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silasbug · 2 years

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dream log Nr. 018

10/09/2022

Type: the WTF did i just dream kind, cohesive | Flow: so, so smooth | Amount: 1 (feels like 2)

in which Timothee Chalamet has a birthday party in my living room as my house floods from a broken washing machine.

in which i am divorced from Keanu Reeves and we have a young son who (in the real world) was actually my best friend until i was 7 y.o.. also we are "golden" vampires? don't ask me what i was on while i slept, i have no idea.

this dream was so oddly cohesive and comprehensive.

(#1). i enter the store downstairs from where i live. i am there looking to buy ice-cream as the weather outside was incredibly hot. already as i'm traversing the cold-section, i'm overheating, it's hard to pull myself together. i eventually find a single packaged ice-cream in one of the freezers and start eating it- i'll pay for it when i leave, i think.

i continue searching for the box of ice-cream that i came to get, but the store had apparently rearranged a lot so i'm having trouble finding the vegan ice-cream underneath everything else. when i eventually find it, i'm struggling to choose between the regular one and the one with almond. i am surprised that they are now sold as two separate kinds, since before it had always been a variety pack with two of each (it's the store-brand vegan ice-cream). i settle on the almond one. i start eating another one, already overheating again, and tuck the one i had previously eaten away, no longer intending to pay for it (nobody would be the wiser, right? the store was packed.)

as i'm heading towards the middle corridor of the store, there's Timothee Chalamet (for some reason?? i've never actually seen anything with him in it, i just know him as the dune guy.. which i still intend to watch, but i don't really know him as an actor). he's standing around one of the freezers with what seems to be a group of friends. they are buying snacks for his birthday party.

we smile at each other- i don't remember if we interacted at this point but i have the distinct feeling that we got along well. he also had a girlfriend, but she was off to the side, seemed off in general (as if she hates his guts and they actually didn't get along at all?)

since we got along well, he seemed to want to talk to me more (like a, let's hang out/talk some more sometime type deal), but i brushed him off (finding it a little weird that a stranger is talking to me and showing personal interest, esp. because i did recognize him as a popular actor in the dream) and told him to enjoy his birthday party with his friends. i leave.

when i get back home, it is suddenly late at night (even though the store is.. right outside our house). Timothee is having his birthday party in my living room for some reason (??????). the door is open just a sliver, i can see light from the TV, hear laughter, sometimes people walk through the hallway to the kitchen to refill their drink and such. i am invited to join them, but i gently refuse, feeling a bit awkward about dropping into the birthday party of someone i don't know well (despite it being in my living room, lmao). he seems a little disappointed, but we settle on hanging out some other time.

once i am left along in the hallway, i notice that the washing machine is on. i must have turned it on to wash some clothes. i turn to look at it and suddenly it begins leaking. the floor starts flooding from underneath the washing machine, more and more water pouring out onto the floor of the hallway, the water level rising. i quickly run to it and desperately try to turn it off and drain it.

i start trying to mop the floor as the water is still flowing, yelling at SO to please get me the mop-bucket so i could drain the water. they get me the wrong bucket, i ask them to please get me the right bucket (i needed the one that i can drain the mop with). they shrug, refuse, and head into the bedroom. they just flop down onto their tummy on the bed and start playing on their phone while i am left in the hallway, water up to my ankles.

i get the mop bucket, making futile attempts at mopping up water from the floor. by this point, the water had at the very least stopped flowing & i was just left with cleaning it up.

i become so frustrated that i start crying and shaking, going off on them, saying that it would be nice if they actually helped me instead of leaving me to do it all by myself.

///

i don't remember the transition, but it definitely felt like the same dream continuum. maybe once i stopped cleaning i looked up, and the house was suddenly much larger? i don`t remember. the vibe was the same, the time of day felt the same.

///

(#2). i look up and suddenly, the house i am in is much larger. i am no longer just in our hallway, but a large hall. everything has a faintly golden glow, almost like the Hall of Judgement in Undertale.

everyone else is gone, but i distinctly know that i have a son called Matthias (this is someone i was best, or very good friends with until i was 7 (we moved), in the dream he is still that little boy) and that my Ex-Husband (so the father) is Keanu Reeves.

my son lives with Keanu as i had given him full custody. i don't remember why- i have no recollection from before this moment besides the bare facts of who they are and what our relationship is. i was visiting them in their home to celebrate a holiday with them & because i hadn't seen my son in a while.

