#//also you’ve sent this message to someone else on my dash and you didn’t provide any evidence there either so

[mechahero]

the mun from star buster steals from other people. bye forever

//Uh no no no, you get back here. You can’t just accuse them of stealing without having the proof to back it up. Do you have any screenshots or evidence at all?

If not, then you’re just randomly accusing someone of stealing because they, i don’t know, annoyed you or some shit?

[carlyraejcpsen]

alright, i’ve tried to keep quiet because i truly believe in karma and wanted this rp to close through the admin’s own actions and not give them any opportunities to blame it on me instead. it also felt like beating a dead horse, because i was sure they’d close the rp after losing a huge proportion of their active members and the majority of their diversity. however, after seeing multiple people sharing their experiences today, they are still posting promo posts and starting their event. so yeah, here’s my experience with @thevillagerp​​

NOTE: i no longer have screenshots from my conversations with the admins, as i blocked them when i left the rp for the sake of my own mental health, but i did save the text in my drafts, so the messages below are copy pasted. i have not edited them in any way. They also deleted my original anonymous messages off of their blog.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: racism, very vague allusions to homophobia and transphobia

so i was a member of this roleplay for around two months. during my time there, it was startlingly obvious that white fcs were preferred and prioritised, both from the fact that they got more plots and interactions in general and from the fact that admins never promoted diversity on the main. even now, they repeatedly say they ���would still love to receive some more male and non-binary apps” while ignoring that they currently have a ratio of 8 fcs of colour to 24 white fcs. their diversity rules at the time were that 1/3 of a mun’s characters had to be played by an fcoc. so people could easily just play one or two white characters.

a while ago, i sent an anonymous message to the main asking if they had considered perhaps changing this rule to be 2/3 characters instead of 1/3, since there were so few muses of colour in the roleplay (as i said before, they’ve since deleted this from their blog so i cannot provide a screenshot). they responded that they had been thinking of upping the character limit to four instead of three, with a rule that 2/4 must be played by an fcoc. i gave them the benefit of the doubt and the time to enact this change, but nothing happened.

so a few weeks later, i sent them this message on anonymous:

I was wondering if you had thought any more about the diversity rules here? I know you said before that you were considering increasing the character limit, but I noticed that hasn’t happened and I wanted to know if that was a change we’re going to see or if you would consider changing the rules in another way? I’m really disheartened by the lack of diversity in the roleplay

at the time there were 18 characters of colour out of a total of over 60. they responded (again, i’m sorry i don’t have the actual wording since they’ve deleted the messages) that they had thought about it and decided against upping the character limit, but instead would be having a weekly “poc acceptance day,” where they would only be accepting apps with fcs of colour. they also said they were doing this “now that the waitlist was mostly cleared,” which meant that the rp was mostly at capacity anyway, so they needed to look more at how to encourage their existing members to promote diversity, since there weren’t spaces open for new people to bring them in.

i responded with another anon expressing my disappointment and pointing out that they had done more to prevent having too many celebrity characters than too few muses of colour, as at the time they had a ban on celebrity muses. i wouldn’t usually suggest a ban on certain fcs, but as it was something they had done for celebrity characters, then i supposed it was a reasonable option.

they didn’t even respond to this message and instead posted on the main asking me to come off anon to discuss it. so i did, and i sent them the following dm:

i didn’t want to come off anon because i honestly feel really ostracised in this group and didn’t want to make it worse, but i don’t want to drop this issue and you aren’t comfortable addressing it publicly so here we are i guess. like i said in my previous message, i really don’t see how a “poc acceptance day” is going to make anywhere near enough of a difference. people will just wait for the opportunity to play their white characters. there are only 18 characters of colour in a roleplay with over 60 characters. that’s less than a third, which is obviously concerning. what’s even more concerning for me is that these characters are more often than not overlooked. i am often ghosted when plotting, or people don’t even reach out at all when i like plotting calls or intro posts. and then i have to watch characters like leo almost exclusively interact with white women (i’m sure that’s not the only example, but it is the first that comes to mind as he is one of the more active characters).

so this issue goes so much deeper than there just not being adequate representation in the rp. i really tried to help, i suggested making it a rule that 2/3 characters need to be poc in my original ask and you mentioned upping the character limit in response. i was worried that my concerns were being brushed aside, but i waited a while to give you the benefit of the doubt and the space to discuss the issue. so you can understand why it was really upsetting today to learn that the one thing you suggested was dropped and instead replaced with something that is barely scratching the surface of the problem. and i don’t know if it was your intention, but by saying that you were waiting for the waitlist to clear, it comes across as not wanting to receive any backlash from people who would want to join with only white characters. and even if people did want to join with faceclaims of colour, they can’t because the waitlist is cleared. like i suggested, you could change the rules so that 2 out of 3 characters must be people of colour. or, as was your proposed idea, up the character limit to four. you could also put a temporary ban on white faceclaims until the ratio evens out. as i mentioned, it’s really distressing that this was something you were willing to do for celebrity characters, but not to aid diversity.

i also just want to make it clear that these have been the only anons i’ve sent, i know you’ve been getting other ones, but those weren’t from me!!

( for context, they were receiving anons from someone else claiming that they felt left out in the rp ).

i had hoped that coming off anon would show them that this was a very real issue which was affecting their members, as well as giving them a space to discuss it privately instead of on the main. they responded with:

Hi Em, thank you for coming forward. We really, really appreciate it and we understand it’s not an easy thing to do. We also appreciate you flying the flag for diversity so strongly. We can always strive to be better, we are on the same page with you here.

Let us just explain our decision making. Firstly, just to address the waitlist, that was certainly not at all our intention when we brought it up. It was a logistical decision with 5+ applicants having already waited a week for acceptance and aware of their position on a waitlist.

When we decided against upping the character limit (and therefore the 2/4 POC character rule), we thought a POC acceptance day could be a good alternative course of action. In our eyes, this was something that would probably bring more POC characters to the group than the 2/4 rule because we knew there weren’t going to be many muns taking up an additional fourth character. This was a rule we’ve seen other groups enjoy success from so we wanted to try it out here. Plus, we think a day that explicitly highlights diversity every week would bring the message to the forefront of everyone’s minds. As we said, we’re going to monitor this over the next couple of weeks to see if it brings any improvement because we’d really like to have it as an ongoing rule.

The non-POC ban is actually a measure we’ve spoken about too and we are considering putting one in place should this fail. Thank you for raising your concerns, know that we’ve taken them very seriously and we hope that you’ll trust our judgement in trying this rule out first to see where it leads.

first of all, i don’t think i even have to mention the wording of “flying the flag for diversity.” but the real crux of the issue here is that they supposedly wanted me to come off anon to discuss the issue, but instead just explained their idea further and didn’t take anything i said on board. they didn’t even say a single word about how i told them i felt ostracised and regularly got ignored. i knew from speaking to other muns in the rp who played muses of colour (and just from looking at the dash) that they felt the same way too, but of course was only speaking from my own experience.

i thought long and hard about how to respond to this, as i was so disheartened by their unwillingness to listen to their members and the fact that they didn’t care that i felt left out. it felt like they had asked me to come off anon just so they knew who was messaging them and therefore put a target on my back, so honestly the thought of being on the dash or talking to the admins made me incredibly anxious. before i had a chance, however, they responded again with:

Hi hun, we’ve continued discussing this issue over the last couple of days and we wanted to let you know that we’ve decided to put in place a non-POC ban instead. Thank you again for holding a mirror up to the group. We do hope that this will recorrect the balance.

so i waited to see how things would play out. they posted about this new ban here and pinned the post to the top of the main:

[ IMAGE ID: a screenshot from thevillagehq of an admin update, which reads: in the interest of keeping the village a diverse space, we are currently only accepting applications for POCs. please note that any apps or reserves submitted to us for faceclaims that are not POCs will be deleted. we will lift this rule once we see fit.

thank you for your understanding and your efforts in making this group a brighter, more inclusive and diverse place for all. /END ID ]

this rule remained in place for around two weeks, during which time they made almost no effort to promote it. the above post was pinned to the main page, but that was the only mention of the ban anywhere on their page, they didn’t update the rules page or even put a note on the application page about it. during this two week period, the admins posted 10 promo posts, none of which suggested fcs or even mentioned the ban or diversity at all. the ban was then lifted suddenly when the pinned post was removed and the admins just went back to accepting apps with white fcs. the ratio had only evened out in those two weeks (from 18 out of 65 to 24/50) because of people going inactive or leaving, and there was nothing put into place to continue to promote diversity after the lift of the ban. in the three days after the ban was lifted, the admins posted over 10 promo posts, the same amount they had posted during the entirety of the ban. it was clear that they had no intention of actually making changes in their rp and had only done so because i refused to drop the issue.

again, i thought a lot about what i wanted to message them. i knew at this point that they didn’t want to make any real changes, but i still felt like i had to make it clear to them how disappointing their actions were. once again, i was messaged before i even had a chance, this time for bubbling.

as you can see in the above correspondence, i had told the admins point blank that i felt left out and ignored in the rp because of the characters i played (aubrey plaza, mj rodriguez and keiynan lonsdale fcs. all of my characters were queer and used either she/they or they/them pronouns). as a general rule, the only people who wanted to write with me and have interesting plots with me were people who played other muses of colour. the rp had a rule that you must reply to 3+ muns on every character, which i had been doing. i had only been back from my hiatus for a few days at this point and had responded to 6 different open starters the day prior. their message to me read:

Hi hun. There’s something we wanted to address to you directly. It’s been expressed to us by multiple members during these last few weeks that they have felt excluded by your character within the group, especially when it comes to the friend bubble that has formed between Mars, Bowie, Luvena, Asher and others. 

While we encourage the development of friendships and trust that this isn’t intentional, we have a zero tolerance for bubble roleplaying at The Village. We are aware that our three mun activity rules have been met by all parties involved, however, bubbling is usually a little more nuanced than that and it seems it has unfortunately begun to create a bit of a divide within the group. 

We have already issued individual warnings to a few people within the bubble, however with multiple members still expressing their concerns to us, we decided it would be better to address the group as a whole. We hope that by pointing this out to you, you will try and branch out to your fellow members a little more from now on - and try and be a little more inclusive when it comes to everyone else in the group. 

We take such matters very seriously as admins, and while we hope it won’t have to come to this, there will be consequential steps taken should we not see any changes in your interactions in the weeks to come.

as you can imagine, i was incredibly upset to receive this message after already telling them i didn’t get plots from many of their members and they had done nothing. even people who i had previously messaged continued to only write with the same few white characters. i don’t deny that we definitely had a friendship group between our characters, but there were multiple people in that roleplay, including the admins, who only cared about ship plots or plots with the same few muns. me and other people who received the same message had all previously told the admins that people aren’t plotting with us and gotten ignored, so receiving this message made it clear that they neither cared about us nor wanted us in their rp. and so i responded as below:

yeah i literally told you i felt left out because there are multiple people only writing with white characters and you never addressed it, so this message is honestly insulting. i have reached out to almost every new member, responded to multiple open starters and have tried to plot with as many people as possible. like i told you, i am often left on read or people don’t even message me at all. if people do message me, i am usually expected to put in all of the effort and if people aren’t interested in actually developing plots with me then i am obviously not going to force my characters on them. all of my characters are queer, non binary people of colour and the harsh truth of this roleplay is that people don’t care about them. i even wrote out a whole list of 20 detailed suggested connections in an attempt to get more plots and nothing came from that either. i’ve even gotten anonymous hate saying that offering to explain my characters’ pronouns was “patronising,” which i didn’t feel like i could approach you about because, when i told you about how i’m feeling excluded, you didn’t care.

so if i only have actual plots with the people who actually care about my characters, i make no apologies. i also don’t even have threads with half of the characters you named, asher being the only one, and have literally only just come off hiatus. so please explain how i am bubbling, because this really just feels targeted at this point.

you’ve made it endlessly clear that this rp isn’t a safe space for people who want to play diverse characters. the main was practically silent while you had a ban on white faceclaims, which you never actively promoted, and then you dropped that suddenly without putting anything else in place. you also deleted my initial anonymous messages asking about diversity as if you were trying to hide that there was ever an issue. you turned anonymous messages off, so that no one can safely criticise you. because i did that off anon and ever since it has felt like there is a massive target on my back. my characters have been “accidentally” on the activity checks multiple times despite me being on hiatus (people get a notification that they were tagged even if you remove their name from the list btw). plus when i asked for an extension on my hiatus, you said that you would allow it “just this once” which now makes me feel like i can’t come to you if i’m busy. right now, for example, i am in the middle of moving house, but i’m also stressed about trying to stay active because you have made yourselves completely unapproachable.

the ratio only evened out slightly because members left. then suddenly after the ban you’re posting multiple promo posts a day??? you couldn’t get more obvious. i came to you about diversity in good faith, hoping that it was something you were unaware of, but you have made it abundantly clear that you actively do not want to promote diversity in your roleplay, we are just here to be witnesses to your ship. there are multiple members who are actually bubbling who have been brought to your attention, but nothing has been done. leo continues to only write with the same three white and white passing characters. charlotte pretty much only appears to write with leo and post a vague “message me for plots” post that wasn’t even tagged. both of you only put effort into your ship threads with each other and the occasional text threads. even with something like group events: while i’ve been here, there’s been a pride event that neither of your characters were even in new york for (an event where i was the only one reaching out and posting multiple starters, by the way); there was no event last month, and this month all you’re talking about is this housewarming party.

i’m really disheartened that it’s come to this, but i can’t be here anymore. please post unfollows for all my characters. you’ve said multiple times that we should trust you as admins, but this message shows again that i simply can’t do that. from the disregard of trigger warnings, to the way you treated being held accountable for the lack of diversity, to how you respond to people asking for hiatuses, this isn’t a safe space. even if i stayed, the target you have placed on me is making it insufferable to just write my characters in peace.

the other muns who received the same bubbling message (copy pasted btw, we all got the same one word for word) all responded with their own concerns and criticisms in responses of a similar length to mine. none of us received a reply, our unfollows were just posted the next day without any further responses from the admins. a few of the other members who had written and plotted with us chose to leave as well, which the admins wrote off as us just dragging them with us as opposed to them being able to make their own decisions and being aware of the situation (which was incredibly obvious. no promotion of a white fc ban, suddenly being active on the main once they try to stealthily drop the ban, then the majority of their muses of colour leaving???)

i haven’t paid the rp much attention since i left, as i mentioned above i blocked the main and the majority of the members just for my own mental health. but from a quick scroll through today i can see that the only change in diversity rules is that now instead of your third character having to be a poc, it is now your second. however, you still only have to have 1 character out of 3 have a fc of colour. so very little has been done, but of course i’m not surprised in the slightist.

these admins don’t want diversity in their roleplay. if you play any character who isn’t a rich, white, cishet neurotypical, please avoid it at all costs. it’s not in any way a safe environment.

[ayamari-no-goshi]

Verboten 9 | (T)

ff.net | AO3

Fandom: Danny Phantom (DP)

Summary:   AU. When Danny was five years old, he went missing for 2 weeks. In the years that follow, his family tried to make sense of what happened, only for the truth to be discovered years later.

