it's more territorial than anything, however. like a dog snapping its teeth over a favorite chew toy and calming down as soon as the intruder takes a few steps back - immediately, as if forgetting anything even happened. it's a flaw, he knows, that he really doesn't think about you at all during those moments. of course, he refocuses on you immediately after, apologizes as he kisses your cheek, and he'd never like, push you if you were in his way or anything - but more like firmly relocate you to a safe space before whailing on the other person? he just gets caught up in the anger. he's working on it, but there's likely not going to be much give on how he deals with the situation, given he doesn't really catch on what's happening in the moment, mind too clouded with emotion, and can only react after the moment's passed. he'll try more, he swears. but if you're right next to him, providing comfort in a 'there, there (please don't do anything stupid)' fashion, it's more likely his grip will just turn steely where it lies on your back or waist and he'll puff out his chest as if to shout 'try me, pal' across the distance between you both and the person. (it's only a little cartoonish, you snort.)

3) the most devastated man you've ever seen. especially if you try and tease or toy with him by pretending to flirt back, or if you take it as friendly gestures. oh. oh... well. he knew he wasn't perfect, but... he'll just- get out of your way then. go back to his cell. maybe cry in his pillow a little. but like, just a smidge, he's still a man. (he cries a lot.)

it's not funny. don't do it. for the love of everything, don't even try. this man is going to fall apart at the seams, and even when you tell him, 'hey, hey, big boy, I was just joking!' - were you really? because that absolutely looked real to him!! are you just trying to get out of it?? he knows when he isn't wanted!!

you will not be sleeping in the same cell. you will get the silent treatment for the next week.

and an intervention planned out by the other members of the Penitentiary, all cornering you with harsh glares and sweat dripping down your forehead because, uh oh, did you forget to pay a debt back or something?? you're shoved into one of the empty cells and forced to sit in a circle like a council meeting while they debate whether or not to have your back as you fervently, passionately, begging on your knees go apologize to Yancy (as you're then instructed to, with all of them pointing various small shanks at you.). how dare you do this to him. hasn't that man been through enough?! (there are tears shed, wiped away by seemingly appearing out of thin air handkerchiefs of various colors and patterns, or with embroidery with lines like 'live, stab, HTP' or the Penitentiary logo surrounded by hearts or- is that the entirety of the plan of events for A Heist with Markiplier??) if you end up doing this in the Manor, the people organizing the intervention will most likely be other egos, pushing Dark in front as group leader as they begrudgingly explain that Yancy hasn't left their room in days. go make up. now. (Engineer nods his head violently behind Dark's back.)

he'll only hold off on the whole thing if you explain right away that you yourself were clueless in them flirting with you, and how you rejected them immediately once you caught on. then he really can't blame you, it happens sometimes, and he joyfully jumps into your arms as soon as he realizes what happened. you will have to be his weighted blanket for the next few days, though. and you owe him like, at least a dozen kisses. sorry, I don't make the rules.

"Really?? Youse mean it? Youse didn't know?? Oh, honey! I was, ahm, worried, there, fer a sec- haha, um... stay with me for a while, 'kay? Just 'till... 'till I feel better."

Head Engineer! Mark

annoying mode activate.

this man can be very, very persistent when he wants to, and when he smells something fishy going on between you and someone else? immediately inserting himself into the conversation. oh, hey, lovely weather, he was just meaning to talk to you! cool, cool, who's this, a new crewmember? ohhh, nice! did you tell them you're dating/married yet.

he's so cocky. like so, so cocky. yeah, he got you. he's yours, your one and only, blahblahblah - but you're his. he's so lucky, he thinks when he smiles brightly at you, only for that smile to turn into the most devious smirk when he looks at the other person. yeah, he's totally winning here. he'll even go as far as to mock the other person for trying - like, who do they think they are? this is a one in a million person over here- he worked his ass off trying to woo you, and he sure as hell isn't letting some - which level are they on again? - low-stationed officer try and take his Captain! (or whatever rank you are, considering he'd have an excuse to make you seem above said officer in rank even if you're lower than him simply by enhancing the amount you contribute to the Invincible II or the colony.) buddy, get a grip. this kinda partnership opportunity is classified for chumps who shoot for people out of their league.

either that, or he'll try and demonstrate how much better of a fit for you he is than the other person. oh, they don't know much about time travel? that's a shame, him and you know a lot. guess they won't be able to join in on that conversation. or, huh, they've been friends with you for how long? and they don't know your favorite book? Captain, really now. how is that even possible? don't worry, he knows it by heart. (even if the person outdoes him in some area of knowing you, he'll only steep in place, going unusually more quiet than before. gets very annoyed at knowing you less than someone else when he's supposed to be your boyfriend, or worse in this scenario, husband! afterwards he holds an interrogation, interviewing you for all he thinks he might not know. he needs to know you best. he must.)

