#(and we do not talk about two years ago about [redacted] less said about that the better)

[irisbaggins]

Fun fact y'all! I thought this was a continuation of my cold! It is, in fact, not! It's the VirusTM! Who knows if that was what hit me on Sunday or came after, but nevertheless, here I am! The VirusTM on Christmas!

This is the third Christmas in a row something negative has happened, but this year at least it's just being sick, thank fuck. Sucks though, 'cos I'm running on low sleep and coughing like a madman

[crazyoffher]

WATCHTOWER. - 4

jenna ortega x fem!reader

summary: photos of you and jenna's hangout surface along with dating rumors, leaving jenna forced to find a way to deal with the rumors without her management's dreadful ideas.

warnings: small mentions of homophobia, unedited.

word amount: 2900+

a/n: condemn this as a filler chapter.

part one part two part three part five

“Now, I think we have to get you into a PR relationship.”

“No! God no! I’m not even dating her, for Christ's sake.” Jenna was exasperated. It had been about a week and a half since she had hung out with you. She was now in Romania to finish her ‘Wednesday’ season two reshoots, and her manager had flown out there to do a proper, in-person meeting to discuss the current news surrounding her.

Jenna Ortega reveals a new love interest; sources confirm she is a Michelin-starred waiter (Y/N) (Y/L/N)!

Rising actress Jenna Ortega finds consolation in a non-famous woman after her breakup with her former co-star, (NAME REDACTED).

For fuck's sake, they broke up a year ago. Why were the media still hung up on them?

New photos reveal a possible relationship between young actress Jenna Ortega and a woman not in the Hollywood spotlight.

The articles went on and on, none of them speculating that the two could just be friends. Just headlining them in a “relationship” to grab their money.

“Are you sure? The paparazzi photos say otherwise, Jenna. Have you even bothered to see them since they’ve been released?” Her manager, Castillo, pulled out a folder filled with papers, specifically printed photos. He skimmed through them before sliding the folder over to Jenna, who took the folder warily.

At first glance, Jenna didn’t see anything wrong with them. There were a maximum of five pictures, two of them of you and her at the Bradbury. The first photo didn’t show much, just your back turned to the camera while you talked to Jenna, her face in the frame as she looked to be thoroughly listening to you.

The second one was shot from above you guys, with the photographer on the third floor while you and Jenna were on the second, both your faces in the frame this time. You were pointing to the Bradbury treaty that you had been so giddy about seeing, pointing to it while you faced Jenna with a big grin on your face, showcasing your excitement.

The other three photos were of you and her at the restaurant. The first one showed you two in the waiting room, Jenna’s hand on your shoulder, and her facial expression with faint concern etched on it. It was when you were doubting your clothes. The second photo shows the two of you at your table, with a smile on her face as you talked about university.

The last photo was probably the most questionable photo, to Jenna anyway. It was of you two outside after leaving the restaurant, and you were pointing at the note that the waiter gave Jenna in her hand, but from the angle, it looked like you were going to hold her hand.

“I don’t see much wrong with these except for maybe this photo,” she held up the very last photo, “and even then, she wasn’t even holding my hand or going to; she was pointing at a note a waiter had given me.”

Castillo sighed, rubbing his face. “It’s because you’re not analyzing them properly. Look,” he said as he rounded the table, standing behind Jenna’s chair to point at the photos she had spread out, rubbing his face.

“Notice how you’re looking at her. That’s what people focus on; they don’t determine two people being in a relationship only if a photo of them kissing is released; they base it off of facial expressions, how one looks at the other.”

“That’s fucking stupid!” Jenna grabbed one of the photos, analyzing how she looked at you. She now understood what Castillo was saying; her look was one of admiration, but it didn’t make the situation any less odd.

“You talk to her about this?” Castillo’s assistant, Louis, chimed in. He was a nice guy, but such a nightmare at times that it made Jenna wonder how she had not beaten him with a baseball bat at this point.

“We talked about it briefly,” Jenna mumbled. When the news stories and images were released, she remembered the conversation she had with you the day before she left for Romania. She could only ever express regret so many times, and you promised her that you would call her when you had some free time. You had yet to call, though. It worried her.

“This is no time for mumbling, Jenna! All of this can stain your career heavily.”

“How?”

“You know how,” Castillo’s tone issued, telling her to stop playing dumb, “parts of society are still not acceptable to… same-sex relationships.” He could see the expression that formed on Jenna’s face, quickly turning his words around. “I don’t know what you identify as, and as of now I have no interest in knowing, but you have a reputation to keep. Don’t tell me you’re going to throw away a lifelong career’s work for a girl you’ve known for a little over a month.”

“I’m not throwing anything away.” Jenna grumbled, clearly in a worsening mood. “I’m not dating her. I won’t lie to you and say that I have no attraction to her, but we’re just friends. I’m not cutting her off because of some flawed rumors.” She argued.

The stranded photographs were gathered and shoved back into Castillo's folder with a sigh. “Louis, get RJ on the phone.” He directed his assistant, who nodded and moved out of the room with urgency in his steps. “You,” he turned to Jenna, who was shrunken in her seat, undeniably drowning in neverending stress, “call her. If I check back in and you’re not on the phone with her, I’m putting you in a PR relationship, regardless of your opinion.”

Castillo ushered out of the room, leaving Jenna in solitude. She flicked through the numbers saved on her phone, soon clicking yours, but she felt herself hesitate to click the ‘call’ button. It was all shit to her that she couldn’t even hang out with a friend alone without possibly crashing her career.

She bit her lip with a patient sigh, clicking the button, and holding the phone up to her ear. It rang once, twice, three, and four times before she was sent to the automated voicemail message. She rubbed her face, clicking the call button again, then again, then again, but you didn’t pick up, and it was starting to worry her.

It’s not like you were avoiding her; you were just busy. “My phone keeps on fucking buzzing!”

“Then set it down somewhere if it’s bothering you that much.” Jack quipped, and you went into the backroom and toward your locker. You mindlessly shoved your phone into the small space, too time-poor to check who or what was the recipient of the constant buzzing.

“(Y/N)! Come on, you've got five tables waiting on their food, and you’re — what? Chilling in the backroom?” You could hear Derek’s loud yelps through the commotion in the kitchen, and you rolled your eyes at the audacity of his accusations. “I’m coming!”

You relocked the locker, pulling at the handle to check for security. Harvey stole a lot more than tips.

“So?” Castillo entered the room after a generous fifteen minutes. “She didn’t pick up.”

Despite his serious tone, stoic face, and clouded mind, he could see the worry in Jenna’s face, and he let out a frustrated huff. “I’m giving you until tomorrow, Jenna. If you don’t talk to her by that time, then we’re pacing your reshoots and taking you back to the States to have a proper meeting with your entire management and publicity crew.”

She wasted no time in burying her face in her hands when Castillo and Louis bid her farewell, the suffocating urge to cry her eyes out taking over her. She eyed her phone for ten minutes; that’s it. She sat there and bore her gaze into the device, hoping to see your caller ID pop up, but nothing.

“Derek! When can I go on break?”

You stuffed your filthy tray into the dishwasher, fuming as you hurriedly shut the door and accidentally hit your finger. You gripped your finger in pain as you searched for the busied man.

You could see his head pop into the kitchen, as if he was too preoccupied in the dining room to move the rest of his body. “I’ll stop sending tables to you. Finish up with the ones you are currently serving, and then take your thirty minutes." And as quickly as he entered the kitchen, he exited, and you grinned slyly as you grabbed a clean tray from under a countertop, stacking the meals for your table before hurrying out with imperativeness in your steps.

You returned to the backroom after finishing all of your tables (with the inevitable process of having ice-cold water thrown at you) to find Jack in your usual seat. He was scrolling through his phone when you pushed the back of the chair up, causing him to fall to the floor.

“Hey!” He got up, brushing himself off, before sitting in the chair across from you. “Your phone’s still been buzzing like crazy; it’s getting kind of annoying.”

“You’re annoying.” You stood from your chair, grabbing an 8-ounce soda can on the way to your locker, the buzzing growing louder as you moved closer. “Jesus, that sounds like a vibe.”

“Ew!” Jack shouted. You smiled to yourself, first grabbing a hanging towel to wipe your face of any water residue before gripping the vibrating phone, eyeing it for a second before you saw Jenna’s caller ID pop on the screen.

“Who keeps on blowing up your damn phone?”

“Jenna!”

“No way you’ve been having Hollywood call you nonstop and sending her to voicemail, at that.” Jack stood up, making his way over to you and eyeing Jenna’s caller ID. “So are you going to pick up or what the fuck?”

“Yeah, yeah.” You swiped the button, pushing Jack away and moving toward a more secluded area while you listened in. “Hello?”

“Fucking hell, (Y/N). Look, I know you said you’d call me when you had the time, but I don’t have any more time to waste. I need to talk to you about the whole media thing.” You could hear the exasperation in her voice, and that made you worry.

“I’m sorry, Jenna. I took a couple extra shifts this week to try and help my brother pay for something. I was actually going to call you tonight, but if you need to talk to me now, I’ve got thirty minutes.” You turned toward Jack, shooing him out of the room, and he gave you a ‘what the fuck?’ look before begrudgingly leaving. You knew he didn’t really care where he took his break; he just wanted to eavesdrop.

“You don’t have to apologize any more; it’s fine if that’s why you’re calling.” You sat down in your seat, cracking open the soda can and taking a small sip. You unbuttoned your vest, throwing it on the back of your chair, as you suddenly heard Jenna start rambling.

“Itsnotbecauseofthatitsbecausemymanagementisconcernedthatyouregoingtostainmycareerandthat-”

“Jenna,” you let out a breathy laugh, although it probably wasn’t the time to do so, “slow down. I have no idea what you just said.”

You could hear her catching her breath and letting out a sigh, and you could imagine her rubbing her face in stress. “I’m not calling to apologize to you again. It’s because my management is concerned that you’re not good for my publicity because of these fake dating rumors, and I don’t know what to do.”

If anybody walked into the room you sat in, they’d laugh at your expression, jaw slack, and eyebrows furrowed in moral confusion and slight fright. Was she cutting you off?

“I’m not cutting you off; I’d never do that.” It was like she read your mind. “I just — I have no idea how to deal with all of this. Do I make a public statement? Leave it all as is? Get into a PR relationship? I’m stuck.”

“Jenna,” you tilted yourself back in the chair, unconsciously doing a check around the room to see if anybody had come in, “it’s fine if you need to not be seen with me in public. I do have a living space that is private, after all. For the whole situation…” You trailed off, biting your lip in thought.

“Definitely don’t do a PR stunt; it’ll only make you unhappy. I say just make a public statement, but regardless, isn’t it up to your management?” Shifting around, you moved the soda can to the side of the table before standing up and walking toward your locker. Last you knew, your backpack was in there with your laptop, and you were keen on seeing what people kept on saying.

“Yeah, but they told me to think of what I want to do, and when I get back to the US and have a proper meeting with them, then they’ll see whether or not it’d be a good idea.” From Jenna’s perspective, she was back in her trailer, shuffling back and forth with the phone up to her ear while she mindlessly cleaned up the kitchen area.

You opened your laptop, typing in the complex password that was ‘0001’ before opening Microsoft and searching up Jenna’s name. A slew of news articles appeared at the top of the page in an instant, and you saw the same old picture you had been seeing for the past week. “In that case, I’d say bring up the public statement, because you can’t leave it all as is, and I know you’d rather die than get into a PR relationship. It’ll all be alright, Jenna.”

You needed to reassure the girl because her tone had softened but was still filled with a stressed sound. Jack entered the room, assuming that the seriousness of the conversation had subsided (because he was eavesdropping from the other side of the door), and sat across from you. He flung his hands around, asking for your attention, which you gave him while listening to Jenna thank you for the talk you guys had. “Tell her you miss her!”

“Why?” You mouthed it, raising your eyebrows in an attempt to get him to lower his voice. “Because you do, duh.” His tone hadn’t lowered in the slightest, and you threw the soda can that was now empty toward him, putting a finger over your mouth.

“Yeah, no, don’t worry about it. And trust me, if it seemed like it, I wasn’t avoiding you.” You returned to the conversation, ignoring Jack’s heart-hand gestures toward you. You eyed the time on your laptop, seeing that you had five minutes left on your break, and you usually took the last five to prepare.

“I thought that at first, but I brushed it off because it didn’t seem like you, you know?” Jenna bit her lip, throwing away a styrofoam cup that sat on the sink counter. “It didn’t seem like me?” You asked, repeating her words. Jenna shook her head, blurting out a “no” when she remembered you couldn’t see her and mentally scolding herself for her dumbness.

You had put her on speakerphone when Derek ushered Jack out of the room, seeing as his break time ran out, with a reminder to you that you had about a minute or two left. “What does seem like me, then?” It came out in a teasing tone, though you weren’t trying to tease her. You were genuinely curious as to what the high-priority girl thought of you.

“Nice, funny; definitely not the ghosting type.” She laughed, and you smiled while buttoning your vest back on. “Somebody I can be myself with, definitely.”

“You’re not yourself with some people?” That genuinely shocked you. Jenna seemed like one of the most open people you knew, though, to be fair, you still hadn’t known her all that well. She gave off a vibe, you’d say. “No, not really. Whenever I hang out with more high-end people, they act all serious, so most of the time, I just stay quiet.”

“That must suck. I can’t hold myself from talking; the longest I can go is maybe five minutes — oh!” You exclaimed, remembering what you had planned on asking her. “Do you know when you come back to the US? I want you to try this little cafe that’s in my bar. It doesn’t sound the best right now, considering all of this… crap, but it’s always empty. Up to you, though.”

“That sounds nice.” Jenna sat down on a stool, playing with the top of her fingernail that she had cut too short. “I’m always open to trying new things, though I’d probably be in some sort of disguise for precaution.”

“Risky, are we?”

“Definitely.” Jenna’s smirk was engraved into your brain, and you knew she was doing just that. You enjoyed talking to her more than anything, but the sound of clattering plates crowded your ears, and you were surprised that Derek hadn’t dragged you out of the breakroom by now.

“Hey, I have to go back to work, but I can talk to you more tomorrow because I’ll have a day off, yeah?” You never made commitments like that because you were afraid of breaking them, but you knew you would be laying on your bed, phone in hand, listening to Jenna rant about her struggles as a producer and actress on the show she was filming the next day. You couldn’t wait.

“Yeah! Oh, and (Y/N)?”

“Yeah?”

“I miss you too. Goodnight.”

☟ ☟ ☟

taglist: @grandpatrolnut @annalestern @rhythm-catsandwine @yara124 @daryldixonsw1fe @red1culous @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @n0vabug @idkwimdtbh @alexkolaxs

[bearsgrove]

✨ oc tag game wahoooo! ✨

aight so here's the tag game i wasn't tagged in but wanted to do and @gwynbleidd and @graveyaird convinced me that i should 😔 along with u two i tag @werecanidae and @sylkana and anyone else who feels like doing this 🐏

favourite oc - ok thats a very difficult and unfair question, i love all of them so so much, they all mean a lot to me for different reas– ravell. its a toss between ravell and kaz tbh but. ravell. ravell means Everything to me.

newest oc - probably avery? whom i dont talk about a whole lot because they are from the [redacted] Duology 🙃. if we consider an oc from 2 and a half years ago new lmao. listen, i havent been making new ocs much, i just had a period of time when i made a bunch. so avery is a very rare exception of a new oc. im honestly surprised she sort of.. stuck around and i genuinely love her a lot. she was made out of the need to play as a new h*wke because ive been playing as the same one since the dawn of time. she gave my game experience a much needed fresh air and some nuance too.

oldest oc - ravell. or the version of. ravell in sk/rim was very much based on an already existing original character and those two characters still somehow intertwine to this day. there are subtle differences but they are more or less the same person. but when it comes to ocs i talked about on here, which are usually just ocs for this or that game, excluding any original story ones then yeah its ravell.

meanest oc - lyrhis? i know i still present her on here as a dos2 oc but she is an original story oc and i only put her in dos2 because 1) it felt like it would fit her 2) she is important to me and i wanted to be able to still talk about her on here without feeling like she doesnt fit in because she isnt from a game lol. i think her being "mean" is more about her being generally very otherwordly, inhuman and therefore aloof - which can get interpreted as mean i guess - because her perception of things is very different. calling her "mean" even feels weird because that word implies this sort of.. human meanness, spitefulness, generally being malicious for some reason. if anything calling her "mean" is maybe an understatement. she is just kinda cold-blooded, cruel, ruthless. ok you know who is actually a mean oc. evan. he is the opposite of what i just said about lyrhis. he isnt cruel or cold-blooded, but he is spiteful, malicious and can cause a lot of harm with only his words and need for revenge or simple spite. i think that to be mean one still has to be human, its a human trait. and he is human, there is a reason for why he is like that. lyrhis isnt human in the first place.

softest - hera 😔 literally my only normal oc. and she spends a lot of time in the sewers, talks to her rats and overall is a bit Odd but. she is the least evil out of my ocs and carries the least amount of baggage lmao. sure she has been through shit but she is the only oc that turned out "fine" after her personal trauma. but other than that she is very compassionate, considerate and has a strong moral code

most aloof/standoffish - well idk. its a toss between lyrhis i guess for reasons i already mentioned and then wren. which is quite a difference lmao. those two come to mind first but then also ravell, ives and avery. eh, most of my ocs probably seem standoffish, its one of their most common traits. but in conclusion i would say wren? if only because wren is actually a lot like hera, my other more or less only normal oc with an actual moral code and someone who has other people's interests and feelings in mind. but unlike hera wren outwardly appears very cold and most people would describe them as aloof. they are simply distant and keep to themselves but definitely are not internally aloof, they feel a lot, they simply don't show it. but the aloofness of others (ravell, ives, avery…) definitely comes from a lack of emotional intelligence as well as simply being a reserved bunch in general

dumbest oc - probably ravell :( if we compare their general Knowledge about things with my other ocs they are definitely the dumbest. but they are not Stupid. i think them being dumb can just be summed up into them not Knowing many Things and acting/speaking without thinking. they dont do much thinking. which can lead to them making mistakes because they most often act on impulse. they are rational, they can be very smart and cunning, but also they do strike me as the dumbest of my ocs sometimes

smartest oc - hmmm. cant decide between lyrhis, evan, nate and kaz. leaning towards kaz fsr, even though outwardly he would appear as the dumbest out of this group. but i think the other 3 while being smart are also just generally very learned and academically smart. but kaz has that natural smartness about him. idk how to explain my brain power ran out half way into this tag game ngl

horniest - evan.

oc you'd bang - hmmmmm i cant decide between "all of them" and "none of them". like. i know most of them are very hot and right up my alley (i mean I made them) but at the same time. they have way too many similarities with me for me to be able to comfortably say that i would fuck them lmao. i know who i wouldnt tho 100%- ravell. i think over the years they became too much of their own person. like ravell is real to me ok. and i respect them too much as a person to say something like that lol. ok well. i just realized something. i change my statement to "all of my ocs that are women". i figured out why i didnt feel comfortable saying "all of them" lmao. because not all of them identify as women!

oc you'd be best friends with irl - kaz. kaz has unironically been my best friend for as long as i can remember. i think that even when i was making him at the back of my mind i would think "ok who do i need? thats who this character is" and back then i needed a friend! as cringe as it is. one good friend. who would be just my person. and no one else's. ok my abandonment issues are showing again and recently i'm noticing way too many past signs and patterns

[winderlylandchime]

He went straight into 2x10 and I would like to say he is making progress bc he has not yet annoyed our mom with anything qaf after the last ep but these few episodes are a hit more on the less dramatic side so, ill let him fool himself for a bit. ‘Oh, i can relate to Michael. I was devastated when they killed Iron Man! I took 2 days off of work because of a death in the family. It was horrible’ he just remembered that Mel and Linds are getting married and he groaned loudly and went ‘my dudes, didn’t we agree that yall suck as a couple? Seriously, this is a worse idea than my rainbow hair! Although that looked bitchin! This just looks bitchy’ ‘WAIT I FORGOT ABOUT PICKLE GUY! OH GOD THEYRE FUCKING! You know what? Good for pickle guy!…oh brian kind of likes George! Respect to pickle guy for more than just pickles’ My brother is genuinely feeling sad for Michael bc of captain astro/iron man. ‘Is this about to become Criminal Minds? There’s a dead body!! Oh goodie, cops because they always make things fun. Did that old fucker just say JANE doe?! Did he just..? I’m mentally exhausted simply by him saying one word. How about I stuff you into a trash can?! You little shit! “Cop talk” well in that case, you my dear friend are a little BITCH..oh don’t worry that was just -my brothers name- talk’ ‘..not to hetero-splain but debbie..i think they do care but they just try not to think about the what ifs…anyway where’s Justin? I miss him and Brian. I need them back bc that cop took a few years off my life..’ He is so over Mel and Linds planning their wedding. ‘Wow..Aunty Faye really looked at Lindsey and said “gay now have my dress”’ ‘ITS BRIAN AND JUSTIN!! FINALLY! Oh no, Justin is having a crisis, I’m the only one who can have a crisis! (The whole choke/bed scene happens) well that sure was a something’ ‘’michael…no offense but you literally didn’t give a single fuck until like *checks his wrist* two minutes ago. Stop pretending like you care..oh wow for once i agree with Mr Boring. do you ever get scared he asks the guy with HIV in the year of Bush..nah, he’s having a BLAST *the lighter scene happens*…oh that was bad. That was so cringey. Oh why did they make me see that?’ ‘Okay, that guy doesn’t look like someone Brian would pick up. I mean he does but also doesn’t. He kinda looks like Brian..’ he is weirdly okay after this episode granted it was a more calm type of ep and he is feeling proud of the fact that he is now watching it more calmly and collected. In fact he immediately went to the 2x11 without any type of break.. please pray for me

Your brother took time off from work for Iron Man's death? He said "a death in the family?" I love this. Also he said he's never been this sad about a character before - did he feel worse about Brian or Iron Man?

"This is a worse idea than my rainbow hair." Brother you have NO IDEA.

I'm so glad he had that reaction to Jane Doe "oh don't worry that's just [redacted] talk" I LOVE THIS MAN. Also, not to hetero-splain. Please feel free to heterosplain to Debbie, Brother, you have my permission. Also Debbie is not actually gay.

Michael asking Ben (in the year of Bush) if he ever gets scared. Your brother is right and that is the most inappropriate question. And also he is still Mr Boring.