Keanu has a new wife (so my son's step-mother) whom i didn't like, she also had a daughter (so step-sister). they both seemed very stand-off-ish, i tried to avoid them as much as i could. i was here for my son, after all. despite this, Keanu and i seem to still have a good relationship- we actually get along really well, it was awkwardly loving and i couldn't tell you why we were divorced. it was just a fact.

i take Matthias to go out for some quality time, we end up going into the city, to the square. before we get there, we stop at a Kisok to grab some drinks, and i end up with three bottles in my hand, one of which is a large coke zero for him (nice product placement there, brain).

in the middle of the square where we end up is a fountain, he leaves his coke standing close to it. i go to sit in some shade a little ways off while he occupies himself with things, running around, playing. it was almost as if i expected him to entertain himself and i wasn't sure why. it seemed counter-intuitive to spending quality time, but it felt like i didn't want to impose or insert myself.

as i'm sitting in the shade to avoid the heat from the sun, two ladies walk along towards the fountain and find his drink standing there. it's almost still full and they seem to contemplate taking it with them. before they do so, i loudly interrupt and take it, telling them that it belongs to my son. i have the bottle cap in my hand and it takes me a solid minute to put the cap back on the damn bottle.

i call Matthias over and ask him if he's ready to head back, he nods. i take his hand and we start walking. as we are walking, the environment changes from "old buildings creating an almost-cage around a large, bare square with a fountain" to "a grassy path in between two large, green fields". it smelled very grassy, the son was bright and white. the vegetation on the fields reached up to my waist, making for an almost-corridor that we were walking through. you couldn't see anything but the green fields for miles.

as we are walking, i ask my son if he had a good time. he shakes his head and says no, he would've rather played with me more than on his own. i felt really bad about this, but i already knew that this was what he was going to say- this had been exactly what i was worrying about. it was almost as if i had hoped for him to lie to spare my feelings. i was glad that he didn't.

i apologize to Matthias, telling him that i wanted to play with him more but that it's difficult for me in this heat. i was feeling all kinds of weak because the sun was beating down on us on this path. i had my hand raised over my eyes so that i could see our surroundings, but.. the world was smouldering, the outlines of anything corporeal swimming around in my vision. i felt absolutely miserable and over-heated (i am light and heat sensitive, that's not a lie, and i clearly was in my dream as well). it still felt like an excuse.

i ask him to forgive me and promise him that next time i would try to play with him more. he nods. we continue walking through the fields, hand in hand.

i eventually ask him if he likes his new family and his mood shifts. he shaked his head. it takes a bit of prodding before my son tells me what's wrong, but he starts explaining that he doesn't like his step-mother- she treated him like an outsider, and that his step-sister was incredibly spoiled, got everything she wanted and generally received preferential treatment. he also went on to tell me that, when they visited his step-mother's family, that the rest of her family would treat him awfully. he hated visiting them and didn't want to have to go there anymore.

i am seething on the inside as he tells me this. i carefully ask him if it would be alright with him for me to address this with his dad (so, Keanu). i could just go off on Keanu on my own, of course (and i probably would have talked to him in some capacity no matter whether Matthias agreed or not), but i wanted my son to feel like he had a voice in the matter, because i felt that he might be scared that his father would be mad at him. i didn't want him to feel blindsided by his own mother or that he had to bathe in the consequences of my actions. i wanted to be reassuring.

after some reassurances that his father would be okay, that i would not let anyone hurt him and that he wouldn't have to meet his step-mother's family again unless absolutely necessary, he says yes.

when we get home, we are in the entrance hall which looks suspiciously like the entrance hall of my childhood home. i ask him if he's ready- he says yes, but thinks that i mean "to go out again", he starts putting his shoes back on. i explain that i meant "ready for me to talk to your dad and for you to go upstairs while i do it". i wanted him upstairs just in case, i didn't expect things to get ugly. just in case.

my son isn't happy about it, but he agrees and heads upstairs to his room (which, in my childhood home, was actually an entire other apartment). i go through the door and try to find Keanu in the kitchen. as i walk to the kitchen door (which is a sliding door, it's slid open just a crack), i see his wife inside instead. i step back and leave before she can see me (it was apparently nightfall again, as i had the distinct feeling that she was getting a "midnight snack"). i walk around the house until i find Keanu.

when i find Keanu in another room just outside of the kitchen, i hear my son call for a cat from somewhere behind me (even though he was supposed to be upstairs- he wanted to take the cat with him). i think he called for "Bubbles" or "Whiskers", they had multiple cats. the cat scurries out of the kitchen to go find Matthias.

as i am asking my Ex-Husband to talk about our son, said son comes up behind him. once i notice him behind me, i frown- i didn't want to have this conversation in his presence. just in case Keanu and i start fighting.

again, it seemed highly unlikely, because for some reason it felt as though Keanu and i were still on really good terms. like, oddly so. and again, it wasn't sure why we were even divorced beause it felt as though there were lingering feelings. two people who didn't want to separate being separated. having moved on almost-unwillingly. for the better of something or someone.