even as the other person awkwardly or angrily shuffles away, he keeps the smirk going for a while until they're out of sight, after which he turns to you. if you were genuinely uncomfortable, it immediately drops and he turns back into his panicked self so much he starts checking you over for physical damage before he realizes, wait that stuff is internal- but, but, are you okay? what happened? tell him everything! he'll make sure that person never comes near you again if you want! the cocky exterior is but a mirage, but another face he puts on as Head Engineer, but inside his heart is racing a thousand beats per minute, more protective of you than concerned about his own status as your significant other. do you need help? need support? need him to chase someone off? he'll do it, just ask, no need to be shy!

if you did it on purpose, he'd probably know from the conversation he just butted into. Captain, really, he reads you like a book! he'll get it from your various 'oh, they were just being nice.' or 'they just needed some help.', making excuses for their behaviour with a mischevious smile. even then, he's more inclined to believe you - maybe they were just being nice and not at all trying anything - but just to be safe, they can ask him next time. wouldn't wanna bother you too much, since you're doing your very important duty. he can make time, for sure.

but if you make it really obvious through touches and how you refer to the other person that you're intentionally flirting to tease him, you better not be. same as Dark - Engineer shifts the blame over to you, but gets annoyed instead. you don't want him? you wanna be with someone else? fine! see if he cares! (he cares a lot. he cares a whole heck of a lot.) later, he corners you and asks what about that person is better than what he can give you. really probes you for it, asks for details, inserts follow-up questions until you're sweltering under his molten gaze. (you'll have to gently convince him you were joking. he doesn't believe you at first, but he's more keen to believe you the second time you tell him. when he's fully convinced, you can barely breathe in the crushing hug he envelops you in. no, no, he wasn't insecure at all! definetly! why would he be, haha? haha. ha. hm. okay, well. maybe just a bit.)

keeps an eye on you from then on. just checking in on you more frequently and conveniently working almost shoulder to shoulder with you on those allnighters you pull when both of you work through the night. just to be close. just to make sure you're safe.

"Hey, uh, if you had issues with anyone, Captain, you'd let me know, right? Yeah, yeah, just- just checking! Um, hey, you don't mind if I work in withcha in the cockpit tonight, right? Great!"

Actor! Mark

now, Actor's reaction depends on two things: whether he was in a relationship with you before Celine (in which case, his marriage with Celine would hopefully be nullfied, but that's a whole AU in in of itself) or if he was with you after Celine.

if it's the first option, he would rarely get jealous, if at all. he's confident you wouldn't leave him, because, well, why would you have any reason to? he's a rising star, he's rich and famous, he's charismatic, ready to sweep you off your feet and most importantly of all, he's your closest companion! really, in this period of his life, you two are a package deal, and whoever is tied to him that way is naturally objectively better than most of society. he'll probably assume whoever you're talking to is a producer or stage hand, or anyone in the film industry or paparazzi, really, because, well, you aren't just nobody anymore. you're his partner, and that in in of itself gets you on the frontpage of most tabloids before you can snap your fingers. why should he be jealous at you showing yourself off? in fact, let him show you off, if you want. he'll flaunt you all over the place before you even ask it of him, but ah, a well-mannered please also never hurt anyone.

if you're intentionally flirting, he also just sees it as a market opportunity. oh, you're trying to get under that producer's skin? maybe they already know who you are (no, they most definetly do, he assures himself) and will think of that interaction later and maybe, just maybe, consider adding Actor onto their list of calling actors to audition? wouldn't that be something, huh? you're flirting with a random stranger? that's just called being flattering, darling! wouldn't want to ruin your perfect, immaculate image, would you? no, of course not. you're so clever! adding some personal imprint on people you meet on a daily basis will surely boost your public relations. maybe you'll even end up in someone's newspaper article. what a smart cookie you are.

if you ever get fed up and tell him outright that you were flirting, that you weren't being oblivious, that you were trying intentionally to make him jealous, well - why? all you have to do is ask, pretty, and he'll give you any and all attention you want! no need to play games with him - that's reserved for people you control, people that are made to be manipulated, but you? you're both better than that. you're both higher than that, so what's the point, really? just ask him.

"Aw, trying to make me jealous? That's so cute. Don't worry, superstar. You've got me all to yourself, just say the word."

if this happened after Celine, well, that's a whole different story.

this man is scared, and even pretending to be as cocky as he used to be doesn't work in calming him down. can't fake it 'till you make it if you can't even physically calm down enough to try. he's not about to embarrass himself, no, but he will sit in the background to look, to observe. alike with Celine, he'll probably be reserved for a while, instead of outright confrontational. a part of him is still trying to grasp onto the fact that - heh - why would you ever leave him? he's great, awesome, spectacular, dazzling, he's everything you could ever want! so why, why, why, are you pulling away? why do you insist on pulling stupid shit?! but in the end, that reassurance is still very wobbly. you could leave, just like she did. please, please don't leave like she did. he wouldn't be able to take it. you promised, did you not?