Warnings: rated T for violence, mentions of death, language. Be prepared for some very weird things

Chapter warning: discussions of death and injuries

Parings: Danny/Sam

Notes: originally uploaded to Ff.net. Cross-posted to AO3 and tumblr. This fic is very heavily inspired by folklore surrounding mysterious wilderness disappearances

Chapter 9

"So, did Frostbite tell you that there are other people from our school here?"

Danny raised an eyebrow at Tucker's question. His friends were working on catching him up to speed on what happened after he collapsed. It was fairly straightforward as they were taken to a different room to do a quick medical examination to make sure there were no injuries or signs of changes. Once Frostbite's medics were satisfied, they were given warmer clothes as lands of the Far Frozen were similar to those of the article circle. According to the Far Frozen, the clothes were kept in case they needed to temporarily house any humans they found.

Unfortunately, the one aspect of hospitality the Far Frozen could not provide was food. Not only was it difficult for them to procure, it was also easy for it to get contaminated. As such, they did not want to risk providing Sam and Tucker any form of food in case it triggered a change in them. Luckily, Sam still has some granola with her which she shared with Tucker, who whined about there not being meat available for a good ten minutes.

"Yeah, apparently Dash, Paulina, and that group were all taken right around the same time we were," Tucker continued.

"Was it Plasmius?" Danny held his breath as he waited for the response.

"No, it was someone else," Sam responded as she played with the hem of her jacket sleeve. "Frostbite said it was someone name Aragon or some of his followers. And as much as I don't like them, I don't think anyone should have been forced to deal with what they have."

"Should I ask?"

Sam shook her head. "Frostbite won't even let us go in the room while his medics work. They're apparently really messed up, and at least one of them is missing part of their arm. As much as I hate to say it, we might have gotten lucky that it was Plasmius that found us."

"That is a creepy thought, but I think Sam is right about that," Tucker agreed. "Although Frostbite didn't want to explain it to us, we got enough to know that they were targeted for their blood."

An icy chill passed, which was worsened by the lights signaling his switching of forms, passed through Danny's body as he tried to process what Tucker told him. If it bothered his friends, they hide it well. "What do you mean?"

"We're not really sure. Plasmius said something about it too, but both him and Frostbite didn't go into any detail. Sam said she thought she heard something about it?" He glanced towards the goth, who appeared to be deep in thought.

"Yeah, I think there are old legends about it," she eventually replied. "I can't recall the story, and even if I could, I wouldn't be able to tell you if there was any truth to it."

Danny just nodded. "What about Mikey? We saw him get taken too, right?" When his friends wouldn't meet his eyes, he grew concerned. "Guys? What happened?"

"Mikey… he… he didn't make it," Tucker admitted. "Some of Frostbite's men did find him, but, that other ghost, Youngblood, already…"

"What about his body? His family should at least be able to bury him."

"Danny… there isn't a body." Tucker's voice trembled as he spoke. Although they hadn't been close friends, Tucker still considered him one. "When he was found… they said he was now little more than a ghost designed to be another's doll. There was no signs of emotion or personality."

"Frostbite didn't want to tell us that," Sam continued, "but, we pestered one of the medics enough to let it slip. They said it was one of the worst fates a kidnapped human can endure."

"That… that's really messed up." Danny fell silent as he thought about Mikey's family, and how they would never be able to get closure. With a jolt, he realized just how worried his own family had to be. They nearly lost him twice before, but now, he wasn't even certain if he could return the third time.

With his body in a weird in between state, Frostbite had no idea whether or not he could return to the world of the living as ghosts could not remain there for long. There were so many questions. Would he remain like this? Would his human side eventually disappear? Did he still need to eat like a human? Could he still bleed? It was just as frightening as it was frustrating.

There had also been concerns whether or not he should be anywhere near his friends, but Tucker and Sam refused to remain separated from him. Although they were told the same thing Danny had been, they were being supportive of him. If his unintentional switching of forms was bothering them, they were hiding it very well. They also far more scared for him than by him which was extremely comforting.

A knock on the door was the only warning the three got before Frostbite reentered the room. "Good news," he announced as he approached them, "we have gotten reports there will soon be a portal opening near where you were originally abducted. Sam, Tucker, you and your classmates will be able to return home."

Excitement flashed across Tucker's face for a moment before it fell. "But what about Danny?"

"Ah, until we can verify he can safely return to your world, he is more than welcome to remain here." After the ghost glanced at Danny, he gave a reassuring smile. "However, we should find out soon. Before we even had a chance to contact our allies, we received a message from Master Clockwork."

"Clockwork?" Danny and his friends questioned.

Frostbite nodded reverently. "Master Clockwork is an ancient and solitary ghost of great power. It has been many years since his last contact, so we were very surprised when he reached out to us."

"So why now?" Skepticism colored Sam's voice. "If it's been that long, what's so special about Danny's situation to make him suddenly want to interact with others?"

"To be honest, I am unsure. While it is rare for him to contact others, we are uncertain if that is from his own desires or due to the Observants. Perhaps it is a combination of both." Frostbite gave them a gentle smile. "Sam and Tucker, it is almost time for the portal to open. Please prepare your things."

"No way! I'm not leaving here unless Danny's with us!"

As much as he appreciated Sam's declaration, he knew he needed to try to change her mind. "Thanks, Sam, but I think you and Tucker should go home while you have the chance."

Although Tucker sent him an understanding smile, Sam just glared at him. "And just leave you here? The last time we were separated, something weird happened to you. I don't want something to happen, and we never see you again."

"Sam, can't you tell Danny's worried?" Tucker placed a hand on her shoulder. "Whatever happened to him, he doesn't want to have happen to us."

"Thanks for the translation, Tuck. I also want to know you'll be far away from this place and safe," Danny walked over to his friend and gave him a quick hug before he turned to Sam and placed a quick peck on her cheek. "I'll find my way home. I promise. And, Sam? After this is all over, I'll treat you to that new restaurant you've been eying."

Sam's lip quivered as she tried to keep her emotions in check. "Are you finally asking me out?" Even her voice shook. After Tucker agreed with him, her fight had disappeared. "If you bail, I'm going to hunt you down."

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

Frostbite then escorted his friends out of the room while allowed Danny to collapse back on the medical bed. If he was honest, he didn't want to be alone, but it was too dangerous for his friends to stay by his side. He couldn't keep them safe, and the longer they remained by his side in the world of the dead, the more chances the world had to alter them.

Before Sam and Tucker were allowed in to see him, Frostbite explained the change could be caused by anything. Food and drink was the most common. It didn't matter if it was offered by a friendly or malicious ghost or simply found by a wayward human as it was too different from what was found in the world of the living. Some ghosts could purposely trigger the change. Frostbite was hesitant to explain how, but it almost sounded like they passed on an illness or curse. To make matters worse, simply being around ghosts or in the world of the dead too long could also trigger it.

He sighed as he waited for Frostbite to return. This world was toxic to humans, so he was it was him and not them staying behind.

….

Sam remained silent during the journey with the Far Frozen. She and Tucker were sitting in the rear of what appeared to be some sort of large sleigh which was pulled by strange glowing creatures which vaguely resembled huskies. Two of Frostbite's people were steering the sleigh while two more held on to the back and stood on the foot boards.

Across from her and Tucker sat an unconscious Kwan, Star, and Paulina. They did look terrible. All three had bandages and gauze on their faces, and bruises were forming on clear skin. Dash and the others were on a different sleigh which was following behind them.

As much as she hated to admit it, she was glad she never encountered the same ghost as the A-listers. Sure, Plasmius was creepy and potentially dangerous, but he never outright harmed them. However, she did admit that seemed directly related to his desire to keep Danny.

She sighed as her thoughts flickered back to him. He still seemed like the same person when he waved goodbye to her and Tucker, but she was scared that wouldn't be the case for much longer. No one knew whether or not Danny would stay like that, or if it was possible for his situation to worsen or reverse. If it worsened, did that mean he wouldn't be Danny anymore?

Frostbite mentioned he had once been human, but he could barely remember how he used to be. And if she heard correctly while Plasmius was talking to himself, memories were sometimes affected during the process of becoming a ghost. If that happened, would he still remember them? Would he still have the same personality? Would he act more like the ghosts who hurt the A-listers? She kept trying to push away those fears and remain positive, but every time she remembered his inhumanly green eyes, they came back.

Tucker tried to distract her by pointing out things on their journey. Even with everything, she had to admit the strange scenery was something else. The sky was still a strange mix of green and purple. There were floating islands in the distance and occasionally floating doors. If she looked downwards, there was some sort of ground and occasionally what appeared to be rivers and forests. However, she also sometimes caught sight of unsettling shadows which seemed to duck out of sight if she stared at them too long.

After Tucker mentioned the shadows, the two tried to convince themselves the shadows were nothing of concern. However, that idea was quickly pushed aside when they caught sight of the yetis steering the sleigh pointing at some of them before conversing in hushed tones. Before Sam could make up her mind on whether or not to ask if they needed to be concerned, the sleigh violently served to the side.

"What the f…?" Before Sam could finish, a barrage of green lights rained down on their right.

"Look!" Tucker pointed at something above them. "How much do you want to bet that they're not friendly?"

She glanced up to see what appeared to be a black carriage drawn by black pegasi with flaming manes. There was a flaming figure standing on the driver's seat brandishing a sword in one hand while firing the green light from the other. The sight would have been so wickedly cool if one of the yetis riding on their sleigh hadn't have thrown up some sort of bluish shield. It took her a moment to realize it was ice.

She wasn't expecting the green lights to cause explosions when they hit the ice shield. After one blew a hole in the shield which allowed another to damage part of their sleigh, she and Tucker huddled together in the center. Somehow, the A-listers remained unconscious. "Must be nice," she angrily muttered.

"Hang on, children!" one of the driving yetis told them as they directed the sleigh towards a nearby floating island which appeared to have a large forest on it.

The landing was rough. The sleigh bounced a few times before it began sliding over the rocky terrain of the island as it headed towards the ghostly forest. The ride remained turbulent as the yetis dodged around trees and rocks. Green lights and explosions followed them.

After several tense minutes, the sleigh finally came to a stop. Sam and Tucker shakily tried to stand, but the yetis told them to stay put and remain silent. Other than their breathing, Sam was unable to hear any other noise. Eventually, she whispered, "Tucker, do you see that?" as a strange green glow appeared deep within the forest.

"Yeah… I really hope that's nothing more than a ghostly firefly." Tucker's hope was quickly dashed as more lights began appearing, and as they drew closed, they almost looked like skeletons.

"Brace yourselves!" one of the yetis suddenly yelled before the sleigh jolted forward. However, it never had a chance to move forward. Before Sam could figure out what happened, she and Tucker were picked up by one of the yetis, who then ran into the forest. The A-listers were grabbed by the others. Sam had just enough time to get a glimpse of an army of glowing skeletons overtaking the sleigh before the sight disappeared behind a tree.

The yeti did not stop until the trees began to thin, and it wasn't a gentle stop. The ghost basically skid to a stop before placing Sam and Tucker down and instructing them to stay behind him. Sam peaked around the ghost, to see the flaming figure from the carriage standing in front of them. It wore black armor.

The figure brandished its claymore at them. "Hand over the humans. My liege is in need of them."

=================================

Regarding the Aragon reference: I was debating between him and Pandora, and ultimately choose him due to his status as a villain in the series.

As previously mentioned, per Greek mythology, ghosts needed blood to regain their sense of self. Which is why she was considered. However, there is an old story in southeastern Europe that I almost forgot about until was trying to double check something and was reminded of it. It falls into the weird gray area between ghosts, zombies, and vampires seen a lot in that region for centuries. They have creatures which start out as shadows and then slowly gaining a proper form which resembled what they had in life as they consume blood over a 40 day period. Once they reach 'maturity', those creatures have bodies which resemble what they did when they were alive and no longer have to return to the grave at dawn. As such, my brain went, "I'm using that."

If you're interested, I know one of the traditions translates them to "Howlers" or "Screamers" as they are known to pace an area during that 40 day period, kind of like weird listless zombies, and make strange noises. However, these tales do vary between countries and even villages so it may be difficult to find.

[pocket-luv101]

Ransom || Part 2

Fandom: Servamp Ship: KuroMahi Characters: Kuro, Mahiru

Summary: Mahiru is kidnapped by the mafia. He learns that Kuro is being forced to work with the mafia. He hoped he could convince him to help him escape. {KuroMahi, Mafia AU}

Part 1 || (Part 2) || Part 3

Kuro watched Cerberus dash across the room and chase a ball that Mahiru threw. The dog had been infamous for its temper and aggression yet it was nothing but docile now. It carried the ball back to Mahiru and nestled against his leg. Mahiru scratched its head and said, “Your leg has healed nicely. It’s a shame you can’t go outside and stretch your legs properly.”

While the guest room the mafia gave him was spacious and well furnished, it was still a prison for Mahiru. A week had passed since he was kidnapped and he was still trying to make sense of their motivation for taking him. One of the leaders claimed that his uncle was from a rival crime group. Mahiru refused to believe the man until he spoke with Toru.

He was given books to pass his time and they would help distract him for a moment. However, they could only keep him busy for a while. Mahiru thought of climbing down the balcony to try to escape but he knew he wouldn’t be able to run far. From the little he had seen of the headquarters, he knew there were men guarding the major exits. He could see the ocean from his balcony so they were no longer in his hometown, Tokyo. He wouldn’t know where to run if he managed to escape.

Mahiru gently tossed the ball in Kuro’s direction, hoping that he could start a conversation with him. Cerberus leapt after the ball and the dog almost crashed into Kuro in its eagerness. He managed to catch the large dog before either of them could be hurt and he handed the ball to it. “You still have a lot of energy. At least you’re not snapping at us anymore.”

“He only needed to be taught how to direct that energy. I’m a vet but I’ve trained a lot of dogs. Cerberus, fetch the ball.” Mahiru clapped his hands twice and Cerberus obediently returned to his side with the toy. He watched Kuro from the corner of his eyes and thought of how quiet he was. He tried to speak with him several times so they could know each other more and build trust between them.

The day he was kidnapped, he had overheard Kuro’s conversation with his little brother. Will they leave us alone, Kuro?

His question made Mahiru think that Kuro was being forced to work with the mafia group. Whether the mafia was threatening his family or blackmailing him, Kuro was being held in the mafia against his will. They were in similar situations. Mahiru hoped he could convince Kuro to escape with him. Unfortunately, it quickly became clear that Kuro was a private person. He understood why Kuro would be distant from him since he was a hostage. He didn’t want to give up though.

His thoughts were interrupted when the door opened and Mahiru knew that it was likely Tsurugi. He and Kuro had been assigned to guard him and they would take turns watching over him. Mahiru glanced at the clock and said, “You’re an hour early, Tsurugi. Are you trying to get more money with overtime? It’s not good to overwork yourself.”

Each member of the crime family had a name based on a Greek god to hide their identity. He befriended Apollo and learned that his name was actually Tsurugi. Mahiru considered asking him for help until he learned that he had been saved by the mafia. It was clear that Tsurugi saw the leader as a father and Mahiru couldn’t ask him to betray the man.

