#Being a parent is I'm sure a horrifying and painful thing to deal with a lot as is losing your husbandf

[cattatoir]

I think I have unpopular Sandman takes bc I'm usually on his side

[ennn]

Let's appreciate how complex Agatha's relationship with Billy is

GIF credit to @isagrimorie

The genuine emotion brimming from Agatha in this moment is very interesting and I really want to break down all the layers of how Agatha is relating to Billy—because it is truly not as simple as Agatha feeling sentimental or motherly to Billy.

There are a few layers at work here (and I also want to give a shout-out to @trickofthelights for her excellent recap points):

Billy reminds Agatha (enough) of herself

There are two driving forces at the core of Agatha as a character. We know this because her characterisation has been incredibly consistent throughout the show and Schaeffer has talked about them, which is: (a) Agatha is self-serving and (b) Agatha loves powerful witchcraft.

Billy is a powerful witch who did a horrifying thing in order to survive. He's been lying to these wonderful parents. He also just tried murdering three people in a fit of rage, provoked by Agatha no less.

Would Agatha care if he was less powerful? Would Agatha care if he didn't have a dark side? If he hadn't shown to be duplicitous and dangerous and subject to his darker impulses?

If he wasn't alone and without a coven, a possible outcast even among witches because of his unusual origins and power?

I'm pretty sure the answer is no, she would not. She would have dismissed him the same way she did his "Teen" persona. Agatha doesn't care about witches, Agatha cares about powerful witches –because that's who Agatha is and what drives her.

And we also got hints of this with Agatha and Wanda (hello consistent characterisation). In Schaeffer's words:

There is respect and almost affection inherent in [Agatha's interest in enormously powerful witchcraft], as indicated by how she felt about Wanda. She was mean to Wanda, but really she was fascinated by Wanda and admired her and wanted to hang out with her. 

And if this wasn't clear enough, what Agatha tells Billy shortly later about breaking the rules and being a true witch just screams projection (more on that in my next point).

I was delighted that Agatha really did bounce back from the attempted murder – but it's not because she's forgiving. Oh no, I think, Agatha was testing her theory by poking the bear (calculated move, bad at math) and she's glad she was proven right.

I mean, she not happy about the attempted murder but her curiosity wins out. You see her poking at Billy and trying to figure him out in the rest of this scene.

Agatha also hates self-righteous moralising and searches out for the darkness in people – delights in it even – because she knows people and she knows her own darkness.

Billy is different but also not so different from Agatha, as much as Billy or his mom would hate to admit.

Agatha is dealing with her childhood trauma

Yes, Agatha is projecting on Billy, but she makes a choice about it. We hear her telling him what she would have wanted someone to tell her: that they shouldn't be afraid or ashamed of who they are or what they did to survive, that they are part of a community.

Don't you dare feel guilty about your talent. ... That's what kept you alive. That's what makes you special. That's what makes you a witch.

She's trying to be the person she needed when she was a child, because she simply doesn't want someone else – particularly a younger witch – going through what she did.

She doesn't want anyone to go through what her mother put her through. And that's a choice.

Because there are a number of ways a character can deal with trauma: they can lash out and bring others down, wanting others to experience to the pain they went through, or they can realise that what happened to them shouldn't happen to anyone else in their position.

There's something beautifully self-serving but also selfless in that, because this is a way for Agatha to heal from her trauma. She can tell Billy things she may not be able to tell herself.

And it's interesting because as a self-serving villain, Agatha could just be jealous of Billy's power. But in this moment at least, Agatha's empathy and compassion – as buried as they usually are – prevail.

And yes, Agatha was fond of kid Billy

This is what Schaeffer touched on in her interview answer and it makes sense, with the insight that Agatha – like any good actor – does invest a bit of herself in every role she plays.

Agatha does have feelings (as much as they might make her vomit) and I do believe she has a soft spot when it comes to kids, given her experience with her son and her own childhood trauma. And that kids don't have the level of hypocrisy and darkness that adults do.

It makes sense that Agatha would have some level of care about the Scarlet Witch's magical kid Billy. And that is a fondness that has carried onto teenage Billy – who is powerful and a survivor and has a potential for darkness in a way she can relate to.

There are layers and they intersect and it all ties back to how Agatha is incredibly complex and yet consistent as a character.

[teaboot]

you mentioned you worked security and now i’m in emotional pain because i feel deprived of feel-good security anecdotes (this was a not so subtle request for some if you have the time and/or energy, please and thank you). hope you’re having a wonderful day today!!

It's mostly confidential but if I'm vague and change details for privacy I can give a few examples of times I really enjoyed my job!

Got a vague call that someone someone "having a freakout". Arrived to find someone having a panic attack. Cleared a place for us to sit down and stayed with them. Once they calmed down they told me they'd just found out a family member had passed away. Exchanged some old stories and got to see them smile a bit before their friend arrived to drive them home.

Someone I'd removed from a place before recognized me on the street. Thought they were gonna kick my ass. We wound up talking instead- turns out they were homeless and had some addiction issues they were working through. I split my lunch with them and hung out till we went different ways.

Concerned passersby reported someone sitting under a service dog, ha people freaking out bit. Got to verify they were okay and make sure they weren't disturbed till they were ready to move on. It was nice to make sure someone could do what they needed and continue about their business without it being a big deal.

Found someone unconscious and unresponsive. Got them paramedics, paramedics took them to the hospital.

A very small child very politely informed me that they were lost, and asked if I could please help them find their mother thank you very much. Absolutely delightful kiddo, got them sorted out.

Saw a kid being absolutely reamed out by their parent for doing nothing particularly odd or rude or out of the ordinary. Asked if everything was good, and parent exhausted informed me that "Oh, sorry, they're Autistic". Looked to the kid and went, "Eyy, Twinzies!" And flashed the jazz hands. Parent looked horrified, couldn't believe I was "allowed to work there". Kid lit up like it was christmas. Spent the next few minutes making faces with the kid back and forth behind their parent's back. Hope they're doing okay.

Person I talked to fairly often, who was homeless and regularly camping around behind the property, approached me after two months away with clear skin and clean hands and informed me that they were four months clean. I don't see them around anymore. Last I heard they were moving into a new apartment.

Someone who was breaking it off with an abuser told me they'd seen them in the parking lot and asked for an escort to their car. We arranged it so I could walk with them when they left whenever they went home. Super nice person, too.

At one outdoor property with regular patrols, I'd regularly come across dead birds who'd hit the windows and fallen. Boss said to toss them in the dumpster but instead I'd take em out to the woods. Doesn't feel right to put a thing that breathed in the trash. Wasn't part of the job, but... I dunno. Brought some peace.

Dude was ripping me a new one one day, going on about my "tough guy" attitude, accusing me of harassing him, saying I'd never be a man so I should check myself. Told him "I'm sorry for your bad experience with me today. Here is my employee identification. If you'd like to place a complaint, please feel free to contact my district manager", and handed him my boss's business card. Reported the incident to my boss afterwards. He never received any calls. Felt fucking stellar

[rikis-girl]

Atelophobia

Warnings: Anxiety attack, Panic attack, body image issues, a lot of triggering things, not for the faint of heart. Pairing: non-idol!Sunghoon x fem!reader Synopsis: The word "perfect" always hurt both of you so badly. What do you do when the pain resurfaces with the same word?

"Perfect"

The word rung through your ears once again. The condescending voice behind the word haunted you till this date. It seemed like just as life finally started looking up when that voice just had to interrupt your peace and send you down a spiral once again, like it always did.

"Perfect"

He slipped and fell cold on his ass. Who was that? Sunghoon swore he made sure she wouldn't find out his whereabouts but yet that taunting voice, was back. He got up instantly and skated to the corners of the rink to find absolutely no one with him. And for some reason, that disturbed him more.

"My daughter is PERFECT after all." Mr. Kwon or Kwon Youngsoon boasted in front of all the fancy guests at the gathering. "She isn't my daughter is she isn't perfect am I right?" he chuckled. You stood right next to him holding yourself with such grace and poise, anyone could mistake you for a royal statue. Emotionless yet regal. Like a Goddess.

You had spent 3 days without food. Or proper food. The salads were becoming too much, the tight yet elegant expensive dresses you wore felt heavy despite being as light as air. You stood next to your father through thick and thin but, he was always the same perfectionist. The word dad reminded you of diets, perfect grades, perfect body, perfect reputation and the word "PERFECT"

Your father truly wanted what's best for you. The death of your mother was hard on you both. The fact that you were just 5 when your mother was cruelly removed from your life was not helping.

"I can't have you walking around in THAT garbage. It'll ruin my reputation." Your father's voice echoed through the walls when you appealed to wear leather pants for your 18th birthday and for your final year of highschool. Your life was dictated from start to finish, and the only part of your life being undecided being your wedding. For perfect Mr.Kwon needs to strike a handsome deal for a beauty like you.

Your father created you to be the perfect trophy wife. The dream woman for any man and any business. He deemed you to be the epitome of perfection and made sure you held an image of a Goddess, so as to say. He also made sure you respected and worked for his reputation and stay kind yet out of league to everyone.

Your strict and cruel father had no time in his life to show you or understand feelings. He wasn't the father you once knew. Happy with the little he had and full of love when your mother was alive. However, with her passing and the failing of their small town bakery, his rich parents found him and supported him during those dark times, under one condition..