he will probably confront you at some point, when he gathers enough of what he considers to be 'evidence' - phone call receipts, texts, photos from a private investigator (the same one who was a bit weirded out by your behavior too, but didn't think you were cheating or anything, as the encounters just seemed extremely friendly rather than flirtatious), or anything else. yes, he does think you calling the associate who is friends with the person he thinks you're cheating on him with is weird. how could it not be?! they must be your way of secretly arranging meetings, or something! must be...

even when he confronts you, he won't scream, not until you confess, at least. there will be a boiling rage thumping through him as he sits there and, with curt responses filled with venom, slowly unfolds your supposed 'plans' before you, gauging your reactions. Actor's never silent, not really - until he is.

when you somehow convince him his delusions are baseless, that you still love him, he doubts himself - if he's wrong about this, what else is he wrong about? are you trying to manipulate him? is this just some elaborate scheme? but when it fully sets in, oh goodness is he relieved. he won't apologise, not really, but he will keep you close to him for the next few weeks and not ask, but demand you not go anywhere. have some work to do? his office has two chairs. need a break outside? sit back down and open the window if you must, but you're waiting until he finishes what he needs to and then you can both go outside. it eventually simmers down into normalcy, but he will need a lot of love and reassurance to feel stable in the relationship again. seriously, don't exacerbate his trust issues, please.

if you're trying to make him jealous intentionally? now he's mad. that just says to him that he's right, that his perspective has at least some basis in reality and that crushes him, but hell if he's not going down swinging! he's interrogating you, ignoring you, giving you the silent treatment before yelling at you again the next day - all in rapid succession to each other, in different patterns each time. this is most likely the point where your relationship will develop its first cracks, and takes even more time to heal than you unintentionally doing it, because, what, he isn't good enough for you? him?? he isn't doing enough for you?? at least say something before you go off flirting with other people, even if it's fake! seriously. eventually you can get back to a somewhat normal status, but if it happens again, even unintentionally, he will bring it up immediately as a sort of 'proof' of your tendencies. even so, it's mostly you who'll have to do the hard part of the whole 'fixing the mess you made' rather than him brushing it off, because in his mind this is just another prophecy coming true.

"Had a nice date? Had fun? Good, I'm glad. Just great, really. Next time, try remembering you have a husband/boyfriend to come home to, would you?"

Wilford Warfstache

oh, that's funny. no, scratch that, that's hilarious.

either if you're being flirted with unintentionally or if you're flirting to make him jealous, well, no, that's not really happening. Wilford may be a cunning bastard, but he's no hypocrite - he flirts with people all the time and it barely means anything, so, you flirting doesn't really rattle him at all. hey, as long as you're having fun! he knows you'll crawl back home to him anyways, right, pumpkin? really the type of guy to sit not even 5 feet away from you flirting with someone else and not give a single shit, only for when you do come back to go 'hey, how'd it go?' with a giggle. he wants to know aaaaaalll the juicy details. what makes that one tick? what flusters that girl you were talking to? oh, it's just fascinating. it's like a little show for him.

(definetly uses the information later as a sort of 'gotcha' moment, either mentioning it in the most random situations or deliberately pointing it out as a sort of jab at the other person. but in the end, it's all a taunt, really. maybe it's just the right thing he needs to keep things... interesting.)

if anything, you'll probably end up competing in it. how fast can you get people to fall for you? who has the better pick-up line? who can make the other flustered first? the list goes on. but either way, he knows you're his, or will be his, or... were his? it all gets muddy eventually, what with all the timelines shifting back and forth. but you'll always be connected and if not, he can always find you again - some time, some place, and woo you all over again. he knows you front to back, really. there's nothing you can hide from him, not even your feeble attempts at riling him up, no, puppy, that won't work.

if he does get riled up (usually when the evidence starts piling up of you flirting with one person specifically for, let's say, months) he explodes. there is no build up, no hints, no warning - just cold-blooded murder. genuinely just takes the person by surprise by using his very... very handy Magnum 375 in at least a semi-secluded place, before wiping his bloodied phone on his pants, on a call with you asking you if you wanted to spend time with him. (semi-secluded mainly because well, yeah, while he doesn't really care if anyone sees - he still wouldn't want you to see. he knows you're kind of sensitive to these kinds of things.)

if you weren't even aware? oh, bunny, that's just the cutest! or so he says as he continues menacingly loading up his pistol. (faster than usual if you tell him it made you even a little bit uncomfortable.) whaaaat? some target practice never hurt anyone! especially if it sends a good enough message, like, um- don't touch what's his? haha, he's just kidding, sugar, don't be so tense! he'll be back in a jiffy, ready to smother you in every ounce of affection he has. just be patient and wait for him, 'kay? (death doesn't really matter either way, does it? that person's definetly alive... well, in some other universe at least. just as long as it isn't in this one, now that's just a swell concept, isn't it, cupcake? less problems for you, less problems for him... everyone wins!)

no mercy, yes, but also no dissaproval. flirt away! literally unable to be threatened at all. (not that you can see, anyways.) if anything, you're practicing so you can flirt with him better. aren't you, sweet cheeks? of course you are - him too! anything for his little duckling.