Thoughts and prayer, anon

[baeddel]

Please. Please can you tell me what a baeddel is and why people (terfs?) used it in a derogatory manner on this website for a hot minute but now no one ever uses it at all

you asked for it, fucker

[2k words; philology and drama]

baeddel is an Old English word. i have no idea where it actually occurs in the Old English written corpus, but it occurs in a few placenames. its diminuitive form, baedling, is much better documented. it appears in the (untranslated) Canons of Theodore, a penitential handbook, a sort of guidebook for priests offering advice on what penances should be recommended for which sins. in a passage devoted to sexual transgressions it gives the penances suggested for a man who sleeps with a woman, a man who sleeps with another man, and then a man who sleeps with a baedling. so you have this construction of a baedling as something other than a man or a woman. and then it gives the penance for a baedling who sleeps with another baedling (a ludicrous one-year fast). then, by way of an explaination, Theodore delivers us one of the most enigmatic phrases in the Old English corpus: "for she is soft, like an adulturess."

the -ling suffix in baedling is masculine. but Theodore uses feminine pronouns and suffixes to describe baedlings. as we said, it's also used separately from male and female. but it's also used separately from their words for intersex and it never appears in this context. all of this means that you have this word that denotes a subject who is, as Christopher Monk put it, "of problematic gender." interested historians have typically interpreted it as referring to some category of homosexual male, such as Wayne R. Dines in his two-volume Encyclopedia of Homosexuality who discusses it in the context of an Old English glossary which works a bit like an Old English-Latin dictionary, giving Old English words and their Latin counterparts. the Latin words the Anglo-Saxon lexicographer chose to correspond with baedling were effeminatus and mollis, and Lang concludes that it refers to an "effeminate homosexual" (pg 60, Anglo Saxon). this same glossary gives as an Old English synonym the word waepenwifstere which literally means "woman with a penis," and which Dines gives the approximate translation (hold on tight) male wife.

R. D. Fulk, a philologist and medievalist, made a separate analysis of the term in his study on the Canons of Theodore 'Male Homoeroticism in the Old English Canons of Theodore', collected in Sex and Sexuality in Medieval England, 2004. he analysed it as a 'sexual category' (sexual as in sexuality), owing to the context of sexual transgressions in the Canons. he decides that it refers to a man who bottoms in sexual relationships with another man. i don't have the article on hand so i'm not sure what his reasoning was, but this seems obviously inadequate given what we know from the glossary described by Dines. Latin has a word for bottom, pathica, and the lexicographer did not use this in their translation, preferring words that emphasized the baedling's femininity like effeminatus, and doesn't address the sexual context at all. Dines, however, only reading this glossary, seems to decide that it refers to a type of male homosexual too hastily, considering the Canons explicitly treat them separately. both Dines and Fulk immediately reduce the baedling to a subcategory of homosexual when neither of the sources to hand actually do so themselves.

by now it should be obvious why, seven or so years ago, we interpreted it as an equivalent to trans woman. I mean come on - a woman with a penis! these days I tend to add a bit of a caution to this understanding, which is that trans woman is the translation of baedling which seems most adequate to us, just as baedling was the translation of effeminatus that seemed most adequate to our lexicographer. but the term cannot translate perfectly; its sense was derived from some minimal context; a legal context, a doctrinal context, and so forth... the way Anglo-Saxons understood sex/gender is complicated but it has been argued that they had a 'one sex model' and didn't regard men and women as biologically separate types, which is obviously quite different from the sexual model accepted today; in any case they didn't have access to the karyotype and so on. the basic categories they used to understand gender and sexuality were different from ours. in particular, Hirschfield et al. should be understood as a particularly revolutionary moment in the genealogy of transsexuality; the Institut für Sexualwissenschaft essentially invented the concept of the 'sex change', the 'transition', conceived as a biological passage from one sex to the other. even in other contexts where (forgive me) #girlslikeus changed their bodies in some way, like the castration of the priestesses of Cybele, or those belonging to the various historical societies which we believe used premarin for feminization [disputed; see this post], there is no record that they were ever considered men at any stage or had some kind of male biology that preceded their 'gender identity.' the concept of the trans woman requires the minimal context of the coercive assignment at birth and its subsequent (civil and bio-technological) rejection. i have never encountered evidence that this has ever been true in any previous society. nonetheless, these societies still had gendered relations, and essentially wherever we find these gendered relations we also find some subject which is omitted or for whom it has been necessary to note exceptions. what is of chief interest to us is not so much that there was such a subject here or there in history (and whatever propagandistic uses this fact might have), but understanding why these regularities exist.

a very parsimonious explanation is that gender is a biological reality, and there is some particular biological subject which a whole host of words have been conjured to denote. if this were the case then we would expect that, no matter what gender/sexual system we encounter in a given society, it will inevitably find some linguistic expression. if, like me, you find this idea revolting, then you should busy yourself trying to come up with an alternative explanation which is not just plausible, but more plausible. my best guesses are outside the scope of this answer...

anyway, all of this must be very interesting to the five or six people invested in the confluence of philology and gender studies. but why on earth did it become so widely used, in so many strange and unusual contexts, in the 2010s? we're very sorry, but yes, it's our fault. you see apart from all of this, there is also a little piece of information which goes along with the word baeddel, which is that it's the root of the Modern English word bad. by way of, no less, the word baedan, 'to defile'. how this defiled historical subject came to bear responsibility for everything bad to English-speakers doesn't seem to be known from linguistic evidence. however, it makes for a very pithy little remark on transmisogyny. my dear friend [REDACTED] made a playful little post making this point and, good Lord, had we only known...

it went like this. its such a funny little idea that we all start changing our urls to include the word baeddel. in those days it was common to make puns with your url (we always did halloween and christmas ones); i was baeddelaire, a play on the French poet Baudelaire. while we all still had these urls a series of events which everyone would like to forget happened, and we became Enemies of Everyone in the Whole World. because of the url thing people started to call us "the baeddels." then there was "a cult" called "the baeddels" and so forth. this cult had various infamies attatched to it and a constellation of indefensible political positions. ultimately we faced a metric fucking shit ton of harassment, including, for some of my friends, really serious and bad irl harassment that had long-term bad awful consequences relating to stable housing and physical safety and i basically never want to talk about that part of my life ever again. and i never have to, because i've come to realize that for most people, when they use the word baeddel, they don't know about that stuff. it doesn't mean that anymore.

so what does it mean? you'll see it in a few contexts. TERFs do use it, as you guessed. i am not quite sure what they really mean by it and how it differs from other TERF barbs. i think being a baeddel invovles being politically active or at least having a political consciousness, but in a way thats distinct from just any 'TRA' or trans activist. so perhaps 'militant' trans women, but perhaps also just any trans woman with any opinions at all. how this was transmitted from tumblr/west coast tranny drama to TERF vocabulary i have no idea. but you will also find - or, could have found a few years ago - i would say 'copycat' groups who didn't know us or what we believed but heard the rumours, and established their own (generously) organizations (usually facebook groups) dedicated to putting those principles into practice. they considered themselves trans lesbian separatists and did things like doxx and harass trans women who dated cafabs. if you don't know about this, yes, there really were such groups. they mostly collapsed and disappeared because they were evildoers who based their ideology on a caricature. i knew a black trans woman who was treated very badly by one of these groups, for predictable reasons. so long-time readers: if you see people talking about their bad experiences with 'baeddels', you can't necessarily relate it to the 2014 context and assume they're carrying around old baggage. there are other dreams in the nightmare.

the most common way you'll see it today, in my experience, is in this form: people will say that it was a "slur" for trans women. they might bring up that it's the root of the word bad, and they might even think that you shouldn't use the word bad because of it, or that you shouldn't use the word baeddel because it's a slur. all of this is a silly game of internet telephone and not worth addressing. except to say that it's by no means clear that baeddel, or baedling, were slurs, or even insulting at all. while Theodore doesn't provide us with a description of how we can have sex with a baedling without sinning, and it may be the case that any sexual relations with a baedling was considered sinful, sexuality-based transgressions were not taken all that seriously in those days. there was a period where homosexuality within the Church was almost sanctioned, and it wasn't until much later that homosexuality became so harshly proscribed, to the extent that it was thought to represent a threat to society, etc. and as i mentioned, there are places in England named after baedlings. there is a little parish near Kent which is called Badlesmere, Baeddel's Lake, which was recorded in the Anglo-Saxon Domesday Book (as having a lord, a handful of villagers and a few slaves; perhaps only one or two households). it's not unheard of, but i just don't know very many places called Faggot Town or some such. it's possible that baedlings had some role in Anglo-Saxon society which we are not aware of; it could even have been a prestigious one, as it was in other societies. there is just no evidence other than a couple of passing references in the literature and we'll probably never have a complete picture.

[littlepadika]

Calling Home (1) | Frankie Morales x Reader

Summary: You are a receptionist at the VA. Frankie Morales keeps calling. Yearning ensues...

Rating: M -> E in later chapters

Warnings: fem!reader, age gap (legal), praise kink, voice kink, discussion of addiction/PTSD/trauma, no use of y/n, no beta reader, reader is bad at Spanish, Frankie has a sexy voice 😩

Masterlist here

AN: My first fic. Pedro writers have inspired me to finally start writing again 🥺. Concept inspired by the movie RED. I hope you like it ❤️Set after triple frontier.