You were to be turned into one of the most valuable assets to Kwon industries.

You had woken up this morning to the most horrifying news you had ever gotten. YOU WERE TO BE MARRIED OFF TO A 40 YEAR OLD.

All these days you had suffered in this house for your father, you looked in the mirror, the scars from your recent rhinoplasty were finally healed and your hair was perfect even with a bad case of bed head and your eyebrows; perfectly done, your lashes; long and fluffy, your lips; natural unlike most of your face, and your eyes; hiding a secret double-eyelid surgery.

Your stomach growled loudly, and all you had for breakfast was a lemon and ginger water and an apple. You yearn for the times your mother would make you pancake towers for your birthday and your father would help you eat it.

A small slice of cake was brought in from the kitchen by one of the butlers and handed to you with a small "Happy birthday" card on it.

"Did he actually remember my birthday Mr. Kim?" You asked. "I'm sorry young mistress. But I'm afraid that it's only protocol that I send you a small slice of cake on your birthday. Whether or not your father remembers is not a matter I can pry into."

You looked at the slice of cake, unable to even digest the sight of such a sugary treat. "I'd rather not have it." You decline and walk to your study for your violin class.

You passed the green door, embellished with a golden knob that led to the dark room. A sound-proof room with no windows, and no lights, and just one tiny restroom. And couldn't help all the memories of the door flooding into your head, all the nights he walked out of it and locked you up in it and left you to starve for days on end.

"DADDY PLEASE I WON'T EAT CHOCOLATE AGAIN!! I WILL EAT MY VEGETABLES!!!! PLEASE LET ME OUT!!" You screamed when you were 10. The first time you got locked up.

"DAD NO I WILL GET 100 NEXT TIME PLEASE!!! I SHOULD'VE STUDIED HARDER!!" The night you got a 99 when you were 12.

"FATHER YEONJUN IS THE LOVE OF MY LIFE!! WHY DOES IT MATTER IF HIS FATHER IS A DOCTOR? HE STILL MAKES GOOD MONEY!!" That was the night your father pulled you out of school, a week before you graduated, all because you had foolishly revealed to your father about him. You heard Yeonjun's father was paid 10k to keep him away. And unfortunately, the trick worked.

When you were 16, your father had taken you to Paris for a photoshoot. You appeared at the fashion show as a model, did a shoot the next day, had an interview, had another photoshoot for a make-up brand, and the same evening you performed a solo on your violin in front of atleast a thousand guests. Fatigue caught up to you from your tight schedule and frequent flights and you messed up one small note which your improved and fixed. But your perfectionist father did not think it was as "Professional" as your fans claimed to be.

"FATHER IT WAS JUST ONE NOTE!" "ONE NOTE IN FRONT OF A THOUSAND PEOPLE. DID YOU NOT THINK OF YOUR REPUTATION? HOW CAN YOU BE MY DAUGHTER WITHOUT BEING PERFECT?" This time however, you were locked in for an entire week with just water, the restroom and the solace of the utter darkness of the soundproofed dark room. That trip was the last trip and the last time you saw your father even attempt a smile. Every day since then, your father only ever appeared to lock you in that damned room for days.

You did modeling, acting, singing, fashion designing, playing instruments like the violin, piano, harp and cello, calligraphy, you did ballet, you wrote articles, poetry, and were to major in business as well.

And you were sure that today, you are running away.

Park Sunghoon had had enough. His coach may seem short and sweet to many, but she was truly a monster, just like his mother.

"GIVE ME 20 MORE PUSH-UPS TWERP. LOOK AT YOU, PATHETIC AND WEAK. YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO HAVE A PERFECT BODY TO WIN THE OLMPICS" Her high pitched voice screeched.

His mother basically starved him off any food to get his abs and gave him so many supplements, he swore he had more supplements than calories in his food.

He had to do a million jumps on ice everyday, one of the hardest parts of figure skating but a necessity to score points.

"If you don't make this ina bauer into axel transition NOW, you know what will happen." She menacingly taunted Sunghoon.

"I want it PERFECT." Chills went down Sunghoon's spine as he started skating and praying that he perfects it then and there.

A tiny slip up and Sunghoon went plummeting, unable to recover from the bend to a sudden jump.

There she stood, high and mighty with an iron rod in her hands.

"What did I say about it being PERFECT?"

Sunghoon got off the ice whimpering in pain as she was done with her bringing hell on him. He lifted up his pants to see a new burn mark near the lashing he got yesterday. He never understood why something that brings him so much joy had to be ruined by the 2 closest people to him.

"Be glad you don't wear skirts and that they won't have to see how PATHETIC you truly are." She spits. Mrs. Yang, a relentless coach who many speculate, killed her young son because he couldn't skate and later took Sunghoon under her wing to coach.

Sunghoon spent the rest of the afternoon working on the transition between the moves and kept getting a new bloody mark every time he failed. It got to the point that he swore he could se his bone popping out. But today, he was sure to put an end to his misery.

A rich, pretty girl running from a mansion with a suitcase and a purse in a Dior gown isn't a sight you see everyday. Sunghoon had just finishing his torturous practice and was taking a walk home when he saw the prettiest girl he had ever laid eyes on running with 6 inch heels.

"Hey! wait! That will hurt your feet!" Sunghoon warned you, and you stop to look at him. "Well, I don't care." You huffed and turned, running off to god knows where.

"Where are you going?" He asked. "I don't know.... Somewhere my father won't find me hopefully." You reply as a billboard above you lights up with an advertisement for a perfume with you on it.

"Wait. You're Kwon Boram ?" Sunghoon looked at you in disbelief. "I don't want to be Kwon Boram though." You collapse on a nearby park bench. "I'm just tired of this stupid life and all of these stupid things I do for a bunch of heartless freaks." You continue abusing your knuckles by punching the tree next to you.

All the times your father had used to put you on diets, the lectures, the amount of "tutors" he sent to hit you into obedience, the plastic surgeries to perfect the tiniest flaws he saw and the various skills he made you learn all to be PERFECT.

While you had a revisit of how the word perfect ruined your life, Sunghoon couldn't believe that the goddess of Park industries was not as PERFECT as she was portrayed. He felt that for once, someone might just understand his pain.

"So.... You're running away without a plan?" Sunghoon asked, scanning your eyes for any semblance of a plan. "Well, yes. I do have a card for now." You mention your debit card. Sunghoon snickered at your futile attempt to sell it as a solid plan. He wasn't expecting to have someone to tag along with this plan but, 'the more the merrier' he told himself.

"Come with me. I'm running away too." Sunghoon said and held out his hand. "Excuse you, but I don't know your age, name, if you have good intentions or work for my father."

"My bad. I'm Park Sunghoon, a figure skater who has won plenty gold medals and one olympic gold, and am 21 years old. And, I'm trying to escape my perfectionist mother and devil coach. We met 2 years ago at the Olympics, I assumed you remembered me but I guess your memory isn't that good." He teased, leading you to his house. 2 years ago, your father had taken you to watch the sports so that business would find an appeal to a woman who enjoys sports. You remember watching the way Sunghoon anxiously kept covering his feet in a desperate attempt to hide his scars. Your father with his money managed to get you backstage where you and Sunghoon exchanged formalities and both your parents judged the other.

"I do not wish to see you mingling with his kind. What a sorry excuse of a man." Your father had commented while Sunghoon's mother referred to you as a "pompous peacock", nothing but decoration.

"I'm sorry but not everyone can remember a 2 minute conversation, Mr.Park" You teased back, accepting his proposal to run away.

"Wait here just a minute. Unlike you, I thought of an actual plan which does not involve being getting caught immediately." Sunghoon said, leaving you in an alley. The night started to get colder and you were getting scared. Soon, Sunghoon arrived with his own suitcase and gym bag. "This way." He led you to a car hidden under a dusty sheet. "Get in." He whispered before getting in himself.

And that's how you and Sunghoon ran away to England. The expensive jewelry you sold helped you two settle with a quaint apartment and change your names.

Your expertise in english helped both of you to keep up and now with you going by Y/N and Sunghoon going by Shaun you two managed to barely get by for a couple of months.

After 2 months of living together, you and Sunghoon opened up about your upbringing and found solace in each other and being imperfect. You made an unsaid pact to not use the word perfect for good.

Later, 6 months in, you and Sunghoon broke off your situationship and became an official couple, adored by your friends and co-workers.

Sunghoon now had his own ice rink with his new friends Jake and Heeseung and your restaurant chains grew with Jay as one of your investors turned best friends. Eventually Jake, Jay and Sunghoon formed the 02z and you and Heeseung never found peace again.

Your now beloved boyfriend recently started to miss competing and the Olympics, something Sunghoon could only wish to compete in again but laid low to keep himself away from his mother.

"Are you by any chance Park Sunghoon? Coached by Mrs. Yang?" A boy with insane cat-like features and an eerie resemblance to the devil herself asked.

Yang Jungwon, the son of the demon that coached Sunghoon, the boy who ran away at the ripe age of 15, hence bringing all her anger on him. Sunghoon felt bad for Jungwon. Being coached by Mrs. Yang is one thing, but living with her? He must have felt hell every second of his life.