"Oh, that person? No, haven't seen 'em at all, sweetie. Who cares? They were starting to get boring. Anyways- wanna spend some time with your favorite show host?"

Illinois

distracts himself, trying not to think about it. ends up doing it anyways.

it starts off like a game - how long can he take it before he snaps? at first, it's easy, even a bit funny - what, you think someone flirting with you will disturb him? him? treasure, have you forgotten he's a man in high demand? he was fine before you, he'll be fine after you - really, it's you who should be chasing him. or, at least, that's what he tells himself while you're engrossed in conversation with a stranger, only turning with a sweet 'aren't they nice?' to see him tossing another award-winning smirk in your direction. no. he isn't jealous. he isn't. if he repeats it enough times it'll start being the truth, it'll become reality. but that smile - you reserved it only for him, did you not? so why are you smiling like that at someone else?

the first time is fine. he feels a bit uneasy, sure, but it'll pass. the second time it hits harder. the third time, even he has to admit to himself something's going on he didn't account for - the option of you not being attracted to him. in all honesty, he's confused. you're... not attracted to him anymore? that's... impossible. isn't it?

he'll pull back after that, albeit silently, so that you barely notice, if you do at all. says he's busy. (he tries to be. it doesn't stop his thoughts from slamming back into him like a truck loaded with bricks.) if you're a usual partner to him on his adventures, he'll start going alone again - says it's too dangerous, then that it's just a one-person mission, then that you have too much work at home that needs to be done... and then, he doesn't make up excuses at all. just packs his bags and leaves silently. if you're not by his side that often, you just stop seeing him as often all together. when he's in town, it's like he's... avoiding you? of course, this is all if he sees you with them more often. you think he's just... grown tired of you. of course he would, his life is so exciting, and you're just... you. but in reality, he's not tired, not even a little bit - if anything, he's too angry to face you. because he's not angry at you - he's angry at the other person, angry at himself, and above all, confused. he'd never been jealous of anything before! is that what people talk about when they say they're jealous? he's so used to being the best, the most attractive, the most sought after, everyone fawning over him. the playboy, the life of the party, the knight in shining armor - all thrown aside for what? someone who's more convenient? he just can't face it.

he returns just as swiftly - suddenly appearing back as if nothing happened. if anything, it's so sudden it feels stifling - he's around more than he'd ever been. butting into your conversations with the other person, leading you away, telling you about what he's seen while he's been away (and doesn't tell you about the nights he spent by the campfire, staring into the dark as if the voice he didn't dare let out would call you back to his side), insisting you just have to see it. you've gotta! he's been saving it just for you, came back just for you to go and see it! (he'll keep you safe, he promises while looking over his shoulder at the other person, much safer than anyone else ever could - whether you're experienced or not.)

if you don't confront him, you'll never hear anything about it. Illinois? jealous?? that's not a word associated with him. missed you?? please. (yes. goodness, yes.) more like, you missed him and you're projecting. totally. definetly.

but if you tell him you know what he'd been up to? well, if it was you flirting on purpose and you tease him about it, he'll surprisingly turn bashful - the surprise catching him so off guard his feelings actually show a bit! (congratulations! you did it! the one thing barely anyone can do to him!) he'll scratch at his neck, twiddle his fingers and go 'well, uh, um, yeah. I- I knew that!' (he did not. he is very relieved it was a joke, though.) if you notice any later and understand what had been happening before the trip? well, even if you apologise, he wouldn't say that he was jealous. nope. oh, you just now noticed? nono, that was him, just- uh- being broody, you know, like all manly guys are. yeah. y'know, when you're just, uh- this cool, y'know, you just- gotta have those moments sometimes. wasn't anything related to you. obviously.

but he'll hold you a bit closer at night. tug you to him a bit harder while you're walking, or riding, or doing anything that requires contact. just, uh, don't mention it too much.

"Here, let me see those hieroglyphs. What? Are ya too cool now for a lil' close contact? Too bad, partner. You should be thankin' me for it, really. Not many get this close."

The Host

the impact of his presence is enough to scare off most potential suitors.

when you're approached first, he's already there. in fact, he usually sticks close to you anyways - considering you're his safe space and all. really, he sometimes thinks he's exploiting you a bit, or acting clingy before you reassure him he's fine. but then, oh, you're leaving? someone needs your attention? of course, he can wait. but his mind's already racing a million miles per minute.

who are you talking to? what are they like? what are they thinking, saying? what are you saying in response? his brain is just filling up with every bit of information he can muster up, willing or not, and oh, he isn't pleased with what he knows. see, being with someone like the Host, alike Dark, is a very done deal sort of thing. either you're in, or you're out. usually, that stands for as long as they can keep the relationship alive, and they're damn sure going to try their best to keep it going as long as possible. so, while he shouldn't realistically be as concerned as he is, there's still an itchy sort of feeling clawing at his skull as he slowly narrates under his breath every emotion palpable on your face and the face of your admirer, as if to ground himself. then, slowly but with intent, he turns. just stares. menacingly.