instead of starting the conversation, because my son had snuck up, i instead ask if we still needed anything else for the holiday celebration. he tells me that we could still use some ice-cream and asks if i would mind going downstairs to get it.

i grab Matthias and we head into the same store where i met Timothee (so, just outside) to buy the ice-cream. the entire section is rearranged again and i end up just buying one of every flavor.

once we return home and put the ice-cream away, i seek out Keanu again and we end up talking. i tell him that i don't want our son around his new wife's family ever again if he's just going to let them mistreat Matthias. he needed to either step-up and advocate for his son or he needed to leave him with me when they went for visits.

somehow the conversation turns to us being "Golden Vampires" (?!?!?!?). suddenly, we actually are vampires. the world is still drenched in that golden glow from the very beginning of this part of the dream, and i suddenly understand- as if my memory had been unlocked.

honey drips down my fangs and pools in my mouth, sliding down my chin, as if it were golden saliva.

Keanu mentions that our son still doesn't know, that he thought it'd be best if he didn't ever find out so that he could live a normal life.

Matthias walks in on our conversation right as Keanu tells me all of this and firmly declares that he also wants to become a golden vampire, to be like his parents.

his father looks horrified.

i wake up as the honey continues to drip.

#dream log #fucking yikes #guys i am not into celebrities- like at all #so i have no freaking idea why i'm dreaming about 'my ex-husband keanu reeves' and i still having lingering feelings #it's so goddamn funny to me #i tried telling SO about this dream and i was laughing so hard i started crying because it was so ridiculous #i actually woke up early from this one

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spyglassrealms · 1 year

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had a fucking hilarious dream that tumblr replaced the "block" function with the far funnier "glock" function, which did the exact same thing except whenever anyone blocked you a random bullet hole, like a png of a bullet hole, would appear on your blog. discourse blogs were unreadable bc you'd go to the page and the sheer amount of bullet hole pngs stacked over the blogs obscured everything. I woke myself up laughing

#normally I don't chronicle my dreams here but fucking hell that one was funny #I think this would genuinely make tumblr better tbh #@ staff do this cowards #spy has thoughts #my life is a sitcom and i am my own laugh track #functional website #spy's smash hits #Glock function #edit for everyone in the notes saying 'everyone clapped'#I know I can't prove to you that it happened for real you're just gonna have to trust me on this #but I swear on my goddamn life I'm not making this up #I make so many conscious puns that sometimes my subconscious cooks up a real good one

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pinkgibbon · 2 months

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anton chigurh goes to stardew valley

#every1 in the notes asking me why I made this 🙄 art isn’t about why! it’s about why not! why don’t you marry safe art if you love it so much #i got a better shirt for him eventually but i dont have a pic of it #roleplaying as him was the only way i was finally able to bring myself to do joja route #no country for old men #stardew valley #i like to think of him as being magically stuck there for an indeterminate amount of time and trying to survive w/o murdering the whole tow #anton chigurh #marnie stardew valley #i better not see ANY marnie slander!!!#how do u tag them #stardew valley marnie #sdv marnie #morris stardew valley #sdv morris #stardew valley morris #i was not gonna romance anyone obviously but i really enjoyed drawing that pic of him w morris so i got the marry morris mod and it is so #goddamn funny. just the idea of. anton chigurh x morris. me and friends r having the time of our life with it. i even made fanart.#which i may post later if i feel like it #my art #fanart #ncfom

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turtletoads · 2 years

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thinking about those cora lives aus but they never explain how he’s alive, so i always assume its this scenario

#havent posted in a bit hiiiiiii *waving aggressively #my art #fanart #digital art #sketch #one piece #one piece fanart #donquixote doflamingo #donquixote rosinante #one piece corazon #one piece doflamingo #trafalgar d water law #originally from ad/vent/ure time #its 4 over here sooo good night 🤠#rosi could never shoot his brother but its funny to think about #edit: this shit is so fuckigm embarassing to me now. i had a goddamn nightmare after drawing this #jeueysus. this shit fucking sucks im so sorry i subjugated you all to this

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starry-bi-sky · 5 months

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more clone^2

snippet 21: Danny is Bruce Wayne's Clone and--

Star, with the rest of the A-List girls: alright ladies! it's time for our quarterly 'cutest boys' list! Now I'll get straight to the point, in our number one spot is--

All girls, in unison: Danny Fenton

Star, writing it down on a whiteboard: and for our number two spot--

---------- Snippet 22: clone meet clone

Ellie, dramatically: Danny!

Danny, equally dramatic: Ellie!

Ellie, pushing past him and looking around: where is he! i wanna see the little guy!

Damian, with a sword, brandishing it dangerously: *in arabic* don't come any closer, stay back!