"Everyone thought you were dead..... She even removed your face from every picture in her house." Sunghoon remarked as he remembered the cold walls she used to invite his mother over for tea and lashed out every time her son was mentioned and call him a weak beast. Jungwon looked at Sunghoon's scars on his legs and lifted his pants a little to show similar denser scars, although now gently fading. "I practically already was dead." He said.

"So, did you never have a thing for figure skating?" Sunghoon pried. "Yeah I never wanted to do it. My mom took one good look at me and thought that me being handsome meant that she needed to make me a figure skater. Fulfill the dream she never could due to her bad looks." Jungwon replied, holding on to the straps of his bag as he and Sunghoon walked to your office.

"So that's why she was so obsessed with pretty boys?" Sunghoon asked. "So you think you're pretty." Jungwon teased. "Oh please, look at who's talking." Sunghoon snarked back. Eventually finding out they were neighbors and that Jungwon came with a package of a 6'7 thing and a walking ball of sunshine.

To say that you were surprised to find your shy bean of a boyfriend acquire 3 friends in a day was surprising and eventually all the boys got familiar with each other and you were basically stuck with Ni-ki third-wheeling all of them.

"Kwon Boram, Today you will be engaged to your now fiance Park Jinyoung, CEO of JYP enterprises." Your father's voice belowed. "But father please, the man is 40, I'm just 20 it's pedophilic." You pleaded. "He has promised a secure contract and 3 million dollars for your dowry. I would be a fool to refuse such a lucrative deal." Your father smirked and shook hands with Jinyoung, the man you were promised to a week before your 18th birthday, the reason you ran away.

You woke up with a cold sweat from your nightmare and searched for Sunghoon in your shared bedroom. You saw a note on the dresser saying he left for work and will be home soon with a cute heart. You brushed off the dream and got ready for work as usual and took your stress squishy as a precaution.

"PARK SUNGHOON! WHAT DID I TELL YOU ABOUT EATING TOO MUCH SUGAR?" Sunghoon stiffened, hearing the voice of his mother. "WHAT DID I TELL YOU WILL HAPPEN FOR NOT FOLLOWING THE INSTRUCTIONS OF MRS. YANG?" His mother's voice screeched. Sunghoon stood there paralyzed, mouth stuffed with delicious Parisian chocolate he got as a gift from a fan. His mother walked over to him and held out a plate nudging harshly against his stomach. Sunghoon took the hint; not willing to upset her further and spit out the chocolates. Soon he was dragged to the bathroom by his mother and was chucked to the ground. "Clean your guts now Sunghoon." She said, calmly. Sunghoon stuck two fingers in his mouth and got vomited all his insides until he was dry, knowing that holding back will only result in stricter practice sessions. Locked in his room once again, left to starve the night Sunghoon curled up into a ball, crying himself to sleep.

Sunghoon jolted awake when he felt Jake shake him awake on the bus. "Mate it's our stop." They both get off and Sunghoon in a daze, walked to the ice rink.

"What was that?" Jake's thick Australian accent grounded him from the nightmare he just had "Just a bad dream. Don't worry about it." Sunghoon kept walking, holding onto the straps of his bag tightly.

Today was the 21st of August and you were wondering why this nightmare decided to haunt you today all of a sudden. Your gut was twisting in the most sickening way possible but you ignored it and continued to work, meeting up with Jay to talk about business.

You had to visit one of your restaurants today as a formality to see how it was running. "Serenity" the name of your fairy themed restaurant with Italian food was growing in popularity and you prided in it. Your passion for cooking stemming from enjoying all the food you couldn't eat at the Kwon manor and trying to make Sunghoon eat after facing terrible trauma with food and his mother now bloomed into a beautiful business and a well-fed boyfriend.

A man sitting alone with the menu card in his face creeped you out but you decided not to think much of it and dressed up as a waitress to sneak around and see how things were going.

You walked up to the man who now had a plate of pasta in front of him and wore a bucket hat to conceal his face. "How is your dining experience sir?" You enquire with a cheery voice. "Just, PERFECT" the familiar condescending cold voice spoke. You felt the air getting knocked out of your lungs and cold sweat run down your back as you faced the man as he removed his hat. The same cold eyes met yours and two men started approaching you from behind him. Your ears started ringing and in a flash you were sprinting to your car, turning it on and driving to Sunghoon immediately.

Sunghoon and Jungwon found a way to enroll Sunghoon into the Olympics again and had started to formulate the perfect routine for him to use. A woman, masked yet poised and elegant was on one of the seats, and Sunghoon was wondering what she was doing and who she was. "Excuse me miss, are you ok? what are you doing here?" Sunghoon asked. "I'm feeling PERFECT, boy." Her calm voice spoke. Sunghoon swore he felt his soul leave his body for a moment there as he checked her face. IT WAS HER. Sunghoon ran as fast as he could to get away from the rink; leaving poor Jungwon confused.

You got out of your car and ran to the rink only to meet Sunghoon halfway.

"HE IS HERE!" "SHE IS HERE!"

You both stood there; stunned at the words that left the other's mouth. "Let's just go home." You said, dragging Sunghoon to the bus, leaving your car behind. "But the car?" Sunghoon asked. "I'm sure my father's men saw the board on it. I left it in the car park at the mall there." You pointed to the mall next to the rink.

You both reached home after taking the bus and collapsed on the couch. Feeling unsettled you two held each other, scared for the future when the dreadful past came back.

An entire week had gone by since the incident and neither you nor Sunghoon had come across your parents again. But for some reason, it seemed that they were more prevalent now than they ever were in your lives.

Sunghoon stepped into the rink, getting ready to practice once again. Monday, what a sweet, sweet day. He slid onto the ice and started with the routine he and Jungwon came up with and music supported by Heuning Kai, an extension of the 02z who lived in Korea.

Sunghoon glided across the ice and made every turn and swoop as graceful as he could. He wanted to show you his routine for your birthday before performing it in the Olympics.

"Perfect"

A spine chilling whisper sweeps him off his feet as he lands cold and hard on the ice. Today she seemed to be closer than ever and Sunghoon skated to the edges of the rink to look for her to find no one. And this only seemed to make things worse as he stumbled out of the rink, staggered to the bleachers and removed his skates, packed and ran.

He ran fast and hard and didn't notice when and how but he ended on the floor of your shared bedroom, slowly curling up into a ball and shivering and sobbing.

The mirror in front of him taunted his weight, showed him that he was nothing but a fat pig who can't stop eating no matter how much control he is supposed to have, a failure of an athlete. The voices in his head become louder, the room starts to close in on him and his head seemed to weigh a ton and all he could do was be pathetic and cry like a baby.

"How will you win a gold with this attitude?" "Mama's boy much?" "How could a loser like you win?" "Can't even finish a routine without breaking down like a baby in diapers"

"Fat pig that can't stop eating sweets even for a day" "look at how ugly you are, is that a figure sit for a figure skater?"

"Representing the republic of South Korea, Park Sunghoon; the wimp"

"Perfect"

That chilling deep voice bellowed through your new office. You saw a faint image of the man you never wished to see again sitting on your new comfy chair.

Panicking, you ran to your car, trying to escape your father immediately when you noticed your office door having the same dark green shade. You swore Jay painted it pink but now all you could do was run.

Fumbling with your keys, you try your best to get inside your house, every door you pass looking the same as the last, all the same disgusting shade of green, the same golden doorknob and carvings, you wanted nothing more than to run to your safe spot, Sunghoon.

"Why did you eat so much for breakfast? No one would want a fat girl for a wife." "You think you can live without me? I'm EVERYWHERE"

His words kept repeating as you tried to calm yourself, stripping off your shoes and socks and fumbling onto the couch.

"How dare you run away and bring such SHAME to our family?" "How dare you run away from your responsibilitlies as a member of the KWON FAMILY?"

The room felt like it was spinning, you felt the air getting sucked out of your lungs. Nightmares of the dark room kept flooding your mind, you had no way out and clearly, no way to heal.

"YOU ARE MY DAUGHTER!!! YOU ARE TO MARRY THE WEALTHIEST OFFER I CAN GET AND YOU WILL DO IT NOW!!" "But, Boram, please, maybe your father will approve of us. I'm not even poor." "GET AWAY FROM THE LIKES OF HIM!!!"

"I told you that man will be your downfall."

You stumbled to the bedroom, hoping to collapse in your bed to help ease your panic-stricken self when you spotted Sunghoon curled up, sobbing, just like you. You rushed over to him, your panic attack disappearing into thin air and holding Sunghoon close.

"I'm here love, just me..... She's not here anymore." You reassure him.

You hear Sunghoon slowly stop sobbing and his breathing becoming more stable. Slowly, he pried himself off of you and noticed your cheeks with dry tears.

"Why were you crying love?" He asked. "I had a panic attack too."

"Your dad?" You nodded as a response. "I'm sorry that you had to see me like this." Sunghoon apologized, looking downcast. "No, don't you DARE apologize. I'm happy to be there for you when things get tough."

"But I wasn't!" Sunghoon looked ashamed, and upset. "I wasn't there for you because I was too weak crying about my own past and-"

"What makes you think that? I couldn't calm down until I saw you, you helped me by just existing. So please, Stop beating yourself up for things you can't control." You brushed a strand of his long hair back, placing a small kiss on his temple.