usually, that's enough to scare anyone off and well, you're none the wiser considering he turns back just as you're returning back to him, before you see - you shouldn't be concerning yourself with his emotions right now, he wouldn't want to spoil your mood. you just skip and hop back to him with a smile, relieved to be back at his side. (where you belong.)

he tries not to admit it, but there are some remnants in him from his days as the Author (he flinches whenever he remembers that time, that name-) that stick around in him even now. namely, his possessiveness. though he'd never tell you, the Host is very, very, very eager to keep what he considers his, and you just so happen to fit into that category. (he chastizes himself whenever he feels the pang of it, the sweetness of the crookedness he used to possess, and how easily he could make anything he wanted happen without even batting an eye. he can't, for his and your sake, allow himself to go back there.) in this case, such feelings prove to be immensely useful. even without his eyes, even with an overcrowded mind, he is as sharp as ever and luckily - humans don't need to see someone's eyes to pick up on the fact their presence is highly unwanted.

so he uses what he has - simple, really.

if they're really persistent, he'll give 'em a chance to back away, once, leaning in closer to you and lightly putting his hands on your shoulders, all while 'staring' them down. this is his, the action will say. and if they don't listen? he'll lead you away without stopping. he doesn't want to get his hands dirty - you're strictly against that - so he pulls you away and tells you everything that'd been going through that person's mind while they looked at you, had been talking to you. your reaction tells him everything he needs to know. (plus, you've always believed him - why would he lie to you? if he didn't say anything, now that would be lying. he's putting his trust in you, letting you make your own decisions while easily providing you extra information. that's what he's good at. it's only fair, after all - what's yours is his, and vice versa.)

if you're horrified, unaware or admit you'd been uncomfortable, he asks if you'd like to leave. if so, he's grabbing your things immediately and not letting you retreat back into the room, using all he has to navigate himself without anyone's help, all while keeping up the body language of a rampaging bull. (as if he'd need to put in a lot of effort for it. he's already furious as is.) when you get back home, he's softer. do you need anything? a warm drink? physical affection? just for him to talk while you sit there and listen? he'll do anything. (sometimes it feels smothering, especially in cases where not much really happened and it was only mild uncomfortableness, but you let him do it regardless. it's his way of calming down, too. he needs to take care of you. needs to make sure you're as happy as can be before allowing himself to even sit down.)

if you throw on a smirk with a small 'I know.', instead, he's confused before he catches on. a slight flicker in his brows before he relaxes. honestly, he doesn't know what to do with that. why did you do it? does he need to be better? does he need to step up? why didn't you just tell him? he tells you everything. everything. and you're... what, not treating him as a person who values constructive criticism? angel, he's changed now. he's no longer this brash, morally twisted person. he won't get mad, or become troubled, or anything- why... why didn't you just tell him? he's offended, to cut the story short. he won't abandon you, no, but just issue a slight warning in the sense of 'if you want to flirt so much, go ahead. just don't expect me to be there to coddle you after.' or 'willing to put our bond on the line for a bit of excitement? I thought you were reasonable.' he'd never leave you over it - but you'd definetly lose respect in his eyes. again, being equals is highly, highly important to him - he knows he knows more than you, but he informs you regardless. he adores you for all your little human things, your quirks, your endearing flaws and virtues, and is always, always communicating and dedicating himself fully. it throws him for a loop a little. he doesn't know if he can trust you fully after that.

"My half, are you alright?, the Host questions his partner as he swerves them to the side. That person, they aren't bothering you, are they?, the Host's brows furrow lightly at the notion, concern slowly seeping from his expression. We can go home, if you'd like. But only if you want to. Or I could... do something about it., the Host's grip becomes steely where it resides on their shoulders. The choice is theirs alone to make."

Heist! Mark

he will fight for you! just, uh, if he loses... don't laugh at him, okay?

when he sees you talking to someone, anyone - even people he knows, he's butting into the conversation regardless of if it's one where you're being flirted with or not. this usually results in the entire interaction being stopped, so unless the person is really pushy, he won't know he just interrupted a very awkward situation, or foiled your, well, plans to make him jealous. really, just clueless.

however, if anyone is easily riled up, it's Heist. like, you barely need to do anything and he's already jealous - mainly because of his... personality.

you're used to sticking together - you're partners, after all, and the kind of business you're in usually values more sets of eyes looking at one task than one. or at least, so he tells you. you aren't really sure what got you into being a thief, anyways. it was all his idea at the end of the day. but yeah, you're his partner. and you talking to someone away from him? laughing? giggling? doing that cute snort he adores but makes fun of in front of you? oh, hell no. he's already stomping over there, a sickly sweet smile on his face as he slides in with a smooth 'heeeeyyy.'. everyone can see he has no actual good intentions, but he fully believes he is the prime example of stealthiness. as per usual.