Chapter One

~~~~~~~~~~~

The first time he called was an ordinary Thursday.

“Veterans Affairs, how can I help you?”

You had been working at the VA office for about two weeks. Fresh out of college you felt lucky to have a job in the first place. You went to school to be a writer but your big idea for 'The Next Great American Novel' had yet to present itself. At least here you had access to the most inspiring stories and interesting people. Men and women who had seen more and done more than you probably would in your entire life. You loved talking to clients on the phone. It was weird but something about only being able to hear people’s voices excited you. You would sometimes write little stories in your head about the people you'd talk to, filling in the details that were unknown.

Your desk accessories reflected your love of books and writing. You had your growing collection of books sitting on your desk sandwiched between baby pink bookends. Next to them was a matching desk organizer filled with your favorite sparkly pens and sticky notes. You had decorated the plain cubicle walls with posters of quotes from your favorite books. You also brought your favorite candle from home. Even though you couldn’t light it you still liked to lift it to your nose once and a while and smell it between chapters. When you weren’t on the phone or scanning documents you would read. You finished To Kill A Mockingbird in your first week on the job and were now halfway through Murder on the Orient Express.

You were starting a new chapter when Frankie Morales called the first time.

You picked up the phone on the second ring already mustering your chipper 'customer service' voice. “Veterans affairs.” You stated your name. “How may I help you?”

“H-Hi. My name is Frankie- uh-Francisco Morales." A deep voice answered you. "I’m calling because I have gotten my benefits check yet. It’s been a month. I was hoping you could tell me if it got sent?”

“Okay Mr. Morales." You flipped on the computer. "Let me check. Can you spell your last name for me?”

“M-o-r-a-l-e-s”

“Okay... let's see.” You clicked on his account. You were momentarily distracted by his picture likely taken when he graduated basic if you had to guess based off the uniform. He looked sweet. Sharp nose and strong jaw balanced by kind eyes and a shy smile. You could imagine how age would continue to soften his expression making him even more handsome. The image was a strange juxtaposition to the voice you were hearing on the phone which was much deeper and rougher. His profile said he was special forces. A pilot. The rest of the information was blacked out. Something you were used to seeing on many people's accounts but even his years of service were redacted. He must have been involved in some dangerous stuff, you thought to yourself. The dates that were not redacted were mostly in Latin America. You clicked over to processing requests. “Looks like the check got sent one week ago.” You informed him.

"I'll look again but I haven't seen anything-" It sounded like he was apologizing when clearly it was not his fault.

"No no. It's probably a mistake on our end." You interrupted. With how shitty and outdated the payroll interface was you wouldn't be surprised if there was a mix up. "I’ll go ahead and let payroll know to send another."

"Great. Thanks." He replied sounding relieved. The roughness in his voice gave way to a smooth baritone.

“No problem. I'm sorry for any inconvenience it may have caused. We'll get it sent right away." You hoped he was not relying on this benefit check for anything important. While you could promise you'd fix the problem, the administration was notoriously slow. When he didn't respond you asked, "Is there anything else I can help you with today, Mr. Morales?”

“Uh-no" The roughness back in place. "Thank you." He paused before adding your name onto his thank you which made you smile. People usually never remembered your name.

“Alright. Have a nice day and thank you for your service.” You chirped before hanging up. The smile he put on your face lingered for a few minutes as you returned to your book.

The next time he called was exactly twelve days later.

“Veterans affairs” you answered, your routine greeting cut short as your eyes were still on your book.

“Hi- I’m calling because uh I still haven’t gotten my benefits check. This is Frankie Morales.”

“Oh Mr. Morales.” You recognized his voice even before he even said his name. You quickly shut your book, pushing your hair out of your face. Had you been thinking about him? No! Okay maybe you stared at his picture for a few minutes longer after he hung up. Yes, it was probably very unprofessional but you couldn't fight the curiosity. You were trying to rationalize the contrasting sharpness and softness of his features with his voice. How it all worked together. How one person's voice could change textures and colors so easily. You wondered what kind of things this man might have seen on the job. Most of the veterans you would help day to day did not have so many redacted missions and deployments. You were in the middle of Narcos season one so you immediately thought of drugs or something equally dangerous. After much pondering, you had come to the conclusion that Frankie Morales was both insanely attractive and insanely courageous. “Still no check, huh?”

“Nope.” He sighed the sound making the phone's shitty speaker crackle as you held it to your ear.

“Let me just check that it was approved...“ you found his profile again and scrolled to the status page. “Hmm... it says it was sent out last Friday after we spoke. That’s so weird...”

“Yeah. Really weird.” He echoed your frustration on the other end.

Typical payroll, you thought to yourself as you rolled your eyes. “I'll get another one sent to you right away. I'll see to it myself.” You tucked the phone under your chin and typed out a short email to Mary in payroll letting her know you'd be stopping by her office to explain the situation. You realized he hadn't hung up yet.

“Sorry for the back and forth.” You said, trying to fill the silence.

“It’s not your fault." The earlier irritation gone. "You’ve been really helpful.” His voice sounded warm and reassuring. Less gruff than it was last you spoke. Instead it was that rich baritone that you caught of glimpse of last time.

You feel your face warm at his compliment. It was this annoying reflex you had. Praise always made you blush no matter what context but it was worse when it came from a (you assume) gorgeous stranger.

“And just to verify that your address is correct- you’re on Maple Lane in Miami, Florida?”

“That’s right.” He confirmed.

“Okay. Sent!” You clicked send on the email, which caused the window to close and reveal Frankie’s profile page again. “I was curious-" You spoke before you really made the decision to speak. You didn’t want to overstep but once again your curiosity got the better of you. Honestly, you were just searching for a way to keep him on the phone. The day had been so boring.

“Your profile says you were stationed in Costa Rica.”

“For a bit.” He replied after a moment. He didn’t sound too defensive but there was definitely some tightness in his answer that made you feel bad for asking. Like you were scratching a wound.

“Did you like it? The country I mean.”

“Are you planning a trip?” He sounds a little amused.

“Yeah- well- kind of. It's more a trip in my head right now. I’d like to go there one day. It looks so beautiful.” You sighed closing your eyes trying to imagine the heat on your skin.

“It is." He agrees. "Really humid though.”

“Mm that sounds nice.” You would kill for some warm weather after such a long winter in DC.

“It was too muggy for me at times." He grumbled. "If you do go, stick to the costal areas where it’s more breezy or else you’ll just be sweating the whole time.”

“I don’t mind a little sweat” you shrugged, still thinking of the awful east coast winter you were currently suffering through. The sexual connotation of what you said hit you hard as soon as you heard the statement in its entirety. You felt your face flush again, though the man on the other end would never know.

“I’m learning Spanish!" You announced loudly trying to move the conversation past your awkwardness.

“Wow. Muy impressivo.”

“Si” you replied but after a moment you admit “I don’t really know what you said.”

Frankie laughed loudly on the other end and you couldn’t help but join in, drawing dirty looks from the elderly lady, Donna, working in the cubicle across from you. You ducked your head behind a stack of papers to avoid her glare.

“Fake it till you make it.” He chuckled.

“Maybe you should help me out.” You took on an indigent but still playful tone. “You sound better than duolingo” Your smile widened when he laughed again. His laugh was what you hoped it would be, by all your assumptions from his picture. It was an unencumbered, unburdened, rich sound with only a hit of roughness from the air behind it.

“Tell me you’re not using that dumb app to learn.” he scoffed, saying your name in an almost scolding tone.

“I’m got my thirty day streak today.” You boasted.

“You’ll be a total tourist if you go by duolingo.”

“But the owl is so cute every time I get something right!” You argued your voice taking on a more childish cadence.

“That’s how they trap you, silly girl.” He teased right back. Usually such a condescending nickname would piss you off but something about the affection behind him using it made you feel very differently. You felt warm like you were proud to be silly as long as it made him laugh.

“Then you saved me just in time, Mr. Morales.” You bit your lip. His scoffing and laughter died down on the other end.

“Frankie” He corrects you.

“Frankie…” You repeated it, smiling at how well the nick name suited the voice over the phone. Honest, sincere, and not pretentious at all. Way better than the pompous guys you know with equally stuffy names like “Edward” and “Christopher.”

“So what do you want to know?” Frankie interrupted your thoughts. “Dime”

You started asking him questions in Spanish to the best of your ability. Granted they weren't particularly probing questions. What is your name? What is your favorite color? What is your favorite animal? What's your favorite book? I am reading Gone Girl. He answered them all with patience and amusement, occasionally interrupting you to correct your pronunciation or explain what a word meant. Every time you’d repeat the word back correctly he would say something like “good” or “there you go” or “you got it”. You hated to admit that his kind words and his praise was doing something to you. You didn't even realize you were clenching your legs together unconsciously, almost in anticipation of his next correction or next answer. His low voice so sweet and encouraging against your ear, more tangible when he was speaking Spanish. You just wanted to hear more of it. Would it be this sweet in other situations? Would it get huskier or rougher? If you closed your eyes it was like he was sitting right next to you. It would be all too easy to slip into that daydream and escape the dull office.

Suddenly out of the corner of your drooping eyes you saw a flashing red light on the phone console meaning another caller was waiting.

“Shoot- i’m sorry, Frankie- I have to take this call.” You shot forward in your chair, legs uncrossing.

“Of-Of course. I should let you get back to work.” He sounded a little sad or so you hoped. You felt bad for interrupting him after you both were having so much fun. You wanted to say he could wait on hold but he killed that idea when he said, "I have work too. Technically I'm five minutes past my lunch break."

Your pout turned to a smile. He was spending his precious lunch break with you? Get a grip! you snapped at yourself.

“You’re welcome to call again if you want.” You threw out the offer in a small voice, scared you would be rejected. You peered over the cubicle wall to see if you were still being glared at. Thankfully Donna was away from her desk. Probably out for a smoke. “It’s really boring here and usually no one calls.”

“Maybe I will.” He replied and you could hear the smile behind those words. You felt your heart clench weirdly in your chest like it didn't know how to process the sudden spike in emotions.

“Bye, Frankie.” You beamed.

“Bye”

This time the smile on your face lasted for hours. Frankie’s laugh echoed around in your head, taunting you, sending your mind to the gutter. His voice went from grit to molasses on a dime. You wanted to be the one to bring out those sounds. You wanted to hear his voice bend and stretch and strain as you fucked him. What the hell is wrong with me? you screamed internally. You had never been so depraved and with a stranger no less! You clearly needed to get laid fast because this much yearning would not end well.

Frankie got the second VA check a few days later and this time he didn’t even feel bad about ripping it in half. He was already reaching for the phone to call you.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Tags: Message to be added 💕 no minors please!

[themonotonysyndrome]

REDACTED verse - Those that stood above the rest

Summary: Everyone in D.A.M.N simp for the power couple at least a little bit - the Vampire Prince of Dahlia and the Electro Energetic. Gavin and the Freelancer would be lying if they said they haven't been watching them... respectfully. 

TW: [Swearing], [Profanity], [Explicit implications courtesy of Gavin, of course] & [Oblivious narrators]

Apologies for any grammatical or spelling errors because I wrote this the whole night and only edited it once. I’ll do the editing process again tomorrow morning.

-

Life as a student in D.A.M.N is nothing like regular colleges or universities. While the environment is hectic with exams, assignments and teachers with sticks up their asses - there's also a hint of craziness thrown into the mix. You can never really predict how your day would go here in the academy, and to most of the students, it's the typical college experience you'll get everywhere. Just... taken to the next level. 

That's what you get for a magical academy, after all. 

An Air Elemental would accidentally shatter the windows in a classroom with a powerful gust of wind on a random ass Tuesday because she was laughing too hard. A Graviton Energetic would sneeze, and suddenly, the gravity in the music room would stick the instruments on the ceilings. The entire soccer team would fall flat on the grassy field, snoozing because the Serenity Daemon playing as the Goalkeeper uses too much magic to calm their anxious Sweeper during his first play with the team. 

With so many Empowered creatures of all kinds attending D.A.M.N, there's never a dull moment. You learned that the moment a loud growl came from the Debate Club on your second week as a student. A Wolf Shifter had gotten into a heated argument with a Vampire about the toppings that should and shouldn't be on a pizza. 

So yeah, typical college life with magic thrown into your daily shenanigans. 

Today, you can't help but wonder what sort of excitement would occur as the large clock above the lecture hall ticks by, counting down the second before the class is over. 

You check the clock and sigh. Just ten more minutes to go, but it feels like time is creeping forward at such a snail-like pace. Tapping your pen on the open notebook laid before you rather irritability, you just want the lecturer to stop yammering already so you can grab lunch at the food truck parked outside of campus. 

Something gently knocks against your knuckle. You tilt your head to the side and meet with Damien's unamused stare; it looks like this is the third time he caught you losing focus in class. 

"I told you to grab a snack before class started." Damien whispers, mindful to keep his voice even so the lecturer won't catch them chatting. Sadism Daemons are scary when you piss them off, and the way the lecturer's eyes sweep through the students is more than enough to have them all shut the hell up the moment he begins their topic of the day. 

"I was meeting up with Lasko and we lost track of time." You hiss back. Yesterday you made a promise to catch up with the Air Elemental before your first class started to organise the date and invitations for the next game night. Once Lasko starts talking about the things he's comfortable with, he loses his stutter and launches into an animated one-sided conversation. You didn't have the heart to stop him, not when he looks so happy and cute. 

Buying that Arkham Horror board game was the right purchase to surprise him with. 

While your mind replays the morning you spend with Lasko, Damien rolls his eyes. "Of course you did. Here." He pushes his coffee cup towards you. His fingers linger on the cup for a few seconds to make sure that the coffee remains hot enough to drink. 

You grab the cup, grateful for his consideration, and take a big swing. The coffee settles pleasantly in your stomach as warmth spreads within your body. 

You're more a tea drinker - the classic Early Grey and Gunpowder Green - but at this instance, coffee would hopefully kick your focus back into gear. 

"Thanks, Damien." You said before passing the cup back to him. You peeked at his notebook and wasn't surprised to find that it's packed with notes written in different coloured pens. "Hey, want to grab lunch together after this?" 

Damien switched the yellow pen for a red one when the lecturer mentioned something about a topic for the upcoming test. You absentmindedly wondered if it's worth your life stealing his notebook. "Sure. What are you in the mood for?" He asked. 

Finally, the lecturer dismisses the class. Chatters erupt as students pack up while some scurry over to the podium to ask a few questions.

You lean against your seat to stretch your back; your notebooks and stationery are already in your school backpack. You're just waiting for Damien now. "I'm craving for a burger and some cheesy loaded fries with a boba tea." God, just thinking about it is already enough to make your mouth watered. 

Being a health nut, Damien throws you a judgemental look at your food choice as you two made your way towards the main campus entrance. He easily follows your lead through a crowd of students, and Damien even gently pulls you closer to his side when a student whizzes by on her skateboard. 

With so many people talking and laughing around you and Damien, you can't help but hear the conversations hovering around you. 

"...had class with them yesterday? Dude, you're so lucky! Did you sit beside them!?" 

"Are you fucking crazy? No! I sat two rows behind them, but it was enough to smell their perfume. God, they're so gorgeous - I couldn't focus the entire time!" 

"I've heard a few players from the Earth Elemental team tried to invite them to their party this weekend, but they were shot down. Apply cold water on burned area." 

"Well, duh. You can't just walk up to them like that! They're one of the hottest people in this academy."

"Yeah, but those players are in one of the most well-respected sports teams in all of Dahlia, and even they can't stand a chance against them!"

Students parted ways as you and Damien approached the gates. Rows of food trucks parked across the street with tables and chairs placed about. The conversations tapered off behind you, along with the hubbub of the academy. You have a pretty good idea of whom those students were talking about. It's been a topic surrounding the academy ever since the start of the new academic year. 

Even as an introvert who prefers to hover to your few but close group of friends, you couldn't escape the latest academy gossip.

"Finally, I thought my ears would've fallen off before we could escape," Damien mutters. It's a cloudy Wednesday; dark clouds are rolling above them with an occasional burst of strong breeze cutting through. "You'd think they would just give it a rest already." 

The food truck you and Damien stop by displays a menu with a wide variety of food and drinks. From burgers to pasta and desserts ranging from ice-creams to Thai banana pancakes, your stomach begins to growl. You place your order in a hurry, whereas Damien selects a hearty sandwich stuffed with juicy and tender slices of slow-smoked beef brisket with veggies of his choice and chipotle mayo in between two crusty loaves with a bottle of water. 

You and Damien grab your meals to sit at one of the vacant tables and enjoy lunch together. Good food and good company - what more could you ask for? Well, other than Damien's tsk-ing and wiping the barbecue sauce that smudged the corner of your cheek like the mother hen he constantly denies to be. 

"Can't you eat your food properly, Freelancer? You're getting your fingers dirty too. Give me your hand." Damien demanded halfway through his sandwich. You grin impishly and offer your left hand for Damien to wipe with some tissue while the other is holding a burger. The thick sauce begins to drip. 

Soon enough, a familiar voice shouts at them from across the street. 

"Yo, Damien! Freelancer! Are you guys, like, having lunch? Can I join!?" 

You can't help but beam and wave your hand (that was still holding the burger) high up when Huxley crosses over. Damien squawked with eyes wide in horror when the barbecue sauce got all over the table. He hurried to wipe the table clean while you greeted Huxley. 

"Hi, Huxley! Are you grabbing lunch too? Take a seat, man!" 

"Thanks a bunch, dude. It's been a while since I hung out with you two." 

"We literally had a class together two days ago." 

"Two days too long, Damien. I miss you guys." 

"Aww, that's super sweet of you, Hux!"

"Oh, for the love of - just go buy something already before the next class starts." 

Huxley happily gives Damien two thumbs up before grabbing his food and drink. When he returned to their table, he brought a tray of smoothie consisting of kale, spinach, banana, orange, and vanilla blended into green mush in a plastic cup and a plate of vegan quesadillas. 

The moment Huxley sat down, you took a sip of his drink and made a face. 

"Yeah, I ask them to hold back on the honey because I like the vanilla more," Huxley explains before tucking in. "Oh! But I can ask them to add more honey if you want. That’s like, totally cool." 

You quickly shake your head and clean your palate with your sweet boba tea. "It's cool, Hux. Just wanted to try a sip. You're really into these crazy healthy smoothies." 

"They're the bomb, dude. My Mums introduced a few recipes to me when I was a kid, and I basically hooked ever since." The Earth Elemental explains after gulping down a good chunk of the green goo. 

"Yeah, well, with the calories you burned up during practice, I guess you can't go wrong with smoothies," Damien added thoughtfully. His sandwich is all gone. He props an elbow on the table and cradles his face in one open palm. "Anyway, what's up, Huxley? Anything new happened?" 

"Nah, it's been nothing but the same shit lately. Classes, assignments and practices for the upcoming Elemental & Energetic Games - normal stuff. What about you guys?" 

"More or less the same." Damien replies, soundly ignoring your "We're hitting the tournament arc!" outburst. "Planning to organise a study group for the upcoming tests. I expect the two of you will be joining, by the way." 

At Damien's words, Huxley beams brighter. Any brighter, you'd need a pair of sunglasses. "For real, dude!? You're like, the best friend ever, Damien! C'mere - lemme give you a hug!" 

You snicker when despite Damien's frantic protest, Huxley shoot up from his chair and quickly hugs the Fire Elemental tightly before he has the chance to weasel away. 

Also, you didn't miss the chance to snap a quick picture of them to show Gavin tonight. 

Unaware of your phone, Damien grumbled when Huxley finally released him, and they sat down again. The three of you continue to chat about everything and anything. Soon, the topic shifts from tests to plans for the weekend. 

Huxley snapped his fingers when you mentioned Lasko's gaming night and the tabletop game you recently bought for him so they could all play together. 

"I totally forgot about the party! A few guys in my team are having a party this Saturday, and I want to invite you guys and Lasko. Oh! Gavin too! It's going to be a blast, and on Sunday, we can play that new board game."

You and Damien exchange a glance. "Sounds fun. Actually, we've heard about the party just now. How many people are your team members inviting?" You asked, curious. 

Huxley takes a moment to ponder before shrugging. He's nearly done with this food. "It's supposed to be just with a few close friends. Nothing too crazy, you know? After the last party that ended with fireworks exploding in someone's bedroom, they want to keep it lowkey." 

"Huh. Close friends, but they tried to invite a certain Energetic," Damien interjects. "What's up with that?" 

"You heard about that too?" Huxley replied, surprise coloured his tone. "Word travel like, super-fast around campus! It happened, like, yesterday morning!" 

Damien let out an annoyed groan and ran a palm down his face. "I think it's safe to say that everyone in this fucking academy is talking about it and nothing else. God, no matter where you go, you can't escape it." 

You pat Damien's arm in a comforting manner. "They're hot and popular; people will be talking about them until we all graduate." 

"And if it isn't them, people would be talking about their boyfriend," Huxley pointed out, stirring his smoothie languidly. Huxley smiles and offers it to you when you critically stare at it for a tad too long. Against your better judgement, you try again. 

Blek! It still tastes the same! Huxley just chuckles and finishes the rest of the smoothie while you seek solace with your boba tea again. 

"Besides, it's not often you see an Energetic and Vampire couple walking around," Huxley continued. "I think they're living together too. I mean, that's what I heard." 

"Don't tell me you also have a crush on them."  

Before Huxley could say anything, you tentatively raise your hand as if you guys are in class. Now you bear Damien's annoyed glance. "I was kinda hardcore crushing on them and their boyfriend before Gavin and I officially got together. They keep to themselves and their boyfriend most of the time, but they're super nice in classes." 

The Elemental and Energetic courses often have classes that intermingle every week. However, they're primarily compulsory lessons like magical history, laws regarding coverts and taxonomy of various Empowered creatures. 

So you're practically classmates with the hottest Electro Energetic in the academy and had even sat beside them a few times during class. Unlike many of the students who simp for them at a distance. 

The power couple of D.A.M.N is certainly interesting, to say the least. 

You narrowed your eyes at Damien when he refused to let up his disappointed stare. "Don't lie to me. You simp for them too." 

Damien huffs and crosses his arms. "Both of them look good, alright. Anyone with a working pair of eyes could tell from a mile away. They're gorgeous, and the Vampire is hot - so what?" 

"They're both super strong too." Huxley unknowingly throws more wood into the fire. 

By the time their lunch ended, Damien had demanded they talk about something else, so you jump into plans for the weekend. Party on Saturday and a gaming session on Sunday. 

Typical college life.

-

When the time on your phone displays 10.30 PM in glaring bright light and you're still on campus, you know what death feels like. 

It's quiet in the cafeteria, save for a small group of students huddled together around tables scattered in various places. Their heads are hunched down as they go over textbooks and assignments. One of the students happens to be a Vampire judging from the blood bag beside his laptop. 

A red swirly straw juts out of the bag, and for a brief moment of exhaustion, you entertain the image of the student sipping the blood bag as if it was a Capri Sun. 

Just like those students, the reason why you've stayed late in the academy's cafeteria is because of assignments. You know that if you bring your homework back home with you, you won't get any of it done. It's better to stay here and slough through them instead. 

Damien would scold and drag you home if he knew. Huxley would be sad and plead for you to rest, and Lasko would put on his guidance counsellor voice and advise you that a good night's sleep would help you think better. 

The boys mean well, and you love them for it, but you know yourself better than anyone. If you don't finish these assignments tonight, you would just procrastinate until the deadline punches you right in the face. 

You sigh and rub your temple in frustration. You've made good progress so far, but there's still a few left and you want to complete them all before going home. So you resume writing down the essay about the importance of convert and the Department on your laptop, fingers deftly flying all over the keyboard. 

Nighttime at D.A.M.N is not as busy as it is in the morning. The students that are going in and out of classes are mostly Vampires and nocturnal animal Shifters. The academy's faculties are also lesser in terms of numbers compared to their morning counterpart. 

Twice you've experienced the nightlife at D.A.M.N, and tonight would be your third. You wondered if Gavin is at home already. Hopefully, you can return to the apartment before him. Better wrap this up, then. 

The steady rhythm of your fingers on the keyboard and quiet discussion from the group of students slowly lull you to sleep. Hang in there just a little more! 

The sound of a Daemon Rifting into this world startles you awake. 

"Here you are, Deviant," Gavin said, his ordinarily seductive voice laced with conceal anger. Oh shit, you're in trouble now. "I thought we talked about this." 