"I suppose you are.... Perfect... For me." You reassured. "And you, perfect for me." Sunghoon sealed your love with a breathtaking kiss, a promise of love and healing.

You both knew life would not be easy on you, no matter how hard you try to heal, scars don't always fade, and not all bruises heal. But you were sure to be each other's remedy. Why?

You were Perfect for each other.

A/N: I didn't expect this story to take so long for me to finish but.... here it is!! I hope you enjoy it and I hope my other projects won't take this long.

[trinitywc]

gosh, okay, just finished book 1, and I have to say- nuclear warfare as a narrative horror concept is so incredibly underused and something I wholly love about this work. the confusion and ominous clues being layed out (and for the people who know, *know*) about the process of radiation poisoning  with the latency period of the sickness acting as a calm before the storm (wherein the building blocks of your DNA are ripped to shreds and there's no alleviating the pain until it takes you) was just- GUH. And the way that this factor is coupled with starvation, and Pinefrost being one of the only ones able to go out and hunt even when it's not her strongest skill and having the lives of her group hang over her head alongside the quiet judgement of her former mentor... So absolutely gut wrenching to break away from the building tensions and calamity of the battle and the explosion- everyone just saving who they *can* with and without prejudice, then bonding with those individuals under extreme circumstances only to slowly watch each and every one of them wither away. horrifying. I love it in the best way possible. I want to rub my face in it like a cat on a carcas of some dead thing.

so much of book 1 is about the us vs them mentality between creek and wood clan as told through pinepaw-then pinefrost- and in so many ways the tensions narratively reminded me of the cold war and the lead up to the chernobyl nuclear crisis (not even to mention the allusions to the trinity test though, I'm not sure if it's intentional or if I'm just reading too much into it as a nuclear radiation buff).

Then Pinefrost slowly coming to her own conclusions about the clan differences after working through the culture clash in a setting where borders no longer exist, and her surviving group at large is working against a common overarching biological threat that is indiscriminate. I particularly enjoy how she comes to respect woolycloud and can appreciate wood clan's memorializing dead comrades in a way that creek clan doesn't. it seems like she was raised in a setting where- while there was love from her remaining parent- there was a sentiment of detachment from everyone (possibly stemming from the anticipation of loss?) as they grew older and were cultured in an environment of extreme animositiy towards wood clan marketed as nationalism. the sentiment by the mentors focus wasn't based upon training noble warriors but rather good soldiers, and you either adapt and survive, or like mallowshine and her kits, are left behind as a single sacrifice to save instead the larger idea of what creek clan represents as opposed to the ones who make it creek clan. It really contextualizes mallowshine's previous animosity in a different light.

that being said, totally unrelated, but I love cuckoopaw and houndpelt- houndpelt in particular im radio ga ga over. like he's just truly giving heartthrob dad played by pedro pascal rizz. but, y'know, a cat. bereaved single fathers rise up! i'm rooting for him!!

"the confusion and ominous clues being layed out (and for the people who know, *know*)" - theres something so fun about the people who know going into this vs those who don't. i love seeing different peoples reactions, those who know the silverbirds/lights at night are bombing runs, those who work it out, and those who don't know until the bomb literally drops.

"about the process of radiation poisoning  with the latency period of the sickness acting as a calm before the storm" nuclear radiation is HORRIFIC. I really wanted to get the 'grace period' of feeling better after the fire across so it was like a breather and 'okay we can deal with this' and then just no, here's your DNA melting. and of course, if you don't die immediately, its still within you, cancers and anemias down the line; but maybe thats spoiler territory. its a slow, creeping horror. nuclear radiation is always portrayed as creating monsters (godzilla, etc) or even heroes but the true horror is the reality of it.

"reminded me of the cold war and the lead up to the chernobyl nuclear crisis (not even to mention the allusions to the trinity test though" - trinity is absolutely a nod to the first test + how its three books + it just sounds cool. also for the Cold War well I studied politics lmao. it's technically not nationalism but like, tribalism or 'clan'ism (nationalism is about the creation of a nation in the political structures and... clans aren't nations but yeah semantics (read Waltz and Kohn), but I love Pinefrost having her world view challenged- is what she views to be the *truth* of CreekClan really true or is it just how she views it from the way she was brought up? someone like Chestnutspike believes CreekClan can change and be better, the 'Clan' itself is not the issue but the way it has been allowed to continue, Kiteheart views it only for war, Pinefrost feels constantly judged by it and sees it and WoodClan as systems that only guarantee a painful death. etc etc. I feel bad for Mallowshine to this day : /

"houndpelt in particular im radio ga ga over. like he's just truly giving heartthrob dad played by pedro pascal rizz. but, y'know, a cat. bereaved single fathers rise up! i'm rooting for him!!" this is contender for the most DERANGED Houndpelt comment, idk what you win but you win. im howling. i have an old piece of art of him in the drafts captioned as 'single father at 15' so im glad someone else gets his like, man reluctantly raising a younger child like it was his own, vibes. even if it was his choice, kinda, and hes like 22 but looks 44.

anyway, thank you so much!!!!! im so glad you enjoyed it, and thanks for such a lovely long ask!!!

[decepti-geek]

'The story of Persephone is inherently about a mother losing her daughter'

Sometimes, daughters want to be lost. Sometimes, they want to die. Sometimes they both wish to be dead and are terrified by the idea that something could kill them. Sometimes, the idea that they want to die is huge and horrifying in and of itself - and it is theirs.

Sometimes, they might only wish to die in a way they have control over. Sometimes, they are terrified when they face death in a way that is not of their choosing. Sometimes, the line between the two is blurred and scary in itself.

Sometimes, their mothers really do love them, and do not seek to harm them, and still make their daughters' desire for death all about themselves. About how the pain their daughter is experiencing hurts them, and how their daughters' desire to die causes them grief, and about how these feelings are Bigger and more Important than their ultimate source. And they end up harming their daughters anyway, as a result. With their very real, genuine love.

Why is the line pushed so much atm, that Persephone entering the underworld has to be primarily about Demeter, that all other focus is wrong? (The has to being the key thing here, as one interpretation it's great, but to insist upon it as the only valuable interpretation...?)

To me, that's like... there is so much real-world precedent, where people who live in a way that is close to death, being ill physically or mentally, are dehumanised and glossed over in favour of the pain experienced by the people who love them. Closeness to death is scary, but so much of the standard western societal approach is geared around recoiling from anything to do with it, and that includes recoiling from engaging with the people who have the most to do with it. It's easier to deal with it using a degree of removal, but some people legitimately do not have a choice about that.

In my mind, Persephone is one of those people. Within the story, she has no degree of removal from the idea of death. She's already in the underworld. Demeter is removed. She never enters the underworld, she sends others down there to interpret Persephone's experience for her. Why is it only Correct to focus on Demeter, as the grieving parent? Why can't we focus on Persephone, as the dying daughter? Even as the daughter who is unambiguously drawn towards death? Even through a romanticised lens? Even, maybe, without fully realising that that's what we're doing, but still feeling out the idea?

I've been that daughter, in all senses of it. I'm still here, I'm not dead, but I've brushed close to it. I didn't stop existing as a whole entire person, just because I went close to death and came back. I didn't become A Daughter, an abstract concept, a possession, something subsumed by a louder voice of pain, just because it was too painful to contemplate that I was hurting too. I sure as fuck don't think my mum's side of the story is the only side worth telling. I sure as fuck don't regard myself as a side character in my mum's confrontation with grief, as parsed through me like some kind of vessel.

[pacificwaternymph]

Fanfic writer ask game, sorry that this is a long list:

🥺 Is there a certain type of moment or common interaction between your characters that never fails to put you in your feels?

🤡 What's a line, scene, or exchange you've written that made you laugh?

�� What are some common things you incorporate in your fics? Themes, feels, scenes, imagery, etc.

���‍♀️ Do any irl people know you write fanfic?

🌞 Do you have a preferred time of day to write?

💌 How do you feel about comments and feedback?

💖 What made you start writing?

✅ What's something that appears in your fics over and over and over again, even if you don't mean to?

🧐 Do you spend much time researching for your stories?

🤲 Would you please share a snippet of a wip?

Any parent-child dynamic, especially of the found family variety, makes me go weak at the knees. Something about the unconditional love of parents, man. It just gets to me. So like any of Shrub and Xornoth's interactions in the Wolf Mother.

The chapter after the full moon detailing the aftermath, where Shrub learns that Xornoth jumped off the balcony and gradually grows more and more horrified as she realizes that once this kid actually becomes more comfortable being himself she is going to have her hands full? Had me dying.

I'm sure you'll notice hurt comfort is my BRAND. A lot of my works have themes of healing, dealing with complex emotions and trauma, and reconciliation, and put a heavy emphasis on deep interpersonal connections between the characters.

A good deal of my family does, actually. They've known about my writing ever since I've started. I've never let them, you know, read any of it, but like yeah they are aware of it. And as for friends, a fair number of my friends are also consumers and producers of fanfiction, so yeah they all know.

Not really? Whenever the motivation strikes. Which just so happens to be... right before I tell myself I'll go to bed.

Love love LOVE!! I adore hearing what you guys think of my stories, all of your ideas and suggestions and predictions, it's so so so wonderful to see that so many people read my stuff and like it, it's so surreal.