Danny, wrapping an arm around Ellie's waist and pulling her back: woah, woah - he's still adjusting to everything

Danny, turning towards Damian with his google translate open: [please don't stab her. this is Ellie my clone.]

Damian, lowering his sword in disbelief: 'there's MORE of you?

-------------- Snippet 23: Ellie has the same epiphany as Danny

Ellie:...hey Danny

Danny, pouring over his arabic book: hm

Ellie: since I'm your clone, and you're a clone of Bruce Wayne, and Damian is a clone of Damian Wayne, does that technically mean I'm his mom - uh. dad-mom?

Danny:

Ellie:...its a fair question

Danny: .....*deep sigh* you're his cousin until further notice.

------------ Snippet 24: wait for me ii (hadestown, live vers.)

(i'm not sure of the context, but i've been thinking of Danny saying this to Damian during a serious moment for days. the snippet title is the song that the dialogue below is from)

Danny, fixing up Damian's wraith suit: the meanest dog you'll ever meet

Danny, zipping up damian's jacket: it ain't the hound dog in the street. he bares some teeth and tears some skin, but brother,

Danny, adjusting Damian's gloves, pausing to look him in the eye: that's the worst of him.

Danny, he holds a finger up to Damian's eyes and points it at him: the dog you really got to dread, is the one that howls inside your head

Danny, grabbing damian's mask and smoothing it over his eyes: it's him whose howling drives men mad, and a mind to its undoing

------------ Snippet 25: Danny is Bruce Wayne's clone-- (Battinson Vers*)

Ember, in the middle of a fight with Phantom + Wraith:

Ember, knocks off Phantom's mask for the first time: lets see what ugly mug you're really hiding under there, Phantom--

Phantom: *the wettest, most pathetic looking pretty boy on the planet*

Ember:

Phantom, dryly: what, did your mic die out or something? all that caterwauling finally make you lose your voice

Wraith, unsheathing his sword: *vibrating with baby brother rage bc he knows EXACTLy why Ember is silent*

----------- Snippet 26: Damian is finally starting to play nice :)

Dany: hey... guys.... whatcha doing

Damian, hanging out with Sam: Me and Manson are plotting ways to crush the Mayor's plan to cut budget funding for the city parks and cut down the native trees

Danny: oh, i see.... is this safe?

Sam: probably

Danny: hm.

------------- Snippet 27: digging up cold case

Danny: ....if Damian is out with Sam tonight with their plot against the mayor....

Danny, turning towards his desk: then that means I can work some more on Mrs. Witherbury's murder case that she asked me to solve without Dames guilt-tripping me into bed :)

Danny, settling down at his desk with a thermos full of coffee: i'm glad sam and damian are finally getting along

--------- Snippet 28: sparring

Damian, frowning: your reflexes are incredible but your combat is downright awful, brother. it's truly a miracle i didn't skewer you upon our first meeting

Danny, got his ass kicked by his 7yo brother: *groaning in pain* not everyone has super secret assassin training, Damian. And I don't really have time to actually practice anything.

Damian: Mrs. Fenton knows martial arts and her form is proficient enough, I'm sure she would be delighted to teach you if you asked. I will join since I need to keep my skills sharp and my training was unfinished when I arrived here.

-------- Snippet 29: daytime surprise

Phantom, fighting Skulker in broad daylight: *under his breath* at least Lancer's english test will get canceled for this...

Phantom, dodging a blast from Skulker: *in ASL, furious* don't you have anything better to do, you fuck!?

Skulker: foolish ghost child, speak! I know you're capable of it - speak before you lose the ability to

Phantom: *flips him off instead*

Wraith, sending back a ecto-blast with his sword: please pay attention, phantom

Phantom, doubletaking: *in a hissed whisper* what are you doing here!? it's a school day, you should be at school!

Wraith: Tt. If the boot fits.

------------ Snippet 30: guilt

Danny with his head on his desk, his elbows propped up as he massages his hands: hn

Damian, lurking to the side with a guilty look on his face:

Damian: can i....

Danny, silently holding his hand out to Damian: hrm

Damian, immediately taking it and doing the massages + finger exercises: ...im sorry