You have no choice but to face him. Gavin looks devastatingly as sexy as ever; his black t-shirt snugly fits his body to the point that it showcases his biceps tastefully. A pair of dark blue jeans that he just so happens knows will get your heart racing and accompanied by a pair of shiny black Doc Martens boots. A rainbow-coloured bead bracelet is on his right wrist; a gift from Caelum. 

You would've swoon at the sight of him if you weren't seconds away from face planting on your laptop. 

So instead, you greet him with a, "Whaaa... Gavin?" You rub your eyes and blink at him. "W-What are you doing here? I thought you'd be - " You break out a yawn before sighing. "At home by now." 

"Funny. I thought the same thing about you but colour me surprised when Caelum reached out to me while I was grocery shopping — saying that you aren't home even when it's close to midnight." Gavin explains and tilts his head to the spread of books you have before you. "So, want to explain why you're at the campus cafeteria right now instead of in our bed?" 

The gears in your head are scrambling to come up with an excuse that's good enough to appease Gavin. So lost in your thoughts that you didn't hear the whispers coming from the nearby students. 

"That's the main boyfriend..." 

"Holy fuck, an Incubus? Damn, they're insatiable!" 

"How often do you think they have orgies? Twice a week?" 

" - collecting them like Pokemon!" 

Oh fuck it, you can't come up with anything decent. "I'm nearly done with my assignments, Gavin." You assured the worried Incubus. "Just need to write down a few more paragraphs..." 

Gavin is undeterred. "Freelancer, we talked about this. It's not healthy that you're making a habit of staying over at campus late at night because of assignments. You're going to burn out like this." 

Well yeah, you could feel your body is already seconds away from collapsing but like hell would you admit that to your boyfriend. It's been a long day and an even longer evening. It's a good thing that tomorrow's the weekend. 

Gavin startles you once more by leaning against the table and cupping your face in his large hands, so you're forced to look straight into his eyes. He's many things, but to those he deeply trusts and loves, his eyes would always betray the worry and concern he has for you and Caelum; even if his words aren't as forthcoming at times. "My stubborn, enticing Deviant... Are you being a brat again? Not listening to your Dom like you should be?" He purrs. 

All of a sudden, your throat suddenly feels like sandpaper, and your heart skips a beat at Gavin's tone. You're very familiar with that tone - it always promises punishment and pleasure mixed together until nothing else exists except for your boyfriend. 

But the question now is, how far can you actually push him. So with Gavin still refusing to release your face, you swallow and reply as nonchalantly as you can, "Oh, I don't know about enticing, Gavin. I-I mean, I've been running around campus the whole day. Probably have some barbecue sauce stain on my jacket and - Ow!" 

You puff out your cheeks when Gavin pinched them. 

"Are you purposely trying to test me, Freelancer? You know that just means more fun for me, and you tie up and helpless on the bed, right?" Gavin is all too happy to remind you, cocking one eyebrow at your impertinence. No doubt he already has your punishment in mind when the two of you are home. 

But you're not going to budge that easily. Sensing your stubbornness, Gavin lets you go and unleashes his ultimate move with a sigh. 

"I can see the Knots on you, Freelancer, and if I can see them, Caelum can too. I'm not covering your ass when he comes over for breakfast tomorrow and starts crying." 

You gasp and immediately recoil. "Low blow Gavin!" You counter, but you know that he speaks the truth. Your heart will literally break if you're the reason that Caelum cries. 

Gavin smirks when you switch off your laptop. He helps put your things away and offers a hand to you. With a small smile, you let yourself be gently pulled up by him and sling your backpack over a shoulder. 

"Are you hungry?" Gavin asked as the two of you stepped into the large hallway, hand-in-hand. "I didn't manage to make anything when I put the groceries away, but I can whip something up real quick when we get home." 

It's a sweet gesture, and you made sure that he knows how much you appreciate it by squeezing his hand. Ever since you two started living together, Gavin is determined to feed you properly. According to him, it's only fitting since you've constantly been feeding him too. "I'm more sleepy than hungry." You reply after a yawn. "I'll just eat a big breakfast tomorrow." 

"I'll hold you to it. Also, look alive, Deviant. Hottie approaching at 12 O'clock." 

That got your attention immediately, and snapped your eyes forward. Your jaw would've dropped if it weren't for Gavin lightly nudging your side when you saw who was walking towards the two of you. 

It's them — the Electro Energetic that became the talk around campus. 

They're as breathtaking as ever, even after a whole day of classes and club activities. Not a single hair out of place and clothes unruffled. Their body language stood out to you; their gait is a little hesitant but friendly, while their eyes are kind. 

It's easy to see why so many people harbour crushes on them, and you've always been a sucker for cute faces. 

When they finally approach you, they pull out a pair of wireless white earbuds from their ears. That's when you hear intense music playing:

It's the Pumpkin Patch King 

With the corpse with the ring

And she'd fuck my best friend if I die here today...

"Um, hi. Good evening. I'm sorry for bothering you guys so late like this. Are you heading home?" They inquire tentatively. 

Gavin waits for you to take the lead. "Hey, man. Yeah, we kind of are, actually. Want us to walk you home?" You could feel how pleased Gavin is beside you. The offer just crosses your mind, and besides, it's not nice to walk alone this late at night. 

That's what you're telling yourself despite the small part in your brain whispered that walking them home would be a great step of getting to know them better. It's just a harmless crush anyway. 

Unfortunately, they decline the offer. "I'm waiting for someone, actually, but when I saw you, I wanted to talk for a bit." 

Your heart skips a beat for a second time tonight. They specifically sought you out? You? When they've never done so towards anyone before? 

"O-Oh," You embarrassingly squeak, clutching Gavin's hand tighter.

The Electro Energetic nod. They tilt their head like an indulged, curious cat and god, that simple gesture shouldn't look so hot. "I don't know if you notice me, but we share Covert Laws - "

If you notice them? If you notice them!? They have a stronger presence than the lecturers themselves! They radiate magic like thunderstorms - intimidating, powerful and commanding that you have no choice but to submit to it. 

Sitting beside them was an experience and a half! There's no way an Empowered creature could ignore them despite their quiet demeanour! 

" - and I was wondering if you would like to be partners for the final project this year? Um, I heard that you're really good in that class, and I promise to pull my weight with the research and - "

You don't know how to react. Is this really happening? One of the most popular students in the academy wanted to be your project partner? You thought this sort of situation only occurs in animes! 

"They'd love to." Gavin smoothly answers when you're too shocked to say anything. "It's always nice to make new friends after all. Especially with a walking wet dream such as yourself." Here, he purposely pauses to appraise the Electro Energetic. 

Just like his Freelancer, Gavin has heard all about this Empowered human and even basks in the delicious energy coming from the thoughts and emotions his partner has for them. As an Incubus and their boyfriend, it's hilarious that his Deviant thought he's not aware of their crush. It's cute. 

Hmm... it'll be nice if he and the Freelancer could invite the Energetic and their Vampire lover into their bed one of these days. Regardless if they've been Marked; honestly, that just made the couple as appealing as the biblical Forbidden Fruit. 

And besides, Gavin has a strong feeling that the Freelancer wouldn't oppose the idea. It'll be the perfect anniversary present for his Deviant. 

"...Was that supposed to be a compliment?" They ask warily. Oops, looks like he's coming on a little too strongly. Time to take it down a notch. 

"It's whatever you want it to be. Anyway, now that you guys are... partners, what say you get to know us better, hmm? My lover has been eager to be friends with you." Gavin explains. You whip your head at him incredulously. Is he seriously doing what you think he's doing!? "I'm Gavin, by the way. It's a pleasure to finally meet you." 

The Energetic look confused, and you can't blame them. You need to save them before Gavin proposes something as crazy as an orgy on your behalf! 

You laugh awkwardly, bringing their attention to you. "Right! Partners! I'd love to be yours - I-I mean, uh, for school stuff! Yeah! Can we exchange numbers?" 

"Smooth, Deviant." Gavin teases. Something caught his interest, not that you notice as you and the Energetic trade contact information. They compliment the cute picture you have as your Home Screen (it's a selfie shot of you and Gavin, Lasko, Damien and Huxley during the previous game night. It's a shame that Caelum couldn't appear), and in return, you ask where did they buy their sick phone cover. 

While they still feel like the human embodiment of a fierce thunderstorm, it's nice to have a casual conversation with them. They're thoughtful, kind and fun that you soon find yourself calming down a little. 

"Not to cut this riveting conversation short, but are you sure that you don't want us to walk you home? It's getting really late, and we're more than happy to have you crash at our place for the night." Gavin interjects with a seductive grin, eyes half-lidded. 

"Umm..." 

Whoa, what happened to being friendly, Gavin!? You shoot him a look; he's going to drive them away! 

"We have an extra guest room at our apartment." You hurried to explain. "So it's totally cool if your place is far away or something." 

Their hesitation melts to understanding. The last thing that you want is a misunderstanding between you two. 

"You guys are sweet, but I'll be alright. Actually, I'm about to leave the campus too. I'm just going to hang out at the cafeteria until he arrives." They said. You have a pretty good idea who 'he' is judging by their soft smile. 

Gavin, for some reason, amp up his game. With a smirk, he cajoles, "Since he hasn't shown up yet, how about you hang out with us for a bit? There's a bar not too far from here - "

You flinched, and Gavin automatically shuts up and pulls you close to his side when a Vampire appears behind the Electro Energetic. It was so sudden that his appearance was a blur at first. 

"Vincent? You're done with class already?" They blink. An arm snaked around their waist as the Vampire pulled his Mate close to his chest. The Energetic had to crane their head up slightly to look at him. 

He's as tall as Gavin. Dressed in a casual black coat that screams money with a dark grey shirt accompanied by a pair of black jeans and boots. His silver studs, rings and watch glimmer underneath the fluorescent lights. Everything about this man reminds you of a panther sizing up its prey. 

You gulped. He's currently glaring daggers at you and your boyfriend. You're itching to stutter out a, "This isn't what it looks like!" for some reason. 

Now, ever since you learned about the existence of magic and Empowered creatures, you did your best to be open-minded. Even that whole ordeal with Vega didn't stop you from reaching out to the various Daemons attending the academy. 

However, you haven't managed to befriend a Vampire due to their night classes, and even the few times you stay back like today, most of them are running back and forth through the hallways to catch their next lesson. 

So to be the target of a pissed off Vampire made you uncomfortable. You want to fidget, but Gavin's arm secured around you ease some of that tension. 

"Mm-hmm. I'm on break right now, so I can drive you back home. You done with that talk with your guidance counsellor?" The Vampire inquired, eyes still glued at you and Gavin. 

"All done. We lost track of time when we discussed next semester's timetable for the Energetic course and potential careers once we graduate." His lover explains, unaware of the displeasure rolling off like waves from their boyfriend. "I think I need some time to go over them again. It's a bit much to take in."

The Vampire hums in acknowledgement. "We can go through them together this weekend if you like, Lovely. Maybe we can ask Will for help since he's coming over on Saturday for dinner too." 

Oh, you suppose that's why they reject the Earth Elemental players' invitation to the party. 

But the Vampire wasn't done. He assesses you and Gavin with narrowed eyes as if you were stains on the bottom of his boots. What the hell? "By the way, are these guys bothering you?" 

A chill sweeps through you, sending goosebumps crawling on your skin at the sudden shift of tone. He was warm and affectionate when speaking to his lover, but now? It's colder than ice.

Gavin, whose smirk turns into a shit-eating grin, is utterly unfazed at the Vampire's hostility. In fact, you would go as far as to say that he's relishing it. "We're just keeping your gorgeous Mate company while they're waiting for you. I was just about to propose that we move the conversation to a bar so we could all get to know one another a lot more... intimately." 

Oh god, they're so fucked. You have no idea why your boyfriend is trying to start shit up, but you're too tired to deal with this drama. So again, you try to salvage the situation. 

"Just as friends!" You quickly butt in. "We decide to be partners for an assignment in Covert Laws, so hanging out at a bar sounds like a good idea as friends." You're sprouting bullshits at this point, but you hope it's enough to save both of your asses. You also made sure to emphasise the word 'friends'. 

The Vampire quickly looks at the Energetic for confirmation, and they readily nod. His aggressive body posture relaxes somewhat, but he's still wary of you and Gavin. 

Maybe this is the best time to introduce yourself to him. 

"Uh, it's a little silly that we didn't introduce ourselves right away, but I'm a Freelancer." You mutter out rather awkwardly. Should you offer a hand to him? 

Gavin saves you from doing so. "And I’m their boyfriend, Gavin. An Incubus." 

"...Vincent Solaire." The Vampire - Vincent - reluctantly replies. 

Wait - his surname sounds familiar, though. You think you heard it in one of the classes about the supernatural factions in Dahlia... It's on the tip of your tongue... 

"Oh, we've heard all about you, Your Highness." Gavin slyly quips. "You and your lover are quite the celebrities around here." 

Holy shit. Solaire! The most powerful Vampire clan in the city! You remember now; the King has two progeny - A Vampire Princess & Prince. You didn't expect the Energetic boyfriend to be the Prince himself! What a twist! 

"Celebrities?" The Energetic - Lovely, as Vincent calls them - pipes up in confusion. The way their eyebrows furrow is adorable, but you wisely keep that to yourself. 

They really are a mesmerising couple. You detect the perfume that lingers around Lovely is sweet and misty. It's calming yet so light that it dances just out of your reach; like a coy lover. Slowly driving you mad with desire. Vincent's cologne reminds you of husk and cedar. Subtle, but once you catch a whiff of it, it'll stay within your mind for hours on end. Wondering if that particular scent will ever return - like the perfect one night stand. 

It says a lot about the couple. 

"We haven't done anything wrong." Vincent Solaire stated, voice as hard as steel. "I don't know why you're trying to rile us up, Incubus, but I don't appreciate you and your lover hitting on my Mate when I made it clear that I Mark them." 

Ooooh, he's jealous! Wait - did you come across as flirty to him!? Did Gavin purposely flirt with Lovely to make Vincent jealous? You've completely lost the plot. 

"Consider it as an act of public service," Gavin answers, easily brushing off the Vampire Prince's irritability. "Besides, how can I not when you both are half of the student body's recent fantasies." 

Lovely 'eeped' when Vincent bare his fangs at your boyfriend. "Back off, Gavin. Lovely is mine. Not yours or the Freelancer's." 

Whoa, whoa! A severe misunderstanding is boiling here! No one is stealing Lovely away from him! 

Fortunately, Lovely has gotten tired of the conversation. With a put-out sigh, they pat the arm around their waist to capture Vincent's attention. It worked. "No one is stealing the other's partner, Vince. It's all good; chill. You know you're the only one for me, right?" Here, they peck his cheek. "When did you get so possessive?" 

Vincent grumbled but didn't explain himself, so Lovely just shook their head. 

"Anyway, we better get going before Vincent's next class starts. It was nice meeting you two. I'll text you soon so we can plan on how to tackle that project." 

You give a shaky smile and a thumbs up. "Looking forward to it." 

Immediately after you said that, Vincent bares his fangs to you next. Oh my god, this guy needs to fucking relax! 

"We're going! We're going! C'mon, Vincent. You're driving me home. Now." 

And with that, you watch as Lovely drags the Vampire Prince to the parking lot. It's a strange yet comical sight. You only sigh in relief when they're out of your view. 

"I thought I saw my life flashing before my eyes!" You complain. Those were the single most stressful moments that you’ve encountered— second to Vega invading your home. 

"I think that went well, Deviant." Gavin objected, very pleased with himself. "He's pissed now, but he and his Mate will be thanking us soon." 

So you were right; Gavin purposely flirted with Lovely just to rile Vincent up, and for what? Possessive, sexy time later tonight? Oh, whatever. That's enough drama for one night; you seriously just need to pass out now. 

And with that, the two of you head home without realising your interactions with the power couple of D.A.M.N didn't go by unnoticed by the several students who were hovering close. 

-

"Are you hurting anywhere, Lovely?" 

"I'm alright, Vincent. The hickeys and bruises are healing nicely; my body still feels a bit sore but not enough to cripple me, so stop hovering near the door." 

Vincent guilty did as he’s told and takes a seat on the corner of the bed. He watches you apply some light makeup on your face and neck in front of the vanity table as you're getting ready to head out to the academy. Your outfit compliments your look and, most importantly, hides any patches of skin except for your hands. 

Vincent really went all out last weekend after his night classes ended. It's obvious that Gavin unleashed something within your lover, and you will freely admit that an unrestrained Vincent makes for a very fun and wild night. 

The moment Will came over and realised that Vincent re-Mark you an hour before he arrives, he graciously decided to take a rain check and promise to have dinner with the two of you some other time. 

Once Vincent gets it out of his system, he teased before leaving you gobsmacked and Vincent a blushing mess. 

"You know, your guidance counsellor wouldn't mind if you're absent from classes today, Lovely. Probably." Vincent tries; a part of him doesn't want his Lovely to attend their lessons while their body is still healing. Then again, that part also whispers that the Incubus and his lover would be around them without his supervision. 

Nope. No. Bad Vincent. Lovely is more than capable of taking care of themselves. They don't need him acting like a jealous, clingy boyfriend. 

However, something that the Incubus bothered him. 

"You and your lover are quite the celebrities around here." 

What did he mean by that? He and Lovely had been playing good students the entire time they've been on campus! Their assignments are always delivered on time, grades nothing but above average, and they keep to themselves to avoid any typical college dramas.  

Is it because of his status? For some reason, Vincent feels like it's more complicated than that. What a headache. 

"Maybe, but I did promise the Freelancer that I’ll catch up with them to discuss our project," You commented and spritz your favourite perfume on your wrists and neck. You love this scent, despite it being cheap and common. "Vincent, honey, you're making that face again." 

"It's my face, Lovely." 

"Yeah, well, you have your happy-snappy-neck face again, Vincent." You dryly point out before sitting beside the Vampire. "Did that Incubus really rub you the wrong way?" Your voice is gentle. You didn't get any bad vibes coming from Gavin and the Freelancer - just genuine, harmless, friendly flirting. In a way, you welcome it as their attempts helped you drive your anxiety away. 

God, walking up to them was hard enough. You always feel a little intimidated whenever you're around charismatic people. 

"I don't know... I thought they were making you nervous, and the words that kept coming out of that Daemon's mouth? He knew what he was doing; I just can't figure out what or why." Vincent admits, frustrated. 

Seeing him look so frustrated saddens you, so you propose a suggestion. "How about this, I'll ask the Freelancer what that whole thing on Friday was all about, and if it's anything gross, I'll give you a call so you can deal with them. How's that?" 

It assured Vincent. Seeing his tiny smile urge you to peppered his face with kisses until he laughs. With your boyfriend now properly appeased, you leave the apartment for D.A.M.N. 

It's a bright Monday morning. You hope that this week will be a little kinder to you than the previous one. However, the moment you arrived on campus, everyone was glancing at you curiously. When you made eye contact with the stares, the students couldn't walk away fast enough. 

Weird. 

Your first class of the day is on the second floor, so you didn't waste any time heading for the stairs. Students mingle around as they go about their day; some grab breakfast at the convenient store, while others chat with their friends at the cafeteria and lounge room. A Water Elemental is performing simple tricks at the marble fountain to an adoring crowd.

Just as you rounded a corner, the crowd parted ways with a subtlety of a serial killer in slasher movies, which is to say, absolutely none whatsoever to reveal your new friend. The Freelancer is flanked by their boyfriend, Gavin, on the left and on their right, the famous player in the Earth Elemental team Huxley and one of the academy's guidance counsellors, Lasko. 

You couldn't help but notice that everyone is giving them a wide berth. Not that it matters when Gavin's body is positioned to shield the Freelancer from bumping into any of the passing students. Huxley passes a bottle of orange juice to them while Lasko is staring at something behind the Freelancer. He mutters something under his breath.  

A loud voice suddenly bounces off the walls. "What happened to my water tumbler, Freelancer!?" 

You and every other student in the area watch as the Freelancer turns around and loudly replies, "Don't worry! I already got you a new tumbler, Damien! It looks exactly like your old one. Except it's pastel pink with kittens on it, and the shape looks like a really fat snowman with bunny ears for straws." To make a point, the Freelancer rummage inside of their backpack and proudly present the weirdest looking water tumbler you had ever seen in your life to their boys. 

"AAAAAHHHHH!" 

"You know you could at least see it before you judge it, Damien." The Freelancer grumbled and shoved the tumbler back. Huxley gently pats their shoulder in a comforting manner. Lasko laughs nervously while Gavin continues to protect his lover silently, all the while looking at ease. 

Everyone knows of the Freelancer and their boyfriends. They're the most popular group in D.A.M.N for a reason. Friendly, yet no one can be a part of their group due to the tight bond they have with one another.

The Freelancer is quickly shaping up to be a remarkable magical individual in their own right, marching to the beat of their own drums rather than the world's. Unwaveringly kind and friendly, constantly making sure the people around them are comfortable and safe. 

In terms of academic performance, Damien remains unchallenged among his peers. Everyone could tell that he would undoubtedly change their world for the better the moment he graduates, especially in governing. He's also known for his fiery temper, yet that fire becomes a hearth when it comes to the Freelancer. More than once, students have stumbled upon them huddled close in the library, softly discussing the future they wanted. 

If Damien is known for his academic excellence, then Huxley is famous for his prowess in the field. His mastery over his element made the younger Earth Elementals look up to him as their role model while his teammates view him as their ace. Charming, cheerful yet a bit absentminded at times, and even then, you can't help but be fond of him. You can find the Freelancer cheering him from the bleachers during his matches, and once Huxley won the game, he would immediately launch himself at them. Sweats, dirt and grass all over him, but the Freelancer would laugh as he hoisted them up in his embrace. 

Lasko is an odd addition to their group, but once he drops his stuttering, he shows just how capable he is as one of the academy's guidance counsellors. Acknowledged as one of the most powerful Air Elemental of his generation, Lasko is well on track to graduate D.A.M.N with honours, and while the future might be uncertain, students like to speculate that he will remain with the Freelancer and the others no matter what. Sometimes you can even catch a glimpse of them hanging out at one of the local cafes and see how bright and alive Lasko can be when around the Freelancer. 

Gavin came with a mystery trailing his saunter. See, no one knew how exactly he and the Freelancer first met. Speculations range from a cute, accidental meet up in a random convenience store to the Incubus boldly inviting them into a threesome when the Freelancer stumbled upon him mid-feeding. Lovely wonders if there's a betting pool going around the academy. The seniors would recognise Gavin, for he was their peer before he suddenly dropped out and vanished for a while. But judging by his frequent presence around the Freelancer, some say that he's looking forward to retaking his previous course. But whatever the reason may be, no one can deny the chemistry he has with the Freelancer. How fiercely protective he is of them when the Freelancer isn't looking. 

They're certainly an intriguing group, that's for sure. 

And when Gavin notices you were watching them, he winks at you. No doubt as an Incubus, he could scent what you and Vincent had been up to the entire weekend. 

That's what you get for a magical academy, after all. 

-

PS: Everyone in D.A.M.N (including Lovely & Vincent) hilariously assumes that the Freelancer is in a poly relationship with Gavin, Damien, Lasko & Huxley when in reality, they're just with Gavin. BBBBuuuttt... Gavin could detect the romantic/lustful feelings the other bois harbour for the Freelancer but kept it to himself for now. He's just waiting for the Freelancer to feel the same way so he could give them all The Talk™ and then go buy a bigger bed!

Anyway, I seriously had a lot of fun writing for this oneshot! It's been a while since I had that writing fever again so I hope you guys enjoyed it!

[juniorgman187]

Serpent of Eden (Part 2 - Reid Series)

~ Reader’s one-night-stand with Spencer turns into a year long semester ~

Summary: Spencer and Reader attempt to navigate through the shock, horror, and confusion of the revelation that Spencer is a professor at Reader’s college. Couple: Fem!Reader x Professor Spencer Reid Category: Series, Fluff, Angst, (eventually smut) Word Count: 1.5k (this will probably be my shortest chapter) Content Warning: mentions of one-night-stand, age gap, teacher-student relationship  Disclaimer: This is a filler chapter, and you’ll probably find it boring, but it moves the story along so that we can get to the exciting parts next chapter. 

PART 1 HERE!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

What’s that saying again? 

It’s a small world? 

Well, after today - I certainly agree. 

More as a comment to myself, I muttered, “I guess I should’ve asked for your last name after all, Spencer.” 

Was this my cruel and unusual punishment for my first one-night-stand? If so, this was enough humiliation to convince me it should be my first and last one-night-stand. 

His eyes were wide with astonishment; his eyebrows knitted together. “I thought you said you worked at a law firm.” 

He wasn’t mad or accusing me of lying, but he was more stunned than anything that I was really here standing in front of him. I knew his voice to be too kind to be accusatory. 

“That wasn’t a lie. I do work at a law firm - I’m an intern there,” I said matter-of-factly. “I only said that to impress you because you were older and had this big shot job. Which reminds me - you said you were part of the FBI.”

“I am, but I occasionally teach here.” He almost chuckled. 

It was the slight pout of both of our mouths that proved a mutual resignation to the fact that we’d reached a stalemate. We both ran out of moves and there was nowhere for us to go if we kept on this path, not unless one of us surrendered to the other, which wasn’t really an option here. Simply by the look on his face, I could tell he was going to assume the responsibility of inciting a productive discourse. And I let him, for subconsciously, I looked to him to be the bigger person, the more mature one, the wiser one, for he was the older one, too. Whether or not this was taking advantage of the natural assertiveness one gains with age, I wasn’t sure. 