I had a really vivid image for a story in my head and was frustrated that I didn't have the art skills to draw it out. So I turned to using my words as an alternative. I've been doing this for about 5 years now.

Characters fearing being hurt in some capacity, only to be treated with kindness. This usually takes the form of a child character who is used to cruelty being adopted into a loving family, but also fairly frequently shows up as an antagonist I'm attempting to redeem expecting some sort of harsh punishment for their actions and instead being faced with, if not forgiveness, then at the very least a willingness to hear them out and a demonstration of the heroes' goodness.

Depends. Sometimes I'll completely wing it, like me not doing any research for my pirate au and just going by vibes alone, but for some specific things as well as topics I want to be able to give an accurate and respectful depiction of (such as disabilities, different cultures, religions, etc.) I'll go a little more in depth with my efforts.

Snippet beneath the cut:

Having wings was… different.

Xornoth wasn’t quite sure how he felt about them yet. Growing another pair of limbs overnight wasn’t exactly a pleasant experience, to say the least. He could only remember vague flashes, a searing pain in his back that wouldn’t abate no matter what he did. He remembered a hand in his hair and concerned voices surrounding him. But other than that… nothing.

He’d faded in and out of reality the entire time, horrific flashbacks so lifelike Xornoth almost could have sworn they were real plaguing his every moment. But the one thing he knew for sure was that his mom had been there the whole time. 

- The first couple of paragraphs from chapter fifteen of the Wolf Mother

[confluence-and-drift]

Huh, so I'm going to be an uncle. I was just around at my parents and heard that the brother I don't get along with had in the last two years, divorced his wife that was rude to our mother all the time and he's now with someone else who my Mum really likes and they're expecting a kid. Apparantly my brother has matured a lot too in the last few years.

My Mum was weirdly apprehensive telling me this and she admitted that she thought I'd be angry, an answer that mystified me. Like, sure, my brother and I don't talk, but why would I not be happy for him getting out of a shitty relationship and being in a happy one? It occurred to me later it was likely because my parents don't exactly understand my reacitons to things. They don't understand the principles I hold and hence don't understand when he offends them so greviously; hence to them whenever my brother is mentioned I must randomly erupt into unpredictable rages. Or something.

But in any case, I am happy for him.

Hell, with his newfound maturity I've been thinking of getting back in touch with him, though the issue with that is...well, I'm not completely blind. I kind of disappeared from his life for most of a decade and made no attempt to reconnect or even speak to him. I don't exactly think I've got much of a right to be in his life now that he's less of a massive cunt than before.

Ah well. In any case, I hope it all goes well. My other siblings tell me that his new partner is really nice and that unlike with his ex he actually seems happy.

An old instinct makes me want to meet her so I can see if she's good enough for my wee brother; but that's a very small, very faint instinct. As I said, I'm well aware I have no right and she probably knows me as "that deadbeat brother". Hell, on a related point, I wonder if my brother still thinks I'm making up disability in order to exist on benefits? That, amongst other things, is what I meant when I said he was kind of unpleasant; but in any case, with a kid coming, I guess it's best I just stay out of it, let him deal with it without burden. The emotion that I've got left at the end of it is twofold I guess; one is that I'm happy for him; second is regret that the situation with my brother ended up how it is. I still remember when it was just me and him way back in the day. I mean, I was a shit older brother etc, but you know. Thirdly; I'm still somewhat mystified by what my Mum said about me being angry. I mean, I know I've got my theory up there, but I'm not sure. I keep finding myself going back to it. I guess a part of me is just once more shocked at how little my own mother knows me, but then again, this is the same mother who somehow missed my autism whilst growing up so it's entirely possible that she just got it wrong. I think a part of me just turning a few other possibilities in my head, like, did she think I'd be jealous? Na, that's too out there. She knows I'm content being alone. I once expressed horror at a friend of hers' daughter having a kid, but that's because said daughter and the father were like 17, so I'd hope she realised that it was that aspect and not the having-children itself that made me disgusted/agitated/angry , but it could have been that. I did ask my Mum why she thought I'd be angry, she did just say "I don't know" and she was getting a bit sleepy too so I didn't want to badger her with questions but huh.

Ah well. I guess this means I can be someone's Weird Uncle, which, admittedly, is something I kind of always hoped for the chance to be. I don't want kids of my own, that's be a pain, but I'd be a perfect Weird Uncle imho >.>.

*clears throat*. Anyways, I hope everyone reading this is doing well.

EDIT: Also, to clarify for those who've followed me for a while, the ex that my brother divorced is the anti-vaxxer who caught covid at least three times. I always thought it was fucking horrifying that he'd...fraternise with someone so dangerously stupid, especially considering he has a Masters in Biomedical Science, and as I mentioned, he never exactly seemed happy with her. But once again, I am happy for him.

[cheekypriest]

"Being accustomed to danger doesn't make you invulnerable to it. There's a big difference between facing danger and surviving it." James would be lying if he tried to say there had never been close calls, there were more than he cared to remember. Demons weren't exactly fun or easy to deal with and they were more than happy to do anything they could to get underneath people's skin and ruin every aspect of a person's life that they could reach -- - and even more so.

That, he'd learned for himself in the very beginning. Stood in his parent's bedroom as he watched his father being toyed with like he was little more than some cheap puppet for the monster's enjoyment, watching as his life was ripped away, the look of glee written all over his mother's face, twisted and contorted by the thing that had possessed her. As if that hadn't been enough, not content with only taking his father from him, the demon mocked him, forced him to watch his mother writhe in agony before finally letting her go, letting her drop to the floor like a meaningless sack of potatoes, the teen catching her in his arms, holding her close as tears streamed down his cheeks, his entire body shaking as he pleaded with her to be okay. There was so little life left in her, mere fragments in those tormented eyes as a single tear trickled down the side of her face and that was it -- - she was gone.

Nobody deserved to endure that. James wouldn't wish it on anyone, not even those who inflicted such pain upon others. That was why he became a priest, to do everything within his power to keep that side of the world from people, to let them wander around their entire lives without knowing the horrors that lingered in the shadows, that threatened their every waking moment. Why? Because they deserved that ignorance, there was enough going on in the world to make anyone's head spin but add a whole other layer on top? No, he knew what it was like, everything else practically felt numb to him. Let everyone else worry about those matters while he concentrated on what they couldn't see, what they didn't know.

Was he really about to let someone in? Give them the slightest peak into his world? Connor didn't deserve that. The poor guy had probably seen more than anyone else should, especially for someone of his age. Who was he to pile more on top? Yet at the same time, how could he get him to walk away? A man led by such curiosity, his foot was already in the door inching it open while James stood on the other side and stubbornly held it in place to try and keep the detective from moving in any further.

But for how long? How long could the Brit hold him at bay when the other could simply find another way in, sneak in through a window when he wasn't looking and he wouldn't know to be there and shield him from the very real horrors that could easily engulf him as it had so many others?

"I'm sure they are. I imagine most people see their siblings as the epitome of Hercules, but right now, you said it yourself... you have no idea what you're dealing it." Him, or anyone else at the station and that was exactly how it was meant to be. "I do." Not that he was happy about the fact, but there was never any use in lamenting the fact. He could wish his life had been different all he wanted but it wouldn't change anything, it wouldn't give him back his parents or his careless youth -- - this was who he was, who he knew how to be and that was that.

Though he did note the fact that Connor had mentioned not having a boyfriend since college. It wasn't his place to presume someone's sexuality, or judge it, particularly given his own casual leaning that he kept quiet amongst his peers. Not everyone expected a bisexual priest and there were probably plenty who'd be both surprised and horrified by the fact, something that his mentor had quickly instilled into him in his younger years. Not because he didn't approve, but because he felt there were more important matters in the world than someone's sexuality and not everyone in the Vatican would agree with that.

Was it the same for Connor? Did he have to keep it quiet as well? Did he choose to? Or did others at the station know? Queries for another time, perhaps, but something he'd definitely have to broach very carefully -- - if the younger man wasn't completely and utterly repelled by the Brit by the end of their interaction.

For a moment, James found himself smirking a little, leaning towards his desk to grab his cup of coffee again as if intentionally leaving the other man hanging. "Oh, if that were true, you wouldn't be here stumped over this case and I'd be back in Rome feeding stray cats and trying to avoid being run over by yet another bloody moped for the millionth time..." He noted with a raise of his brows, again teasing him before he drew the cup close and took a sip. By now, it had become little more than lukewarm, half forgetting about it for the last few minutes, the bitterness biting at his tongue. And yes, maybe he did have something of a playful detest of scooters and mopeds that had taken over the Italian capital city after being bumped into so often when trying to cross practically any street.

"Fine... but I'm going to need something a lot stronger than coffee if we're going down this rabbit hole." He was bound to think the priest was some sort of lunatic after it anyway, so he figured he might as well get something out of it. Especially if he did end up being taken for psychological evaluation or whatever else lay up the detective's sleeve. Placing his cup back down onto his desk, the greying Englishman pushed himself to his feet, casually sliding behind his desk to a corner cupboard where he leaned down and pulled out a rather decent bottle of whisky that he kept for the most trying times. "Care to join me? I won't tell anyone if you don't."