“Kuro is the one who has overtime today. Zeus and I are going out to… It’s a well paying job.” Tsurugi let out a hollow laugh and he looked away from him. The mafia family had a rule against involving normal civilians in their crimes. “Ares will be in charge until Zeus and I return tomorrow. You can ask Kuro for anything you need. I should get going since Zeus is waiting for me in the hall.”

“He’s here? I would like to speak with him.” Mahiru’s declaration shocked Kuro and Tsurugi. Most would be too afraid to face the leader of a mafia group yet he didn’t seem to be. He jumped off his chair and walked out of the room with Cerberus following close behind him. He spotted Touma smoking a few feet from his door and called to him.

Kuro quickly ran after Mahiru. He expected Touma to be angry that he would leave his room and he wanted to protect Mahiru from him. While Touma had given him a comfortable room and anything else he asked for, Kuro knew the man’s kindness had an ulterior motive. Mahiru’s uncle was a powerful man and Touma likely wanted to gain Toru’s trust through his nephew.

“Excuse me.” Mahiru stopped in front of the tall man. “I’ve wanted to talk with you about something.”

“If you want another book to read or a video game, you could’ve asked Hades or Apollo to purchase it for you. I told them to provide you anything that you need— within reason of course.” He added to warn him to think of his request carefully. Mahiru stood a little straighter and bit his lower lip. Touma towered over people and his height alone would intimidate most people.

“I want to take Cerberus on daily walks.” He did his best to keep his voice even to hide any fear he had. “The room is large and comfortable but it’s not good for him to stay inside all the time. He’ll become anxious. I only want to take him out to exercise. Of course, Kuro can walk Cerberus with me if you’re worried about me running away.”

Touma was silent and Mahiru was worried he would say no. Thinking simply, it would be too dangerous to allow him to walk through the building. He still wanted to try though. Mahiru didn’t know how long they would hold him hostage but he would go crazy if he was confined to the room the entire time.

“I don’t mind watching Mahiru while he walks Cerberus.” Kuro surprised Mahiru since he didn’t expect him to offer his help. He thought of the first day he woke in the prison. He secretly disobeyed a man’s order and didn’t handcuff him. “You said that we need to keep Mahiru happy so Toru doesn’t raid us in retaliation for taking him. We’ll stay within walls.”

“An hour. You can leave your room for an hour each day to walk the mutt.” Touma said after a moment. He took a long drag of his cigarette and then put it out. He addressed Kuro when he added: “Keep Mahiru away from the guard dogs though. He did threaten to use an army of animals against us. I expect a report when I get back too, Hades.”

“More work? Troublesome.” Kuro groaned and rubbed his neck.

“Thank you, Zeus. We’ll need a leash for Cerberus to make sure he doesn’t run off or attack anyone. He’s well behaved but I haven’t been able to fully train him. Can I borrow one?” Mahiru asked and Touma nodded. “May I also have my phone back so I can call my uncle? He must be worried about me. One of your men said that you sent him a message about my kidnapping. I want to talk to him.”

“You’re smart enough to know that I can’t say ‘yes’ to that.” He shook his head. Touma’s words were correct but Mahiru had hoped he could speak with his uncle again. He pushed away his disappointment and he focused on the small freedom he was given.

“Fresh air.” Mahiru took a deep breath once he was outside. The sun’s heat on his face was refreshing after staying inside for the past week. After Touma left, Kuro found a leash for Cerberus and they took him outside for a walk. “I was so excited about going out that I forgot to bring a ball for Cerberus to play with. Then again, he must be sick of playing catch all day.”

“You must be sick of playing catch too. You rarely ask for things. The only stuff you’ve asked for are for Cerberus.” Kuro couldn’t help but feel pity for Mahiru and his situation. He showed a brave face to others but he heard him cry during the night. “Even the books you have weren’t something you asked for. I brought them from home.”

“The books belonged to you? I really like the fantasy adventure series you gave me with the angel and the demon. They had a really cute romance. What do you think about the novel?” He asked. He bought books for Mahiru but he knew that they were only a temporary escape for him. Mahiru was a little surprised that he had something in common. He was happy that he found something they could discuss though.

“I prefer video games over books but my family could never afford to buy expense game consoles. My baby brother would ask me to read to him at night.” Kuro’s casual smile made Mahiru relax and they continued to walk down the path together.

Mahiru tilted his head back and watched the clouds above them. “Honestly, I was a little selfish when I asked Zeus if I could take Cerberus on walks. I didn’t know how much longer I could sit in that room. Thank you for what you said to Touma. You seem like the sloth type who doesn’t like to go on walks. Wait, that was rude to say. I’m sorry, Kuro.”

“I don’t mind. It’s true. My siblings always complain about how lazy I am.” Kuro said and he made a small chuckle. Then, he bit his tongue when he realized that he told him about his family. It was dangerous to tell Mahiru about his personal life but he accidentally slipped. “I’m sorry that I’m not much of a talker. This situation would be easier on you if you had someone normal to talk to.”

“I’m glad that you were the one assigned to guard me.” Mahiru stopped and looked up at him. “You were kind to me even before Zeus told everyone that they couldn’t hurt me.”

“I’m the least bad among a group of criminals. That’s not saying a lot.” Kuro chuckled at himself and there was a shadow of pain in his red eyes. Mahiru wondered why he joined the mafia family since it was clear he didn’t enjoy working with them. He could hear the regret in his voice but he didn’t know if he could ask him about it.

Ahead of them, Cerberus was barking at something in the bushes and Kuro placed a hand on the gun tucked into his belt. The dog had been calmer lately and it would only bark when a person approached Mahiru. He didn’t see anyone though. Kuro was worried that someone had broken into the mafia’s base and lightly grabbed Mahiru’s arm. “I’ll see what he’s barking at. Stay behind me.”

“Do you think it’s someone from a rival mafia group?” Mahiru asked in a worried voice.

Kuro didn’t answer him as he walked behind Cerberus with his gun. He didn’t see anyone hiding in the small bush and knelt next to the dog. He wanted to be cautious so he slowly pushed aside the branches. After a moment, Kuro’s shoulders relaxed and he holstered his gun. “We have the best security in the country but this little guy managed to slip in.”

“What is it?” Mahiru leaned over his shoulder to see a brown cat huddled among the leaves. He carefully slipped his hand under the cat and lifted it out of the bushes. Gently, he stroked his hand over its fur. Cerberus pushed its head against Mahiru’s chest and he wondered if it wanted attention. He patted its head. “You’re big and strong, Cerberus, so you should protect smaller animals like this cat.”

“Sometimes I wonder if you can truly talk to animals.” Kuro said when he saw the way Cerberus whined and laid its head on Mahiru’s lap. He had to admit that it looked comfortable. He turned his attention to Mahiru who was playing with the cat. Reaching forward, he petted the cat. “I can guess that you’ll want to take this little guy back to your room but Zeus won’t let us.”

“He said I can’t raise an army of dogs. He didn’t say anything about cats or other animals.” The corner of his lips lifted into a small grin. His brown eyes held a glimmer of mischief. “I can ask Zeus to buy me some video games to pass the time. Do you want to play them with me?”

“I didn’t think you were the type to use bribery. Can’t deal.” Despite the sarcastic tone Kuro used, Mahiru could hear a subtle warmth in his voice. “Touma lets you get away with a lot so I don’t think he’ll mind that you adopted another pet. I’ve overheard a little of Touma and Toru’s history but I don’t know much. Is your uncle that scary?”

“The only scary thing about my uncle is how bad his puns are. He raised me after my mother died and I’m so grateful for him…” Mahiru’s smile became sad as he went on. “Then again, I might not know him as well as I thought. He’s the leader of a crime family. I would’ve never guessed. He told me he was a pilot and that was the reason he was gone all the time.”

The past week had been stressful. Beyond being kidnapped, the image of his family was being shattered. The loneliness in his brown eyes tugged at Kuro’s heart and he wanted to reassure him. Without thinking, he placed his hand over Mahiru’s and squeezed it lightly. “He didn’t want you to know about that part of his life because he wanted to keep you safe. Your uncle cared about you— even if he kept secrets.”

“Thank you, Kuro.” Mahiru whispered to him and his smile returned. “What kind of video games should I request? I would like to buy a video game that we could play together.”

A new voice interrupted their conversation and sent a cold chill down Mahiru’s back. “Aren’t you getting too comfortable? What are you two doing outside?”

Mahiru hesitantly turned around to see Makabe behind them. The man was responsible for his kidnapping and it was apparent that he was ruthless. Cerberus must’ve sensed his fear since it started to growl at Makabe. Unconsciously, Mahiru shifted closer to Kuro since he made him feel safe. Kuro said, “Zeus gave us permission to go for a walk. You can call him for confirmation.”

“First Tsurugi and now you. I don’t know why Touma is choosing street rats over me. I’m his son, not you.” Makabe glared at Mahiru with resentment. “My plan would’ve worked if you stayed in that damn cell. Who do you think you are? I did my research on you and I know that you’re a bastard. You don’t have a father because your mother was a whore—”

“Cerberus, bad man.” Mahiru said the command in a low whisper and the dog vaulted forward to bite Makabe’s arm. Kuro placed his hand on his shoulder and he could feel him shake beneath his anger. He had seen different sides to him throughout their time together but this was the first time he became angry. He told him that his mother had died when he was young but it was clear that Mahiru cherished her.

“Get this thing off me!” He screamed.

“Enough, Cerberus, come back.” He relented but the tension in Mahiru’s body hadn’t left. The dog returned to his side and he hugged it. Mahiru closed his eyes and buried his face into its fur but he could feel a strong hand on his head. He knew that it was Kuro.

“Makabe, you should return to your work or Zeus will be angry with you. He’s already annoyed at your plan to kidnap Mahiru.” Kuro wrapped his arm around Mahiru’s waist and lightly urged him to stand. He wanted to take him away from the situation before Makabe could hurt him again. “Let’s go, Mahiru.”

“You’ll catch a cold if you stay out here, Mahiru.” Kuro stepped onto the balcony where Mahiru was gazing at the stars. He didn’t respond to him immediately but he did turn to face him when he stopped next to his chair. Looking into his eyes, he could see that he was tired yet he didn’t move out of his chair to return to the room. “Is what Makabe said still bothering you?”

“He already hated me and I just made it worse, didn’t I? He brought up my mom and I got so angry that I did something as stupid as attack him. I wanted to yell at him that my mother has nothing to do with this mess.” Mahiru started to rant. He curled into a ball and hugged his knees to his chest. “Then again, I can’t say that for certain. I was wrong about my uncle being a part of the mafia.”

Kuro knelt next to him and whispered, “You can ask him if I gave you my phone to call him.”

“You can’t do that without getting in trouble with Touma or Makabe.” Mahiru desperately wanted to speak with his uncle to answer his questions. At the same time, he didn’t want Kuro to risk his job after he had been so kind to him already. Kuro glanced around them and Mahiru didn’t know what he could be searching for. Then, he took his phone out of his pocket.

“Touma isn’t here and he won’t find out. This call can’t be long though. I can’t let your uncle track the number and risk the mafia’s safety. I already have a program on my phone to block a tracker but I want to be safe. I’m sorry that this is all I can give you, Mahiru.” He was taken by surprise when Mahiru leapt out of the chair and into his arms. He wrapped his arms around him and pressed his face into his neck.

“This is already so much. Thank you, Kuro.” He hugged him briefly and then leaned away from him. Kuro passed his phone to him and Mahru pressed his uncle’s number. As he waited for his answer, he leaned closer to Kuro and rested his forehead against his chest. He was able to smell the scent of roses in his hair. “If we sit close like this, people won’t see that I’m using your phone.”

[mittensmorgul]

The Tumblr Beta Version: an objective analysis

I was tempted to just type “it sucks.” And while that is an objective analysis, it’s not exactly helpful. I’ve sent several requests to @staff and @support to restore my account to the old tumblr dashboard format, and received the same automated reply twice now. I’ll copy/paste it here so everyone is on the same page:

(lol, I had to go back and edit this, because apparently the beta version doesn’t display block quotes on the dash. So I’ve also put the block quotes in italics... hopefully it’ll display properly... note after editing: nope, it doesn’t display italics either... how the heck am I supposed to differentiate quoted text? I’ll start each quoted bit with an asterisk, I guess...)

*Thanks for reaching out about the beta dashboard.

*We're currently testing it out, and your account seems to have been selected to take part in the test. Thanks for your patience while we work on it! At this time there is not a way to opt out of testing. You may see your Tumblr experience return to normal as we continue testing.

WE CAN ONLY HOPE.

*In the meantime, check out some of the new features available only in the beta dashboard:

OKAY TUMBLR, IF YOU INSIST, though I would MUCH rather have back all the functionality I personally invested into this website through xkit... you know... making the site ACTUALLY FUNCTIONAL. Let’s see what this beta version has given me instead of functionality:

*Change Palettes: Go to the person icon, then click "Change Palette." You'll find the classic Tumblr blue, dark mode, and a few other color palettes for your dash.

So I tried out all the color palettes. In addition to the ones mentioned here, there’s one that’s trying to look like a green screen terminal that gives me flashbacks to the early 80′s. There’s a reason we stopped using green screen terminals... Another one is “canary yellow.” It’s very yellow. The “classic tumblr” isn’t actually classic tumblr... all the post boxes are dark blue with grey type, not white with black type. And all the other colors are the insanely bright fluorescent of the new Dark Blue standard tumblr scheme. Which means links are practically invisible unless I highlight them. It’s migraine inducing. The one theme with a light colored background is called “Concrete” or “Cement” or something like that and even that only works for about half an hour before the migraine aura really kicks in. I just want my Old Blue via xkit back. You know, what tumblr actually used to look like. I don’t want any of these horrible color palettes. None of them work for me.

*The new "meatballs" menu: This is where you can copy the post link, unfollow the Tumblr who made or reblogged the post, or report a violation to our Community Guidelines.

I could do all of this from the user menus with xkit, too. I don’t regularly report violations or have the urge to block people I have chosen to follow. Why on earth would I want to do any of this? And why would I want these features located directly beside the post link copy feature? 

You know what I do miss? I miss the xkit timestamps feature. I didn’t have to hover dangerously close to the KILL IT WITH FIRE meatballs menu in order to see when a post was made, and in this era of disinformation and misinformation spreading around this site faster than Covid-19, being able to see when a post was ORIGINALLY created is a far more useful feature than an easier way to block people. For reference: I currently have three blogs blocked. Two of them are pornbots. One is a nazi. If I don’t want someone’s content on my dash, I don’t follow them. This “feature” is entirely useless to me.

*A quick note: Pagination is not supported in this beta test, but we're collecting feedback to send to our engineers.

THIS IS THE ABSOLUTE WORST. This beta test might actually be tolerable if I wasn’t trapped into endless scrolling. If I could page through my dash, refreshing it every ten posts or so. You know why? Because once I scroll about 30 posts down my dash, tumblr starts overheating my laptop under the load of ALL THOSE POSTS. Things start malfunctioning-- it takes longer and longer to load new posts the farther I scroll. And the keyboard navigation (both page down and hitting J to advance to the next post, and even just using the down arrow to scroll as I read a long post) freeze and stop functioning. One of my laptop fans has actually begun to malfunction.