“W-what are you doing here?” He finally asked, bringing me back to the harsh reality of being stuck between a rock and a hard place. Had this been any other teacher, I might’ve not been so embarrassed to admit I was 20 years old and serving detention for being dress-coded. But, alas, it wasn’t any other teacher - it was Spencer . . . or Dr. Reid? Is that what I have to call him now?

“I got detention.” I sheepishly admitted. 

The furrowing of his brows and narrowing of his eyes told me he didn’t believe me; all the signs of skepticism plain on his face. 

“I was dress coded earlier.” If it was at all possible, that statement sounded even more ridiculous. 

“Dress coded?” He clarified, like he almost didn’t believe me.

“I started taking off my sweater - not like that!” I quickly redacted, and the stunned look on his face told me he almost took it that way and found amusement in doing so. “I wasn’t stripping in front of the entire school. I just wanted to take my sweater off.”

“That shouldn’t warrant detention, though.” 

“That’s what I was saying!” 

And the comfortable, lighthearted dynamic that brought us together only two nights ago resumed as if it had never paused. It felt like we were at the bar again, talking as strangers falling in love, but here in this sterile classroom, I was chilled by the reminder that we were no longer two strangers getting drunk off the other’s presence. We were a student and a teacher in a professional setting. 

“I’m just gonna sit down, now.” I awkwardly announced, fumbling into the furthest seat from him. 

“No, no, it’s fine. I’ll just report to Ms. Whitman that you served detention, but you can go now. You don’t have to stay.” He turned away from me sharply and towards his desk, all but refusing to meet my eyes. 

“No, that wouldn’t be right.” 

As the sentence came from my mouth, my mind wandered into a trap my words had set. “What was right about this?” Because really, nothing was. 

I knew I was charting dangerous territories by staying in his classroom alone with him, but those weren’t my intentions. If anything, this was one of those times where my “goody-two-shoes” mentality failed me. I was only furthering the chance something might happen and heightening my own attraction. 

The more and more I sat across from the ever contemplative Dr. Reid, the more his figure began transforming into a work of art. I started to notice the little details, the nuances, the paint strokes. I couldn’t be bothered to figure out what he was actually doing, but I took notice of the manner that he was doing it in. He studied his papers carefully with almost the same level of intent as I had looking at him. Occasionally, his tongue would poke out between his lips and wet them, scarcely reacquainting me with the thought of how they felt against my own. His eyes would narrow at the words while he read them; his eyebrows twitching up every so often as a physical reaction to his reading material. 

“Are you just going to spend the rest of detention staring at me, or are you actually going to get some work done?” 

The sound of his voice snapped me out of my daze and before I could re-enter this dimension, he was already looking at me through smiling eyes. 

“I am doing my work!” I defensively screeched. 

“Oh, yeah? If I come over there right now and you haven’t written a single thing -”

“What?” I jested. “You gonna punish me?”

The words slipped from my mouth before my mind could process its subtly seductive suggestions.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.” My eyes fell to my homework that I hadn’t even started on as a way to avoid his. He looked so entertained by my previous words, and that made it even worse. How could he possibly enjoy my flirtatious advances when there was so much at risk?

“I guess we should talk about-”

“What’s there to talk about?” I abruptly interrupted. “It’s not like I have your class now, and I’ve been rejected from auditing it before, so we don’t have to see each other in school ever after today.” I rambled. 

“In school?” He repeated. 

“What?” 

“You said we don’t have to see each other in school ever after today. Were you implying that you … you want to still see me outside of -”

“No!” 

I answered all too quickly for it to appear like an honest response. He was too smart to see it as anything besides what it really was - a way to save my ass. 

“I mean … yeah, I did want to see you again. But that was before I found out you’re a professor at my college.”

“Part time.” He emphasized, as if that somehow made things less illegal. 

A frown formed on my face to tell him that that clarification didn’t make anything better.

“It’s your call.” I finally renounced. This was probably the most honest and raw my emotions could have been. I couldn’t have said anything truer to my feelings than that. “You have more at risk here than I do. If you say you don’t want to see me again, then you won’t. But if you think there’s something between us worth exploring, I’m willing to make it work.” 

He was visibly conflicted; the weight of my words stealing his voice. He was quiet for more moments than comfortable, but he would finally tell me his answer only after rising from his desk to join me at the other end of the classroom. I stood up from my desk, making our lack of professional distance all the more glaringly obvious. 

“(Y/n),” He slid a hand onto my cheek and up through my hair. “You’re worth the risk.” 

He was about to seal his promise with a kiss, but when we leaned in, three hard knocks hit against the door. I jumped back in startlement, while Spencer did just the opposite. He leapt into action, abandoning me at the back of the classroom to flee to the front. He must’ve recognized the knocks were coming from the janitor just outside his door. 

“Any trash you need taken out, Mr. Reid?” The janitor asked while scanning the room, glazing right over me. 

“No, nope. I’m okay today, thank you. Bye, Randy.” Spencer waved him away with his hand, and luckily, I must’ve camouflaged into the wall because he didn’t seem to see me or my profuse blushing. 

“I’m so sorry. I forgot he comes here every Monday at 3:45.” Spencer apologized while slowly making his way back to me. 

“You forgetting something? How can that be.” I joked - well enough to hide my ever growing paranoia behind a mask of comical enjoyment. 

“What can I say? That’s what you do to me. You make me forget everything else in the world.”

His words were enough to woo me certainly, even enough to accept his resumed kiss, but they weren’t enough to convince me to commit to the moment. It was spoiled by the knowledge of our sins, stolen by the fear of our actions. I simply couldn’t enjoy our relationship to the fullest anymore. 

And I never would again. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

PART 3 HERE!

comment to be added to/ removed from the taglist 

taglist: @andiebeaword @jesspavlik0vsky

[eohachu]

Post pictures of your first ever (fictional/celeb) crush to the latest one and tag five others to continue the game.

Ali tagged me, thanks. I guess 😘 @lanzhansmiles​

A’ight so I’m simply taking this as an opportunity to show off my frankly impeccable taste 😌 *coughs into the crook of my elbow with my mask on and from a safe distance* More under the cut, godspeed!

I’m tagging uhh I really don’t want to expose anyone but uh. @morifinwes​ @ttaechwita​ @sunshine304​ @treemaidengeek​ @flamingwell​ no pressure tho!!

Since 2006

Janina Fautz: Die Wilden Kerle, anyone?? Tbh i had a crush on quite a lot of the characters/actors but in hindsight Janina was and is the most influential one. Also probably my first ever girl crush (again, in hindsight bc it took me until 3 years ago to finally find out i’m queer lol)

Eva-Maria May: Yeah well I’m not gonna talk about where I know her from let’s say it was an incredibly bad soap opera my mom used to watch. She was one of the reasons why I went Yeah I Have Always Been Into Girls. I was pretty obsessed with her to the point where mini me secretly printed out a photo of her to look at lmaooo the signs have always been there and it’s truly amazing how I had been missing them for years

Amy Adams: Her as Amelia Earhart in Night at the Museum was also definitely a huge Thing to young me. Again, I had been completely oblivious about this crush for years

David Luiz: HAH! This is the point where we do NOT get into my football/soccer crushes bc this list would get WAYYY too long hahaha. I had to cut loads of people from my list for this post bc I develop a new celebrity crush every 5 minutes basically but yeah. David Luiz was definitely my biggest football/soccer crush out of..... everyone else

M*rvel

I don’t have a lot to say about any of them since I’m not into m*rvel anymore TFATWS makes me want to stick the tip of my toe back into m*rvel waters but otherwise NO THANKS

Sebastian Stan was, if my judgement of my archive is right, the longest highkey celebrity crush I’ve ever had. Mostly because I love Bucky a lot and he was so amazing in Captain America: The Winter Soldier. I must’ve had a crush on him for as long as I had been in the m*rvel fandom

Recent Past

some celeb crushes from last year that were all more or less short-lived tbh

Ester Expósito: As it often goes I didn’t find her spectacular in the beginning but as Élite went on I started to develop a huge crush on her. I still find her pretty hot but I’m not invested in Élite so yeah..... I have no object permanence

Mina El Hammani: Got to know her through Élite, too. She’s so incredibly beautiful. Had a hard time choosing a photo of her bc I’d stare at every single one for ages. Wow.

Danger Days!Gerard Way: Hah! The ones of you who’ve been following me for longer might remember my posts about wanting to dye my hair neon red. Well, him’s the reason and also clinical depression. Ended up with natural red/ginger bc my hair is too thin for bleaching lel. ANYWAY

Maxence Danet Fauvel: Pretty short-lived crush from my Skam days

Ramy Moharam Fouad: So Ramy has a brother, Tamino-Amir Moharam Fouad, who makes INCREDIBLE music. Ramy made some of his music videos (directed them? not sure), that’s how he came to my attention. Idk man he’s just so incredibly beautiful.... gives me a hint of genvy, too......

Janelle Monáe: Became a fan when Make Me Feel came out, listened to the entire album for days and eventually inevitably crushed on her

Lera Abova: Saw her in ANИА and fell in love. I screamed to my friends for weeks about how she was the most beautiful human being I’d ever seen etc etc. Eventually my crush went away mostly, but I still think she’s stunning

Keiynan Lonsdale: Keiynan said FUCK gender and I said 😍😍😍 and that’s all you need to know.

Current

*deep breath* alright let’s gooo

Bright (Wachirawit Chivaaree): Crushed on him for as long as I watched 2gether/Still 2gether lmao. I still like him a lot and sometimes lose my mind over him but I’m not exceptionally Thirsty™

Tul (Pakorn Thanasrivanitchai) and Max (Nattapol Diloknawarit): If you search either of them on tumblr you will have to scroll for a long, long time to find seperate photos of them. However, I’m not patient enough so here we are. Re: Tul, actually I want to copy/paste what Ali said bc DAMN a man who is confident about his masculinity and sexuality really is kinda hot. Same goes for Max tbh. Also Max’ lips look so soft I [redacted]

Lukas von Horbatschewsky: Also known as Lukas Alexander. He did an amazing job in Druck and he’s just a person I admire in general. As one of the few out trans actors in Germany, he had a main role as a trans boy in Druck and also co-wrote Druck’s seasons 5 and 6. He’s just a huge role model to me and, apart from that, Big Crush Material (h i s  e y e s)

Li Wei: Someone suggested him as Hua Cheng for the TGCF live action and my life hasn’t been the same since. While I’m open for whoever will get that role in the end, I could look at his face for hours and not get bored. Major Genvy, too.

Li BoWen and Liu HaiKuan: I will have to deal with these two in one paragraph bc LanLan bc they have the exact same effect on me which is. that they’re not 100% my type but I WILL go absolutely feral about them at regular intervals, if you know what I mean

Song JiYang: ohh honey. oh honey.......... hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. I have a natural affinity for aquarius ppl and this one lives in my heart rent free. I’d even make him soup if he’d ask.

Wang YiBo: WELL HOLY SHIT. listen. LISTEN! the hype around him is 100% justified imo he really is That Bitch and I love him so so much for it. Fucking ICON

Honorary Mentions: Gender Envy

Here’s to the People I Thought I Had A Crush On But Not Quite until I learned the word Gender Envy:

Zhu YiLong: Man, this is the person who’s mainly responsible for me finding out AT ALL about not being entirely cis. The POWER he holds!!! His performance as Ye Zun in Guardian was like a breakthrough point for me which. certain people witnessed in real time hahaha oh I love this fandom!!

Zhu ZanJin: HIM. AAAH!! He’s literally so beautiful and whenever I see him I just go ZANZAN!! in my head and in the tags bc. well. hIM.

Xiao Zhan With Long Hair: Look, Xiao Zhan is always amazing but BLESS the person who made these manips. I can finally rest.

Wang YiBo: uhh what’s he doing here again?? Tbh YiBo is one of the few, if not the only person that gives me Major Gender Envy that I would also [redacted] if they asked. Do I want to be him or be with him? The answer is Yes.

I skipped the fictional characters bc I tend not to crush on them 👉👈 Instead I will just directly crush on the actors/actresses lol!

Thank you for bearing with me. As a prize, you can choose between a ladder supported forehead kiss, or a bowl of homemade soup. ❤

[downwiththeficness]

A Need So Great-Chapter 9

Summary: Eva Moore is assigned to work the last year of her contract with the DEA in Colombia. She just wants to get to the end of her tenure, but she keeps getting drawn further into a string of murders in the city. It isn’t long before she’s forced to face the ghosts of her past.

Word Count: ~3,300

Warnings: None

A/N: For the purposes of this story, Carrillo isn’t married--or, if you like, divorced. A/B/O dynamics are prevalent, and they come with their own warning. The overall rating for this story is Explicit, although not every chapter will contain adult themes.

Taglist: @dirtynerdy98 @1zashreena1 @heresathreebee @deliciouslyclassytrash @maybege @kid-from-new-zealand @clydesducktape

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 8.5, 10, 10.5, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21

Eva sat in the conference room, trying hard not to fidget.  Javier and Steve were to her left, and there was a projector sitting behind the table.  None of them knew why they were sitting there. None of them knew when the meeting would start. All that they were told was that they were supposed to be sitting in that room by nine am that day. No exceptions.

The air kicked on, filling the room with a dull drone. Eva grabbed her pen and held it in her palm, using her thumb to slide the cap up and down along the length of it. She wanted to get up and take a lap around the room to excise some of the nervous energy she felt.

Javier lit a cigarette, sinking down lower into his chair, looking annoyed, “How long’ve we been sitting here?”

Steve looked at his watch, “About twenty minutes.”

“Fuck me,” Javier groaned, rubbing his eye, “I got about a thousand pages of paperwork that need to get done and we’re sitting here with our thumbs up our asses.”

She had to agree. She’d gotten a little behind with reading through case files. Although she was used to redacted information, she wasn’t used to whole sections of them being completely missing.  As she moved through the most recent information, that was occurring more and more often. She thought she’d gotten the mole over two months ago, but now… there had to be more than one.

The door opened and Vanessa walked in. Eva inhaled deeply, her grip on the pen tightening until she heard the plastic crack. Jaw clenched, she sat up and prepared herself for the inevitable. Unable to help it, she glanced at the two agents she’d worked with so closely, already mourning the friendship they’d started to develop. She wondered if Connie would be calling to cancel their work out tonight.

Blinking, she turned her attention to the woman who signed her paychecks.

“Hello, thank you for waiting. I’m Vanessa Arnold.”

A tall, stately woman, dressed in a crisp suit, Vanessa looked at them with a critical gaze. She addressed each of them in turn, welcoming them to the meeting.  Eva’s eyes narrowed as Vanessa sorted the stack of files in front of her. She knew those files—well worn over the years, and slowly growing.

“I am here,” she announced, her expression business placid, “Because I’ve heard some disturbing information and I would like to give you the opportunity to address it.”

Next to her, Javier stubbed out his cigarette, “What kind of information?”

Vanessa smiled, it was not a nice smile, “It has been reported to the States that you are engaging in some inappropriate behavior.”

Javier and Steve looked at each other, a whole conversation passing between them that Eva wasn’t sure she could decipher.  Steve, who was sitting next to her, put his elbows on the table, resting his head on his hands.  Javier stayed where he was, but she could feel the heat of the glare he leveled at Vanessa.

“Now, we deal with some very serious things, and sometimes that wears us down.”  Standing, Vanessa circled the conference table, hand skimming over the chairs. “Sometimes, that leads us to forget our boundaries and the expectations of the DEA for its agents.”

Eva’s gaze followed Vanessa as she sauntered towards them, pace excruciatingly slow.  She knew where this was going, had attended this meeting at least once in every location she’d been sent to, usually at about the six month mark. And yet, it still hurt. Vanessa knew how to make it hurt.

Javier cleared his throat, “With all due respect, Ms. Arnold, can you get to the point?”

There was that ugly smile again, “Absolutely. I’ve received reports that you and Agent Murphy are participating in social events with Mrs. Moore. Going out to bars, eating lunch together—Agent Murphy, your wife has been attending classes at the gym with Mrs. Moore, has she not?”

Steve’s mouth thinned, “She has. There aren’t many Americans in this country, least of all anyone who might be able to commiserate about life in close quarters with the DEA.”

Vanessa cast him a condescending look, “Still, it doesn’t exactly put you in a positive light, does it?”

Eva could feel the wheels of Steve’s mind turning as he processed what she’d said.  He flicked his fingers out in a sharp motion before curling them into his palms, “I don’t understand. Eva is a contract consultant, paid by the DEA to work with us. How is associating with her outside of work a negative?”

Here we go.

Vanessa stepped back and flicked off the lights, then moved to the projector and turned it on, “Mrs. Moore is generally reticent to talk about it, but I feel its important for you to know who you are working with.”

The projector clicked and Eva’s mug shot flashed onto the wall opposite the group. She closed her eyes, working to control her breathing.  She’d been released into police custody right out of the hospital. Her arm was still in a cast, her face heavily swollen and bruised. The picture was not flattering.

“Mrs. Moore was charged and convicted of the murder of her husband a few years prior to coming to work for us.”

Another click. Her husband’s picture, his professional photo, came up. Josh was impeccably groomed, smile wide and white, eyes clear and sparkling. She bit the inside of her cheek, stunned that she could still feel such hatred towards a person no longer living.

“This is Joshua Moore. A prominent doctor and businessman out of Louisiana. His practice was located just outside of New Orleans.  He was most well known for donating large amounts to charities across the state.”

For the tax write off. And, to get the votes of the city councils.

Click. Their wedding picture. Eva felt bile rise in her throat. Fourteen years old, looking like a baby next to a twenty five year old who’d just started working for the local hospital. Her mother had picked out her dress—a frilly, lace encrusted thing that was a touch too long.  She remembered how much her feet hurt from walking in the heels she needed to wear to keep the thing from dragging too much down the aisle.  Standing at the altar had been excruciating enough that she’d stumbled over her vows.

“By all accounts, Mrs. Moore and her husband had a passionate relationship.”

Passionate is one way to put it.

In the beginning, she’d fought him when she thought he was being unfair. He’d scream, punch doors, throw things, eventually things devolved into physical beatings.  It only took about a year for her to stop fighting and just do what he wanted. It was easier that way. Soon enough, he figured out how good she was at hiding things—money, product, herself—and he let her in on the family business.

Click. Their blood covered carpet with his outline marked in tape.

“One night, things got out of hand. Mr. Moore unfortunately lost his life at the hands of his wife.”

God, could she be a little less dramatic? Her voice had lowered down to a soft, sweet sound that grated on every nerve Eva had.  She felt her mouth lift in a sneer before she could check the motion. Sniffing, she relaxed the muscles of her face, looking forward at the picture dispassionately.

Click. The trail of blood leading from the living room out the back door.

“When police arrived on the scene, Mr. Moore was found in the back yard, on fire.  Autopsy reports state that he was set aflame post mortem. His cause of death was confirmed as blunt force trauma to the skull.”

Click. Her husband’s dead body, skin black and burned down to bone, laying atop a cart. Click. A close up of his face, half the skull missing. In bottom right corner, there was a little ‘R’ marked in what looked to be black permanent marker. This was the only new aspect of the photos.  Every location. Every six months. Every photo. She’d seen them over and over and had them memorized. It didn’t seem possible that this little song and dance could still make her angry, but it did.  She was tired of paying for a justifiable action she’d taken to save her own life.

Vanessa left the last photo up, moving to stand before them, one hand slipping into the pocket of her slacks.  Eva kept her gaze steady, ready to take what would come next, the words that she’d heard for many years.

“Gentleman, you’re sitting next to a cold blooded murder, a person who took a life that was privileged and beat it to death with a fire extinguisher. Think about what kind of person could do that to someone they loved. This about who she would have to be to drag a dead body out of her house and set it on fire. Think about how associating with that kind of person reflects on you and your careers.”

The silence that followed was familiar and tense. Both men looking at Vanessa—Javier gently tapping his forefinger on the table, Steve with his head on his hands.

Vanessa’s eyes narrowed, but she kept smiling, “I’m going to let you keep thinking on that. Thank you for coming in. Have a nice day.”

And then she as striding out, her heels clicking on the tile. Eva watched her go, the door closing gently behind her. Eva just caught the face of that department head she’d nearly forgotten about as he approached Vanessa in the hall. She let the sneer form on her mouth, knowing that the rumor mill would start almost immediately.

The air in the room felt oppressive, the darkness only adding more pressure.  Eva pushed a breath through her nose, scratching at the skin above her eyebrow as she tried to think of something to say.

Javier spoke for her, “What a load of bullshit.”

She couldn’t help it. She laughed. It was, indeed, a load of bullshit. She’d never had someone put it so succinctly so quickly following the presentation.

Steve leaned back in his seat, smashing the power button on the projector. It turned off with the groaning hiss of an air fan, leaving the room completely dark. Eva took the opportunity to swallow back the old feelings that had been drudged up in the last ten minutes.  Ten minutes. That’s all it took for her to feel like shit again. She fucking hated Vanessa.

Javier stood up and flicked on the lights, returning to his seat and sitting heavily. He pulled his cigarettes from his pocket and lit one, offering the pack to Steve, who took it. Eva folded her hands over her chest and waited for someone to speak.

Steve tapped off ash into a faceted glass tray, “So that’s why you told us about it early on.”

“That’s why I told you about it early on,” Eva confirmed with a nod.

Javier blew out a lungful of smoke, “She do this often?”

“Yeah.”

“How often?”

“Every time, with every team.”

He nodded, leaning his forearms on the table, “You notice she left your files.”

“Yep,” Eva bit out.

It was a perfect strategy. If she hadn’t been up front about her husband, it would be impossible for anyone to ignore the fact that the whole story, in black and white, was sitting right there.

Steve reached out and placed his hand next to her on the tabletop, “You want us to read through it.”

She shrugged, “You can, if you want. Its a nicely worded story. Not too flattering to me, of course.”

They looked at each other for a few seconds, another private conversation passing between them. She kept her expression neutral, not wanting to sway them one way or another.

Steve threw the butt of his cigarette into the tray, “Connie and I are having a pool party next weekend.  You want to come? Carrillo, too.”

Eva felt her jaw drop, didn’t bother to conceal her shock, “You want me to come to a party.”

“Yeah,” he said, his mouth curling into a smile, “Maybe you can convince Javi, here, to put on a swim suit.”

“I wear swim trunks,” Javier cut in with mock anger.

Steve rolled his eyes, “Only because Connie won’t let you come if you’re not wearing appropriate attire.” Then, to Eva, “You got a suit?”

She nodded, “I do.”

“Good, bring a bottle of booze, and you’re set.”

Eva sat there, staring at him, her mouth open. It was one thing for her to tell them what she’d done. It was another thing to come face to face with pictures of her husband’s mutilated body and react with, what? Nonchalance?

Steve leaned towards her, “Connie wouldn’t be alive if you hadn’t gotten her out of that restaurant.  I don’t give a shit what you did to that guy.  What you did, here? That’s what counts.”

She looked between them. Javier wasn’t talking, but he nodded as Steve spoke, offering silent support. Eva felt her chest constrict with a soft affection for them both. The relief was a physical thing, exhaling with her next breath.

“Thank you.”

Steve shrugged, “Don’t mention it. Vodka—bring a bottle. Wear your suit.”

As it turned out, Connie did not cancel their work out that night. She met Eva outside the gym at their regular time, looking at her like a friend. Eva had to cough into her hand to hide the surprised little shriek that wanted to burst out of her when the woman came into view.

They spent the hour sweating and huffing through a one challenging set after another, the sound of the instructor’s voice coaching them through the movements. Afterwards, Eva slumped on the bench, tossing back water and toweling off her face.

“That was fun,” Connie commented from her spot next to her.

Eva sent her a sidelong glance, “Fun is not the word I would use.”

Fun was sitting at a bar, drinking and hollering at the band. Fun was watching a ball game or shopping for new clothes. What they had just done was hard work—muscle burning, lung searing, skin sizzling hard work. Still, Eva enjoyed it, needed the release of endorphins.

“You know, one of the things I look forward to when I get back to the states is flaunting my newly hot body when I see those skinny bitches at my high school reunion.”

Eva laughed, “You’ll be the talk of the party—look at those biceps.”

Connie flexed, smiling wide, “Gotta get me one of those strapless, backless dresses, just to show off.”

“Oh, Steve’ll love that.”

“He would,” Connie said with a coy little tilt of her shoulders. “He tell you about the party?”

Eva nodded, “Yeah, I’ve been tasked with bringing a bottle of vodka.”

“And wearing a suit,” Connie asserted, pointing at Eva.

“I have one, don’t worry.”

“I want everyone dressed for the occasion, no office wear allowed.”

“Ah, damn, I’ll have to leave my pencil skirt at home.”

Connie rolled her eyes, “I’m so glad I get to wear scrubs. My feet still hurt at the end of the day, but at least its not from wearing heels.”

Eva took another long swig, “Yeah, but you do have to be one your feet all day. At least I get to sit down.”

“Pros and cons.”

Eva nodded, “Agreed. Pros and cons.”

“So, are you ever going to tell me what’s going on with you and Carrillo? Steve says you’ve been seeing him.”

Eva set down the water bottle. She’d been wondering, herself, when Connie was going to bring it up. Despite their weekly gym excursions, she hadn’t pushed. Eva was grateful—she didn’t really know how she’d characterize her relationship with the man. They weren’t...like, boyfriend and girlfriend. At least, not how she’d known the concept back before she’d been married. Companions, maybe. Friends, definitely. Friends who slept together. Friends with benefits? That felt too trivializing.

“We’ve gone out a few times,” Eva edged, standing and motioning for Connie to follow.

They walked towards the bathrooms, the humidity spiking from the showers as they passed through the doors.

“And?”

Eva opened her locker and pulled out her gym back, rustling around for her change of clothes, “And...I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