From the very beginning moments of their initial encounter, Connor could sense a burden that weighed upon the priest. It was invisible, but deeply felt, as it left the same unseen scars that one with a kindred soul could empathize with. It was present in his eyes, in the saucy smiles & flirtatious tones, the temperate cadence of his calm voice. A twinge of something long lost, never to be regained, not merely by the vanishing of it but by the simplicity of knowing no different. The detective shared that same numbed sadness, buried marrow deep. It was there in the dark circles beneath his eyes, guised with cleverly applied concealer. It sat within a haunted emptiness that fell over him when he was alone or lost in thought, exposing him for what he was under the surface of warmth & charm.

Connor didn’t believe that Rutherford was his particular brand of damaged, but he had been hurt in the past. The man was too cautious, too stubbornly protective not to have suffered his own heartache in the past. The detective felt they had that in common. Perhaps a few other things, as well.

The mild tease drew a little laugh from the younger male - such a proper word used to describe such an unapologetically American kid. He supposed both halves of the descriptor weren’t without merit. He was incredibly stubborn, relentless as a bloodhound when he caught whiff of a scent that might lead him in the direction of revelation. Even as the priest was trying his damnedest to plead with him, even scare him off of this crusade of his, Connor wasn’t about to budge. & both knew it. Rutherford had accepted it as fact long before making his arguments, but he couldn’t help himself in his desire to save others. Connor supposed they had that in common, too. He wasn’t the type to give up just because a trail went cold. He stuck with it, used every available resource at his disposal to find an answer.

One had to wonder just who it was for; himself, or the families of the victims. Perhaps the victims themselves, in some retroactive karmic sense. Partially, the detective had to admit that it was all for amusement’s sake. This was what he was good at. He could use his strange brain & the moral ambiguity that came with his psychology to solve crimes. But he liked to believe that there was some semblance of appreciation for the greater good within him somewhere. Maybe he was just projecting.

He was also a selfish twirp. Rutherford peppered his proclamations with small flirtations, compliments that were obviously intended to ease his defenses, aiding in the priest’s persuasions. Outwardly, the detective returned those small compliments with a gentle, though fleeting smile. Warm. He knew what the man was trying to do. Yet another side of him, prideful & hidden, preened. By no means was it the first time he had been informed that he was a beauty, that he was clever & whip smart. Those truths were not merely evident, but also a detriment in some aspects of his line of work. He hadn’t been taken seriously by his fellow officers in the beginning, & often that tended to be the case years later. Just a kid. Just some entitled trust fund baby that wanted to play cops & robbers. People really had no idea.

But he liked how it sounded when the priest described him in such a positive light. Passingly, the detective contemplated whether or not it would be appropriate to call upon him outside of the scope of the investigation. He knew he shouldn’t get personal, but where was the fun in playing strictly by the rules? He wondered if Rutherford wouldn’t be interested in a coffee. Somewhere outside of the church next time.

Though the longer the man spoke, the more he pleaded his case, the more intrigued the detective became. The mention of the Vatican had him somewhat aghast, though it hardly showed. Only the faintest shift of expression as the bewildered youth let that small detail settle, & he filed it away for later. Why would they feel the need to become involved in a suspicious death? Had Moore had deeper ties within the church than initially revealed in the thorough search of his background? Curious, he observed the priest as he made his case, eager to grasp onto those small, insignificant tells of body language, subtle changes. There was an urgency beneath the calm insistence. The detective sensed that Rutherford was genuinely scared of something.

It wasn’t the kid of crippling fear that engulfed a man & reduced him to a quivering mess. It was a learned fear, one which consumed from the inside, until the only thing left was a staticky numbness & a driven, but ironic bravery. It was the kind of fear that made a man strong not because of obligation, but because he had to be. Connor wondered just what had happened to this man to make him this way. He just seemed… lonely.

That question lodged itself firmly in the back of the detective's mind as he spoke. His own voice sounded a little far off to his ears. “I’m not unaccustomed to danger.” Connor, too, was used to being alone. He thrived in solitude as he did in company, though not by choice. “I don’t have anyone - I haven’t had a boyfriend since college, & extended family is out of the picture.” He didn’t know why he was telling the priest all this. Perhaps it was reassurance, a small comfort in knowing that nothing was going to get to Connor through anyone he loved. But he realized how sad it sounded, when viewing his loneliness through any other lens. His defined lips quirked into a pretty smile, placating. He didn’t want to give Rutherford the wrong impression. “My brothers are tough, & I’m not scared of the consequences. I wouldn't be a very good cop if I lost my nerve that easily.”

Besides, the past time a perp had threatened Connor’s family… it hadn’t gone well for them.

But there was the matter of the priest's personal apprehensions to consider. Rutherford seemed to think that his hypothesis on this case might lead the detective to thinking he was psychologically impaired. That did raise concerns, though for Connor, it mostly piqued his interest. “Besides, I doubt anything you could tell me isn’t something I haven’t heard before.” What could be so obscenely controversial that he would question the man's sanity? “I’m not afraid of nightmares, James. I can promise you that.”

[pyrrhiccomedy]

Hi! Would you ever consider doing that spirited TED talk about why Lovecraft now appeals specifically to the marginalized people he hated? I'm trying to make sense of it myself and it would really help to hear your informed opinion!! Sorry if you have already written about it or if it's maybe too personal! Hope you guys are doing well during the lockdown :)

Yeah, sure.

Lovecraft’s work deals intimately with the pain and fear associated with feeling alienated from your community, your ancestors, and even yourself. 

A lot of his stories are about how there is something ‘different,’ about you or the people around you, that fills you with unease, but is also difficult to define. Your family feels malevolent to you; you feel like everyone in your small town is watching you, or has bad intentions towards you; you know that there’s something that just isn’t RIGHT about yourself. 

Your community might want to force you into a religion, or even a partnership, that seems unspeakable to you, and which fills you with horror.

Sound familiar?

These themes are relatable to LGBT people, to disabled people, to non-neurotypical people, to biracial people, or to people of color who are being raised in communities in which they are an overwhelming minority.

The Shadow Over Innsmouth is probably Lovecraft’s most famous story. It’s about being trapped in a small town where everyone is a part of a terrifying religion that personally hates you, everyone is being forced into horrifying heterosexual couplings of in which one of the partners is a literal monster, for the purpose of breeding, and in which the protagonist survives, escapes, and the government bluntly condemns his tormentors.

As a gay little kid growing up in conservative Maine, this was big for me.

In the end, the narrator of Shadow Over Innsmouth realizes he’s descended from the cultists of this town, and that he is becoming the thing he previously hated and feared. I also was afraid of never getting out of my town, and one day turning into someone just like the people who made my life miserable. To me, it read like a horrible cautionary tale: get out, and don’t look back. What’s going on here is wrong, and you need to pull yourself away, before the pressures of your family & community turn you into one of them.

But that’s The Shadow Over Innsmouth: a story which features alien miscegenation, sure, but not usually one of the stories that gets specifically called out when people talk abot how racist Lovecraft was.

The White Ape is probably the most racist thing Lovecraft ever wrote (also titled Facts Concerning the Late Arthur Jermyn and His Family). It’s about a man who goes to Africa, falls in love with an ape, successfully reproduces with it, and then all of his descendants are criminals and madmen, with unpleasant, twisted appearances. It’s told from the POV of one of his more distant descendants, who uncovers this information while researching his own geneology, and, upon discovering that there’s an ape in his lineage, commits suicide by dousing himself in lighter fluid and setting himself on fire.

Yikes.

And yet...this story speaks to me, too. There’s a history of serious alcoholism in my family. My mother was an alcoholic. I asked questions: her father was an alcoholic, and suffered from hallucinations as well. His father was also an alcoholic, and he beat his wife and children savagely. And his parents? I don’t know. No one was ever willing to talk to me about it. But every generation I looked back, there was more abuse, more mental illness, more violence. 

The idea that, if I could look back far enough, I could discover a progenitor that had poisoned our entire family was something I dwelled on, as a kid. Would I want to know the truth? Would it make any difference? Would I have some kind of crisis if I found out that I was a descendant of a rapist, or a murderer? How would I react if I learned that I was a part of a cycle of violence and substance abuse that no one before me had managed to escape?

The White Ape is super, super racist, obviously, but it’s not just racist. Taken another way, it’s a story about dysfunction being passed down within a family. It’s a sins-of-the-father story. And if you come from an abusive home, that’s compelling.

Look, Lovecraft was a mega racist. He was also a man who struggled with mental illness his entire life, who had watched both of his parents die in mental asylums, and who never found success in his life. He was afraid all the time, and he wrote about how frightening the world was to him, and how he never felt like he was truly a part of it. 

The racism sucks. 

The rest of it, if you’re a person who has been mistreated or marginalized, can really resonate.

[jamiemackenziefraser]

All That Was Fair

Chapter 12: Billows and Breeze 

Summary: Burning questions pave the way for a few much-needed answers. 

Read on AO3

Read chapter 12 on tumblr below the cut:

Previous, master list, next

A/n: I’m back, thanks so much for your patience! As usual, this chapter picks up directly where the last left off, so it might be good to glance at the previous chapter if you want a refresher.

Chapter 12: Billows and Breeze

***

After the unfortunate incident with the knife, Claire had been reluctant to leave his side, still buzzing with worry over him. She’d gotten herself well and truly worked up, and Jamie thought that they needed to do something lighthearted and low-stakes. The day so far had been so charged with tense energy that Jamie thought perhaps being outside in the familiarity and tranquility of nature would do her some good. 