Danny: hm... I forgive you

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc crossover #dpdc au #dpxdc au #dp dc #dp dc crossover #danny fenton is not the ghost king #clone^2 #this made me realize that Danny's ghosts PROBABLY don't know what he looks like under the mask for a WHILE #they just know he's a pain in the ass and also human and also insistent to get them back into the ghost zone #danny being the battinson bat clone is THE funniest thing to me like goddamn. you're a drowned kitten #does this imply that none of his rogues have seen his face in the two years before he got damian? yes. but wraith knowing why ember is #silent and being indignant with baby brother rage is so funny to me. protective little siblings ftw >>>>#dany being battinson bat makes so much sense because clone danny has no powers and runs around in a hoodie and jeans and baseball bat #and battinson is the exact amount of lanky and tall wet rat that seeing phantom WOULD be unsettling if you saw him at night.#also sam and damian get along but i dont know or think that damian would ever trust her tucker or jazz like he ever would with danny #he likes them and trusts them to take care of danny and him (to an extent) but he like. TRUSTS trusts danny.#hhhh fuck danny is permanently the battinson bat in my head fUCK. it makes so much sense #danny resorts to Batman Grunts when he’s overtired + in pain + unfocused

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show-us-kaidenshenandoah · 15 days

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every time i watch anything with him in it (admittingly, predominantly from the Dropout app), i am reminded that Lou Wilson is the most handsome man to have ever lived. like, objectively. he just is. i will hear no arguments for any other person to be ranked higher. Lou Wilson: whose face single-handedly shows humanity can go no higher in beauty. he is THE most attractive man in the world. argue with the wall lmao

#lou wilson #dimension 20 #dropout #game changer #i feel compelled to mention this comes from (a) me having had this opinion 5ever and needing it published as i rewatch Neverafter #and (b) that i am on aroace spectrum (im a demi-bi/pan-romantic asexual. mouthful. ugh) so like #the ''hot tingling'' feelings y'all alloromantic-allosexuals get? i dont get those. i feel like this somehow equips me to be #objective while y'all have subjectively biased preferences. dont ask me questions about this flimsy defense. im so objective. all the time #(if you need a tone indicator here: im being sarcastic and joking. i know my queerness does not make me objective. but let me joke about #this because i feel like i am SO RIGHT ABOUT HOW GODDAMN ATTRACTIVE LOU WILSON IS. PUT THIS MAN'S IMAGE IN MUSEUMS TO LAST FOREVERMORE)#how can a man still be hot after voicing Pinocchio. idk. ask Lou Wilson the most beautiful man to ever exist #he's just so stylish and pretty and funny and he has a great smile. A++. put him on the cover of magazines #my post #mine

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seri-tonin · 6 months

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One of the funniest things about bsd tbh is how fukuzawa and fukuchi both have white hair, and you assume it's cause they're old, but then we get the flashbacks to their childhood and they still. Have white hair. Assigned old man at birth

#like obviously its anime so some characters (including the goddamn protagonist) just have white hair naturally #but still. its funny to me #bsd #bungou stray dogs #seri speaks #best of seri

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ezralva · 1 month

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"I'm his big brother." "He's my big brother."

Yuuji and Choso art from Takeo-san, JJK anime's official illustrator.

#not a repost. click on the link for full pic #im sobbing thank you for drawing them dancing together and smiling so full of mirth aaaahhh and its so beautiful #definitely printing and framing it on my brain and room wall #jujutsu kaisen #choso #yuji itadori #chousou #itadori yuji #jjk choso #jjk itadori #itadori yuuji #jujutsu kaisen official art #jjk art #jjk yuji #i love them too much its not even funny anymore #bestie tysm for finding this art for me! iwoofyou #my starving for their smiles have been staved off because this is from the official illustrator #they look so goddamn happy 😭

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daily-hanamura · 9 months

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#persona 4 #p4 #persona 4 golden #p4g #hanamura yosuke #yosuke hanamura #souyo #ok ok listen this scene is so goddamn funny because UP CLOSE AND PERSONAL WAS YOSUKES PLAN ALL ALONG #THIS WAS HOW HE WAS SELLING IT TO YU WHEN HE WAS TRYING TO CONVINCE YU TO GET HIS MOTORCYCLE LICENSE #so when rise says this yosuke of all people should have gotten really excited because hey at least the plan is kind of working out ???#also HELLO its THE risette??? except no he goes straight towards shooting her down #doesnt even play along do not pass go do not collect $200 just dismisses it handily without thought #why some may even argue that yosuke is a bit sensitive about yu being squeezed by someone #its me im some #also yosuke has offered go give yu a ride on his bicycle before so yknow isnt that inchresting #his bicycle definitely only has one seat so doesn't that make it even more up close and personal and romantic #yosuke: we can get up close and personal with others!#also yosuke: no not like that not with other people #I GUESS idk poor boy's just very confused and a disaster issokay #he's good with his queue

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autisticlancemcclain · 8 months

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“No.”

Lance groans loudly, forgoing smacking his face in his hands and going straight for banging his head repeatedly against the elevator doors, which Keith thinks is a touch dramatic. But regardless he crosses his arms over his chest and stubbornly refuses to budge from his position.

“Keith. For the love of God.”

“God is dead and I’m not climbing out of a goddamn ten thousand foot elevator hatch with you.”