Sighing, Eva stood up and looked at Connie, “I don’t. Not really. I’m only on assignment here for another six months or so. I like him. I like spending time with him. I don’t know where I am from there.”

Connie fixed her with a level look, “You don’t want to get into anything serious because you think you’re leaving in six months.”

Eva thought about it,“Yes.”

“But, you like him enough that you’re willing to go out with him even though it might end sooner rather than later.”

Eva thought again, “Yes.”

She gave a little bob of her head, “That’s fair. Steve says he’s pretty intense.”

Eva didn’t have to think about that one, “Yes.”

“Is that all you’re going to say?”

Eva’s face scrunched, “You want me to say more?”

“Yes, for God’s sake!” Connie burst out, her hands flying in the air, “I want details.”

Eva laughed, “Let me get cleaned up and then we can talk details.”

Connie’s eyes narrowed, “Don’t think I’m going to forget. We’re going to the bar and you’re going to tell me everything.”

They did, indeed, go to the bar, although Eva didn’t really tell Connie everything.  She talked about their dates, how he’d been polite and conscientious, how she felt when they kissed, and that she hadn’t yet spent the night at his place but she wanted to.

“You know, when I met him, I thought he was terrifying,” Connie commented as she sipped a gin and tonic.

Eva lifted a brow, “Why?”

Thinking for a moment, Connie settled on, “He was just so serious. Like, really, really serious.”

Eva could get that. The man could write a book on taking things seriously. Serious was in his blood. But, she’d seen him soft and sweet, too. She’d seen his dimples as he smiled. Seen his laugh. There was more to him than he showed to the world, more than a hard, scary man. It made her warm inside to think that she got to see that side of him.

“Shame that you don’t think it’ll last,” Connie said, a leading tone in her voice.

Eva brought her beer to her lips, “I have to go home sometime.”

“Where is home, exactly?”

The question caught Eva off guard. She realized that she didn’t exactly know. For a long time, Louisiana was home, and then Texas, and then a host of assignments. Now, it was Colombia. She’d been traveling for so long that she couldn’t root herself down anywhere. She didn’t even know if she wanted to. Her contract end date had been so far away for so long that Eva had never taken the time to work out what she would do afterward. Her record would be cleared, she would no longer be a felon. She would have years of work experience and a tidy little savings.

The possibilities were so numerous that Eva found herself unable to really settle on any one thing that she wanted—except, that wasn’t exactly true. Her heart, down deep, wanted what she might actually be able to have. A too serious, dimple-cheeked man who smelled like tobacco and vetiver.

Connie was looking at her, waiting for her answer. Eva just shrugged and ordered another round of drinks.

[onbeinganangel]

2, 5, and/or 8 for the writer asks please my darling

hiya tacky!

i’ve done 2 right here last night (spoiler alert the answer is yes, ofc, i cry at everything) but i shall give you the other two!

5. if you couldn’t finish (one of) your wip(s) for some reason, what writer would you trust with finishing it, if any?

this is so hard and i think the honest answer is no one! not that i wouldn’t trust anyone to finish my fic — whoever i’d pick would probably do a better job than i would in the first place, but then it wouldn’t be my fic, would it? 

i don’t think we have similar writing styles at all but if I HAD to pick i would probably go with @the-starryknight because she’s heard me talk about my projects enough times (the poor lamb, someone save her from my rambling please) that i reckon she would know best out of anyone else what i want to come out of my stories, even if she would write it very differently from the way i would! my other option would be @skeptiquewrites because i think our brains work very similarly (even if she’s way, way cleverer than me) and we’re into the same stuff. i think she would pick up a wip of mine without having any idea what i intended to do with it and give it an honest go!

8. if you got a computer virus that deleted all your fics but had just enough time to save one before they were wiped out, which fic would you pick and why?

oooooohhhh this is a toughie! obviously all my finished fics are up online so even if they were wiped out of my laptop they would still be available so i will answer this in two ways:

1) i get a virus that deletes everything i have ever written, including what’s already been posted. in this situation, the one finished fic i wouldn’t want to lose is Inevitable (From The Very Start), which is no longer my favourite fic i have ever written, and it’s something i’d write very differently if i were to write it now rather than a year ago but it’s very dear to my heart and i know i poured a lot of myself into it. i wouldn’t want to lose it. so if all my fics were disappearing from everywhere and i could only keep one that’s the one i’d want to keep. having said that, it’s a super hard decision between that and [Redacted Fic I Can’t Talk About] which hasn't posted yet and is for an anon fest but is my favourite thing i have ever written and my best work yet and i would be devastated to lose it too

2) i get a computer virus that deletes everything in my WIP garden but I don’t have to worry about what’s finished and already up on AO3. in this hypothetical situation, I’d go with this long lost WIP I have from over a year ago called Last of the Blacks. it’s less of a Work In Progress WIP and more of a Work I’ve Parked WIP as it’s literally not been touched since late 2019. i have not figured out how to write it for it to become what i want it to be but as a budding plot idea is something i really, really want to write one day and I’d hate to lose all the bits I have for it already!

thank you for your questions, my lovely 🥰

[hisan-miren]

Redacted File

The First Date Pt 2 

             Raios made attempts at small talk as he led them to a room overlooking the garden.  His attempts were awful though, in her opinion.  It was obvious that he was trying to avoid mentioning what he’d overheard because his speech was unusually rigid and his while body twitched whenever she so much as brushed his hand.  She felt a bit bad, but not really.  He’d sent all that time making himself calm only for her to rile him back up again.  She couldn’t help but be happy about it.

              “Y’know, if you reeeeaaaallly want to change the subject, and succeed, you can tell me what lie you told your parents that got you grounded,” Mina urged.

              “Not happening.”  The answer was out of his mouth almost before she finished the sentence. Mina clicked her tongue again. She was now determined to get the answer out of him before she left today.  He slid open a painted door and led her into a small room with a table and four cushions.  He finished sliding the door open while she took a seat, this time sitting on her legs in a semi-proper seiza. Almost immediately, the door on the inner-side opened and Raios’ mother appeared with a tray of tea and sweets. “Haha-ue, it’s awfully boorish of you to interrupt your son’s alone-time with his girlfriend,” Raios said.

              “I’m so sorry, Mina-chan, that this ungrateful son of mine still seems to have no manners,” Mrs. Minori said, casually deflecting her son’s well-worded judgement.  “I think it’d be far more inconsiderate of me not to offer some tea and snacks when the woman your courting is visiting.”  Raios made a sound in the back of his throat that made it clear he’d lost.  “You still have a long way to go before you can beat any of us,” she added, leaving the tray and standing to leave.  “Mina-chan, is there anything you’d like to eat for lunch?”  Her voice was as soft and sweet as ever, and it only made Raios stare at her dubiously.  His mother was the perfect picture of a kind and demure woman, but underneath she was even more calculating than his father and twice as relentless.  His mother had always adored Mina, and was almost as eager as Raios was to try and make her part of the family.

              “I would gladly accept anything you had to offer me, Minori-sama,” Mina replied, actively using the formal speech she’d completely forgone before.

              “Really, I wonder what Kaya fed you to make you such a good child,” Mrs. Minori sighed.  “Meanwhile mine are belligerent and rude at every opportunity.”  Mina carefully kept her mouth shut.  She’d heard stories of what the Chief was like as a kid.  She was 100% sure that was where Raios and his sister got their rowdiness.  “I’ll be back later with some lunch for you kids then.” And then she finally turned and walked away, ever the elegant chieftain’s wife.

              “… I reeeaaaally hope no one expects me to live up to her.  Your mom is way too capable a woman,” Mina groaned when she was gone.  Raios moved the tea tray over to the table and sat opposite her.

              “If you start acting like my mother, we’re going to have a problem,” he said, pouring the tea.  “I prefer you the way you are, thanks.”  Mina had every mind to try and say something back to tease him about the bold sentence he’d just casually said, but her face was too hot to let her focus.  Suddenly, a sly grin came across his face that had her blushing all the way down her neck.  “Looks like I was able to get you back just fine.”  Mina faceplanted into the table and started slamming her fist into the floor with vigor.

              “That smile is soooo illegal!  That’s super unfair!” she whined.

              “Mina, if you break the tatami, the old hag’ll get pretty pissed.”

              “Then stop provoking me!  But seriously, you’re not allowed to smile in front of anyone else! They’ll definitely fall in love with you immediately.”

              “Mina, that’s impossible.  I’m honestly surprised even you can put up with me,” Raios said flatly.  “Besides, you definitely have your pick.  The only reason no one actually asks you out is because everyone thought we were dating.”

              “And whose fault is it that we weren’t?!” Mina cried.  Raios very quickly turned away, his brow quivering only in that way it did when he was hiding something and didn’t want her to know.  It was one of the few tells he actually had.  “Raios,” she said threateningly.  “Why did everyone think we were dating?”  She could almost see him starting to sweat and made the executive decision to crawl over to him and shove her face directly in his.  “Raios…  Raios Minori, you better answer me,” she growled.  “I invoke my authority as your girlfriend.”  Raios made a reluctant growl in the back of his throat and turned to look the other way, the angry façade quickly slipping away to reveal the nervousness underneath.  She put her hands on his legs and crawled across his lap to stick her pouting face in his field of vision once more.  Backing up wasn’t an option.  He was cornered.  

              “Alright alright!  Fine!  I’ll tell you just get off me!!” he yelled finally.  Mina took a seat in the cushion next to his looking as prim and proper as any fine lady would and looking not at all like she had just climbed all over her boyfriend to interrogate him.  “A couple years ago, the old man started talking about arranging a marriage. I was firmly against it.  There was no way on Earth anyone he set me up with would put up with me or put me in my place like you do.  I’d already pretty much decided I wanted it to be you.”  She wanted to call him out for how cheesy he sounded, but his face and ears were already turning red.  “So he told me he’d stop talks on the condition I did my part and courted you properly.  I agreed.”

              “And then you didn’t.”

              “And then I didn’t,” Raios parroted.  “I realized my behavior had a long way to go in order to be ‘husband material’, so I decided I’d ask you out only after I got my temper under control.  I didn’t want you to get tired of me.”  He glanced over at her only to see that Mina’s eyes were staring up at him with that same gleeful adoration they’d had when he was asking her out, and it pissed him off a little.  “Anyways! Your little stunt got me found out. I’d had them convinced we were dating, so aneki probably spread it across the whole island just to make sure it stuck, but then she heard about the love letter and saw my reaction. Didn’t take long for her to put two and two together and make me have an outburst about it during dinner.”

              “So the fight with your dad-?”

              “Yup.  Was because I lied about asking you out and had them thinking we were getting ready to marry.  Not sure why, but the old man seems to think we’re not gonna waste any time on that,” Raios replied, his words gradually tapering off to a low mumble.”

              “And so the grounding is-”

              “Because I lied to them for two years and made a huge mess that got half the island involved.”  Okay, now Mina was less angry about his punishment.  He deserved it a little.  However-

              “But aren’t they punishing me with this too?! It’s so unfair!  I can’t even have a nice date!”

              “My parents definitely took that into account,” Raios replied.

              “Ugh!”  Mina groaned loudly and flopped backwards onto the floor.

              “Mina, if you keep moving around like that, your yukata is going to get messed up.”

              “I’ll deal with it later,” she pouted.  Raios sighed and moved himself to the opposite side of the table where she’d been sitting originally.  “Why’d you move over there?” Mina asked, lifting only her head off the ground as she questioned him.

              “This is the appropriate distance we should keep,” he replied.

              “I’m about 5 seconds from strangling you.”

              “Try it if you can, but I’ve always been stronger than you,” Raios said, taking a sip of the tea he had originally poured for her (she hadn’t touched it yet, at least as far as he was aware.)  She sat up, now properly angry, and slammed her hands on the table.

              “Come on!  Are you serious?!  We hang out alone together all the time?  What gives?”

              “Mina, we may call this ‘dating’ but, as far as our parents are concerned, this is an engagement.  Two fiancés alone in a room together already doesn’t look very good for your reputation.”

              “Huh?!  Since when do I care about that crap?!  Reputation? What reputation?!   As far as I’m concerned, we’re basically getting married, and eeeevvveryone knows I’m obsessed with you, so whatever people start saying about us doesn’t matter to me at all!”  Mina was now leaning halfway across the table looking like she was about ready to get up and climb over it, obi and yukata be damned.  Raios leaned back, his cheeks a bit darker than they were before and his eyes doing their best to avoid hers.  “If they want something to talk about, I’m more than happy to give them something.  Take me to your room and then they can say whatever they want!”

              “Not happening,” Raios growled, his gaze finally meeting hers again.  “Please think before you speak.”

              “Also not happening,” Mina huffed.  The two had a glaring contest for several moments before Mina appeared to concede… only she hadn’t.  Instead, she took the tea originally meant for him and shuffled around to the cushion next to him.  “As far as I’m concerned, this distance is plenty.  I don’t care about my reputation or what anyone thinks we’re getting up to. I know you, and you won’t do that kind of thing without permission.  As outrageous as you can behave, when it comes down to what matters, you take things very seriously.  It’s one of the parts of you I like best and the side of you that tell me you’ll be an excellent Chieftain.”  She looked up to see that his ears had turned red again.  His face looked like he was sulking, but the color of his ears told her all she needed to know.  That and how hard he was gripping the teacup.  She finally took a sip from her new cup, satisfied with the outcome of this particular argument.  

              Not too much later, Mrs. Minori was back with anther tray, this time with an assortment of lunch foods.  Raios’ sister also peeked her head in to laugh and snicker at them and Raios tried to shoo her away with little to show for it.

              “I take it things are going well in here? My son isn’t behaving too untowardly towards you, is he, Mina-chan?” Mrs. Minori asked.

              “Not at all,” Mina replied gracefully.  “As always, Raios is treating me very well.”

              “Oh that’s such a relief,” Raios’ sister sighed, sounding almost disappointed.  “I mean, my brother’s such a brute, I was worried he’d just suddenly snap.”  Mina could see the glint in her eyes and could feel Raios getting ready to lunge at her.  Mina put a hand gently on his leg, more than happy to try and handle his sister in his place.

              “Oh, there’s really no reason for concern,” Mina replied, bringing a hand to her cheek.  “If anything, I think you’re the ones who should be worrying about me.” Raios’ mother just stared at her, incredulous, while his sister fell over in the hallway, bursting with laughter.

              “Oh man!  She got us good!” she howled.

              “Please try not to provoke her,” Raios sighed, exasperated, directing his scolding at his two family members.  Mrs. Minori gave a small chuckle before standing and leaving the tray in front of the door.

              “I trust you two not to get up to anything you oughtn’t,” she said with a smile, “but I’ll keep what you said in mind, dear.” She reached over to pick Raios’ still laughing sister up off the floor saying “Up you go now, let’s give them their space.”  Raios’ sister complained about the unfairness between abating chuckles, but ultimately followed their mother knowing she wouldn’t win if she tried to fight it.

              “Those two just can’t leave it alone, can they?” Raios muttered as he went to get the tray of food.  This time he closed the sliding door behind him to avoid more interruptions.  “No more dates at my house.  They’ll drive me insane.”

              “I agree, but please let the record state that it’s reluctant,” Mina replied.  “And temporary.”

              “But you just said this is awful,” Raios chided.

              “Well… I don’t mind having another date where I can watch you practice.  And we will eventually be having dates in our rooms, so…”

              “You are so dead set on this…  If I come home from helping the old man one day and you’re sitting in my room, I’m just going to pick you up by your collar and throw you out the window into the garden.”  Now it was Mina’s turn to burst into a fit of laughter.

              “Geez, I’m your girlfriend,” she laughed, trying to work in a teasing tone and failing miserably, “shouldn’t you treat me more delicately?”

              “I guess that just shows how awful your taste in men is,” he replied, grabbing her by the nose with a chuckle of his own. Mina cried out in surprise, and Raios was quick to let go, chuckling to himself.  He stopped though when he felt something bump into his shoulder. Looking over, Mina had leaned into him, resting her head against his shoulder.  His ears started to burn and his pulse quickened, and he felt like he had to do something with his hand but didn’t want to accidentally give her the impression that he wanted her to stop.

“I like that nothing has changed,” she said quietly.  His hand finally settled on covering hers and she felt his rough fingers, calloused from his kyuudo practice, work their way in between hers.

“Hasn’t it?  This is pretty different…”  She could tell he was doing his best not to let that irritated tone work its way into his voice.  He was trying to be quiet and soft, which she knew was hard for him, and she loved him for it.

“I don’t really think so,” she replied.  “It’s not really all that different.  It’s just more. It’s just more of the same.”             

 “How?”

“This sort of thing is something we both wanted to do but felt that we couldn’t because of the restriction of ‘friendship’ right? But we always had moments like this. They’re just… stronger.  We’re not as restricted now, so it’s just ‘more’ not ‘different’.”

“… I wanted it to change though…”

“Well I didn’t,” Mina replied matter-of-factly.

“I wanted to be able to treat you more gently…”

“The way you treat me is fine.  I’m not someone who’ll break or get hurt just because you get a bit too rough.”

“I want to cherish you properly…”

“You’re doing an excellent job.”  His hand squeezed hers, his silent way of showing his affection, before quietly separating from her and setting her food in front of her.

“We should eat before it gets cold,” he said quietly, handing her a pair of chopsticks.

“It would be a waste to eat it cold,” she admitted, trying to sneak a glance and see what kind of face he was making, but he kept his head turned so she couldn’t even see his ears.  

““Itadakimasu.””  The two teens gave thanks for their meal and both started to dig in. It wasn’t long though before Mina got a fun idea.

“Hey Raios, we should do that.”

“‘That’?”  He finally turned to look at her, face covered in skepticism.

“Y’know ‘that’,” she replied, a mischievous grin on her face. “The ‘Say ahhhh’ thing.”

“Na-?!” Raios recoiled, nearly choking on the rice that fell into the back of his throat.

“C’mon, it’s a staple of being on a date,” Mina replied happily, grabbing a piece of her tempura and lifting it up.  Once he stopped coughing, he stared at the piece of fried sweet potato like it had personally offended him and his entire family.

“Why do we have to do something that ridiculous?” he growled.

“Because it’s fun,” Mina replied, a sparkle in her eye.  She wasn’t about to give up on this.  She had her heart set on it now, and Raios saw that very clearly. “Come on, it’s not like anyone’s watching.”  Raios continued to stare angrily at the food she was holding in front of his face.  He wasn’t outright rejecting it, but he probably wasn’t really sure how to.  “Just one bite~”  She held it a little closer, trying to tempt him.  He growled in the back of his throat, but ultimately ended up conceding, biting the slice of sweet potato out of her grip and burying his face in the table while he chewed.  “Geez, you could at least try to be cute about it.”

“I haven’t been cute since the day I was born, don’t push your luck.”  His response made Mina laugh, and she returned to eating her food, content with the fruits of her endeavor.  It wasn’t long before Raios regained his composure though because before long, she found a piece of onion tempura in her face.  “If I gotta do something that embarrassing, you have to do it too,” he chuckled darkly.  Clearly he’d thought she’d get embarrassed, but, if anything, she was elated.

“Well, if you insist~” she giggled, opening her mouth. “Ahhhh~”

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Of course I’m doing as you asked,” she replied, keeping her mouth relatively wide open.  “You’re feeding me right?  So ‘ahhhh’.” She watched with delight as he seemed to hesitate, but, knowing he couldn’t back down now and risk the further damage to his pride, he followed through.  Once it was close enough, Mina happily bit down, savoring the sweet taste of the onion (and accidentally/on purpose catching the end of his chopsticks too.)   She quietly watched, pretending not to notice as he held an internal debate over whether it was still okay to eat with them or if he should risk the venture to the kitchen for a new pair.  Eventually he had no choice but to give up and keep using them.  There was no way he’d risk running into his sister right now. He continued eating his food, pretending that he wasn’t at all thinking about how they’d touched her mouth.  Nope.  Not a single bit.  In Mina’s opinion though, the blush on his face completely gave him away.  Well… that was a side of him that she found pretty cute, so it was fine.  She was just going to have to live with that fact that she wasn’t going to get a kiss this time around.

[funkyfreshramblings]

A Story Twenty Years in the Making

CW: Swearing, sex, transphobia (Look, I'm not proud of who I was).

Shortly after I was born, a cousin of mine was as well. My mother took me to a store where she looked to buy a dress for her new niece to celebrate her birth. A woman stopped and looked at my mother, baby Devon in the stroller, dress in her hand, and curiously spoke up.

"Excuse me miss, but you know that you have a boy, right?" The woman shopping, presumably for her own daughter, had said to my mother.

"Of course I know I have a son. What about it?" My mother said in response.

"Well, that's a dress you're holding. Why would you be buying that for your son?" The woman puzzled.

My mother, quick as a whip and smarter than most people I know today, responded without a second thought.

"I'm letting him experiment with his sexuality."

---

At twelve (12) years old, I became aware of this really weird website. You see, everyone was talking about it, a schoolyard rumour we didn't dare to talk about in front of the teachers. The mythical status of this website was nothing to scoff at, students would huddle around and talk about their findings. It was like an ARG, a new puzzle added every day. The school was rife with these conversations, and everyone was hooked.

I'm of course talking about Pornhub.

Obligatory "don't go on Pornhub unless you're the legal viewing age in your country" aside (even though I'm aware those warnings stop nobody), I too became a curious mind. One day, when my parents had slipped out of the house and I was alone, I pulled it up on my computer upstairs. What I say fascinated me, women and men having sex.

Sex. Woah. Penises, vaginas, anuses. There was everything on this website. Everything. Including this one tab which I didn't dare click.

This one category had what appears to be two men on it. I assumed it was two men, after all neither of them had pronounced breasts like all the women had. And the title of the category? Gay. 'What the fuck does that mean?' twelve-year-old (12) me thought. I ignored it, thought it was weird, and continued on.

In the back of my mind, I was curious. A few weeks after watching straight porn and being mostly repulsed by how awful the women screamed in those videos, I tried it. I clicked on the category tab and was immediately hit with my first exposure to the gay community.

'Twink? Bear? Fisting? Now that's nasty.' I was curiously disgusted but clicked on anyways. "Twinks" looked cute, so I clicked there. Wait, cute? Did I really think these guys were cute? Like I thought my girlfriend was cute?

The video was, simply put, less aggressive than straight porn. Holy shit was straight porn aggressive. It terrified me how much those women screamed like the men were killing them by inserting their penises too far into their bodies. But gay porn looked softer. It was sweeter, with more love. After all, sex is about love, right? Forgive my younger self, you see. He clearly did not understand that nothing in porn is about love. But hey, when working with a half deck, you have to make the cards work.

So I watched gay porn over straight porn. That doesn't mean I'm gay! But wait, if gay porn is between two men, what is porn between a woman and a man. What's porn between two women? Never mind, I'm not that curious about two women together.

A quick Google search sent me down the most soul-searching adventure I'd ever partake in. At least, up until this point.

I soon learned what gay meant, what straight meant, what lesbian meant. You mean boys liking other boys was normal? Girls can like other girls? Wait, you can like boys and girls?

Oh, wait, you can also not be sexually attracted to anyone.

Asexual was a term I first read those years ago, and I soon thought that it described me. See, up until this point, women never interested me sexually. I was twelve (12). Sex really never crossed my mind, even when it was supposed to. But I was watching porn, I thought!

Doesn't matter. I didn't want to be part of those acts. That's what made me ace, I thought.

My lord was I wrong. (Not about ace people, but about my identity. This is where things get juicy. And chuddy.)

---

Okay, so cut to two years later. I'm fourteen (14), in grade ten (10) during Art class. One of my friends sat beside me, my ex across from me, and I hated Art class. Why'd I taken this god-awful course again? Regardless, as I sat there and thought, I thought about my bullying up until high school.

I filled out as a kid. I mean that literally, I grew tall and wide really quickly. No one fucked with me when I was in high school. No one wanted to, and I faded to the background.

But in elementary school, I was the new kid. Backing up to 2009, eight-year-old (8) Devon moved. I would celebrate my ninth (9th) birthday in a class where no one knew me or no one cared. Well, that's not true. One kid cared. Bless that kid. Regardless, 9-year-old (9) me had a target on his back. A big one, and it quickly meant I was being bullied.

My mother is terrifying. I use bold there because I don't think italics can describe just how terrifying mama-bear is when she's angry. After finding out that I was being bullied, she pulled into the school and chewed out the principal. And the parents. And the kids. Hell hath no fury like a mother who went through the shit mine did. So quickly the bullying died down.

Stopped? No, but quieted. My new friends surrounded me in a wonderful bubble of love, but that didn't mean they also didn't pick on me. The most common insult? Gay.

Gay? Like, porn gay? No no no, I said. I'm not gay.

Cut back to 14-year-old (14) me, thinking throughout Art class. I swear Ms. Taylor had it out for me. Oh, right, gay.