You know why this wasn’t a problem on the old version? If the data load got to heavy, I could open a post in a new tab, click view on dash with xkit, and voila! Brand new tab! I could close the malfunctioning tab and everything would be refreshed to normal! But without pagination, THAT IS IMPOSSIBLE.

Also, after reblogging a few posts, the beta version of this site breaks, and doesn’t open a post tab to add commentary or even tags. It just... reblogs the untagged post with no warning whatsoever. You know... that’s really really not cool. I tag EVERYTHING. Well, almost everything. The tags are the only way to keep track of the 40k+ posts on my blog. And warn people that I am posting potential spoilers, or other specific content. It’s REALLY inconvenient to have to either immediately go to my blog to edit the post and add tags, or even comments. The alternative is to scroll up to open individual posts I want to reblog in a new tab, and then reblog directly there. Ironically enough, THOSE pages actually open with xkit installed, and everything (surprise!) functions perfectly there.

It’s perfectly reasonable to understand why this specific issue has limited the number of posts I reblog. Reblogging content should not be this much of a hassle. Creators have been complaining for a while that reblogs have drastically slowed down, and I think making it even more annoying and difficult to reblog posts will not help this problem.

Also, with xkit enabled, there’s a function that auto-loads images as you scroll, so the images are always visible BEFORE they appear on screen. I don’t have to look at the colored boxes and wonder if this is a post I’ve already seen or something I should sit and wait for. Don’t even think about watching tumblr videos. Loading priority is given to the ads that you cannot pause or dismiss, so that video loads and plays in choppy two second bursts instead of being given priority. Since that’s the content I am actually here to consume, it kinda makes me want to do the opposite of patronizing anyone who advertises here with graphically intense ads. And then when you scroll away, with xkit, gifs and videos you’ve scrolled past STOP loading and playing, which I think might be contributing to the intensity of the resource hogging that’s literally melting down my laptop.

And for reference, I have a pretty decent little gaming laptop. A blogging platform shouldn’t be driving it to the brink of frying itself. I didn’t realize just how much xkit worked to streamline this and provide basic functionality to this site.

*And lastly, if you're an XKit user, know that the XKit team is working hard to update things on their end to make it compatible with the beta dashboard.

And this doesn’t even begin to scratch the surface of what I’ve lost without xkit. And this is a really REALLY garbage response to user complaints. “Oh, yeah, sorry we made our site suck even worse, but those nice people who do our jobs for free will surely fix our garbage soon!”

Dear wonderful people at @new-xkit-extension, I love you, and I miss you, and while I wish xkit worked with this beta version I’ve been forced into living with, I truly feel for y’all who are trying to deal with this nonsense on behalf of all of us.

And to the folks at Tumblr... maybe try to just... make your site actually more like xkit. You know, actually functional. None of these special new features are useful or functional to me. I respectfully request for a fourth time to be removed from this inane beta test.

Give us OPTIONS. Let us display ALL THE TAGS without having to click a button. Let me have back my Activity+ that actually allowed me to interact with people from my dash! That showed me real-time inline notifications in a way that I could reply to with a single click! Bring me back to my column of open messaging conversation icons so I have easy access to the people I talk with throughout the day instead of closing them all every time I refresh the page. I already feel socially isolated in freaking quarantine, please stop shutting off all my avenues of communication!

Let us have pagination! I mean, maybe it wasn’t the best idea to force heavy users of this site into a beta version that doesn’t allow us to opt out until your engineers had actually figured out how to make it work in a very basic way.

*Let me know if there's anything else I can help you with!

YES. PLEASE REMOVE ME FROM THIS BETA TEST NOW. I have let you know exactly what I want from this site. I just want it to ACTUALLY WORK. For someone who spends 12+ hours a day on this site, this beta test version is NONFUNCTIONAL. PLEASE ALLOW ME TO OPT OUT. I AM LITERALLY BEGGING YOU. I WILL ACTUALLY PAY YOU CASH MONEY TO ALLOW ME TO OPT OUT OF THIS AND GO BACK TO HAVING A FUNCTIONAL BLOG AGAIN. WHAT MORE DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!

PLEASE! 

I AM OFFICIALLY AT THE END OF MY PATIENCE FOR ENDURING THIS NIGHTMARE.

(one final quick note... I’ve only been back on my dash long enough to make the parenthetical edits-- i.e. adding italics that don’t display and then adding the asterisks at the beginning of each section of quoted text, and already my laptop is overheating again. For reference, I originally typed this entire post from within my tumblr inbox page-- which still functions normally with xkit-- and spent over an hour on it. My laptop was fine the entire time. Clearly the issue is this beta version of the website. I will never forgive tumblr if y’all fry my literal only portal to the outside world at this time. PUT ME BACK TO NORMAL NOW. THIS IS ABSOLUTELY INFURIATING AND ENTIRELY UNACCEPTABLE. Thanks)

(oops apparently i lied... when the asterisks and the previous final note failed to display, I thought that seemed suspicious, and realized that I literally needed to refresh my entire dash in order to see edited changes. Funny how xkit enabled me to do that in real time, which is just another bit of functionality I’ve lost with this beta program. Please guys, this is really, really not working for me at all, just put it back.)

[reynesofcastamere]

Fractured Comet (1/2)

(A/N: Sequel to my previous fic. Because apparently my writing muse woke up and is back with a vengeance. For now. Warnings for intrusive thoughts, mentions of abuse, violence, torture,death, etc. Sheev Palpatine is a f*cking terrible person and Maul’s mind is not a fun place to be even when he’s not having a breakdown. Unbeta’d.)

There is wisdom in knowing when to retreat. This, however, comes closer to cowardice. Maul scowls down at the datapad clenched in his right hand. The intel currently displayed on it is important, and all it would take to set up the exchange would be a simple holocall. A brief conversation, the satisfaction of business well done and the visceral pleasure of throwing another wrench into the gears of the Empire. Five months ago, he would have done it without hesitation. Relished the opportunity. even. But now....

Maul’s exhale borders on a snarl, the Force thrashing like a wounded, dying thing in response to his mood. He cannot avoid he-this forever. Eventually there will be a stubborn, passionate former Padawan hunting him down to demand answers and ready to fight if he refuses to provide them. Anticipation coils deep in what remains of his abdomen, remembering her bruised and burnt, but not beaten, her bared teeth tinged red with his blood. Ahsoka Tano is magnificent when pushed to her limits, all pretenses of civility stripped away to expose the raw survival instinct within. Is it any wonder then, that he cannot help but provoke her whenever they occupy the same space? He has to set the datapad down, or else risk crushing it into scrap. Because how dare she? He has endured agonies that would have destroyed lesser beings, and she had thought to break him with nothing more than a few gentle touches and hushed words! Kill her. The Dark Side urges. Corrupt her, make her fall. She is wasted in the Light. Protect her, Brother. Savage’s ghost advises. You have the strength to- Keep her, watch her, bind her to us. His own voice cuts in, but different, tinged with madness and desperation. Give her to me, and regain your rightful place, your true destiny. Master Sidious hisses, poison concealed in glorious lies. The room around him shakes, a multitude of hair-thin cracks spreading rapidly along the floor.  “Never.” Maul snarls. “Never again.” He will not settle for subservience, especially not the kind that comes with the constant threat of a blade to his throat. No, when he seizes the power that belongs to him, it will be over the Emperor’s smoking corpse. It must amuse Sidious greatly, to watch his broken tool scrabble in the garbage for baubles while he enjoys every decadence that could possibly be dreamed of. And therein lies the crux of his turmoil. If Ahsoka Tano becomes someone that Maul fears losing, his former Master will destroy her. Or worse, he will force Maul’s hand to strike the killing blow. Kilindi’s face swims briefly before his eyes. He’d sacrificed much to appease Sidious at Orsis Academy, secure in the belief that the ability to kill anyone, regardless of personal ties, made him strong. Time has proven him pitiably weak in so many regards. And all of these meandering thoughts are a waste of time. He will give the intel to one of his agents to pass onto her, as before. Whenever the inevitable confrontation takes place, he will deal with it. Until then- Somehow, he should not be surprised to find her slipping silently into his office moments after he just stood up. “Your stealth has greatly improved.” Maul observes, eyes narrowing. “Or my security detail is in dire need of replacements.” The menace in his tone is quiet, but no less palpable. “Saxon let me in. Don’t kill them.” Ahsoka informs him, bluntly honest as his jaw tics in aggravation. There are days where he severely regrets giving Death Watch the order to trigger their hidden explosives and escape Sundari. Their skills are useful, to be certain, as are those of the other Mandalorian malcontents joined to his cause; especially once the Nightbrothers were assimilated into their ranks. But Saxon has a rather annoying habit of making...presumptions about his personal life. No doubt Kast is somehow involved in this minor insubordination as well-His uninvited guest clears her throat pointedly. Right. Corrective discipline later. He has a much more pressing issue to attend to. “Haven’t heard from you on comms for a while.” “My end of the bargain is still being upheld. Has it not occurred to you that I have several planet-spanning organizations to run? Some level of delegation is required.” “Krayt spit.” “Would you care to elaborate, Lady Tano? Or simply waste your breath with backwater insults?” Every word is heavy with scorn as he crosses his arms. Maul’s unspoken message is clear enough. You are not worth my time. Leave. Any vague hope he might have harboured of her scoffing at his attitude and vacating his current headquarters is swiftly dashed when Ahsoka storms across the room and traps him between her body and the edge of his desk. It is only now he notices that she is still faintly coated with dust, a few fresh blaster burns dotting her biceps and slight bags under her eyes. She’s met with him after missions before, but never quite in such a...disheveled state. Maul doesn’t exactly know how to process this.

“You spend years taking every ‘safe’ opportunity to talk my montrails off, try to beat me into the ground, or ravish me against the nearest flat surface.” Determination hardens her gaze as she tears his excuse to bloody shreds. “And I’m supposed to believe this...bantha fodder that you’ve finally shut up because you’re ‘busy’. Tug the other lekku, and maybe pull your spiky, pretentious head out of your a-” “Is this a lover’s quarrel? How charmingly domestic. I didn’t think you cared.” He sneers, taking her face between his hands and capturing her mouth with a low rumble. She bites his lower lip in retaliation, but this is how it should be. Not soft, tender prayers written in whispers and trailing fingertips; Only bloody worship carved in pain and passioned screams. (A/N: Welp, this turned out longer than I expected. For reference, both Kilindi and Orsis Academy are from Legends canon. The TL:DR is that Maul gets sent there for assassin training, makes a friend or two, and then Sheev orders him to murder everyone. Some fans have headcanoned that Maul’s single ear piercing was a gift from Kilindi and Daleen, which I like even if it is terribly sad. Also, yeah, we’re now firmly in AU territory in regards to the respective fate of certain Mandalorians as well as the Nightbrothers. Many thanks to captainmazzic and leftofrevolution for the excellent works that inspired this. And because, y’know, it would have been nice if the Nightbrothers hadn’t gone straight from centuries of brainwashing and slavery to the extinction of their entire subspecies within 30 years or less. Anyway, still deciding whether to put smut in the second half for this certified Hot MessTM couple. Cheers!)

[finding--cat]

hi cat!

long time silent reader here, but i’m breaking my pattern to tell you a couple of things that i’ve wanted to say for a long time but never worked up the courage to.

(1) i loved your work from the minute i started the first paragraph of AB on 1dff (RIP haha). i knew there was something special about it, but more importantly YOU and your exquisite writing style then. that being said

(2) i have also been enjoying the non AP/PP work you’ve publish since then - it has been just as much of a pleasure to read and i can’t thank you enough for giving us the opportunity to do it 

(3) i missed you as well as your work (mostly AB and PP and related writing) so much once you took a break. i know a lot of people who felt the same, but i completely understood why you had to leave and supported and Still do support you 100%. however, that didn’t stop me from missing fitz and harry, so i have to confess that i went to prowl the corners of the internet for other copies of it. and for that 

(4) i want to apologise. i think this is more for me than for you, if i’m being honest, but i am so ashamed at how disrespectful it was of me to go look for YOUr work posted illegally without your permission just so i could fulfil selfish desires to meet YOUR characters again, when illegal reposting was part of the reason you may have left. was like a year and a half ago but i still feel bad about it sometimes, and i dont know, this is getting kind of rambly but i just want to say that i’m so sorry that people are reposting your work without your permission but i’m even more sorry that people like me encouraged that behaviour by actively reading and commenting.

(5) i was looking at a masterlist of fic recs today and awkward beat was mentioned. being the nostalgic gal i am, opened up a new tab and looked it up, hoping to find drabbles that other writers had written about harry and fitz inspired by AB so i could go back to them, just for a little bit. however, to my surprise, the first result was a link to your story, being posted on wattpad. at first i was overjoyed, thinking that maybe you had made a comeback on another platform. (IMPORTANT TO NOTE: i didn’t know you were back on tumblr yet - i found that out later from someone elses’ post on tumblr that you were back with this account). being the stupid bitch i am, my first thought was “awkward beat is back!!!!! FUck yeah!!!” and i started reading it. but i stopped about 5 words into the first sentence because, right to the left of YOUR words, was ‘Awkward Beat {h.s} by girlpowered’. and that broke my heart and made me so mad because awkward beat was by cat and ilikeorangetoo and green & yellow but NOT girlpowered. and it’s not fucking fair. 

SO in conclusion, i dont really know why i wrote this essay to you. all i know is that you made a conscious decision for fitz and harry to take a break from the internet for a while, and they’re being given to us without your permission. and i would like nothing more to dig into that fic and read it again and again and again but not if it’s not from you. because loving your work isn’t an excuse to disrespect you and your wishes, and i have faith in the fact that things will all work out one day, and even if fitz and harry don’t ever come back to tumblr, it’s okay because at least you will be okay (i dont know if this makes sense, do you know what i mean??) because it was your decision and your perogative and your fitzandharry. but it’s not fair. so i mustered all the self control i had and stopped reading [even though i would literally give my left pinky toe to read the story again] and decided to report the story but more importantly to write this whatever-the-hecko-this-is to you.

i tried to report the story on wattpad, and it said only the owner could request the work be taken down. i’m sure you have already done this a countless number of times, but this version looks like it was published fairly recently? so i thought maybe you weren’t aware. if you already were then i’m sorry, because then this whole expose just gets a little awkward. but if you weren’t aware, then maybe this can be a sort of high five of support(???) or a lil reminder from someone who loves fitz and harry, but not more than they love you.

anyways, thank you for everything, and sorry again.

and i support you a lot!!! i know i’m a stranger and i’m not sure if it matters that much to you, but i think that spreading validation and good vibes can do a lot for people so. 

also i apologise if this was a lot to take in from someone you dont know at all? but…. i mean i dont know anymore. i hope it’s not bad and you’re not too offended and weirded out. 

alrighty then, i’ll see you around (my dash)

whiteboymacarena (my name is neha)

ps. this isn’t really something i want to submit [i mean it’s pretty obvious but still]. i just didn’t think i’d be able to split up 5 messages and send them to you :)

Neha. You sent this to me SO long ago, so first, I must apologize for taking so long to respond to you. To be honest, your message overwhelmed me. It’s always incredibly disappointing to hear that my work has been stolen and posted (or circulated) without my permission, and at this point it’s happened to me so many times that I’m completely exhausted. Hearing about it just makes me shut down. But with that said, I’m very appreciative that you came to me with the information and provided the link to the account (I took it out of your original submission). I always feel it’s best to speak to the person first, human to human - because I want people to know, from someone whose writing has been taken advantage of, that it’s not right and it’s a betrayal of trust that is so sacred in this, or any, online writing community. So I’ve messaged the account holder and I’ll hope that they have it in their heart to do the right thing and remove it. If not, I’ll report it. 