if you want to make this man jealous, all you have to do is be sweet to someone. he's extremely insecure, and covers it up with jokes, light, friendly jabs and physical contact easily mistaken as unintentional. and when you mention it? the fact he might be jealous? what??? no, no he- well, you caught him. y'know, you're really good at interrogating people. (he folded instantly.) literally, you can breathe just a bit more loudly around another person and you'll catch him moping in the corner, or confronting you late at night when you're alone, most likely in a self-deprecating manner. do you still love him? you were just laughing at their jokes 'cause you're kind, right? his jokes are so much better, right? (sometimes you have to inflate his ego a little bit, or else he'll get so much worse. trust me, you don't want him moping around like a toddler for the next few days.) but really, he himself knows he's being dramatic. in fact, he's playing it up on purpose - sometimes he isn't even that upset, especially after you'd played this game multiple times before and he's more secure in the relationship - but he still adores being coddled by you, so he'll continue the charade for as long as he can milk it. yes, yes, he's sooooo insecure - won't you kiss it all better for him?

if you're unaware you're being flirted with, though, you're backing up against his arguments. he's being nonsensical - they were just being nice, no? you know how he gets. this is just him flaring up at something he has no business flaring up at, and really, would he quit it already? now he's going to be telling you you're not even allowed to have friends, either, huh? you hope he gets over himself already. because he's so dramatic, he's usually the picture perfect image of 'the boy who cried wolf' - and in this case, the wolf wants his partner. if you don't want to listen to him (you will, the first time, but the more he plays up the drama, the less you believe him, really), he'll go and try and fix it himself. by... fighting. and then crawl back to you wounded, usually either with a cover story like 'they attacked me first!' or 'I was defending your honor!'. either way you spin it, of course you're going to believe your boyfriend/husband over this other person (even if you suspect he's wrong. you know what they say - happy crook, happy- um, nook? or however that saying goes.), dabbing away at the open wound on his eyebrow while he lays his head in your lap. (totally not milking the attention. nope.)

afterwards, you'll notice him, well, noticing you more. the usual between you two is joking - it's your love language - as well as making jabs at one another, insulting each other endearingly, not really meaning anything by it. but the moments after he realizes he could've easily lost you are the moments when he's most tender. there are less jokes, less stabs at your pride, and instead you're greeted with simple compliments like 'you look nice today.' and 'did you always sound so smart, or did I never notice it before?', as well as unusually enthusiastic support for your ideas. it's only a temporary thing though, and you're usually quickly back to your everyday banter. he doesn't love you any less, though.

"Hey, psst! You're not sleeping, are you? Just wanted to make sure - that person you were laughing with this afternoon - you don't like them more than me, right? Right?? Okay, good.

...

Are you sure?"

Antisepticeye

good grief, he's like a feral cat and an eldritch nightmare all at once. leash that man.

the most possessive out of the bunch, his agression rivaling only Simon's. the moment he catches sight of someone appealing to his doll, intentional or not, that person is dissapearing right in front of your eyes. not that he'd usually let you see anyone - especially as you fall deeper and deeper under his control, but in those early days and rare cases... yeah. at first, it's like a glitch in the matrix. you feel like you were just talking to yourself the way they were zipped out of existence, and weirdly enough, after a while of trying to date someone, going on dates, living your life, (not knowing a certain entity had long staked its claim to you and is very unwilling to let go) you start believing all those Backrooms videos might have a certain point to them. might hold a certain... truth. or something like that. the details get foggier the more you try to think about it.

after a while, you stop trying altogether. seems like the universe doesn't allow you to even attempt, with your head exploding every few minutes. it's like a beating heart, thumping against your temple as if trying to break loose. you're scared. something is making you really scared.

when he finally shows himself, he makes sure to remind you whose. exactly. you are. doesn't hide it either - not even a little. every move is memorized. every attempt, however unknowing and innocent, is written down and every consequence is determined accordingly. as he grips your chin for you to give him a proper look, you shiver in fear over what's to come - though, if he's feeling generous enough, you won't remember anything. he can forgive. just for you. just once. then he won't anymore. next time, you're sure to remember. the punishments he administers for such acts are less of a... physical kind, but rather emotional and mental. you'll feel yourself unravelling for days, but oh, don't fret. he's here to make it all better, and well, if he reshapes you into something more favorable... you don't mind, right? not that much, anyways. (not when you're so out of it you can't even give him a proper answer, thought or utterance, or at least more than a pathetic gurgle. you're so cute when you writhe on the floor in pain.)

if you try flirting with someone else? even after it? maybe you're sick of his shit. maybe you're done and angry and frightened and tired, and maybe you're intoxicated and just looking for ways to piss him off - oh, pet. you are so, so stupid. he'll have you on your knees, begging to amend for your sins. and that's what they are, aren't they? any grave mistake committed against him is a sin unto itself. he'll make sure you bleed only when he cuts the wound anew, when he commands your blood to spill. he'll have you devoted to him and only to him. if you stray, he'll gouge out the eyes you'd strayed with. as much as he likes them, adores their glossiness, if you leave him no choice... well. there are ways to preserve the beauty of human organs.

after all...

you were born to yield to his will.