'Holy shit.' I thought.

'Wait. They're right, I'm gay. I like men. Holy shit I really like men. Men are hot, and I want to be with one so bad. But I live in this crap town of conservatives (my parents taught me right, conservatives are some of the shittiest people on the planet after all).'

Okay, so I'm gay. I figured that out at the very least! Now I have to tell people.

Oh. Fuck. I have to tell people.

Coming out. Hell, as I like to call it. First to my friends. My friends would understand, after all, I had a pansexual friend. What the fuck does pansexual mean? Never mind that Devon, focus on your own damn self for a second.

Oh. My. God. I have to tell people.

I pulled up my big boy pants and blurted out in the middle of class...

Nothing. What did you expect?

I waited 'till the next morning. That made sense.

---

"Hi, Sierrah!" I said to my colourful friend. Her hair was always a different colour every month and still is. I wish I had half the hair strength she must have.

"Hey, Devon!" She said, blue backpack on her back, meeting up with me to walk to school in the morning.

"I have something to tell you. I'm gay." She looked at me and squealed before wrapping me in a big hug.

"I'm so proud of you!" Okay, one down. A lot more to go.

My best friend in high school used to be someone who I absolutely despised. We bonded over our shared dislike of our shared ex. We became really close. Telling him was pretty easy. Okay, two down.

Remember that girl I sat beside during Art? Not my ex, the one I bonded with my best friend over disliking, I meant the girl sitting beside me. Well, let me tell you.

No one can give me a reception nearly half as good as what she did when I told her.

"Sara, I'm gay," I said. Less than five (5) seconds later, my face was buried in the tits of Sara. That was... fun. Not sexual in the slightest, it was fun. She was warm, and she loved me. I could tell that as a friend, Sara would become the most important person in my life. Thank you, Sara. Should you ever read this.

I hope someone reads this.

Anyone?

Moving on, I eventually told all my friends that day. None of them gave a shit! Cool!

My parents.

Oh no. My parents were next.

I'm skipping that part, it's no longer relevant.

Sorry. (Not sorry in the slightest.)

---

So I graduated the gay kid of 2018. Yay! Seventeen-year-old (17) me made it to grad!

But before I did, I need to preface this part of the story. I was, unfortunately, a fan of Soygon of Asskad. And Blairina Weiss.

Shame. Shame. Shame. Not a day goes by where I'm not sorry for my actions during this period of my life. I am so profusely sorry for the racism and transphobia I perpetuated during this period of my life. I was even homophobic. God damn it, Devon, what the fuck are you doing?

I am now a proud socialist. University helped. So did Vaush, and BadBunny (who's chat might be reading this. Henlo Nicole! Henlo chat!).

Scream at me about Vaush later.

Okay, where was I? Right, grad. University applications.

I made it into the University of Toronto Mississauga. Canada's best university. One of the best universities in the world. Holy shit, I should be more proud of myself for that. I am proud. I made it there, and as I write this, I'm on my last year.

Here's to me becoming a med student soon, I hope!

So school happened. I went to school as a shy gay kid with undiagnosed anxiety problems. That wouldn't last, and soon my anxiety was written in the prescriptions I was handed over the counter for Lexapro. This is where I met my first friend from university.

He will remain unnamed for legal reasons.

He introduced me to one of the most beautiful men I've met to this date.

S. (Name redacted for reasons you need not know. Not legal reasons. Personal ones. Please respect this decision.)

Woah, was this guy just... hot. He was an athlete, no way he'd like me. He probably also sleeps around, and I don't want that.

Boy was I wrong. I soon found out that S was very much into me. I was someone's crush. Wow!

That eventually turned into a... relationship. You get the gist. Affirmation.

I was very, very gay. S helped me understand that I was very very gay.

Okay, so eighteen-year-old (18) Devon was gay. That was very clear.

So that's the end of the story, right?

No.

We just crossed the halfway point.

---

Cut to twenty (20). I am gay, an active chatter in BadBunny's (Twitch streamer, not singer) discord, and really really confused.

See, progressive streamers like BadBunny typically have features to add yourself to a role on Discord that would tell everyone your pronouns when they clicked on your profile. This is a really good way to affirm pronouns of everyone, so I'm down.

Well, I do have one problem. Any/all isn't listed here. Wait.

Wait...

Any? All?

Why do I feel like this?

I'm cis. Let me make that clear. I am cisgendered. I identify as a man, I was born a man, and I think I will always be a man. I think.

But I know pronouns don't necessarily tell you someone's gender. They is a really popular pronoun for all sorts of non-binary identities, all of which are different from each other. So pronouns do not equal gender.

Can I really use they/them, she/her, he/him, fae/faer, fawn/fawn, etc/etc. all while being cis? I think so, let's try it! I don't know how to describe my gender, all I know is I'm apathetic to my pronouns.

Cut to a TikTok video. I learned my fucking gender identity from a TikTok video. This is why representation is important.

"Gender Apathy" we're the words coming from this person's mouth. She? He? Them? Didn't matter, they didn't care. I didn't care.

We didn't care.

Holy fuck.

---

Google has been a really important resource for me as an academic student. Wikipedia articles affirm my suspicions before I move onto Google Scholar to look up articles.

I'm fucking kidding.

Fuck Google Scholar.

But Google did introduce me to the world of fandom wikis.

Is gender wiki a thing? LGBTQ+ wiki?

As it turns out, it is.

Gender Apathy is an article there, as well as many many other identities. If you're question, do some keyword searches. You'll never know what you find.

Anyways, Gender Apathy. Cisapathetic, which I kind of interpret as someone who identifies as cisgender but doesn't really care? I guess? This is all still confusing, but whatever. Cisapathetic.

I quickly shared this with all my friends. I found something new out!

But we aren't done yet.

---

Cut to a little while later. It's Pride month, 2021. This month, if you happen to read this as soon as it goes up! Someone on TikTok is making Pride moths.

Fucking TikTok.

Moths were, at one point, a really popular meme online. Lämp. Gen Z humour will be the end of us all.

So naturally, people found a love for moths. Great, that's lead us to this point. I notice during these videos that these moths are pretty. I want one, or rather, two.

I want the modern Pride moth. The trans flag and a black and brown stripe were included on this modern Pride flag to signal that BIPOC are central to Pride, and need to be celebrated and that our trans friends need our help. Need our platform. Need our rights too.

And I wanted the Gender Apathetic moth. After all, it was something new I discovered! Well, I noticed something in the comments while I was requesting a Gender Apathetic moth from this creator (they were open to suggestions, so please don't heckle me about it). One commenter said the words "are you doing a Neptunic/Uranic/Saturnic moth as well?" What the hell are those?

To the LGBTA wiki!

Neptunic is described as a sexuality "attracted to women, feminine non-binary people and neutral non-binary people."

Saturnic is described as a sexuality "attracted to androgynous aligned non-binary people."

Uranic is the one I'm really curious about then. I'm attracted to men, after all. Uranic is described as a sexuality "attracted to men, masculine non-binary people and neutral non-binary people."

Woah.

So let me back up a little bit.

When I had access to Twitter (they suspended me for defending my sexuality from someone who was saying gay men all have AIDS, so thanks Twitter) I once made a thread talking about how I didn't feel comfortable with calling myself gay.

"But Devon," I hear you say, "the whole first half of this story was dedicated to you realizing you were gay! How can you say that after wasting so much of our fucken' time?"

Give me a minute, dear reader. Let me explain what I said in this thread.

As I type this out, I recognize the transphobia I had against trans-men even while typing out that thread. I want to say, right here, right now, that my sexuality is trans-inclusive. Men with vaginas are still men. I am still very much attracted to men with vaginas. But this thread still falls on transphobic remarks. Once again, I profusely apologize for my past. I am currently working towards being a better person to my trans friends, both online and offline. I am doing my best to be better. I love you all, and I thank you for taking the time out of your day to read this.

Oh, and U of T, if you're reading this, before you even think about kicking me out for admitting my previous bigotry, I urge you to think about your staff first. Jordan Peterson still has a job and makes the campus trans-exclusive as he continues to teach. Catch yourself before you come for me, a student doing his best to be better.

Okay, so back to the Twitter thread.

I essentially said something along the lines of this:

I really struggle with calling myself gay when in reality, I'm only attracted to people with penises, and who lack vaginas and breasts. I would have sex with non-binary people who have penises. So am I really just "gay?"

But in a lot more words. Before I continue, I want to take the time to explain how this comment is transphobic, and why I am sorry and why I want to explain that I no longer feel this way. Okay? So, here's the short of it:

I go by the term gay, but by saying I'm explicitly only attracted to people with penises while liking men, I was indirectly making the point that trans-men are not men if they too do not have penises.

This is not true. Trans men are men, and I have come to realize my attraction for trans men as well, despite genitalia. My sexuality encompasses men of all kinds, and non-binary people who are masculine aligned or neutrally aligned. Once again, I can only apologize and do better.

I am sorry for my previous transphobia. I hope I can make it better by acknowledging it and doing my best to avoid these implications ever again.

Okay, now that we have all of that out of the way, let's talk Uranic again.

Uranic really does describe me. I feel it in every bone of my body, that I really do find myself sexually attracted to even non-binary people.

So, gay is out, uranic is in.

Where does that leave me today?

---

When I started this post, I explained how I was a cisgendered gay man who was a liberal who almost fell down the alt-right pipeline. But as I type this post, not only has my identity evolved, but so has my political ideology. I am a cisapathetic, uranic man who still uses the term gay in casual conversation because it's easier even though it doesn't really describe me, socialist.

BadBunny/Nicole, chat, if you're reading this, thank you. You helped me a ton in discovering socialism and to reject ideas of capitalism that only serve to continue the systematic racism against black people, the systematic transphobia that kills trans people, and even the systematic homophobia I face as a "gay" man.

Wow, that was long. Really long. If you made it this far, give yourself a pat on the back. You just read the life history of a twenty-year-old (20) and how he came to understand his identity.

I love you all.

Signed,

Devon.

FunkyFreshHomo on Discord.

[shardminds]

fortune favours the brave

pairing: emma swan/killian jones rated: m (for language & depiction of injury & just to be safe) wc: 5189 pacific rim!au

She passes the pseudo-drift but Killian can’t quite meet her eyes afterwards and Emma catches herself wondering, with clenched fists, if it’s all worth it.

just a warning, this is an open-ended work, meaning the ending is up to your own interpretation and i most likely will not be writing anything else to clarify... unless i decide to have another crack at this au down the line and completely rewrite the whole thing but i am a lazy bitch above all else with too many things to do so please don't get your hopes up!

my initial tag for this was "dealing with the weight of a neurological bond that reveals a lot more about yourself than you’d like." but ao3 said it was too long

this was intended as a birthday present to myself but it's 12 days late and i won't apologise.

also available on ao3 ♠

@artistic-writer is my saviour and i love her.

As soon as the pincer hits her spine, the simulation is over. Quicker than death could ever have captured her, quicker than the pain she was expecting in her lower back, quicker than blinking past a fallen beast and thinking it long past dead. If it were real, she wouldn’t have to deal with the disappointment of her superiors as they marked another tally in the opposite column of their tablets.

Kaiju: 3, Swan: 0.

Pixels dissipate into the air, audios and visuals power down as the relay gel leaks from her display, Killian sighs over the comms and the four walls of the training centre scream failure. Unclasping the plug at her neck, she collapses to the floor. Defeated.

“If your intention was to get paralysed, love, congratulations.” He’s exasperated, words clipped, and she knows he’s probably running his hand through his hair in that way he does or rolling his eyes or praying for this to be over. She can picture it so well because she’s been there, supervising rangers through the same process. That had been her job, her safe space. Then Marshal Mills had coerced her into a compatibility trial with the promise of a bigger bunk and a night off with the last bottle of bourbon on deck. Suddenly, nowhere was safe anymore. “It’s just a simple test,” she’d said, rolling her eyes at Emma’s reluctance to even try. “What harm can it do?”

If he catches the curses under her breath as she stands, he doesn’t let on.

Killian had managed to pass her simulated drift space on the second attempt—eviscerating a CAT 3 with ease and ignoring the distractions along the way. He didn’t talk about what stopped him the first time. Neither did she.

She was not so lucky, struggling not to forget herself in the memories of his past. Each step deeper into the consciousness he’d moulded dragged her further away from the task at hand. Each step closer to finding out what keeps Killian Jones awake at night is a step away from truly knowing him. She felt it all. His pain, grief and loss coming in overwhelming waves, only serving to intensify her own. Each time she failed, she understood him a little bit better and lost herself a little bit more.

Robin said it’s the trauma that helps their compatibility and the resilience in light of such pain. Will said it’s because they’re both insufferable cunts.

You can’t choose your drift partner.

“Again.” Adjusting the helmet slightly, she pulls up her vitals on the inner screen. BP a little high, heart rate too, brainwaves stable. Good enough. If she could just get past the random-access brain impulse triggers, the lure of Killian’s fabricated conflicts, she’d be showering the fabricated city in fabricated Kaiju Blue.

(Of course, she’d never really do that. Regina doesn’t need a reason to resent her.)

“Swan, take five.” The comm in her inner ear buzzes. Killian, again. There’s a tension to his tone, as if he could snap at a moment's notice. It’s not easy, having someone else inside your head—even when it’s not real. It’s worse when every inch of it is projected in agonisingly high definition to your commanding officers. Emma’s been living through his trauma while he’s been forced to watch it back, time and time again. She’ll get it next time.

Next time.

Always next time.

“No, count me down.”

“Swan—”

“My vitals are fine! No bleeds, no dizziness, motor function all good.” The CNS link connects to the back of her neck with a twist of her wrist and a dull click. Power vibrates through the plug suit, humming like the anticipation Emma can feel beneath her own skin. “One more try, I’m almost there.”

There’s no response from Killian. No quip or complaint. He’s silent as Emma closes her eyes and opens them to the darkness of the drift. The next voice she hears is Robin’s.

“Five.”

Her world is blue. Warped. Memories zipping past her that she does and doesn’t remember. Emma recognises one woman’s face from her previous pseudo-drifts. She has a name somewhere.

“Four.”

The woman walks off to some kind of middle distance, between nothing and nowhere. She indicates for Emma to follow with the crook of her finger and a smile.

“Three.”

It’s not Emma she’s seeing.

“Stop chasing it, Emma. Two.”

Taking a breath, Emma wills away the apparition, tuning in to the pounding of her own heartbeat and that of someone else’s — Killian’s, strong and steady. It grounds her.

“Prepare for Neural Handshake.”

When the Kaiju pincer swings for her, she slices it clean off.

She passes the pseudo-drift but Killian can’t quite meet her eyes afterwards and Emma catches herself wondering, with clenched fists, if it’s all worth it.

//

A CAT 3 and two CAT 2’s attack what’s left of San Francisco a week later in the largest triple event in recorded history and yes, it’s definitely worth it.

Ruby and Graham are deployed in Lone Wolf, along with two Jaegers from Alaska. The fight, like all fights, is raw and too close. Always too close. They return half a day later, lucky to have made it out with their lives. The bags under Jefferson’s eyes carry the weight of the world as he reports back to the bridge with the news.

They’ll never pilot again.

Killian finds her later, sat atop Frozen Serenity with a half-empty hip flask and a cigarette. He doesn’t question her or the tears she wears. He holds her, one arm wrapping around Emma’s shoulders, pulling her into his chest. It’s too close, too much but not enough. It’s times like this—times of wordless understanding—that she’s glad of the bond they supposedly have.

Thankfully, he doesn’t waste his words with reassurance. Regina had spent the last thirty minutes on the comms for everyone to hear. The threat was eliminated; victory, but at what cost? Ruby and Graham had been wheeled in on gurneys, surrounded by medics and techs and escorted directly to isolation. Their Jaeger followed shortly after, complete with thick gashes to its middle and a viciously pierced conn-pod leaking rivulets of coolant and Kaiju blood. It didn’t take Emma long to see why they’d ushered the pilots away.

Sneaking off had been a non-issue.

“Next time,” The warmth of his body offers only slight comfort from the chill of the hangar but she’s grateful for it. “It’ll be us.”

“We might not even drift yet. The simulation is nothing like the real thing.” The lump in her throat has her choking around the words. The fragility of it all should frighten her, but it doesn’t. She’s not scared. There’s no time for fear.

“We will.”

“How do you know?”

“It’s called trust.” When he smiles, sad but hopeful, the tears come again.

It’s all worth it, even if she loses herself in the process.

//

Jolly Roger, a Mark 3 with a history of fallen pilots, had been in pretty bad shape when Emma had seen it come through the east coast bunker a year ago. With a compromised pod and basically no left side, it was a mess.

Will had already sized the wreck up for parts before it’d even docked in the hangar.

“There’s no way it’ll run again. Core to Wolf, pod fixed up for Snow’s Mark 4, shocks to whoever needs them most and the rest for scraps and refurbs.” He’d said, around a mouthful of instant mac and cheese. Emma rolled her eyes, grabbing a bite of her own meagre rations. “Bet as much as you want, you know I’m right.”

After six months, when Marshal Mills announced they needed a co-pilot for Jolly, Emma collected her prize with a smile and a disgruntled “Fuck off.” from the mechanic.

Seeing it now, all shiny and new, with a fresh core, updated weapon systems and a slick paint job was like looking at a different machine entirely. Killian has the same awestruck glaze to his expression that she has.

He says something under his breath that sounds like “I missed you.”

//

Three days later, atop the bunker looking out at the wasteland the eastern seaboard has become, Killian finds her again. The horizon is permanently tinged green these days, thick with smog rising from the polluted city that used to be Boston. It’s something else now, something new entirely. New York had really done a number on the east coast.

“So,” he starts, a six pack in his good hand and a thick file—her file—in his mechanical one. “It seems that the fate of the earth relies on us getting intimate, love.”

Emma shrugs his comment off with an eye roll. “In your dreams.”

“In my dreams, we wouldn’t be drinking this backwash,” she catches the bundle of cans as it falls to her lap and pulls two free of the casing. Killian slumps down beside her, a welcome warmth against her side. He’s always warm. “And you’d be wearing a lot less.”

“Pervert.” Her cheeks flush from the windchill and not because of the wink he sends her way as he takes a can from her lap.

He shrugs, gulping back his beer. “I’ve been called a lot worse.”

“Why does that not surprise me?”

“I doubt anything could, lass.”

He reads in relative silence, which Emma appreciates, only pausing to ask questions at the redacted statements in her story. There’s no point in hiding anything from him now—soon, he’ll see it all. There’s something about Killian Jones that she trusts and she’s not exactly sure why.

“You were there? In New York?” He thumbs the report sheet, filled with more censoring than words. She doesn’t remember much of it; being eighteen, the toils of pregnancy, wrongful imprisonment, the first Kaiju attack on the east coast, holding her child to her chest as the walls crumbled. The memories are all so distant, it almost feels like someone else lived them.

Emma nods. “Unfortunately.”

Killian doesn’t push for the details; all the relevant ones are written on the sheet he’s holding. How they’d found her bleeding beneath rubble and dust, clutching the bundle of blankets and the body within. There hadn’t been time for a funeral.

She’s shaking when he takes her hand.

“It was my first deployment. On a CAT 4, no less.” He traces circles around her knuckles as if they’re anything but strangers. She doesn’t have it in her heart to stop him. “Cataclysm, they called it. The ugliest bloody thing I’d ever seen. Liam, the comedian he is—was, spent the whole fight calling it all kinds of names as we tore it to pieces bit by bit.” He takes another sip of his can, eyes locked on the horizon. “I felt him die that day.”

His thumb doesn't stop tracing its pattern, but she grips his hand tighter—part shock, part understanding.

“Jewel never stood a chance. The emp left us wide open and the blasted thing used its last breath to launch at the conn-pod and—”

“You don’t have to, Killian.” She whispers, beer forgotten at their feet. “You don’t have to relive it.”

“But I do. Every time I step foot in the hangar, I relive it. Every time I drift, or spar or train. Every time I look in the mirror I see his face staring back at me.” He sighs, letting his posture slip further. He’s no longer a Ranger. He’s a lost boy. The grief he carries, the guilt, is something she recognises. “I miss him, Emma, and there’s nothing I can do about that.”

Wind blows, alarms ring, sun filters through the murky atmosphere and casts them both in its golden glow and Emma Swan pulls him in for a hug.

He stiffens in her embrace before leaning into it, letting the tension dissipate beneath her touch. It’s intimate in a way that doesn’t need words and her breath catches at the sight of a teardrop on his cheek.

Putting space between them again is hard, but necessary.

“I know you’ve probably heard this a thousand times, but you better be prepared to hear it a thousand more. It’s not your fault. It was never your fault. It will never be your fault. We’re Rangers. We’re disposable. The world is ending and we’re the first line of defence. If we fall—” He’s watching her so intently, hanging on her every word.

There’s no way to soften the blow of a death sentence.

“We’re going to die in a Jaeger, Killian, that much is inevitable. We won’t grow old. We won’t pass in our sleep. We’ll go screaming at the hands of a Kaiju and, I don’t know about you, but I plan on taking a fair share of those fuckers with me in the process.”

A nod.

A squeeze.

A gulp.

He’s still holding her hand when they return to the artificial warmth of the hangar.

//

He used to drink black coffee, dark and bitter. She hates it, preferring sweetness over caffeination in her warm beverages but getting her own would require a trip to the cafeteria earlier than she’d like to be awake. A few seconds of grimacing over the taste is worth it for the extra half hour of sleep. Killian’s an early riser—of course, he is. It’s a wonder they’re compatible at all.

Killian initially tried to put up a fight over it, hold it out of her reach like kids on the playground or finish it off before Emma could even think of crawling out of her quarters, but she wore him down, little by little.

They’re working on Jolly with Will when she takes a sip, stealing the travel mug from his hand and already half wincing for the unsweetened assault. When surprisingly palatable coffee hits her tongue, she almost chokes. It’s not half bad; no acrid punch of burnt grounds, no grainy aftertaste. Instead, it’s sweet. Creamy. Not what she was expecting at all.

“What’s this?” She takes a sniff at the lid incredulously. Is that… syrup?

“According to Ms Lucas, this is what poses as a caramel latte these days. Filled to the brim with sugar, spice and all things nice, just how you like it.” Will hands him a tablet, outlining the Jaeger’s current specifications. Emma understands enough of it to get by—she’s more attuned to reading neural charts, not the gibberish the engineers put out—but Killian revels in the details. He doesn’t even look her way as he speaks, fully engrossed in the graphs, comparisons and visuals. It also means he doesn’t notice Emma eyeing up how good he looks with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and a grease stain on his left cheek. Just the right amount of dishevelled. “Is there any way we can drop a few tonnes to help increase speed and manoeuvrability?”

Will peers at the tablet, overseeing the stats with a critical eye. “No, mate. Not without losing vital armouring.”

“What about swapping out the nuclear core?” Killian hums, swiping to the next screen.

“Don’t be daft, Killian. It’s brand new.”

“The arc-whip?”

“I’m gonna cut in and say no on that one.” Emma interjects, surprised that she even managed to drag her attention away from the warm, sweet beverage in her hands or the enigma of a man that let her take it. The arc-whip is her preferred weapon—combining both distance and close combat, great for the CAT 2’s and smaller CAT 3’s that like to stay just out of reach or dragging back the larger beasts from getting further inland. She’s the one that suggested it be added to Jolly’s arsenal in the first place.

“Come on, love.” Handing her the tablet and tapping a few menus, Killian points out Jolly’s stats without it. Their speed would be improved and their power longevity, but they’d be sacrificing their range completely. “Having an arc-whip and a plasma cannon is overkill.”

The mechanic chuckles, coming to her other side and throwing an arm around their shoulders. “Technically, the plasma cannon is overkill anyway. Massive power drain.”

“Don’t you start.” Killian bats his arm away and Will cocks an eyebrow in challenge.

“Just because I’m right.”

Before either of them can respond, the hangar shudders as alarms blare. The alarm they all dread.

The Breach.

//

The CAT 2—Axefury—with armour piercing spines and nasty blade-like mandibles, emerges just off the coast of Florida, stalking towards the shore.

Frozen Serenity is deployed, piloted by sisters Anna and Elsa.

The fight takes an hour.

Killian brings her another coffee as they watch the battle from the command centre. He doesn’t say a word, wrapping his arm around her shoulder as she tenses against the cold realisation.

It could’ve been them.

Next time, it will be.

//

When he knocks her on her ass, straddling her waist with his sparring staff pressed to her throat, Killian’s eyes are the bluest she’s ever seen, and it takes her a second to remember where they are. He smirks, allowing her space to breathe while keeping her thoroughly pinned down.

“Normally, I’d prefer to do other more enjoyable activities with a woman on her back.” With a voice like that, velvet and grit, Emma’s not sure if she wants to push him away or pull him closer. The watchful eye of Marshal Mills keeps her straight. The last thing anyone needs is a show. She struggles just enough to make him cocky before retaliating, using his own weight against him.

In a heartbeat, he’s the one on his back, head caught in a lock between Emma’s thighs. In the time it takes for him to realise what’s going on, eyes widening as he realises where he is, it’s too late. His weapon clatters to the edge of the crash mat, useless.

“For future reference,” She pants, squeezing her legs tighter until Killian taps out against the floor. “I prefer to be on top.”

He laughs and, despite the patrol alarm blaring down the hall and Regina’s eye roll, the world feels a little lighter.

//

When they drift in Jolly for the first time, the phantom woman from the pseudo-drift is nowhere to be seen. There’s a blip where Killian gets caught up in visions of destruction and earthquakes and rivers of blue eroding the streets of New York, but just as Emma feels the echoes of her memories in his mind, they’re gone. He’s in her head. An uncomfortable yet reassuring presence that she never thought she’d be able to endure again.