The second reason this message overwhelmed me was because you just GET IT. I don’t know if you’re a writer and if you’ve had any of your works pop up anywhere without your permission, but somehow you just get it. And I feel really emotional thinking that AB was something you really wanted to read again but you didn’t, because you knew it wasn’t there by the author’s choice. I can NOT explain in words how much that means to me, how much it HEALS me (sorry for being dramatic), because I feel like sometimes all I get to see is people saying “I’ll email it to you, I have the PDF!” and “I’ve posted it on wattpad so everyone can enjoy it!” and no one is asking themselves “Wait, should we think about why the author didn’t want it here in the first place?”. Reading this message reminded me time and time again (because I’ve read it several times) that there are such genuine people in the world who really do want to do right by others. Again, I know this is so dramatic because ok, it’s not world peace, it’s a piece of fan fiction. But sometimes I feel like I’m yelling until my voice gets hoarse and still people are trampling all over something I created, shared for free and respectfully decided to remove. So just knowing there was someone in my corner when I wasn’t there to defend myself means the absolute world to me. Thank you for being a friend. Much love to you. I hope you’re well.  

[myrish-lace-love]

The Maiden’s Moon

Summary: Jon and Sansa are stolen from their families and forced to train as courtesans in Lord Baelish's brothel, the Pink Pearl. They form a deep friendship, even as Lord Baelish tries to tear them apart. But can their bond survive the cruelties of the brothel and its patrons?

A/N: This is the first chapter of a completed 10k fic. It's very intense, angst-filled, and dark! Different than my usual fluff fest. It has a happy ending, I promise, but it’s going to be a rough ride.

Trigger warnings: Abuse, non-con, kidnapping

***

Sansa swept aside the beaded curtain and tiptoed over to join the other pupils. Lord Baelish had arranged a circle of chairs in the central room of his brothel, the Pink Pearl.  

Read more below or continue on ao3

The room smelled of incense, and what Sansa now knew was sex. Sex that men and woman bought and paid for.

Soon she’d be bought and paid for too. The children in this room been captured, some highborn, some from the streets, selected for their youth. The blond-haired girl across from Sansa was weeping openly, drying her eyes with her white shift.

The girls had whispered among themselves on thin straw mattresses last night, trying to make sense of how their lives had taken a terrible turn. Sansa remembered how happy she’d been when the raven with a Lannister seal arrived from the capital. She’d been summoned by the Queen herself, to foster at King’s Landing. Other highborn girls had received similar messages, and set off of journeys of their own.

Poorer families had offered up their children, especially their daughters, without fanfare. Daughters cost money to marry off. Some households had been persuaded to give up handsome boys. The families had been provided with generous sums of gold to make up for their earnings.

Families like Sansa’s had misgivings, of course. Allowing their highborn daughters to travel on the Kingsroad was a serious risk, but a queen’s command was not easily turned aside. Sansa’s parents had fussed over her and sent her off with their best guards – Jory Cassell among them – as well as Septa Mordane.

Sansa’s chest had swelled with excitement to be on such an adventure, until her coach had been attacked and she’d been shoved out the door and into the mud. Septa Mordane’s high scream had cut off abruptly in the night. Jory had lunged for Sansa, his face contorted with rage, before a stranger threw a burlap sack over Sansa’s head, and dragged her here, to Lord Baelish’s establishment.

Lord Baelish entered the room, resplendent in a green jacquard jacket, and made his way to the center of the circle. He stood on the raised dais and opened his arms in a beneficent gesture. He turned slowly, welcoming each child in turn. Lord Baelish had ordered the boys and girls alike dressed in white, for their first formal “introduction” to the brothel.

He silenced the chorus of questions with a quick motion of his hand.

“Our lovely queen didn’t tell the whole truth to your parents. But you are here for a special reason. You’ve been selected for your looks, and for some of you-" Lord Baelish glanced at Sansa, and smirked "–your impeccable manners. All of those attributes will serve you well as you learn how to serve our clients here at the Pink Pearl.”

According to gossip Sansa had heard, it was better to have highborn manners. Manners and courtesy couldn't be taught quickly, and fetched a high price. Sansa’s hair was a fiery red, her skin was smooth and clear as ivory, and she’d been raised as a lady. She knew how to sit up straight and and sing and play the harp. Children from common households, who didn’t know the proper forms of address, who couldn’t play instruments or eat delicately – they’d have the worst clients. Clients who didn’t care about style and nuance, as long as they could fuck how they liked.

“Our families,” the blond-haired girl burst out, “they’ll come for us, they’ll hunt you-“

Lord Baelish walked over and cupped the girl’s cheek. “I doubt it very much, little one. Your families have been told the wasting fever took you on the Kingsroad. A tragic outbreak, like last year's. So many young lives lost. We had to burn your bodies-“

A collective gasp went up, but Lord Baelish continued to talk, serene as if he was discussing the weather, rather the cover up of their “deaths”.

“-so you are well and truly gone, I’m afraid. But don’t worry, you’ll begin a new life here, and the Queen will see to it that you’re treated well.”

He's lying, she thought, Cersei didn't send those letters, he did. The queen didn't ask for any of us. No one else knows we're here.

But it was a well-chosen tale. She could still see her mother's ashen face when she'd received word that the wasting fever had struck the Vale. Sansa had been embroidering a dress for their visit to Aunt Lysa, but news of the deadly illness had brought a halt to their planning. Sansa's mother had comforted her, but Sansa had also found her mother praying in Winterfell's small Sept, bidding a tearful goodbye to Lysa and Robyn Arryn. The Vale had never recovered, and her aunt and cousin had died.

"A filthy lie." The boy next to Sansa muttered, as he glared straight ahead. His dark curls spilled over his forehead. His long lashes and full lips would be the envy of any girl. He sat straight-backed in his chair.

"Trust Lord Baelish to pull a trick like this, as tricky as he is with coin. Stole the Queen's seal and sent his own ravens-“ He slumped in his seat, scowling.

“Don’t,” Sansa hissed.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t be a fool, don't slouch, don’t complain. Haven’t you heard? The well-mannered ones, those who know their courtesies, they’ll be treated better. Sit up straight, try not to get hurt!”

The boy gave her a sullen look. His eyes are storm grey, Sansa thought, like the North, and the skies above Winterfell.

There was a hint of a smile on his lips, though. “I’m...well-mannered?”

Sansa flushed. She’d thought herself dead inside, after the nightmare of her capture. But the boy’s smirk made her temper flare.

“Yes, you were raised that way. You know Lord Baelish is the master of coin. Your posture was proper, until a moment ago. You know the rules, and that means someone taught them to you. You’re the highborn son of a lord.”

The boy’s mouth worked. “I’m not, but you’re right, I’ve been taught well enough. Doesn’t mean I have to give in. Hang the rules.”

“They’ll hang you, if you don’t follow them. Stay alive.”

“You’re fierce, for a dainty lady. I’m Jon.”

“I’m...I’m Sansa.” She had to push the name past her lips, because it brought a torrent of memories with it. Her solemn father’s smile and her wild little brother’s bright laugh. Father. Mother. Arya. Bran and Rickon and Robb. They’re gone, I’ll never see them again.

“Look now.” Jon’s gray eyes softened. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have pushed. Sansa’s a pretty name. It suits you. Don’t cry, he'll see, and...”

“And what?”

Jon glanced away. “Maybe I want you to stay safe here too, all right?”

A tiny flicker of warmth bloomed in Sansa’s chest. Jon had gotten under her skin, but she’d gotten under his, and she felt alive, like a person, for the first time since she’d walked through the doors of the Pink Pearl.

Sansa reached for Jon’s hand. “Can we keep each other safe? Try, at least? We could write to the Queen, see if she knows-” Lord Baelish was speaking to the blond-hared girl across the room, but the hairs stood up on the back of Sansa’s neck. She had the eerie feeling he’d had heard them.

Jon’s quick squeeze of her hand was worth the risk. “We can try, Sansa, but the fever...would your parents believe it?" His grey eyes searched hers.

Sansa thought again of her mother, of how she'd lost hope for Lysa and Robyn. How she'd lit candles in the darkness, rather than question the ill news the raven bore. She fought back tears. "They might."

Jon nodded. "I've only one person in the world left, and I think he'd believe it too."

He's being smart about this, and I need to do the same, Sansa thought. She dashed away her tears.

Jon squeezed her hand again. "I’ll watch out for you, Sansa.”

She mustered up a smile. "I'll watch out for you too, Jon.”

Lord Baelish turned just as Jon released Sansa’s hand. They both schooled their features into a mask. The proprietor’s eyes glided over them, but Sansa was still uneasy. He clapped his hands, once, and the room fell silent. We’re under his spell already, Sansa thought.

“Your training begins this afternoon. Boys, file out with Satin.” He pointed to a slender, dark haired man standing in the corner. “Girls, with Ros.” A lush woman stood by the door, her thick red hair tumbling down the back of her sheer green gown. She smiled at the girls.

Lord Baelish nodded to Satin and Ros in turn. “They are your instructors, and will initiate you in the palace arts. Your training will last approximately two months, until we decide you are ready to serve the needs of our customers and become courtesans. Pleasure is an art form like any other, and Satin and Ros are at the height of their craft.”

How he does like to hear himself talk, Sansa thought bitterly. What a web of lies he's woven for us.

Lord Baelish looked every child in the eye one last time. “Pay attention, learn well, and you will be rewarded. Now go.”

Sansa took one last glance at Jon, at the mutinous set of his jaw, before she filed out of the room with the rest of the girls who trailed after Ros.

[alvarezcharles]

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How To Pull Your Ex Boyfriend Back

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How To Get My Ex Back Quickly

[artificialqueens]

Teal Post-its, sale Greenies and artsy portraits can build something resembling the Sun (Sashea) - Nox

A/N: Hi! I’m Nox, a loooong while ago I used to post here, and I’m back from the dead. I’m obsessed with anything Sashea right now and I stumbled with this prompt: “i hired a dog walking company and i’ve never met the person who comes to my apartment but they leave me really cute notes and they give my dog presents and i kind of love them because my dog does and ALSO one of the artists at this gallery opening is hella cute and i want them to paint me like one of their french girls, plot twist is the same person all along AU” and all the sudden I had a 6k+ words written down, so yeah. This is dedicated to all the WONDERFUL Sashea writers here, you are all awesome and this doesn’t make you any justice but is my small contribution to the fandom.

I apologize if this doesn’t make any sense, and for any grammar mistakes. Hope you enjoy n.n

A post-it note should not put her world upside down.

Humble letters shouldn’t go through her like the flight of butterflies spreading from the tip of her pointer finger to her chest, words shouldn’t make her stomach do uncomfortable flipflops, small phrases shouldn’t mirror the effects of a long walk on the beach which burnt slightly her cheeks and tinted them red. A small, teal piece of paper probably shouldn’t be important, nothing more than a simple reminder tool, an office supply anyone could buy at any supermarket. Words laid out in simple handwriting were probably not meant to go beyond a simple greeting, a good vibes wish, a polite gesture.

Yeah, a teal post-it stuck on her fridge probably wasn’t meant to be a big deal.

But it was.

Vanya, the Italian greyhound, napped in Sasha’s lap after being satisfied with the welcome home he had provided his owner with. The day had surely being a very active one for him, as he had fallen asleep with barely 5 minutes of fussing around her feet. She had gathered him off the floor and brought him to her bed, the teal note tightly clutched on her left hand. A new smile formed in her ruby lips as she scratched his back. Who knew this little dog would get her in such a roller coaster of emotions?

Her grey-blue eyes returned to the note, scanning it for the eleventh time. She had already memorized the message, words carved into her being, every syllable for some reason enticing to her.

–Hey darlin’. Vanya was super excited about his walk, such a good boy! Hope your day was as good as ours, you’ve been working like crazy this couple of days. Vanya told me ;)  Give yourself a treat today. Love,   -Shea

Shivers went and came in erratic patterns, travelling up and down her spine as every word made white noise in her mind. She shaked her head a little bit, trying to fade the haze she was submerging into. Sasha sometimes wondered if she was a bit crazy. Sure, moving across the Pacific to an unknown country just by the desire of becoming an artist and live openly as a queer woman was bold. Moving from Urbana to Brooklyn out of a hunch and the need to have brighter lights and stranger people in the city she called home was somewhat risky. Leaving her shitty paid job as a receptionist for a shittier paid job as a assistant curator was kind of nuts is you considered her rent, but hey, she was slowly accomplishing the life  she set her mind into many years ago as she boarded that Aeroflot flight, on the heavy russian winter.

However, it was moments like this, when she arrived home and kicked her shoes out of the way to make a beeline to her fridge in the raw hope of finding a new note on it, that she really questioned her judgement on sanity.

Because Sasha was obsessed with a stranger.

She placed the note inside her sketch pad on her night stand, with all the others she had received in the lapse of three months, safely storing them to re-read later. She rubbed her hands together, fingers twitching, aching to do anything right now as she was high on emotion and sensations. This obsession, or however she could call it,  wasn’t something that she could quite explain, couldn’t quite pinpoint where it came from and where it was going, but oh it was all so very strange and uncommon that it became addictive to her.

Three months back, when she first adopted the mischievous dog from an animal shelter, the last thing she imagined was she might find someone to fantasize about thanks to dog walks.

She knew she would adopt Vanya the second she laid eyes on him. His long face and skinny legs make him look like a cartoon, dark orbs wide open when they met. She had taken him home without much hassle, just to start freaking out the second she remembered the insane amount of time she spent outside her apartment in between meetings, exhibits, late curatorial processes and overall mayhem a gallery generated. After an all nighter making schedules, budgets and a few calls, it was obvious she would need to hire someone to entertain the poor little pup as she was away. She had called a walking dog company first thing next morning as a solution. They assigned her a walker, one that usually worked with little troubles like Vanya was promising to be. Her name was Shea.

They had never met in person, and they haven’t really talked  since the day Shea sent her her number over a text and asked for her to leave a spare key somewhere she could fetch it every time she went to walk Vanya. Her avatar didn’t tell Sasha much about her physical appearance, as the picture was something between a photograph and an illustration, outlandish colors flying in quirky organic figures and toon body parts (breasts, Sasha thought) covered some of the features of a woman’s face- supposedly, Shea’s.

(She did try to analyse this better, but the tiny resolution for it made it quite impossible. Maybe this should have been hint number one, as she quickly became obsessed with the picture.)