Keith admittedly puts a tad too much emphasis on the ‘with you’ part of the sentence. It’s obvious in the way Lance stops and lifts his head up and glares at Keith so icily he doesn’t need to squint to make out Lance’s expression in the low emergency lights; his eyes practically burn a hole through Keith’s forehead. Keith winces but doesn’t say anything.

“You have gone toe to toe with a goddamn zombie dictator,” Lance grinds out, “but you’re too much of a pussy to climb an elevator shaft?”

Keith stiffens. “I’m not — shut up!”

Smirking, now, visibly delighted that he’s managed to press Keith’s buttons (God Keith wants to punch him), Lance leans against the elevator wall, hip cocked, feigning nonchalance.

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” he says, inspecting his nails like it doesn’t matter. “I just never would have thought that the best pilot out of the Garrison and literal pilot of the Red Lion is, you know, a chicken.”

Keith clenches his fists. Lance is frustrated and bored and pushing Keith’s buttons because there’s fuck else to do. He is. Keith knows this.

But he is so goddamn good at it.

“I’m not a fucking chicken, Cargo Pilot.”

‘Cargo Pilot’ is usually a hole-in-one insult that’s guaranteed to make Lance bristle, sure to make him bare his teeth and go bright red and generally lose his absolute shit. Keith is even sparing in his use of the term, careful not to let it lose its potency.

But because the universe hates him and also Lance is the most annoying motherfucker alive, his smirk only widens, and he flexes his fingers, still fucking casual, still not even bothering to look up in Keith’s direction.

I hate you, Keith thinks, with feeling.

“Sure,” Lance says, without. He shrugs. “Prove it.”

For a second Keith thinks he’s so mad that he might. But then he imagines it fully, pictures his bare back pressed against Lance’s, feet planted on the slippery castle walls, lights probably still out, struggling to put one foot in front of the other and drag each other upright. He thinks of how much effort that would take and how easily he would start to sweat, how easily every shift of their muscles would loosen the friction-borne grip between them, how easily his foot could slip. He thinks of how long a ten thousand foot drop would take, how long he would have to accept that he’s going to die before he splats on the pristine floor.

His stomach turns. His face goes green.

Lance’s jaw drops.

“Oh my God, you’re afraid of heights!”

“I am not!” Keith snaps, because he isn’t, he just has a fucking brain. “It’s just — it’s ten thousand fucking feet, Lance!”

“A pilot!” Lance screeches. “A pilot afraid of heights!”

“You are so goddamn extra!” Keith cries.

Lance makes more vague screeching noises. He gestures furiously at Keith, then pauses, then makes a sound in the back of his throat akin to a loudly dying whale, then gestures back at Keith, then at the ceiling, then at the elevator as a whole. Then he lets out one loud, long, final yell, completely wordless and directed at what Keith can only assume is the heavens, and stops, closes his eyes, breathes deeply, and very calmly crawls onto the floor, belly first, and lays perfectly flat with his face pressed to the tiles.

“I hate it here,” he says serenely. He pauses for a minute, thoughtful. “Also, I hate you.”

“Ditto,” Keith mutters, finally giving up and joining him on the floor. He tips his head back until it thumps on the elevator wall and sighs, loud and long, wondering vaguely if this is punishment for the hundreds of times he mocked Shiro for his fear of squirrels. He truly thinks it might be.

All he wanted was twenty goddamn minutes in the pool. That’s all. He’d have even taken ten. He just wanted to swim a few laps, maybe float for a bit, and pretend he was in a lake somewhere without pressing problems such as saving the universe and the fate of every single soul in it.

Eight minutes, really. Seven.

The lights flicker back on. Lance lifts his head, hopeful, then stretches out one ridiculously long leg (seriously what is the deal with that he’s basically a giraffe, it’s too much, Keith should talk to someone about it because since when were legs allowed to be that — long and shapely, or whatever, it’s weird) and presses the closest button with his toe.

It does nothing. Lance stares at it for a few minutes, as if attempting to bring the elevator alive by manifestation alone, but no life is forthcoming. Lance huffs sadly and returns his face to the floor.

“That’s really disgusting,” Keith says, although he has his fair share of Floor Time. “People walk on this floor all the time.”

Lance doesn’t bother looking up, groaning loudly for several minutes before simply rolling away to the opposite side of the elevator.

“Shut up,” he says finally, after so long Keith almost forgets his original comment. “You just —”

Abruptly he straightens up, pulling the towel off his neck and crawling forward to place it in the middle of the elevator. Keith rolls his eyes so hard it actually hurts, a little.

“You and your commentary stay on the loser stinky mullet half of the elevator,” Lance says. “The pretty half that’s not infected with your rancid vibes belongs to me.”