“Neural bridge initiated and holding strong. Well done, guys.” Robin chirps over the speakers, dragging them out of the initial drift space and back to their shared reality. She lifts her left arm as Killian lifts his right and they join the jaeger’s metallic palms in a salute that rumbles through the bowels of the hangar.

Cheers erupt from the comm lines as scientists and pilots and soldiers line the walkways and balconies to celebrate their achievement.

She can feel the haze of his irritation through the link.

“We’re another shot at hope for them.” Her uncalibrated right-hand takes his uncalibrated left wrist just above the brace of his prosthetic. He doesn’t flinch but his thoughts stutter, interlaced with images of her soft smile and memories of each time they’d sparred, each stolen hour on the rooftops, each close encounter, each moment that could’ve been an almost, or a maybe. Emma pauses just long enough to imagine What if?

She shakes them away. They owe each other that much.

“We’re a suicide mission.” He’s right and his voice buzzes in the back of her skull. If the comm deck picked up on his words, they don’t respond.

“Yeah,” she lets his arm fall back to his side, making sure her left side—the one that’s wired into the eight thousand tonne government-approved death machine—stays relatively still. “But it’s worth it.”

“Is it?”

She can’t tell the difference between his words and his thoughts right now.

Static crackles in the conn-pod before Robin’s voice calls out again. “Ready to take her for a spin?”

//

She kisses him, with trembling palms pressed to his chest. Because she wants to. Because she can. Because, more than anything else, she isn’t ready to die. Not now. He is slow to respond, one hand on her shoulder ready to put distance between them at a moment's notice, the other at her waist, pulling her closer. The corridor leading to their quarters is empty and, beneath the harsh light, he tastes like the coffee they’d shared for breakfast.

He doesn’t push her away. She’s grateful for that.

The absence of Killian in her head should be a relief but it isn’t. It feels… empty. The absence of a presence that had made itself at home. She’d worked with rangers for years, ever since the hangar took her in, learning the in’s and out’s of the neural bridge and working to better align pilots with an initial pseudo-drift before putting them through the real thing.

She’d never expected to like it.

It’s exhilarating.

The expiry date they have hanging over their heads is unavoidable now. They’re compatible, truly compatible, doubting that is no use to anyone and despite whatever lead them both to the corps, whatever it is she catches glimpses of when they drift, she trusts him.

Fingers still trembling and head thick with fog, Emma trusts him.

“That was—”

A mistake.

Long overdue.

A one-time thing.

Just the beginning.

“Worth it.”

//

“Emma—”

“Be quiet.”

She snakes a hand around his waist, using his surprise to yank him closer into the alcove, away from prying eyes. Their dark uniforms blend in the shadows. Chest to chest like this, Emma can barely catch her breath. The cold steel pipe against her back does nothing to dissuade the heat he’s putting out—seriously, how is he always warm? It’s impossible to avoid his gaze either, the intensity of it only magnified with their proximity.

There’s questions there—so many questions—but he doesn’t have to ask them. She knows.

Killian’s tongue darts out to wet his lips.

She knows.

David and Snow walk past none the wiser, caught up in a discussion about something or other. Emma can’t focus enough to listen in, too distracted by everything in her body that screams for her to pull Killian closer and slam their mouths together until they forget about the rest. She holds her breath until the other rangers round the corner at the end of the hall.

“Mills hasn’t cleared Humbert or Lucas for visitation. We’ll be turned away.” Killian whispers, mouth so close to her ear that she can feel his words better than hearing them. His cheek catches hers as he pulls back but he doesn’t get far, her hand still pressed to his side, holding him in place. His brows raise in surprise.

Her palm tingles against the empty air when she lets go.

“Let me do the talking.”

He nods, following as she exits into the corridor, only a half-step behind.

//

They don’t have clearance. The med bay doors beep dejectedly as Emma’s ID card fails to pass the security check. Will had promised it would work, he’d sworn. Either he lied, already ratted them out to the Marshal or—

Victor Whale.

“Mills already has her reports delivered to her directly every hour,” he sighs, tugging off his gloves, surgical mask and running a free hand through his hair. Emma can see the dark roots coming through. There’s no market for salon-quality peroxide at the end of the world, apparently. “With the intention of alleviating the need for rangers like yourselves to check in. Can’t you go be annoying somewhere else? I don’t have time to file insubordination paperwork, I’m already understaffed.”

Killian reaches out, pleading, his eyes wide and blue and honest. He grabs the doctor’s forearm with his mechanical hand.

“Please, mate. Just five minutes.”

Whale’s brow furrows focused on the prosthetic gripping his arm. The fear of disciplinary action outweighs a lot of things in the hangar.

//

She’s pale, too pale, and riddled with tubes and drips and monitors that beep along with the pace of her heart. The burns, blistered and seeping, are tinged blue with the toxic sludge that courses through Kaiju veins. Blue burns, as they’re colloquially referred, aren’t uncommon. There are ointments and salves to calm the low-level contact burns and sprays to neutralise the toxins in the acid. What’s left of the governments have put extensive measures in place to ensure that stuff like this doesn’t happen to the general public.

They don’t seem to care for rangers.

As Ruby’s skin sloughs from the slightest friction of the sterile sheets, Emma can feel the first clutches of fear curl around her throat.

Corpselike. That’s the only word that comes to mind. Ruby, once so full of life, has never looked so… not, and Emma can’t help but fall into step with the ventilator that’s currently breathing for her as if somehow it makes a difference. The steady whirr of the machine only working to wind up the anxieties simmering beneath the surface of her skin.

Next time, it’ll be them.

Next time, it’ll be her.

Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale.

“We’re having to keep her under.” Someone —Victor? — hums, ignoring them both to look over the digitised chart at the foot of her bed. “There’s a lot of irrevocable damage that we’re still looking into while repairing what we can externally.”

Inhale.

“What about Gra— Ranger Humbert?” Killian's hand hasn’t left hers since they entered and, for what it’s worth, she’s thankful for the anchor and the ever-present warmth he offers. His presence is grounding and his words reflect her thoughts when she can’t quite reach her own.

Exhale.

It’s too much.

Inhale.

“More of the same”

Exhale.

They never should’ve come

//

His lips taste of salt.

The inevitability of death.

It burns.

“I don’t want to lose this.” she pants, soft against Killian’s lips as he smiles and steals it away. Like the future they don’t have. That she so painfully wished they could have. “I—”

His kisses trail to her ear, each one as gentle as the last. Too soft, too delicate. It terrifies and excites her how something as small as a kiss can melt her resolve to nothing. Any shadow of doubt disappearing with each step they take closer to the inevitable. After everything that had happened, from sneaking into the med bay, drowning the images with the last of that damn bottle of bourbon that started all this and sparring until they were both bruised and beaten and breathless, sex had been the last thing on her mind. It had crept up on her, crept up on them both, and it was impossible to deny.

That first rooftop rendezvous, first spar, first kiss, all those weeks ago, had cemented this. She can see that now.

Closing what little distance there is left between them, Killian walks her backwards until her thighs bump against the solid table behind them. “You won’t, love. I’ve got you.”

Each touch, each glance, each gasp is another goodbye.

His prosthetic rests on her waist as his other makes light work of the fastenings of her uniform, and she urges him on with a moan. She’s thankful they made it back to his quarters. They won’t make it to the bed.

Emma searches for answers as he pulls off his shirt, praying something in his eyes will reassure her that this—whatever this is—is okay, that they’re not terrible people for finding something worth fighting for at the end of the earth, anything to provide even a modicum of hope that maybe, just maybe, they’ll survive just long enough to have a chance at finding out if it is. She clutches at his shoulders, with nails biting into his skin, and breathes.

She doesn’t find the answers. Instead, she finds herself.

Scared and afraid, clinging to the last comfort she has left.

Three words bloom, fade and crumble in her mind, as fragile as a leaf on the wind and, before she can even speak them, Killian nods.

“I know.”

Somewhere deep inside her chest, behind broken walls and the rubble of a past life, something long since broken, beats.

//

Emma wakes up to warmth. An all encompassing warmth surrounding her so completely, an aura of heat welding together the cracks that had once debilitated her heart. So familiar, and pure and yet so foreign at the same time.

Each beat of her heart echoed by a shadow.

Each exhale mirrored by that of another, a soft caress against her nape.

The solid and comforting press of a body—his body—against her back, bringing forth memories of the night previous so slowly, like a crack in a dam; first a drip and then a flood. The synchronicity. The passion. The mutual need to just Be.

The absence of all thought except one.

Life is just too fucking short.

As if summoned by her mental recollection, Killian’s arm wraps around her waist. His lips ghost against the skin of her shoulder blade and the kiss he presses to her neck brings a smile to her face.

“Good morning, Swan.” He purrs, voice gravelly and wrapped in sleep. Damn, if Emma had only known he sounded like that first thing sooner—

The thought catches her off guard.

It’s so… normal. Domestic.

She could get used to it. She wants to get used to it.

“Mor—”

The spell shatters. The facade peels away to reveal the truth and the bliss that had wrapped her up in its glow is gone. Reality hits.

The blood-curdling scream of the one alarm they pray will never ring.

The Breach.

Robin’s voice screeches out over the comms in a panicked shout, followed by the calm and commanding call of Marshal Mills. Her own name and rank is called, along with Killian’s. Emma’s blood runs cold when the realisation hits.

A CAT 5.

All units to report.

Approaching New York.

Killian doesn’t move for what seems like an eternity, lips still pressed to her skin in an everlasting kiss, as if time has somehow warped around this very moment, stretching seconds into minutes, hours. Allowing them a chance to come to terms with what must happen next.

Their fates were sealed the second they stepped foot in the hangar.

Emma wrapped in a hospital gown. Killian in a battered, blood-stained plug suit.

“It’s okay.” He whispers, already drowned out by the blaring siren that fills every corner of the room. Emma can’t tell if he’s saying it for her sake or his own.

When she turns to him, pulling herself upright in the process and letting the cold of his quarters seep into her bare chest, he’s smiling. It’s by no means her favourite smile—wide and full of laughter—but it’s something and, for some crazy reason, she believes in it.

She believes in them.

“Fortune favours the brave.”

  ////

tagging a few of y’all!  @thisonesatellite​ @teamhook​ @kmomof4​ @superchocovian​ @itsfabianadocarmo​ @thisonesatellite @darkcolinodonorgasm @carpedzem @hollyethecurious 

[spockandawe]

Okay, I want to pull together more detailed thoughts at some point, I think, because the sheer amount of material means I have about ten billion thoughts to sort out. But I’ve read all three of the mxtx novels now, and loved all of them, in different ways. Though I already tried to figure out if I can pick a Favorite, and tbh, I can’t. I love them all in ways that are too distinct to let me rank them easily. And... man, it’s lucky for my friends that social distancing is in place, or I’d be hassling them shamelessly to give these novels a try.

RIGHT. So.

The Scum Villain’s Self-Saving System: Shen Yuan goes to bed full of rage directed at a trashy webnovel with a grimdark blackened hero who conquered the world and collected hundreds of women into his harem.... and wakes up in novel, while that hero is still an innocent youth. As the hero’s abusive teacher. Who is doomed for a horrifying death unless he can somehow turn things around.

I think I had the most fun with this one. I really enjoy self-referential stories, and stories poking fun at certain genres, and I’ve run into the concept of transmigration before (the idea being a person enters a fictional world, a la lost in austen), though I’m blanking on any media like that I’ve actually consumed. This was chronologically the first book mxtx wrote, and it has less of a sprawling cast with complicated relationships than the other two books, but it definitely has the thing where she lays early groundwork for later revelations that shatter my poor heart. 

And there may be fewer relationships to play with, but my GOD, do I love the relationships we got. I’ve been rolling around in svsss fanfic since I finished the book, even more so than mdzs or tgcf. There’s a lot of good crunchy relationship content with the 79 ship (they destroy me, all day every day), Liu Qingge owns my whole-ass heart, and Luo Binghe makes for a fascinating love interest. I love that even at his best, he remains a needy, needy, manipulative boy, who’s so smart and strong and nEEDY. I don’t love how the book handled moshang, but mmmm the fan content is Good. And Shen Qingqiu does the unreliable narrator thing that is usually not my jam, but works so WELL in these books, in that his unreliable narration is hugely skewed towards not giving himself nearly as much credit as he deserves. Xie Lian takes this to UNBELIEVABLE heights in tgcf, but in Shen Qingqiu’s case, it’s done on such a casual, immediate, personal level that I’m fascinated by everything he does. 

And, since Shen Yuan/Shen Qingqiu is a millennial fan of trashy romance webnovels who gets yanked into the universe of a novel he hates, into an old-timey xianxia setting, the prose is SO COOL. You swing between modern slang and old school high society courtesies at the drop of a hat, and I’m honestly awed that the translators were able to catch so much of that. Like, in-setting, I love all the nuance you can get in ‘qi-ge should give his a-jiu the scroll’ vs ‘yue-shixiong should give this teacher the scroll’ vs ‘you should give me the scroll’. But then it adds a whole new layer when the person ALSO has modern-day casual speech bouncing around in their head. It makes for a fascinating, fascinating reading experience.

The Grandmaster Of Demonic Cultivation: Thirteen years ago, Wei Wuxian died. And then he wakes up! In someone else’s body. I’m not going to try to summarize the premise of this one, go look up The Untamed if you want someone to do a better job of this than me XD

Ahhh, this was the book I read first. I still haven’t watched the show (only clips) and I’m not sure I ever will, because adhd is a hell of a drug. But it’s hard to purely evaluate the prose when there’s also this gorgeous, beautifully-acted visual adaptation all over my tumblr to bias me in its favor. I think this book benefits a lot from the MYSTERY of it all. From the very start, there’s the question of ‘what the fuck is up with this goddamn arm’ that the characters pursue, even as that takes them through flashbacks and other arcs within the story. It gives a thrust to the novel that I think isn’t exactly there in tgcf, though I’m torn on which one is “better.” This gave the story momentum, yes, but it also meant I was much more impatient in yi city and the 3zun flashbacks, because this isn’t what I was focused onnnnnn this is cool but how much longer will we BE HERE--

That being said, I think I’ll be more patient with those flashbacks on my next time through the book, now that I have a better picture of where everything is headed. I think the balance and structure of the book worked really well, I was setting myself up for self-sabotage because of the pace I was plowing through the thing. My reading habits didn’t lend themselves well to the nonlinear storytelling, and it speaks to the story’s strength that it held up that well despite me. And the CAST. My GOD. I went in not caring about anyone but Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji and maybe the jackass nephew, but... that Did Not Last. I didn’t intend to care about 3zun? Nope, too bad, you care so much now. Who cares about Xue Yang? Me. I care. Way too much. HECK!!!

And something that happens in this book and tgcf that was much less of a thing in svsss is that there are some meaningful holes in the story that I’d like to be filled, and I really care about filling-- and the story doesn’t go there. But it doesn’t leave me unhappy, it leaves me cheerfully scrabbling around in the throwaway details trying to piece together a picture of what happened when I wasn’t looking. What happened to Wei Wuxian in the burial mounds? How did Hua Cheng take control of the ghost city? Idk, but let us Rummage and theorize and roll around in ideas and have a fantastic, speculative time. Svsss might hook me more than the other stories from an au+shipping perspective, but mdzs and tgcf do a great job of making me want to roll around and create within the bounds of canon.

Heaven Official’s Blessing: 800 years ago, Xie Lian ascended to heaven. And fell. And rose again! And fell again. Now he’s ascended for the third time, and things are Awkward.

God, I just finished this, and I’m still reeling. This is the LONGEST mxtx book, that’s for sure. I also think it’s the most tightly edited translation. All the translators did an unbelievable job, I could never even approach what they accomplished, but I am genuinely stunned that a book this long was edited so well. I blew through this in about 3.5 days (if not for work, i could have made it in three dghsafdsgf) and my brain was cooking in my skull by the time I was halfway through, but I couldn’t STOP. I was ENCHANTED the entire time! I was reading so much my head was destroying me and I still sulked so HARD every time I had to put my phone down and sleep.

This book sprawls the hardest, I think, because it involves a cast made of mostly immortal/immortal-adjacent people, so time and space get... flexible. And I feel really bad saying this, because Lan Wangji is DEVOTED, but this is seriously the book with the most attentive and adoring and respectful love interest. Hua Cheng is..... god. I truly don’t think I’ve EVER read a character quite like him before, and I am so, so sad, because I don’t know how I’ll find one who lives up to these heights ever again XD I recommend reading this book just for the Hua Cheng experience, if nothing else. I was making audible noises at literally flailing at multiple points in the story, but most often, it was because of him. 

Shipping is what usually drags me into a fandom hardest, and all of these books do pretty well for themselves, all of them have a nice selection of fluffy and crunchy ships to choose from. And this one... goddammit. I just realized, that the best, most crunchy ships are too spoilery for me to be willing to talk about them here. Hell. Goddammit. But I think tgcf has the crunchiest ship of all, even better than xuexiao. I was so invested, and then there were Reveals, and then I was like OH NO THIS IS TERRIBLE BUT MY INVESTMENT HAS EXPONENTIALLY INCREASED. 

And something that I really, really appreciate, is that across the mxtx books, even though a lot of characters fit into strong archetypes, there’s nobody that is blurring together for me, either within or across the books. Liu Qingge isn’t Jiang Cheng isn’t Feng Xin. They’re all blunt, fighty boys, but all super distinct in my head, and what I want for each of them is distinct and character-driven. I want Liu Qingge to be properly cherished and I want Jiang Cheng to relax with his brother and nephew and I want Feng Xin to [goddammit i don’t want to spoil this book AGH]. It’s something I appreciated in the other books too, but I can really FEEL it in this book, with how long and luxurious it is. 

And last thing I have to say, I think, is that tgcf is so long. It’s so, so long. But I would FITE if anyone tried to pare it down at all. I can’t think of anything I’d be willing to sacrifice. I enjoyed every last piece of it so much, and it was all ultimately SO well-constructed and interlocking, that any piece I can think of snipping out would take away significant emotional impact from what was left. It’s a nonlinear story, like mdzs is nonlinear, and I loved mdzs a lot! But the construction here is so, so, so elegant. I’m just in AWE of how well it was assembled. I was in Agony as reveals happened, because oh no no no no, now that they’ve told me this, that casts this whole other scene in a brand new light! The one I read hundreds of thousands of words ago! Literally, I need to go start the book over so I can savor the shitty teens in new ways, given [redacted] as revealed in like, the last twenty percent of the book. The book was a fun experience, but there’s so Much here that I know I haven’t even absorbed yet. I loved the other mxtx books a lot, and in many ways, they were easier to get a grasp on than tgcf was, but even before I finished tgcf I was already despairingly trying to figure out how easily I could fit a full reread into my life, and I think that says a lot

[unfortunately-inlove]

What would I say if I reached out to you?

I don’t, because I’m scared that it will cause you undue distress or it will crush me into a million pieces again if you react with hostility. And I think waiting for you to see the message and answer it (or not answer it) would give me a stroke tbh. But if I did, what would I say? Would I keep it short and to the point?

“Dear (redacted), please don’t feel pressured to respond to this message if you don’t want to. I don’t want to cause you distress and if hearing from me is upsetting, you don’t need to reply. If you don’t answer I won’t reach out again. I just wanted to say that I think of you often. I wish that we were at peace with each other and that we could simply live on the social media edges of each other’s lives. I hope you love the life you have now. I hope you’re able to remember most of our memories fondly. Be well.”

Or would I tell her everything in one, huge message?

“Hey, it’s me. Don’t feel pressured to respond if you don’t want to. If you don’t answer I won’t reach out again.

I wanted you to know that I think about you often. And I’ve thought a lot about talking to you, but I haven’t up til now because I didn’t want to cause undue pain or distress. I did unblock you on everything just in case you ever wanted to talk to me, though.

I want you to know that I am still so sorry for what I did. I shouldn’t have told Austin. There’s no excuse I can give that ever would make it okay. You know it was never my intention to out you to your father or to school though, and I never wanted to harm you. I was overcome with emotion at the time because I was concerned for your soul because you were becoming wiccan. And Austin saw me crying and he and James and I took a walk, and it came out as one of the reasons I was worried.

I only say all of that as an explanation but not an excuse. I’m older, and less of an idiot, and have more self control. We were both subject to a certain level of religious indoctrination and intolerance and that heavily influenced my actions, of course. But I wasn’t a kid, I was 17 and I shouldn’t have said anything that wasn’t mine to say. Regardless of the beliefs pumped into me from school (and other influences, of course.) Again, just an explanation of my actions but not an excuse. I wish that James had talked to me first before he told you what I did so I could have told you myself instead. I wonder if that would have changed anything, though.

But it took me a long time to realize that that event was just the final nail in the coffin of our friendship, I think. There were a lot of things that I didn’t even remember had happened until we weren’t friends anymore.

You kissed me. New Year’s Eve. Did you have a crush on me? Or did you just kiss me to kiss a woman? You had me and Julianne watch porn with you, on your porch when we were kids. I saw a woman put a lightbulb in her vagina. Your physical boundaries with me were odd, and I never realized it because I loved you and didn’t think anything negative of you. You had me spoon you, when you were cold. Was that platonic?

Towards the end of our friendship (the last year or so) I always got the vibe that you thought I was stupid, or at least not as intelligent as you. I remember confronting you about it once on the phone, and you apologizing and saying it was “a part of you that you didn’t like.” The funny thing is, I actually can’t remember a single instance of you talking down to me. But I remember talking to you about those instances on the phone, so I know they happened. This is how I found out that my brain represses memories that make me upset. That’s why I didn’t talk to you about most of these things; I forgot that they happened. I literally forgot that you kissed me. You were my first kiss, technically.

The things that happened after we split caused me to basically want to kill myself 24/7. You dating Austin when you knew that I loved him. I thought you did it to spite me. Did you really like him? I cried in the school bathroom for hours when he asked you to prom with cooked he had decorated himself.

I also saw the text your mom sent you, on the bus ride to kings island for our senior trip. The one where she told you to ditch me at the trip with a laughing emoji. That really broke my heart. Your mom was like family to me. Did you tell her the truth of what happened? Did her opinion of me change so intensely because of the truth or did you tell her something else?

Talking to your dad in the parking lot before our senior prom. He called me Miss Claire, as he always did, said long time no see, and asked me about my new car. I told him I bought it for 400 dollars from a friend, and he was shook and said that’s what he paid for his first car back when dinosaurs still roamed the earth. Did you tell him we weren’t friends anymore? Did he know?

Honestly, I feel a little bit like you experimented on me from childhood into our teens as you were discovering your sexuality. But I did it to you too in a completely different way. You gave me a sexuality crisis for a long time, haha. So it’s a little unnerving because I had completely forgotten it but I can hardly blame you. But as we got older it just felt like you didn’t like me as much anymore or saw me as an equal.

My life is better now. I went to a lot of therapy and stopped wanting to die. I went to college, dropped out of college, and enrolled in cosmetology school. I made new friends and resparked old ones. Honestly the best thing that came out of our relationship exploding was that I reconnected with two of my best friends from grant county and I see them often now. Courtney comes to spend the night at least 3x a month, except when she goes home for the summer. I joined several dnd groups. I met what I’m pretty sure is the love of my life and we’ve been together for almost two years now, and he’s proposing to me on our 2 year anniversary. Copy cat died in august of 2020. I got two kittens named Winter and Tobi Tangerine. I also fixed my relationship with James too, though we’re not as close as we used to be. I got older. I got less stupid. I tried to make less regrets and keep my mouth shut more. I stopped getting involved in other people’s shit and it’s benefitted me greatly.

Speaking of getting involved in other people’s shit, I did kind of lose my mind after we imploded and I did a lot of stuff to people and poked my nose where it didn’t belong. I anonymously texted Maci’s dad to tell him she regularly drove over 90 in a 55 with her feet on the dash and that I was worried for her safety. She found out because I had to ask trace for his dads number and he ratted me out and she was rightfully pissed at me for being a nosy jackass. She also told me and Becca about how bad she wanted to punch Kelsey in the face, so I told Kelsey she said that and they were both mad at me. I don’t think I would have done this stuff normally but I wasn’t in a good frame of mind and thought I was helping when I really was just ruining the friendships I had left. I figured that out later in therapy tho.

I hope you’re doing well at college. I look at you and your moms Facebook page maybe 2x a year or so, and just think about everything all over again. I saw you got a boyfriend a while ago, and I wish I could have heard you excitedly tell me about it. I wish that if our friendship did end, it would have ended peacefully with us just texting each other less and less until we simply coexisted peacefully on the edges of each’s others lives, occasionally liking each other’s Facebook post. Rather than going out in an explosion of bad decisions and bad feelings.

I hope you’re well. I hope you love the life you have now. I hope you’re at peace with who you are. I hope you’ve forgiven me. It’s ok if you haven’t. I just hope you have.”