“Do ye fancy a hike?” he asked Claire, who was sitting curled up on the couch. Immediately remembering that “hike” was likely not a word in her vocabulary, he amended, “a wee walk about outside?” 

Claire’s face brightened instantly and she perked up. “Oh can we? I feel so stuffed up!” 

Jamie was proud of himself for once again correctly guessing what would be good for her. Perhaps he had her figured out now… 

Thus the preparations began. It was an unseasonably warm day for autumn in Scotland, so Jamie was comfortable with Claire wearing one of the armload of dresses provided she also wore his jacket. Most of them still lay on the chair where he’d deposited them the night before. He grabbed one out for Claire, handed it to her, and then she disappeared off to change. When all of the rest of the dresses had been draped over his arm to bring upstairs, he noticed the book laying on the chair. The Woman of Balnain. 

Alarm bells went off in his head, and his curiosity peaked, but he didn’t have any time to spare to look into the book. It’d have to wait. As he tossed the clothes upstairs in the guest bedroom, he took a stop by his office to place the book on his desk. Soon. 

For his own preparations, he suited up in his well-loved hiking boots, packed a backpack of water and snacks, and considered their destination. Claire likely wasn’t interested in a car journey (she’d had enough excitement for one day), so perhaps just a walk about his property and a stroll to the neighboring monro. It truly was beautiful: the heather was in full bloom this time of year, turning the hills into sweeping seas of purple. Claire would love it. 

So, they escaped out the back door and set out side-by-side along his property. They weren’t touching, just amicably basking in each other’s nearness. About two steps in, Jamie realized he needed to slow his pace. His long legs and inexhaustible hiker’s energy would far outpace his wee faerie. 

“I never thought tae ask…” Jamie began as they walked along, Claire’s face upturned toward the sunlight peeking through the clouds, “how old are ye?” 

“Oh…” she looked down shyly and then glanced back up at him from under her lashes, “I'm quite young really, I’m only 9 and 30.” 

Jamie’s mouth fell open. He was incredibly taken aback by this, having pegged her to be about his age if not younger, but quickly decided he could take it in stride. 

“‘Quite young?’” he chuckled, “ye’re practically a granny compared tae me, lass. I’m 29.” 

“29!” she exclaimed, as if she had just told her that he was the bloody queen rather than a decade younger than her, “but you’re so… why don’t you live with your parents?” 

Jamie nearly tripped over a stone in his path but managed to right himself before toppling over. Claire had stopped walking the moment “29” had left his mouth, and she was staring at him with a concerned gaze that uncomfortably reminded Jamie of how an adult might look at a lost child. 

But the pieces were beginning to fall into place in his brain, and he wiped his sweaty palms on his thighs as he gathered his thoughts. With a glance at Claire and then a tilt of his head, they resumed walking. 

“I sense that maybe there’s a wee difference between lifespans of humans and the fair folk…” he began uncertainly, “Humans only stay wi’ their parents until they are 18 or so. Besides, I lost my mam when I was young, and my da a few years back.” 

He wasn’t sure exactly what possessed him to share that last intimate detail with her, superfluous to the point as it was. He hardly ever talked about his parents’ deaths to people, and it disconcerted him a bit how easily it came tumbling from him now. Apparently a deep part of him wanted to share everything with her. 

“Ye said ye’re quite young…” he continued, and a horrifying thought suddenly struck him, “you didna still live wi’ yer parents before ye came through the stones, did ye?” 

Oh Christ what if she was only a child by fae terms! She looked his age but…

His head began to spin, but she thankfully answered before he could work himself up any further. 

“No. I suppose things are a little different for the fair folk. We are taken care of by our parents until around 30 years of age or so. But I’ve been on my own for far longer than that. I… I lost my parents as well. When I was very young. I can hardly remember them really…” 

She gave a little tilt of the head, trying to keep the mention of tragedy casual, but he could see the pain in her eyes that wouldn’t meet his. 

Jamie’s heart ached for her, tinged with the familiar longing for his own parents. It seemed they really were kindred spirits— him and Claire— two lost souls who’d somehow come to find each other. 

“I’m sorry, lass,” he said huskily, “so that’s what ye meant when ye’d said ye’d been takin’ care of yerself yer whole life? Did ye no’ have other family?” 

Claire shrugged her shoulders a little, as if her clothes were too tight, and shook her head, her curls billowing in the gentle breeze to hide half of her face. He knew she wasn’t hiding from him intentionally, but it still made his heart clench to see her discomfort. 

“Not really. But the fair folk are rather communal. We are often near each other, even if we don’t live as a family unit per say. Others made sure I was well, and I had friends and other fae around, but mostly I’ve been—” 

She left the word “alone” unspoken, but the meaning was clear. The undeclared word seemed to linger in the air between them, weighty and heart-wrenching. 

At this new declaration, Jamie couldn’t help but reach out and take her hand. She wasn’t alone anymore after all. Maybe she felt that way, but Jamie would be damned if it were true. He wouldn’t leave her. Her wee hand slipped easily into his, and he allowed his thumb to drift over the peaks and valleys of her knuckles. 

“I’m sorry,” he breathed. What else could he say in the midst of such loss?

“What about you?” she asked, her natural radiance suddenly coming through in her smile, dissipating the heavy topic’s dark cloud, “will you tell me more about your sister?” 

Jamie couldn’t help a sheepish smile. “Aye, Janet is her real name. After we lost our mam when I was around 8 or so, Jenny became sort of a mother tae me. She was always there when I needed her, and— weel…” he let out a bit of a laugh, thinking about the earlier blow up with Jenny, “she’s always there now, sometimes too much when she’s sticking her neb intae my business… but I’m glad she’s there. I love her verra much.” 

Claire gave him a sweet nod and squeezed his hand. “I can tell she’s important to you.” 

Apologies rose in Jamie’s throat along with the resurfaced guilt from earlier. He had told the one person who mattered most to him that Claire meant nothing, and both of them were aware of it. But as much as he was bursting to lay himself at her feet and explain his mistake all over again, he’d already been forgiven, so it was time for him to move past it. 

His thoughts were interrupted by Claire letting out an exclamation. They had just rounded the edge of the monro, revealing the expanse of rolling heather— its purple waves spread into a picturesque canvas across the landscape. 

“Bonny, is it no’?” he asked, a hint of pride creeping into his voice. 

“It’s beautiful,” she uttered in wonderment. 

Feeling like a protagonist in a romance novel, he held tightly to her hand and led her through the field. Her skirt billowed in the breeze behind her, and her face was lit up with a serene joy. Riotous curls swept all around her head, and Jamie was enthralled. He found himself walking almost completely backward so he could watch her face as she took in the beautiful sights. 

He could admit to himself that it was cheesy, but to him, Claire would always be the most beautiful view. 

If only he could tell her that… To bring them to a halt, gather her into his arms, and kiss her until she was breathless…

He had to squeeze his eyes shut before the longing took him over. The words he always repeated to himself came to the forefront of his mind. 

You can be her friend, her anchor, but nothing more. She’s lost everything, ye canna take advantage of her. Pull yerself together. 

And so he did. He wiped all thoughts of kissing her from the slate of his mind— imaging a whiteboard of the errant imaginings being erased— and grounded himself in the moment. 

“Have ye ever seen a place like this?” he asked. 

She shook her head, still smiling in delight. “We don’t usually wander out as far as the moors. Well, some do. Some have experienced a great deal. But I hadn’t ever left my forest before now.” 

He nodded, going silent as his imagination overwhelmed him with images of him taking Claire to the beaches of Greece. Her joy as she took in the crystal blue waters, her dropping to her knees to grab handfuls of sand, her body clad only in a bikini as she jumped into the waves...

A question suddenly struck him and pulled him rudely from his fantasy. 

“Do the fair folk read?” 

She looked at him, uncertain. “Read?” 

He thought back to their adventure at the bookstore. She hadn’t actually asked him about the books, but she hadn’t made any indication she knew what they were either. It had been an overwhelming day; he couldn’t blame her for not asking about every single thing when it was all unfamiliar. 

“Do you have language in a written form? With symbols?” he expanded. 

She gave a little shake of her head and looked curiously at him. “We communicate verbally, like we’re doing now. What is reading?” 

And thus, Jamie set into the best explanation he could manage. About communication, learning, writings surviving the years to give insights into ancient ways, the power of stories in human culture. 

“We tell many stories,” Claire told him during a break in his explanation, “all passed down from one generation to the next. Like I said at the gardens, language is everything to us.” 

He nodded thoughtfully. Jamie’s curiosity about the fair folk was well and truly peaked, and as they walked along, enjoying the serenity of the warm day and the feeling of earth under their feet, he launched into more questions. 

“This may be a difficult question tae answer, but… how are ye alive if ye dinna eat? I mean… humans get energy from things we eat, where do you get yers?” 

“Well… I suppose a simple way to explain it is we get energy from everything around us.” She made a wide, encompassing gesture to their surroundings. 

“Like from the sun? Like plants do?” Jamie’s brain was running away with thoughts of Claire going through the process of photosynthesis. 