"It's funny seeing you beg me to let you go. You know we're far too deep into this shit to stop now. Not like I'd want to, anyway. And for you, what I say goes."

Simon the Convict

a hurricane in human form.

Simon's... fragile. as much as he doesn't want to admit this to himself, he's very easily rattled, with a short fuse to boot. and even when you tell him, over and over and over again, how you didn't know, how it was an accident, how - if you'd known - you would've stopped immediately - he's too angry to listen to you. all that rings in his ears, from the moment he saw you with one of your coworkers, exchanging glances across the table, giggling about something he wasn't privy to, moving in perfect sync with casual touches and bright smiles, is betrayal, betrayal, betrayal. he didn't even ask you who, or why, or how - too captivated by the snake that snagged at his heart, the venom spreading and withering away at his insides, bitingly sour. (he'd been loyal to you, the vibrations in his teeth hiss at him as he grinds them together, he'd been yours. and what about you? how. could. you.)

it happens rarely, if that's any consolation - and with every reaction, with every time it happens, even he starts to understand that it's useless. you wouldn't leave him. you're not like that. you wouldn't have done all that for him, lived through all that for him, if you didn't love him. but he can't help it. the walls he built up inside and took down just for you are both barriers away from humanity and shields that kept him safe. he can't allow for them to crumble. not again. not after Eden. and yet, he took down brick after brick, just for you. so, every reaction is a tenfold process. every emotion is intense, and overwhelming, and all-consuming. he just hopes you could at least attempt to understand.

it takes time for him to process it. takes more than time - by the time you rush back home after not seeing him for the entirety of the day, you come back to a trashed hallway and living area, and the bedroom door locked, with only heavy breathing to accompany his presence. it continues for days - he sleeps, he eats, he goes to work - but he doesn't acknowledge you, or else he's mentally out for the day. for as long as he can muster it, he stays behind that door. it helps when you talk him through it through the door, even if you sound like a broken record. repeating over and over again, 'I didn't mean it, Simon, really.', or, 'I would never leave you. I would never do that to you.', or, 'I love you. please talk to me.'. it really does help, as much as he hates to admit it. he knows he's being unreasonable - but he has to let these things settle before he takes up arms, or does something equally as bad that he'll regret later.

after a few of these encounters, you build up a routine, and he talks to you. not face to face, per se, but he writes you letters that he slides under the door, seeing as he'd only scream at you if you were right in front of him. there's always pens and paper now in your bedroom. in them, he writes how he feels at that moment, writes how much he loves you, how hurt he is - so you have material to say through the door. 'you said it really hurt you when I touched their hand - I know only we interlock fingers, Simon, but- well, they were really sad about... something happened. I was just trying to comfort them. it's not- you know that was a one time thing. I only do that regularly with you. you know I do.' that. that really, really helps. even if he doesn't answer, he comes out of the room more quickly each time, ready to hug it all out and kiss it all better. he stops breaking things as easily. he starts feeling more secure.

if you flirt intentionally? worse, admit it to him? he's going to break up with you. Simon isn't the kind of person to play cat and mouse - he'd been through waaaay too much bullshit to start being all coy and playful now. he can joke, to an extent, he can crack a smile, but that kind of playful? the kind where feelings easily get hurt? absolutely not. he does not play with you, or yours or his feelings. the only thing he wants out of a relationship, really, is something constant and secure. he isn't ready to gamble his future, exacerbate his insecurities, endanger the one thing that keeps him sane, just so you could have some fun. even if it hurts you both, he'll do the right thing.

"I'm sorry, I- I just... I love you. I need to be sure you love me too. You love me, right? I love you. I love you. Don't leave me. Please don't leave me."

[ego-writes]

Pets for our Pretty Boys

Multiple egos x GN! Reader

Darkiplier, Wilford, The Host, Dave (TEoS), Simon (Iron Lung),

Based on this post, sort of?

CW// my personal headcanons for these characters (He/She/They Dark, He/It Wilford, He/They Simon), probably ooc Dave (only seen the show), spoilers for Iron Lung (post canon but also canon divergent ending)

NOT cross posted anywhere

It was supposed to be a simple joke, something you didn't even expect them to react to.

"Pspsps," the noise leaving you was one people made when calling for a cat, "c'mere boy."

You laugh to yourself, thinking you were the funniest person in the world, not thinking anything more of it.

Until they're turning around and looking right at you, even making their way over and leaning down to see what you need.

Dark has a perplexed look on her face, as if you had insulted his entire being with your little joke. Yet, he's still there, in front of you, waiting for you to do something.

When your hands come up and cup his face, they just stare at you, into your eyes like they were just trying to process what you were doing.

Then he's melting into your hands, his face pressing into your palms and letting his stubble scratch at your skin. Her hands come up to rest on top of your hands, thumbs rubbing on the back of your hand, as he nuzzles into your warmth.