“Were you trained to be this annoying?” Keith ponders, half out of genuine curiosity. “Like, do you do this on purpose?”

“Ignoring you now,” Lance says primly.

Keith scowls. He’s not — Keith isn’t the one who’s too irritating to be around without going insane.

“I’m ignoring you, asshole.”

Lance doesn’t respond. Keith closes one eye and holds up his thumb and forefinger to the approximate shape of Lance’s face, pretending he’s squishing his head. It brings him great peace.

After a while, though, he starts to get restless. His legs starts bouncing, up and down so fast it’s blurry, and then his fingers start to tap, but the feeling of rustling under his skin only gets worse, spinning faster and faster and coil tightening more and more in his stomach until he just — implodes, really, until his brain goes boom and says if you don’t get moving right this second, and Keith says in response to it, believe me I’m on it. He’s scrambling to his feet before he has the conscious thought to do so, hands moving before he tells them to and pushing him upright, bare feet padding rapidly on the floor as he paces, three steps until he hits the wall then pivot then three steps then pivot then three steps again. Over and over and over. His fingers stop tapping but his shoulders get twitchy; itchy under his skin and on it, sweaty because there’s no airflow and this goddamn elevator is sweltering. Or he’s just hot. He usually runs hot. He’s not sure and he doesn’t care to know, because the pool would have been refreshing but instead he’s stuck in a ten by ten by ten cube stuck somewhere on a ten thousand foot tube and to his right his rival-slash-teammate keeps huffing and rubbing his hands on his arms and muttering to himself.

“Could you maybe cut that out,” Keith snaps, which is entirely unfair because his pacing isn’t quiet, but Keith is three seconds away from attempting to climb the walls and it’s Lance, anyway, when are they not arguing, so it doesn’t matter.

Maybe when you’re having a crisis-brought bonding moment, says a voice in his brain. Stuck elevators are kind of a crisis.

Shut up or I’m going to give myself a concussion, Keith responds to it.

“Not my fault it’s goddamn freezing in here,” Lance snaps.

Keith pauses. He looks down at Lance. He frowns.

“Your lips are blue,” he observes, bewildered.

“Eat shit,” Lance responds, predictably. He’s fucking — he’s shivering.

Keith is made astutely aware of the cooling sweat on his back and grimaces.

“Lance,” he says slowly, “it is not cold in here.”

Lance blows out a breath like the goddamn weight of the world is on his shoulders. He flicks his eyes up to meet Keith’s, who is standing behind his head and leaning down, and somehow manages to seem like the more put-together person between them, which is bonkers.

“I’m anaemic, stupid.”

Keith blinks. Suddenly the air feels very solemn, and he shifts uncomfortably, unsure of what to say.

“I didn’t know you had an eating disorder,” he manages eventually.

Lance’s faces scrunches up in confusion for seven whole seconds before it clears, and he looks at Keith like he is the dumbest man alive and then bursts out laughing.

“That’s — anorexic, you idiot! I don’t have enough blood!”

“Oh,” Keith says, face heating. He scowls as Lance continues to laugh way harder than what was called for, clutching his stomach with tears rolling down his face. He pokes Lance aggressively with his toe, and by that he means his kicks him. “Will you stop — it’s not that funny, dickhead!”

“It really is,” Lance wheezes.

Keith scowls harder. His face is as red as his shorts and the flush is starting to spread down his chest and Lance notices and it only makes him laugh more, because he’s a shithead of the worst kind. “I hope you choke.”

Keith flicks his towel over his head and yanks, embarrassed, stomping to the other side of the elevator as if that will somehow make Lance shut up faster. It doesn’t, obviously, and he hears Lance laugh for several minutes until he finally winds down to giggling, then eventually nothing.

Keith harrumphs quietly to himself. He resolves to sticking in his corner like he should have from the very beginning, until the elevator starts moving again or someone on the team comes to save them. At this point he’s so done he wouldn’t even care if it was Shiro, wouldn’t even care if Shiro gloated about it for eternity (Keith saved his ass from government experimentation, anyway, so he wins by default for the rest of time). He faces his corner and pulls his knees to his chest and starts picking at a loose thread in the seam of his shorts to amuse himself.

Several minutes later, he hears Lance shifting. He ignores it. He pulls at the thread until it comes loose, then busies himself with tying the thread into the most complicated and random knot he can.

A few more minutes later, and there’s the sound of fabric rustling and draping, then quiet cursing. Keith untangles and retangles his knot for the fourth time.

After what must be a half hour, Keith hears the sound of teeth chattering.

He sighs. He looks forlornly at his knot.

“I could just ignore him,” he mutters to himself. “He probably won’t die.”