She left that morning on a rush and returned home eight hours later, feet sore and swollen in her shimmery red pumps, completely depleted and a bit discouraged as the gallery owner, a southern belle called Trinity, changed last minute the queer exhibition she and the chief curator had been collecting for months for some kitschy landscape showing. The change brought not only tons of extra work but a low blow to Sasha’s ego as she had designed herself the museography. It felt very disrespectful to throw away a subject so dear to the russian.

She closed the door behind her with a sigh as she stepped into her small studio in Brooklyn, Vanya’s paws scraping over the floor in his dash to get to her. She leaned down and petted him, making then her way to the kitchen to get him some food and water, and stirring something up for herself to calm her growling stomach.

As she was about to open her fridge to get some fresh water for Vanya’s bowl, she noticed something- a note, a post-it note adhered to the door of the fridge, next to some polaroids of her and a few friends from Illinois she kept there.

–Hey girl! Vanya loved me. We had tons of fun today. Love,

-Shea

Ps. Hope you smiled a lot today. You look cute smiling in your polaroids ;)

The immediate heat that spread across her fair features was inevitable as she read the note. Vanya ran around her ankles, occasionally propping himself on his back legs, paws against her chins trying to get her attention back on him, as Sasha seemed to have spammed out of this universe completely, eyes wide and a blushed dusting her face and neck. The russian blinked in quick succession, mechanically opening the fridge and pouring water to the dog, who drank happily. Walking towards the small island that served as the dining table, Sasha felt the warmness of her face taking over her entire body.

Sasha was usually lonesome, sometimes too outside-the-box to fit in with the crowd. Brooklyn had proven to be a tad more open-minded to receive her, but still, there were few people that saw in a petite woman with blond wild hair, thick brows, a mind full of thoughts and opinions and a love for clothes with striking patterns and odd accessories as someone they wish to have close to them. She was opinionated, clumsy and most of the times what she said was perceived as overly academic and pretentious, which was exactly the opposite of her intentions. But Sasha didn’t know any better as to how to express herself. She wanted to be heard and she was going to be, no matter what.

Sasha wasn’t good with people, so she mostly kept to herself.

And maybe that’s why coming home from another day without real human contact, having lunch alone on a room cramped with stored paintings and sculptures, a lot of disastrous meetings and having ideas and opinions crushed under someone else’s feet, that she found this little piece of paper as something that had her at the verge of tears. This unknown woman, who walked her dog once, wished she smiled a lot during the day, just because she thought her smile was cute.

Sasha thought of writing Shea a text, thanking her for the note, but thought better of it. The last thing she needed was to scare off her dog walker just because she came on too strong, thinking too much about a simple gesture of courtesy.

The notes didn’t stop though. That was the first of many, many notes, and very, very much awareness over this person she couldn’t even put a face on. This random woman, who she might’ve never meet on the outside world, made her feel treasured and special with simple silly messages written down on a post-its that kept appearing on her fridge. Was she like this with other owners? Sasha liked to think that she wasn’t, that this was their special little thing. Sometimes, when she felt bold enough (probably after a couple glasses of wine late at night too), she would leave a magenta post-it on the fridge, with a silly cartoon or doodle, some message maybe answering whatever Shea had written, sometimes a lame joke, sometimes a simple “Thank you”.

The magenta post-its were always gone and replaced with teal ones, with new messages and new cute non-sense. It wasn’t exactly conversations, as more of signals out in the world that acknowledged both their existences.

Was this borderline insane? Yes, probably. But long ago had Sasha lost the sight of what might be real and what might be her mind playing her over her loneliness. And goodness knew this was the kind of love infatuation someone like her would find irresistible: dramatic, impossible and psycho-ish. It was art at it’s best.

It would make a great book.

_

A friday night Sasha came home soaked to the bone, a mild storm catching her off guard. After closing her door, she stripped to her mismatched underwear, trying not to get water everywhere as she definitely didn’t feel like cleaning. She could hear Vanya barking, probably on the kitchen. She skipped her way down there, her clothes and shoes in one hand, looking for the reason her little one was so distressed. Usually, Vanya was well behaved, and for him to bark inside the apartment was quite odd.

She found him propped on his rear legs, eyes set on a  paper bag over the counter of the island in her kitchen. He barked stubbornly to it. Her sculptural eyebrows shut up almost to her hairline, that wasn’t there on the morning. More surprising (and what made her heart do a painful summersault) was to find a teal post-it stuck to it. Her stomach did something resembling to a cartwheel, her knees felt quite wobbly. What was this? She threw her clothes to the floor, be damned the puddle of water that she’ll have to clean later, and with shaky hands, she took the note.

–So, I thought giving Vanya a treat today was a good idea. Turns out, he really like them and won’t stop crying if I don’t give him one very couple of hours. My bad :( I’ll work on it with him, I promise! For now, these should last him a couple of weeks. Didn’t meant to spoil him, Xx, -Shea. Ps. Who am I kidding? I love to spoil his pretty face.

Sasha read over and over again the note, feeling way dizzier each time she did. The white fuzzing in her brain seemed to stop time as her eyes scanned the piece of paper as if she was a robot. Vanya’s barking eventually brought her back, for her to realize she was steadying herself gripping the counter. With her eyes open as wide as she could, she opened he bag and emptied it, two bags of Hickory Smoke flavour Greenies were inside. The dog began jumping at the sight of the bag, whimpering, running in circles in excitement. Sasha opened one bag and grabbed a treat, tossing it to the impatient dog. Vanya beamed and catched the treat, later to nudge his face against his owner chins in appreciation.

She crouched to the floor, taking the note with her as she let Vanya lick her face. The dog looked at the paper in her hand and touch it with a paw, barking once.

Yeah, you know who wrote this, don’t you?

Vanya barked again and she giggled. It seems like he really liked his walker. And Sasha couldn’t blame him. She really liked her as well.

Another whole bunch of thoughts invaded her mind, never a moment of utter happiness lasting long. Was this a normal thing walkers did with their assigned clients? Why did that woman bought the treats? Were the double X meant to be kisses? Why did she love spoiling Vanya? Why did Sasha love the fact Shea cared so much about her dog?

It was less than likely that walkers went around buying treats for the dogs they took care off, and them just giving the bags to the owner because the dog liked them a little bit too much. Also, anywhere on the contract Sasha signed obligated the woman to do so, she could just have let her know Vanya would cry all night if he didn’t get a treat before sleep and let her deal with it. It would be the normal thing to do, as Vanya wasn’t Shea’s dog. Shea seemed to be very fond of Vanya as she just thought of spoiling him herself today. That made Sasha’s heart flutter. Sasha had never given a treat to Vanya as she wasn’t sure if that was a good idea, or even which would be a healthy one to give him. But Shea did know about this things, and Shea wanted to spoil little Vanya. Anyone who treated Vanya this good had a special space on her heart, and Shea seemed to be adding points in her favor on the imaginary score Sasha kept.

Nonetheless, the blond felt uncomfortable to leave it like this, after all, she was paying Shea to walk Vanya. If the dog needed anything, it was Sasha who needed to pay for it. She took her phone, and shaky fingers looked out Shea’s contact.

She’s had the woman number all along, but had never gather enough courage to message her ever since Shea asked her to leave a spare key for her to use. Unsure of how to even begin a conversation, she just plainly greeted her with a simple hi and asked her how much she owed her for the treats.

Txt from Shea: Hey girl! Don’t be silly, those are on me ;) Vanya quite liked that flavor.

Sasha giggled again. Indeed, Vanya seemed to be really into the Hickory Smoke flavor (of course her dog would like such kind of fancy named taste). She insisted a couple more times on returning her the money, not wanting to put the other woman in the obligation to pay for the treats.  Shea refused.

Txt from Shea: I mean it, don’t worry about it, Anything to keep the smile on my special boy. But, if it makes you feel any better, those were for sale.

Txt from Shea: I really think he is the only dog that likes that flavor.

The blond grinned to the screen of her phone. Shea calling Vanya her special boy make her feel giddy. Was it creepy she ached now to have walks on the park with her dog and a woman she didn’t even know besides the fact she was a dog walker and had  pretty handwriting?

Yes.

Sasha sat laying her back against the island, shivering as she did so as she was still in her underwear. She was giggling at her phone like a highschool girl with a crush. Vanya took his opportunity to wiggle his way into her lap, resting there with his head in between his paws. He seemed to be very happy to see his mom laughing and smiling, and Sasha wondered if he’d like to have two moms to spoil his little bonny ass.

Knowing Vanya, he’d love it.

_  

Bright eyes scanned paintings and sculptures on the O’Hara Gallery opening on a Thursday night. Sasha clicked her black heels against the marble floor, red fringy dress swaying and messy blond hair bouncing on her shoulders at the compass of her strut as she walked among the pieces that were exhibit, examining them and taking notes about the different techniques and authors. The artists featured were all former students of the Arts School of Brooklyn College, and Trinity had sent her to the exhibition to get some new contacts for their own gallery. The southern woman would rather die before placing a high heeled feet on her eternal rival’s gallery, so Sasha had filled in the Yes RSVP in Trinity’s behalf.

Sighing, she wrote down the name of a landscape painter she knew her boss was just going to love -a style somewhere between Aivazovsky and Coubert- ,  and moved on without paying too much mind to the painted canvas.

Most of the pieces, even though great in the technical display, were lacking uniqueness for her taste. Thinking on the easel with yet another unfinished painting she had back in her apartment, she sighed, somewhat jealous. Most of the former students featured on the exhibit were likely to find more galleries to feature their work- a prestigious college and regurgitated yet popular thematics endorsing them. Sasha, having studied Arts and Art History under a less known art college and using heavy discourses as gender and deconstruction to sustain her heavy analytical references to make portraits that haunted her mind, struggled a bit placing her work in big galleries like this one or Trinity’s.

Strolling past yet another hyperrealist pen-drawing she didn’t even bother to look closely -really, how many Juan Francisco Casas-like drawings can one display?-, something caught her eye. At the end of a hall, on the photography section, a splash of colors and figures make her turn around. She stepped up to there, gawking at a series of photographies- no, a series of digital work, something between photography and illustration. The models were posing on the most colorful streets Brooklyn had to offer, Sasha could recognize, all dressed in fashions belonging to subcultures and overall queerness, heavily influenced all by color blocking. Every picture was intervened with figures and comical illustrations, sometimes interacting with the model, sometimes just hiding parts of them out of sight. Every picture was weirder than the previous one, the illustrations taking over the picture as the series went on. Sasha stared at each picture in admiration, the overall visual effect was an explosion of diversity among all the other artists that mirrored each other.  

This was something Trinity would never in her life show on her gallery, but the kind of art that screamed at Sasha. Her ruby tinted mouth was slightly agape, wondering eyes trying to catch every single detail each work had to offer. Little new details were found wherever she took a deep look: the portrait of the tall, asian girl dressed in Harajuku fashion had small lolitas and Hello Kitties dancing around her modelesque pose, splashes of lavender, teal and yellow surrounding her in an echo effect, eyes crossed out and augmented with a heavy black wave over each orb, to the likes of very dramatic eye liner. Next to it, the barbie-doll like blonde woman  posed next to a old teal Chevy, dressed in a pin-up swimsuit, jewels and 80’s plastic dolls doodled over her, arrows and smileys pointing at her wide hips and tits, over drawn lips covering her natural features, a cartoony big ring draping one of her fingers. A blond drag queen, with heavy leaded eyes and dressed in a feathery white gown with teal accents had smoky waves of color around her, weed leaves forming a halo around her head, a blunt sketched lit on her hand. Her cleavage was overdrawn with a dark chocolate color that contrasted with the pale skin, her legs were draw out exaggerating them to the point they were twice their length.  These last three were Sasha’s favorites, as they seem to have something to do with the author’s life, the small additions maybe too clear in reference and meaning, probably implying whoever was behind this knew very well these those models.

Her trained eyes started looking for a signature, not wanting to wait till the last picture on her right to read the whole information about the artist. A small inscription on the corner of the pictures rewarded her: Couleé.

Vaguely familiar, she thought, maybe I have read the name somewhere on the Internet.

Sasha was mesmerized, moving several times over the first seven pictures, not wanting to get to the last one just yet, as that would mean this series would be over and she’ll have to move on. She didn’t want to, she desperately thought that perhaps, she could fit between those models. She could devise herself, maybe laying on an old couch, perched on the middle of a traffic filled road, posing like one of those french models Ingres and Delacroix painted back in the day. She would probably wear a gown, see through, with lots of sparkles and adorned with patterns and beads typically Russian. Her hair would be down, teased out of it’s curls, frizzy, clad with a head wrap of extravagant-printed fabric and feathers and beads. She would probably had giant eyes with thick lashes drawn over her natural ones, maybe a bushy brow. She could picture crowns and very Mondrian-esque lines around her. She smiles, dreaming what might be.

However, as she saw people approaching she felt the pressure to hurry up not to bottle up the hall. As her eyes landed on the last picture, her knees felt weak and her jaw dropped.

It was the portrait of a black woman, looking directly at the camera lens, her hand delicately touching her right shoulder. Her face featured her pouty lips slightly ajar,  eyes a bit overdrawn on the inner corners, making them look bigger. Around her were drawings of tits and asses, melting on some kind of gooey matter, odd cartoony eyes popping up everywhere, completely deviant and strange. Orange, purple, white and teal took over the picture, both the illustrations and the colors contrasting the sensual and provocative look on the woman’s face.

This was the most stunning piece of them all, and Sasha gasped in both shock and annoyance at herself. She had already seen this one. She could not believe she hadn’t associated the style before.

What kind of art curator are you Sasha!?

This was the profile picture she has checked at least twice a day on her texts ever since the Greenies incident. She had analysed a very lower resolution version of this on her phone, over hours of meditation and clutching a teal piece of paper in her left hand like a lifeline while doing so because it was loony stalking.

Couleé. As in Shea Couleé. That’s were she knew the name from.

She saw that name the day she signed the contract with the dog walking company. Of course Shea had to be the artist behind these amazing artworks. Sasha’s evening had been way too normal up until now. How many people on New York could have a last name like Couleé?

Sasha backtracked a bit, stepping clumsily backwards as her heart stammered loudly on her ribcage. So Shea seemed to be a photographer. And she was exhibiting her work. Here. At the very same gallery Sasha was at. And it was opening night. She might be here. That would make sense. Was that last photograph a self-portrait? Maybe, as Shea used it as a profile picture, it might make sense as well. Not that anything else on this very moment made sense to Sasha, as she kept stumbling with her not so anonymous dog walker everywhere. She kept walking, until her body felt a pair of hands stopping her by the arms.

“So, you like’em?”

Sasha yelped, turning around to her right, to find the most stunning woman she had ever laid eyes on. The woman from the last picture was standing in front of her, small skittish smile on her pouty lips, eyes shining under thick dark lashes. Her hair was slick, dark and barely grazing her shoulders, parted in the middle, framing her face giving her a supermodel twist with her high cheek bones. She was wearing a rosé sweater dress with a belt, which hugged all her curbs, from her ample bosom, her tiny waist and thick legs, hitting right below the knee. She played with her hands, left middle and pointer finger clutched nervously on her right fist. However, her stance was secure, planted firmly in both of her feet, wearing gold sandals that sparkled with the light of the gallery.

“Hey Sasha. I’m Shea, your dog walker. How’s Vanya?.” Shea said, her voice a bit timid.