His hair falls over his face, obscuring some of it as she rubs her face against your hands. It makes you think of a cat, rubbing its head onto your hands for pets, so you give in.

A hand runs up her face and into his hair, brushing their bangs up so you can see his face once again. His hand that was on top of it goes to hold the wrist of your hand still caressing her cheek.

While she gives no true indication that they're enjoying this time together, at least you can tell he doesn't hate it. A smile playing on your face as you continue to pet and scratch at their hair.

Wilford is over in a second, smiling as he awaits for something to happen. He's always been one to need things to happen, being bored was not ideal for anyone when it came to it. So you relent, cursing yourself for your stupid little joke.

Your hands are raised and pressing against it's cheeks, pressing them together to give him fish lips. A chuckle comes from him, which is a good sign. His hands rest around your torso, and pull you close. Then he's on his knees in front of you.

You can't comfortably rest your hands on it's cheeks anymore, so you move them up to it's hair, running through the somewhat greasy strands. He's looking up at you, and you can't help but smile down at it, your hands fully running through his hair now.

It smiles up at you before resting his head forward, burying it's face in your torso. So now you're stuck like this, standing uncomfortably with one Wilford Warfstache wrapped around you, practically forcing you to pet him like an eager dog that hasn't felt the love of someone in ages.

Maybe if you had treats, you could get him to do tricks.

The Host is one of the more difficult egos, being unable to tell what he's feeling about 99% of the time unless he verbally says anything. So when he's in front of you after you make your joke, it surprises you.

A chair that wasn't there before is suddenly behind you, and his hands are pressing on your shoulders to get you to sit. You oblige, because what else are you supposed to do, and sit down. He follows suit, cradling you as he sits on your lap.

He's quietly narrating to himself, about how he takes your hands and rests them on his head, how you start carding your hands through the strands of it like it's the most natural thing in the world, how he rests his head on your shoulder and wraps his arms around your body in a hug.

How you're now stuck under him, forced to pet and scratch at his hair, until he sees fit. How your little joke has now cost you hours of affection to him, and that if you make such a joke again, The Host will make the period of time much longer than today.

Oh, and don't be shy to rub his back, The Host would not be opposed at all to the added affections.

Dave is happy to be at your beck and call, a tired smile playing on his face. If he were a dog, he'd be sitting and smiling up at you, tail sweeping across the floor happily.

Suddenly you feel bad for wasting his time with your little joke, he could be resting but instead he's waiting for you to do something because he didn't realize you were messing around.

With a deep breath, you bring up your arms and wrap them around his shoulders, pulling him into you for a hug. He happily accepts, wrapping his arms around your torso and resting his head on your shoulder. The weight of him is comfortable, and it doesn't take much for you to rest your head on his, a hand coming to play with the ends of his hair.

It's by no means perfect, but he doesn't seem to mind the uncomfortable arch in his back, or the ache in his legs from standing. Rather, he enjoys the moment, burying his face in your jacket like it's the most comfortable pillow he's ever felt.

Simon doesn't know what to do with himself, being in such an odd environment. Before he knows it his arm is reaching for you, his hand grabbing onto yours like a lifeline. You called to him, albeit in a weird way, how can he be of assistance.

It's tough to tell them it was a joke when he willingly made his way over, so I stead you rest your free hand in his face and scratch a bit at their stubble.

The touch is overwhelming to Simon, the way your hand rubs up and scratches on his skin burned them like fire, yet it didn't hurt. Butterflies in their stomach threaten to burst out as he rests his head more into your palm. His shoulder even comes up to try and press it more into his skin, since he doesn't have another hand to do so.

It's a comfort to Simon, to know you won't pull away as they show such vulnerability. Your touch makes the pains go away, and if it weren't for the fact his arm was missing they'd probably think it was all a nightmare.

Tears begin to bundle up in his eyes, and your other hand is already detangling from his to rest on his other cheek, thumbs ready to catch the tears as they start to fall. His hand gripping at your sleeve to ground themselves as you reassure him it's alright.

[nintendo-killed-atari]

backrooms spoilers with no context:

[emein3ntz]

Part 1

Backrooms (2026) - Kane Parsons, A24

[altades]

Have you found yourself?

I've watched backrooms with friends and this movie really stuck with me. The concept and visuals are fascinating

[notholaenas]

don’t ever put him in a situation

[smumjii1]

[goetic-justice]

You guys are always like "being crushed by 10,000 tons of rock probably feels good as hell" or "being torn to pieces by hunting dogs would low key fix me" and I feel like those things would actually be unpleasant.

[goetic-justice]

How about "Drinking an ice cold strawberry milkshake probably feels good as hell". Do you guys like that one.

[floofle-universe]

Adrian and Grace are still getting used to each other, I like the idea of Rocky and Grace already having an established dynamic, one that Adrian is perfectly okay with of course but she’s still warming up to Grace themself. And unexpectedly they start to have interest in getting closer.