He thinks of how short Lance’s shorts are. He pinches his own towel in his fingertips, so thin he can practically feel his fingerprints. He remembers blue lips and a clenched jaw and raised gooseflesh.

He sighs loudly, more of a groan, and flicks his ball of thread away.

It takes Lance a few seconds to respond to Keith looming over him, which is worrying. But eventually he cracks open one brown eye and flares up at Keith.

“What,” he mutters. His teeth are chattering so bad it sounds like two words.

“You’re freezing,” Keith says. His voice is softer than he expected it to be.

Lance huffs, closing his eye again and curling further into himself. “No shit.”

Keith frowns. “I’m not.”

“Well, rub it in, why dontcha.”

Keith frowns. “You’re not understanding.”

Lance ignores him. Keith has a sudden and vivid memory of the year Shiro and Adam drove him up to Seattle in the winter so he could be more cultured, or whatever (or less of a desert menace, Adam had argued, and perhaps more inclined to stop biting people), and spent the whole car ride lecturing him about hypothermia.

“It doesn’t take very long to set in,” Shiro had said.

“And once you have it you need to warm up or your heart can stop,” Adam had finished, very serious.

Suddenly Keith starts to feel very panicked.

Lukewarm tea, warm blankets, skin to skin contact with someone who’s warm, were Shiro’s instructions. And then possibly hospital.

Well. Keith has one of those things.

Before he can talk himself out of it, he wraps a gentle hand around Lance’s shoulder, tugging him upright, then pulls him forward so his cradled hands are pressed against Keith’s chest and his head is tucked into the junction of Keith’s neck.

Worryingly, it takes Lance almost thirty seconds to start complaining.

“You smell like mullet,” he whines. But he doesn’t move away. In fact, he burrows closer.

Keith swallows down his worry. “Mullets don’t smell like anything, dumbass.” He brings his hands up to press against Lance’s back. Lance groans, curling deeper into Keith’s hold. His nose is icy and burns a trail across Keith’s shoulder, down his collarbone. Keith’s flush from earlier makes an enthusiastic return, because nothing good still exists in the world.

“I still think you’re annoying,” Lance mumbles. Every move of his lip brushes against Keith’s skin.

“Shut up and focus on not freezing to death,” Keith snaps.

Lance snorts. “I’m not gonna freeze to death, doofus. It’s just a dead elevator. Once I fell asleep on the Garrison rooftop in January and only had to spend three days in urgent care, so basically I can withstand anything.”

Keith pauses. He tries to reconcile the Lance who just said that to the Lance who came up with a life saving plan in thirty seconds on the Balmera to the Lance who threatened to stick Keith in a wormhole to the Lance who smiled and said they made a good team before passing out in Keith’s arms.

“You are a very confusing person,” he says when all the reconciling does absolutely nothing.

“Thank you,” Lance says, sounding pleased.

Keith snorts and tightens his hold. Lance sighs and sags a little. Slowly his fingers stop feeling so much like ice blocks, and his breathing doesn’t sound so erratic. Keith doesn’t know how long it’s been. He stopped trying to count somewhere between when Lance’s cheek squished against his chest and his fingers started tracing featherlight patterns across his skin.

Lance yawns. Keith tries to fight his but ends up yawning anyway.

“Is it bad to let a person with hypothermia sleep?” he mumbles, half-slurring his words.

Lance hums. “‘M not hypothermic.”

“Dunno. Could be.”

He sighs again, a puff of air against Keith’s neck, and spreads his palms against Keith’s chest, flat. “‘M not. You’re too warm.” He pauses. “Freak.”

His tone is fond. The corners of Keith’s lips quirk up. “Weirdo.”

“Mhm.”

He falls asleep trying to count Lance’s breaths. It’s — groundbreaking, somehow.

———

(“Oh, my God.”

Keith cracks open bleary eyes, lifting a hand to rub his face. Lance groans from his place on Keith’s chest — in a puddle of drool, why is that not nearly as revolting as it should be — and snatches Keith’s wrist way faster than he should be able to as groggy as he is, placing it back around his waist.

“Oh, my God,” the voice repeats, gleeful.

“Shut up, Shiro,” Keith mutters. “Fuck.”

It takes him a minute.

His eyes fly open at the same time as Lance’s, and they look at each other, and then Keith is being shoved and kicked at the same time somehow and Lance is scrambling backwards at the speed of light, screeching. A loud bang makes Keith look over and he discovers his brother, who is dead to him, collapsed on the floor, laughing so loud Zarkon can probably hear him.

“What — Shiro — go — stop fucking laughing, you piece of shit!”

Lance continues to screech. Keith whips a towel at him.

“You gay pining loser!” Shiro shrieks. “I’m going to tell literally everyone!”

Keith puts his head in his hands and wishes he’d fallen down the goddamn elevator shaft.)

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