Sasha’s mouth felt like a cotton ball, she could barely swallow as her eyes scanned up and down Shea’s body, shamelessly. Shea towered her a few inches, even with Sasha wearing pumps higher than Shea’s sandals. She seemed to notice Sasha’s wondering eyes, although she didn’t comment anything about it. Sasha knew she should say something, as she might look really stupid at her complete loss of cool. Her mind betrayed her though, as it sped on a turmoil finally putting a face to the name she had all but worshiped for months, a hundred questions maken her overthink.

How was this happening? Was all this really possible? Why was Shea talking to her so casually? Why was Shea so damn gorgeous? Why hadn’t Sasha worn the black and white dress Trinity often told her she good look with? Was her hair even combed?  What was Shea thinking of her? Why did it matter so much?

Sasha opened and closed her mouth a couple of times, like a fish out of the water, making Shea smile widely, crooked rows of teeth showing. The taller woman turned her body to face her photographs, feeling Sasha’s anxiety. She crossed her arms under her chest, tilting her head a bit to the left.

“You know, I studied photography because I really thought I was going to be this famous fashion photographer for Vogue and Marie Claire. Adolescent Shea Couleé, filled with fierceness and big dreams, ready to fight anyone on her way.  It turns out that you need one of them fuckers with long ass careers with the magazines to either endorse your work or die to leave a slot open for new talent. And before you ask, some of them had call my work a bit to banjee for high fashion so they don’t think they can mentor me.” Shea spoke, to Sasha, to herself. The blond woman looked at her with doe eyes, her mouth finally shut close, body angled towards Shea. The taller woman’s voice was soothing and enticing to her ears. She was trying to talk to Sasha as if they knew each other, confidence exuding from her like water down a waterfall. Sasha could feel herself relaxing into the situation, a strange feeling of familiarity blooming in her chest.

After all, they technically had talked before.

Shea leaned in a bit towards her left, her voice lowering a bit in a conspiratorial tone, “And I haven’t managed to take out anyone yet, but I’m working on it. So, for now, I’m stuck photographing my friends.”

Sasha snorted, the comment so out of place and ironical that she couldn’t help it. Shea smiled again, still looking forward.

“So, you are kind of a dog walker on the day, fashion photographer at night?” Sasha asked, looking at Shea’s side, trying to follow Shea’s coolness.

“Well, I’m sending books everywhere now and then, however one does need to pay bills, and I happen to like dogs a lot, so I get a buck and pet cute dogs while at it. It’s a win-win situation really.”

Sasha nodded, understanding Shea’s point perfectly. That was the reason she worked as a curator for now, until -hopefully- she kickstarted her career as an artist.

“Yeah, I know the feeling.”

“Work keeping you that happy, huh?” Shea asked, taking a small step to the side, getting closer to Sasha.

“I’m here for business actually, “ Sasha said, shaking her notepad a bit, trying to purse her lips not let Shea know she saw her move towards her, “talent hunting.”

“Oh! You work on a gallery right? Taylor’s Gallery?”

Sasha glanced at Shea, raising a brow and looking how the woman flinched. Her face scrunched up a bit and she sank her head between her shoulders, probably acknowledging it might sound a bit creepy that she knew what Sasha did for a living and where she worked.

“Ok, I read that on your file after you signed with the company, I swear.”

Icy eyes twinkled, Sasha biting her inner cheek to avoid grinning like an idiot. She fancied the idea that Shea was just as nervous as she was in this utterly weird situation. The photographer’s hands, though resting in her forearms as they were crossed under her chest, shifted warily, fingers drumming against her sleeves.

The coy smile on Shea’s lips make the whole room seem a hundred times brighter, the golden sparkle from expensive gallery lights dusting her features, making her look like a magical creature who’s glow tinted her surroundings. And maybe she was a magical creature, as Sasha instantly understood she was falling in love with this woman, this mysterious woman she knew a lot of and nothing about at the same time, who seemed to be linked to her life in the most ridiculous ways possible, the universe throwing them together at every chance at hand.

Sasha was not upset about any of that.

The russian woman took a small step towards Shea, the distance between them closing.

“I do work on a gallery” Sasha smiled, looking at the portraits in front of her, “I’m surprised you actually remembered reading that.”

“I have a great memory, girl.”, Shea half chuckled, half said. She dipped her head a bit, aiming to disguise the dark blush spreading across her cheeks. “In all honesty though, your apartment is filled with paintings and canvas. You had to do something related to art. I thought you were a restaurator, with all the fresh stuff you keep around.”

Sasha smiled amused, “Actually, I’m a curator. Assistant curator. That’s why they send me off to the exhibitions neither of my bosses want to attend. The paintings back home are actually mine.”

Shea’s face beamed at that answer, her ebony eyes back on the russian woman, “You are really talented. You should be featured here.”

“I don’t really think I fit here, with all… this…” Sasha waved her hand, dismissively, “and honestly neither do you. Your work is fantastic, like seriously genius. Everything else here is so boring,  I’ve been studying these for at least half an hour now.”

“Genius? Why you think they place my portraits here, and not on the main hall? The curator here hated all of the portraits. They were not going to let me show anything, but some dude cancelled last minute.” The taller woman smirked, “And don’t go all flattery on me. I might start believing you!”

“They are good! Extremely so! I’ve been obsessed with your profile photo for quite some time. I actually felt real dumb that I didn’t matched the styles until the very last picture.” Sasha admitted, unblinkingly.

Shea seemed to be a bit taken aback. Shyly, she tilted her face a bit

“Why didn’t you text about it? I mean, if you liked it that much. We could’ve talked about it, you know?”

“I didn’t want to, uhm- be creepy?” Sasha excused herself, feeling lame.

“You wouldn’t have been creepy at all girl. I mean, I left you post-it notes every day. I couldn’t get worst than that.”

They stared at each other for a moment. Sasha could see Shea slightly nibbling her lower lip, something crossing through her eyes she couldn’t quite name.

“Can we, like, talk about that? I mean, why did you do that? Do you, uhm, leave notes to every dog owner or something?” Sasha tried to pick her words carefully, trying to sound purely curious instead of extremely clingy.

Shea bit her lips, pursing them, avoiding eye contact again.

“No, I don’t leaves noted to… anyone else.” She sighed, “You are gonna think I’m crazy.”

“Well, we are here at an opening night, talking like we were old friends when this is the first time we have actually seen each other. You didn’t even needed to tell me your name for me to know who you were, and the other way around. I think we’ve long past the line of crazy here.” Sasha shrugged, trying to sound reasonable within possibility.

After a few bits of silence, Shea spoke again.

“I- I feel like I know you, you know? Like, I read your file and saw your photo there, the one that you have to give to make sure I can recognize you in case you try to jump me or something, and- it was like I’ve already seen you? I could read there where you lived, where you worked, but something about you just… clicked with me. And then I got to your apartment, and to your dog, and I can kind of pieced together a life for you. How you keep very few pictures of you with other people on display, how everything is extremely organized except the living room that is a mess of paintings and brushes, how this little guy is always near your bed when I arrive because he misses his mom. I didn’t know if any of the stuff I imagined was real, but it felt like it was getting to know you without actually meeting you. And then I started leaving you notes because I wanted to talk to you and you started answering back some of them and I just kind of saved them because they had cute drawings and-” Shea covered her mouth with her hand, eyes completely opened. The word panic was written all across her face.

“Oh god, I’m sorry I don’t want you to think I’m a stalker or something I just-”

Sasha took both of Shea’s hands in between hers, pulling them down from their frantic parade as Shea tried to explain herself. The russian had a shit eating grin plasttered on her face, her teeth showing, that confused Shea, as she had stopped rambling at Sasha’s movement. Sasha slid slowly her thumb over Shea’s skin in small circles, liking the velvety sensation of it under her touch.

“I keep your notes too. I sometimes read them before I sleep because they are very relaxing to me, I mean the idea of someone actually talking to me because they wanted to. I thought I was going crazy, asking Vanya about you, as he seemed to like you a lot and honestly so did I, more of what I was supposed to,” she laughed, not letting go of Shea’s hands, “I was very obsessed with you- No, I AM really obsessed with you, that’s why I was panicking when you found me. Because you clicked with me too…”

Sasha’s smile was sincere, and she could see how something inside Shea melted away, her breathing going back to normal, her hands relaxing in between Sasha’s. The blonde took a step forward, the distance between them almost gone by now. Sasha could feel the heat radiating from Shea’s body. She liked the feeling of it against her skin. She wondered if, perhaps, she had never gotten Vanya, if they had met somewhere else. Maybe on an art exhibition, maybe on the train home, maybe on a bar in which they might be sitting alone and decided to keep each other company. She was almost sure that yes, they somehow would have met, as this was the kind of bond the universe works very damn hard to build.

Shea’s eyes scanned Sasha, a new full smile spreading in her face. Sasha liked the sight of it, she wanted to make Shea smile more, she had a cute smile.

“So maybe… We can get to know each other? Better? Like we know a lot of the other and nothing at the same time. Maybe we could go to the park and get some ice cream, it’s still not that chilly like for ice cream to be a terrible idea and I’m free tomorrow, and the leaves are beautiful this time of the year, all shades of orange and yellow contrasting with the sky. Vanya might have to tag along, however, as he gets cranky if I don’t spend the whole weekend with him. But it’s not like I want you to feel you are at work or something! Oh dear, it’s a terrible idea, that’s basically what you do in your work and-”

The pull on her hands stopped her mid sentence, plush lips softly touching hers, asking permission. Sasha let go Shea’s hands and placed them on her waist, pulling her flush against her body, lips parting a bit to kiss Shea deeply. The taller girl’s arms snaked around her neck, playing with her frizzy curls, as she sucked a bit on Sasha’s upper lip.

The kiss didn’t last long enough, in Sasha’s opinion, but it was a promise. Shea’s smile as she kept her hands on Sasha’s shoulders was smouldering, bright like a hundred suns, warming every cell in Sasha’s body.

“I’d love to go to the park with you and Vanya tomorrow. I can’t say no to either of you.”

Sasha beamed and she felt childish as to be this happy about a simple date. As Shea’s hand slipped through her arm into her hand, fingers intertwining as if this wasn’t the first time they have done so, Sasha knew that yes, this was the kind of love she ached: uncanny, passionate, unique and oh so very them.

[goldenscript]

wips tag.

i was tagged by @workofteaguk and @wonhopes to share my works in progress, since it’s really no surprise that i have ten million wips but enjoy these ones i’ve been working on so far i thought i’d share with everyone else what i have cooking up so far! also, thank you guys for tagging me (”: <333

title: i hate you, (but of course) i love you pairing: jeon jungkook | reader genre: exes au, fluff, humor, a dash of angst status: currently standing at 4.3k, probably about 80% done. i have two more section to write with lots more bickering between the two. (((: preview: —

“—What the fuck?” he says, finally getting a proper look at the silver on both of their wrists. His head still pounds at the sudden thought, but he suddenly recalls the pair of handcuffs that Jin was swinging around last night. They weren’t anything special, but the older man was flaunting them around with his own brand of drunken smugness. It was a rare first to see his older friend with a such a bold pair of items but an even rarer to see him so piss-drunk. How did he—

“Shut the fuck up,” he hears Y/N grumble. Without another second, you begin to turn away from him before the yank at both of their wrists stops further movement. “Ow! What the—”

“Take my wrist apart, why dontcha,” he grumbles back, attempting to yank you back to your back position. “I’d appreciate keeping it, thank you very much.”

He barely blinks his eye by the time you shoot right up in the bed, clutching your head as you turn to him in disbelief. “What the fuck?! Jeon, what did you do?”

“Me?!” he says, wincing at his own volume. “I’m innocent, I just woke up handcuffed to Chewbacca. Thanks for asking.”

“Chewbacca… this brat,” you scoff, giving his arm a shove while clutching the top of your head with the other.

“I didn’t do this,” he answers your unsaid question, feeling his heart pound. Like old times, only frustration seemed to come with you. “Maybe one of the guys did it or somethin’.”

“Fuck, I’m never drinking at the same party as you again,” you groan, shooting him another look before your head slammed back onto his pillow. “And I’m definitely going to kill Jin for bringing these stupid things, too.”

Then, it hit him and his own groaning and head-slamming ensued—god, why the fuck did he agree to a drinking competition with you?

(more wips under the cut~) 

title: chatroom confessions pairing: jeon jungkook | reader genre: childhood rivals au, fluff, some angst status: at about 4.1k, only 20% done. i have the outline finished, i just need to go on with the act of writing this thing. preview: —

The next time you log on, he’s on.

It’s not even the same time as before.Your clock reads 8:03 PM right now.

But there it is, the little green symbol besides his username. The sight is foreboding, practically beckoning you to click the user and say something, anything.

You find some bravery in tapping on the icon, your fingers already tapping away—

[8:06 PM] peachy-keen: I don’t know or care if this is Jungkook or not but come clean already

Unfortunately, you can’t even find the rest of your courage to press send. You want to say something at the least. But what?

Do I say? ‘Hey, Y/N here. Remember me from 6th grade? Yeah, you totally crushed my little grade school heart.’ Or ‘Hey, is this Jungkook or was this one of Lisa’s friends fucking with me?’ Or-

You don’t even have a moment to finish your thought when a ding! emits from your laptop’s speakers.

[8:07 PM] blue_seagull: long time, no see

You blink, letting out a shaky breath before typing up an immediate response. Here goes nothing.

[8:07 PM] peachy-keen: uh, yeah

[8:08 PM] blue_seagull: Still don’t think it’s me?

[8:08 PM] peachy-keen: No

[8:09 PM] blue_seagull: How can I prove it?

[8:09 PM] peachy-keen: I’d have to see your face.

[8:10 PM] blue_seagull: [photo.jpg sent]

The photo looks relatively like the Jungkook you remember from the vaguest parts of your mind. As begrudging as you are to admit to the fact, he’s actually quite handsome. His mop of dark hair sitting atop his forehead is no longer the same bowl cut like seven years ago. His features have definitely filled out too. Even his smile has become even nicer than you remember. And it isn’t completely foreign anyway.

You’ve seen a photo or two from mutual friends’ Instagram photos, but you’re still not completely sold in this case. In this day and age, this could be that same person catfishing as Jungkook. You’re about to type something along those lines in your response, but you erase it and laugh after reading his next message.

[8:11 PM] blue_seagull: I’m gonna take a guess and say you think the picture is a catfish

[8:11 PM] peachy-keen: duh.

[8:11 PM] blue_seagull: okay, skype me then

[8:12 PM] blue_seagull: guk_0901

Perhaps it’s dangerous to do something like this. Skyping some complete stranger and all. But then again, it was dangerous to chat with a complete stranger too. It isn’t like there’s much to lose at this point. You heave out a sigh, shrugging your shoulders and mutter something along the lines of “Fuck it” before you give him your response.  

[8:15 PM] peachy-keen: Sure, whatever.

Once you’re logged into your Skype account, you type in the username that “Jungkook” has provided you. The icon is a different photo than the one he sent you, but it’s still the same boy. Just that observation alone makes you realize just how nervous you are. Of course, this is expected. You’re actually not sure what’s going to come from this call. You don’t even know if you’ll actually be seeing Jungkook or someone else from your old elementary school.

A part of you prays it’s him, but another part doesn’t just for the sake of your own feelings. Way too many things happened back then.

At least I’ll be able to get some answers out of it… right?

You press the call icon, watching as the rings come to a halt after the first two chimes and Jeon Jungkook appears on the screen of your laptop.

Again, he’s the first one to speak. This time an almost all-knowing smile curves on his smiles as he says, “Believe me yet?”

You’re actually left a little baffled at this moment. Your lips parting slightly to say words, your mind’s racing a million miles per hour, before you say something, “Um… yeah…” You pause for a moment, calming yourself as you suddenly recollect the intent of why you logged on in the first place, “You have some explaining to do.”

He lets out a soft chuckle, his features softening as he nods, “I figured.”

title: where the lines overlap. pairing: jeon jungkook | reader, park jimin | reader genre: band au + romance, angst status: standing at 2.1k, 2% done. LOL. it’s a series i have in the works, so bear with me. i’m trying to get it done right. preview: —

a year and a half ago.

You wanted to get far, far away from everything so you ran.

At that point, you were sure you had run off a good five blocks from the cursed music building, allowing your lungs to collapse and expand in random intervals. It felt like everything had collapsed around you, and perhaps it did in many respects. What the fuck could you do? Go with it? Let yourself shed the weights of your own band mates after all the blood, sweat, and tears you all spent trying to get to where you were?

That thought alone had you shaking your head, running a shaky palm through your locks as you searched for solace somewhere. It had to be there right? Or did it even exist there at all?

You couldn’t even fathom where you were because this was nowhere close to the five blocks you spent sightseeing with everyone else. You didn’t see the other music buildings or the small corner convenience stores that proved their worth during strenuous practices leaving you and the others drained—was it that hard to be perfect, after all?

Bang’s face flashed across your mind, his disappointment at the lack of practice earlier that day. There’s a deep set frown etched into his weathered skin, eyes narrowed as Yoongi tried to reason your way through the mess and how it became slits when you dared defending your mint-haired companion. The older man grunted, “Fix this; whatever the hell it is. Just fix it.” So, you ran after another screaming match with Jungkook.

You just ran the moment you could because what else could you do?

Bang was mad, Jungkook was mad, Taehyung was confused, and Yoongi was watching it unfold like a spectator, and you? You were confused, scared, and you needed air.

Fuck—, you wheezed, plopping down by the end of the path. At this point, you didn’t even care for the dirt that stained your jeans or the funny looks you received from passersby. You didn’t really care for anything right then. You just wanted your heart to stop trying to escape your chest.

You felt your phone vibrate against your leg, but you didn’t even bother looking at it. Instead you tried to familiarize yourself with the view before you. There was a cluster of vendors offering goods, all sorts of kebabs, milk teas, and even sweet creams; all of them without a care in the world. You saw an arcade filling up with children shrieking for money and for a turn on the machines. Behind you, there was a food shop, wafting the distilled air with fresh soup and customers filling the air with chatter and inquiries. It was all busy, all moving forward, and there you were, suspended in time like a ghostly spectator because like many times before you were just a nameless face.

The sky was a bright blue hue, cerulean really, with wisps of clouds peeking between passing intervals as they seemed to move while everyone else remained still down below. You could feel the sun beat against your slick skin, clinging to you like a second layer as you found your erratic heart calming down.

What you see before you was normalcy, tranquility. Things you wish you had again.

You rose from your spot, giving the scene a final once over before you willed your legs to move up the incline toward the cliff that hung over the rest of the city. There was something therapeutic in all of this though you hardly believed you deserved any relief knowing the things you knew. By the time you felt yourself stop and rest against the burning metal beneath your elbows, you were still thinking.

Dammit. Closing your eyes, you tried to will the pressing thoughts away. I should tell him shouldn’t I?

But if you did, you’d risk more than just the sake of your relationship. You’d risk his dream. The only dream that Jungkook has ever had, and you’d be the one to rip it away from him. You hoped he’d find his own aspirations… out of everyone, you didn’t think you could do that. You pushed him to do this after all.

You said aloud, hearing the hoarse edges, “Fuck—” 

You swore you heard something off to your right but when you braved a look around you, it was just an unwelcome sight of visitors beneath the safety of a gazebo. It was just a family, celebrating amongst themselves. They thankfully paid you no attention, opting for the fascinations of their own food and devices than some random girl trying to figure out what her next move was.

I could just lea—

You heard your phone ring this time, vibrating against your back pocket and interrupting the daring thought—whether you actually appreciated it or feared it was still beyond you. Rather than thinking further, you decided to pull out the plastic device, hoping to God it wasn’t Jungkook.

It wasn’t, so you slid your fingertip across the screen to answer.

You released out a deep breath, “Yoongi—”

“—Lemme guess you ran off to clear your thoughts?” He wouldn’t sound worried to anyone, straight tone and all, but you heard the edge in his voice.

“I did.”

“He’s worried, y’know,” It made the reality of the situation wash over you, taking its hold on you as you tried to wrestle with the next set of words waiting to part your lips—

“I’m going to leave the city.”

“Y/N,” There was a deeper edge to his voice, a warning laced between the syllables of your own name, “where are you?”

“Enjoying the view.”

title: beneath the surface pairing: kim taehyung | reader genre: ??? status: outline is 75% done and i have barely less than 1k written so that’s maybe 1.5% done. preview: —

With the door shut tight behind you, you’re given a choice between two options: stay awake and talk about the kiss or pretend to sleep and deal with it tomorrow. Because out of all people, you know that Kim Taehyung would breach the topic no matter what as it was in his very nature go for what was uncomfortable even if he had a hard time doing this himself; and, as much as you’d like to do this, to debunk whatever happened in that split second where all you could taste was the cherry Coke on his lips, you can’t bring yourself to do it. Especially not when your mind is whirling about in discordant thoughts all seemingly screaming for more when you should be doing no such thing.

It happened. It was just the heat of the moment. You turn on your side and lean your head onto your arm. Now stop thinking about it.

But it’s like your brain wants to taunt you with a reminder of what just passed: all that plays is the close proximity of Taehyung’s visage a hair’s breadth from yours, his deep, chocolate brown eyes soft from the reminiscing over a distant past that the two of you once shared together, back when times were simpler—at least as simple as college could get—when all you two ever worried about was midterms and final examinations and the Final Reckoning enacted by your parents at the end of each school year, while the scent of mint and sugar fanned across your features. Just sitting beside him, knees brushing against one another and feeling the heat radiating from his lean body, you felt your heart thundering and your mind swimming with two simple words: Kiss him. Then you did and he did too. And it’s all that remains burned into your mind, because holy fuck we kissed.     

You find yourself recalling the day when you doodled the simple cloud to him, embellishing it with his username in hopes that it would give him strength to follow his dreams like you were following yours, and you see the way he lit up and pulled you in tight. The thick scent of eucalyptus shrouded you, and yet you enjoyed every moment of it, allowing it all to put you at ease despite the fire burning in your own heart. It’s the same feeling now, burning even brighter and hotter, because under these pretenses, you actually have no fucking clue what overcame you or him to do it. All you know is you felt something with the brunet, perhaps nostalgia or connection in ways that seemed to date back to high school all tightening around your own better judgement.

It’s wrong. I shouldn’t—

Hearing a knock at the door, your heart damn near jumps out of your chest but tension soon expels from your body. All you do is stay in place as the doorknob jiggles and footsteps make its way behind you.

“Y/N?” Taehyung whispers, leaning over the bed frame. When you don’t reply and all he can see are your shut eyes, he lets out a deep sigh. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow then.”

The certainty that he would leave the room is soon dispelled the moment you hear him shuffle onto your side of the bed albeit the arrival comes after a few moments—you’re almost certain he stopped by your desk—when he grabs onto the edge of your comforter and pulls it over your legs and onto your torso. He’s careful not to touch any parts, his warm touch only grazing your shoulders as he covers you. All the while, he’s humming a song—one you’re unfamiliar with—that soothes your mind.

“Good night, Y/N… sweet dreams.”

As he turns off the lights and shuts the door behind him, you feel yourself basking in the scent of eucalyptus and drifting to sleep with a smile curved on your lips, Good night Tae… sweet dreams.

i tag: @sugaspen @jamlessness @jungnoir (idc if other ppl tagged u, i’ma still tag u) @taechubs

{ of course, you don’t have to do this!! but if you do (this goes out to anyone reading this far), feel free to tag me!!! }

[chunsoftie]

Kyman #15

send me a drabble!

15. It doesn’t matter. You’ve moved on and I have to be okay with that.”

A broken home can still have cracks in the floor ifrefurbished. 

Eric Cartman understood that clearly, glancing from the back ofthe ceremony at the white and gray. It wasn’t as if he asked for his lover of God knows how many years to keep upacting like he gave a damn, but a little reluctance would have nice. Going froma rocky relationship to a marriage with someone new after a few months wasn’texactly what Cartman had in mind for him, but he figured Kyle was happier. Thatdidn’t mean he was going to undermine his selfish desires, but he felt anobligation to smile.

White and gray – colors Cartman only saw Kyle wear if he waswildly drunk and didn’t mind the possibility of getting a stain on something. The bride-to-be put her mark on this all over.

It had already been thirty minutes, Cartman sighed as he glanced at his wristwatch – it was barely past seven.The night was dragging, so he looked up and was prepared to get some air beforehe saw the groom in waiting send a cool expression towards him. Eric moved inhis chair and hitched his breath. Those green eyes would have lighted a fire,even with such a small glance that Cartman could have begged for more. 

An imagepassed in his mind, the two of them running out of the ceremony and headingtowards the beach with Cartman’s car, vodka in the front and a cool breezemoving through the windows. He thought about stopping on the shoreline, the twoof them dashing out of the Jeep and breaking through the ocean in the broad ofthe evening, their bodies pressed against one another in rageful longing…

“Thank you, everyone, for coming to the rehearsal. There isfood provided if you stay, otherwise have a safe night and we’ll see you in themorning.” A voice snapped him back to reality. 

Cartman blinked as the rehearsalceased, people getting out of their chairs and cleaning. He had to admit it wasa good image, even if he had to bite back the sentimentality before it randown his cheeks. He picked up his chair and starting putting it back on the rackas the group headed outside. There was Stan, making his first chance of goingto Kyle and wishing him the best. Cartman got out a plate and helped himself tothe barbeque ribs and salad, telling himself it was worth it to sit that longto get something in the end. Before he sat down, he felt someone behind him andhe turned to find the future groom looking up at him, food in his own hand.Cartman felt his lips grow dry.

“You done talking to the hippie?”

“I was surprised you showed up.” Kyle drove away Cartman’s questionand the air was thick. Cartman bit down his tongue before he managed to quip aresponse.

“I felt like it would be the right thing…to come.” Cartmanwatched Kyle’s face scrunch as those words left his mouth. He must have guessedwrong.

It was true that Cartman was hoping to win some kind ofaffirmation by going along with this – a wishful acceptance that the two ofthem weren’t meant to be and that they wasted their time. However, Cartman alsoknew that it wasn’t a waste – not for the long nights of bodies intertwinedunderneath the stars and discussions of the infinite. The idea of someone elsefilling the void for him was rough, a terrain of cracks in the dirt and no rainto wash away the drought.

“I was hoping you’d be here, I mean.” Kyle looked to theside and took a deep breath. There was an unstableness to his voice and dammit, Cartman would follow suit ifthis was how the conversation would play. “I know it’s been a few months sinceyou and I spent any time together.”

It’s definitelydifferent having the king-sized all to myself. Cartman thought, the idea ofKyle stealing all of the sheets imprinted in his memory. A tangled mess ofcovers trapped between his legs had led to arguments in the dead of night,which would turn to aggressive playfulness and then to the passion that wouldresult them sleeping in the next morning. Cartman shivered, and Kyle sent asmall smile.

“Have you…been doing alright?”

“Peachy.” Cartman said, watching as Nicole talked to some ofher friends near the food. He shifted awkwardly, the swarm of emotion bubblinginside of him. He’d give anything to run, to avoid the irrefutable truth thatwas beyond his control. Cartman looked back at Kyle and put his hands in hispockets.

“What about you?”

“Exhausted.” Kyle rolled his eyes and scoffed at the sky. “Planningthis wedding has seriously been one of the most difficult things I’ve everdone. I suppose that is to be expected, with her being in design and all.”

“You tied yourself to the post with that one.” Cartmanreplied, and Kyle gave a small laugh. Cartman grinned at the familiarity ofthat noise. He would be lying if he said he didn’t miss it.

“Guess you’re right, for once.” Kyle sent a teasing remarkand Cartman raised an eyebrow.

“For once?”

“Why are you evenquestioning it?” Kyle asked back and the two of them laughed at that. A fewmore people passed them, and Kyle rubbed the back of his head. Cartman figuredit was only a matter of time before the bomb dropped.

“I know it was weird asking for you to come, but we’re gladyou did.” Kyle blinked to the side before he managed to catch Cartman’s gaze. “Iam, especially.”

“It was weird for you to send me an invitation.” Cartmansaid, furrowing his brows. “I have to admit that I thought you wanted me out ofthe picture for this.”

“Why would I want you out of the picture?” Kyle asked, andCartman knew he pressed the wrong button. “You know that I have been as muchstrain over this as you have.”

“It’s kind of hard to say that if you haven’t made an effortto communicate with me.” Cartman replied. He felt his body freeze at the lookthat Kyle sent him afterwards. It was a mix between shock and anger, neither ofwhich Cartman wanted to deal with firsthand.

“I apologized for that, and you have no right to say thatwhen you haven’t…”

Kyle stopped as some of the guests turned towards the bothof them, his tone recognizable. He sighed and took a deep breath before loweringhis voice.

“You haven’t made an effort either, you haven’t even calledor sent a message…”

“You think I can just pop out my phone and give you a callwhenever?” Cartman started to feel his anger build up inside of him and he damntried to keep it contained, but with Kyle it was always difficult. 

“Don’t actlike either of us can do something like that so easily.”

“A little effort would have been nice!” Kyle hissed. 

Cartmantook his hands out of his pockets and crossed them over his chest. After thepast months of fighting himself, trying to fix something that he felt wanted tostay alone, he found himself in the one situation he wished he could disappearfrom. Kyle’s eyes cut through him, and Cartman knew it was like those longarguments where they could kiss and things would be better, but this couldn’tbe mended so easily.

“It doesn’t matter. You’vemoved on and I have to be okay with that.”

 Cartman felt the words slip out before he could helphimself. Kyle’s eyes widened slightly and the two of them stood, silent againstthe cloud of sound around them. There was no way Cartman could catch himselfafter that and Kyle put a hand on Cartman’s arm and squeezed. It was a warmreunion, skin against skin.

“It’s hard for me too. I just want you to know that, Eric.”

The name dropped and Cartman could feel himself break down,and Kyle must have understood because he went in and wrapped his arms aroundCartman’s torso for a hug. Cartman followed suit, and desperately held on. Hecould feel Kyle’s broken breathing against his chest, and possibly somethingwet against his shoulder.

Cartman held tighter.