“No, it’s… it’s hard to explain. It’s more like… I just tap into the energy of the earth. I don’t really know how else to say it.” Claire gave him a bit of a helpless smile, and Jamie returned one in dismissal of the topic. It didn’t matter to him so much how exactly it worked so long as it did. 

“Okay, one more question,” he asked, hoping he hadn’t already pushed her too far with his curiosity. 

But his fears were assuaged when she answered indulgently, “you can ask me as many as you want, Jamie.”

That got his head spinning. What he really wanted to know was about relationships between the fae. Did they have marriage? He longed to ask her (and maybe get down on one knee depending on the answer), but he bit his tongue. It wouldn’t do to be scaring the lass with a daft question when he couldn’t even keep his feelings in check. No, he’d save that one for another day. 

“I appreciate it, lass, but jes’ one more for now. From the stories I’ve heard from my mam… and that many people believe in Scotland, ye’re supposed to leave offerings of milk and sweets— food— for the fair folk tae eat. But ye dinna eat, so…”

Claire let out a laugh then. Not one of mocking or disdain, but pure enjoyment. And it lit up Jamie’s soul to hear even though he had no idea why it was she was laughing. 

“You humans think you have us all figured out. That one, my lad, is one you all made up completely on your own. I’m sure half of the things you believe are mere superstition,” she answered with an entertained gleam in her eye. 

Jamie could have talked to her for hours, deciphering which of the scottish legends were true or man-made, unraveling the secrets that made up his mysterious faerie, but he noticed she was starting to droop a bit. Her pace had slowed, and despite the wide smile still gracing her face, Jamie thought it was time to turn around. 

“Come now, lass, let’s go home.” 

She gave a grateful nod, and with that, they turned back. On the way home, Jamie began to explain all about his job. About the publishing company— his whole livelihood based on stories. Claire seemed to lighten at that, and Jamie started to mentally catalogue which books he’d have to read to her first, imagining her delight as she was introduced to all different kinds of worlds and knowledge. 

The sun was just beginning to go down as the cottage came in sight. The clouds were lit in a warm golden light, and specks of it sparkled in Claire’s hair. Rather like the color of the aura around her— he thought. He looked at her then, really looked, and saw the soft shimmering cloud, barely visible in the golden sunlight. They were no longer holding hands, but he thought if he took just one step closer, he could feel the warmth of it. Indulging himself, he did, and found it to be just like it always was. A sense of well-being, of serenity, of Claire. 

*

“Would ye like another shower, a nighean?” he asked as they stepped inside the house and he took the jacket from her. 

She looked quite excited by this idea. “Oh yes, please.” 

He inflated with the pride of pleasing her and had to hide his smile as he hung their jackets on the hook. 

“Well alright then. But only if I can take one after ye, I must smell worse than the underside of a stag.” 

Much to his surprise (and perhaps even horror), Claire suddenly was on top of him, her face pressing against his shoulder and hands casually rested on his sides, holding him still. There was the sound of a deep inhale, and then she withdrew her face with a smile. 

“I think you smell wonderful,” she said sweetly, without a hint of sarcasm in her tone or guileless eyes. 

Jamie laughed out loud, his chest heaving with the force of it. Claire laughed along with him, although he wasn’t entirely sure what she was laughing about. 

Overcome by his giddiness (the lass had just smelled his oxter and liked it for Christ’s sake!), he leaned in and caught her around the waist. Holding her body against him, he lowered his head and took a whiff of her neck. His nose brushed the skin there, and she began to squirm against him, the softness of her clouding his mind. 

“Ye smell like…” 

His words cut off as she struggled playfully, making him laugh. The squirming only egged him on, and he easily held her incapacitated as he sniffed again, this time on the other side of her neck. She pushed half-heartedly at his chest, but at the same time, she seemed to be leaning closer to his touch. 

He had been planning to tease her, to finish his sentence by listing whatever horrible smell he could think of and demanding she shower immediately, but he found that when he really thought about it, she smelled fresh as a summer rose. Like the heather of the fields and crispness of the breeze. 

Of course she did, the lass didna drink, she likely didna sweat either. 

Just another enchanting thing about her— she would always smell intoxicating. 

“Actually ye smell good,” he finished lamely.

His hands fell from her waist, releasing her, and she pushed away from him while continuing to laugh. 

“Well I’d like that shower either way,” she teased. 

As he headed toward the bathroom to turn it on for her, he began to berate himself over their little display. His eyes squeezed shut with the force of his embarrassment.

That was something a couple would do. Not friends. He’d been overcome by flirting in the moment, the nearness of her that seemed to make him lose his heid. He’d stepped over a line. 

The feeling of her squirming in his arms, of holding her body against him, lingered in his mind long after he’d left Claire to her shower. He sat down at the kitchen table and buried his head in his hands. 

He had to get himself together. 

*

While Claire showered, Jamie needed to take care of real life. Food was first-and-foremost, and then he had to set about the task of taking more time off work. There was no way he could leave her. That was the same thing he’d told himself the last few days, and Jamie briefly wondered if he ever would be able to. It certainly wasn’t getting any easier. 

As he pulled out his phone to shoot Ian a clipped and matter-of-fact text about yet another absence, Adso gave him a green stare of disapproval from his perch on the coffee table. 

“What are ye judgin’ me for?” he asked the cat indignantly. 

Adso simply gazed at him some more, even and unwavering in his haughty objection. 

Jamie sighed heavily, “I guess ye’re right,” he told the cat, “I’ll call him. Now stop eyin’ me like that.” 

Whipping out his phone, he reluctantly initiated the call. 

“Hi, Jamie,” Ian answered, seeming rather muted compared to his usual exuberant greetings. 

“Hello, a charaid,” Jamie said, and then there was a long silence. Guilt was seeping into his brain at the thought of possibility driving his family away. The cat really had convicted him… 

“Listen, I am—” “Jamie, I wanted tae—” they both started at the same time. 

“I’ll go,” Ian volunteered, “I wanted tae tell ye that I’m sorry we ambushed ye this mornin’. Ye’re right. Ye’ve worked hard wi’ out a single day off in years, ye deserve a vacation if that’s what ye’re needin’.” 

“Thank you, Ian. I’m sorry, too. I shouldna have blown up at ye and ignored yer calls. I’ve jes’ been… sortin’ through some things.” 

“I understand that,” Ian chuckled. 

“Listen, were ye serious? About me takin’ as many days as I need?” 

“Of course.” 

“Then ye willna bite my heid off when I ask ye for the rest of the week?” 

“Ye’re a canny one makin’ me say it before ye drop that bomb on me… Of course, Jamie. Take the time ye need. Ye’d tell me if anythin’s wrong, wouldn’t ye? Ye ken ye can talk tae me about anythin’?” 

Jamie’s heart clenched. “Of course, Ian. Thank you. Listen, I hafta go, but I’ll see ye soon, aye?” 

“Aye. And Jamie… maybe gi’ yer sister a call? I ken she wants tae apologize.” 

“Alright, Ian,” he answered rather noncommittally, still stinging from their fight, “Bye, a charaid.”

With Ian’s quick goodbye, Jamie hung up and sat back heavily in his chair, sighing at Adso— who was looking smugly satisfied over making Jamie do the right thing. There was barely a moment of silence between them before he thought about the fact that Claire had been in the shower an awfully long time. 

“Wee besom’ll use up all my hot water,” he grumbled at Adso on his way toward the bathroom to check on her. 

Not that he really minded in the slightest. Claire could use up all the hot water and leave him taking cold showers for the rest of his days and he would just thank God that it meant she was with him.

***

Next

[zwiezraczek]

I just love your writing and what you did with my other Billy request so here you have another one with him. (There will probably be more) She/Her 14 Y/N's having a bad day and Billy don't know what to do to cheer her up. I'm living for cute Billy angst for some reason 🤔 Thank you and take your time, no stress 😊

Wounded [Blurb]

Part 1 Love at First Sight - Part 2 - Part 3

14. "You need a hug, I shall provide" // Having a bad day and Billy doesn't know how to do to cheer you up + never enough angsty fluffy Billy

~~~

Today was probably the worst day of your life. Of what remained of your life. The day of your own death. The one One roughly planned, it didn't go as well as intended, but you were here, with the Ghosts calling you Eight. And not with your family, that believed you were happy when alive, but you weren't. What a selfish decision you made, probably making your mother cry during the funeral you couldn't attend because of this fake death gone wrong. But you found a family there, people worth living for, you found Four, probably your soulmate in this afterlife. But even them couldn't make this day less unbearable.

Three was the first one to help you doing some research to find a way to see your parents, no matter how – even if you were the informatics genius of the team, you couldn't collect yourself to do this without crying – and he succeeded. You had access to your parent's fridge camera, and the one on top of the tv. With watery eyes, you looked at the screen, Three's hand on your shoulder as you watched your mother cooking something for your dad in the kitchen. She was there, looking at you without knowing it. You could hear her hum some songs as she used to while cooking: now a blessing to your ears. From that moment, you spent most of your time with your phone, looking at your parents whenever you could, whenever you felt the need to.

And this was how you found out about your parents wanting to mourn you on that special day, on this first anniversary, by doing all the things you loved: go to your favorite restaurant, watch your favorite movies and tv shows, listen to your favorite music, buy your favorite snacks... They wanted a part of you to spend the day with them, and you did, you watched them spending the day with you and somehow you spent the day with them. And honestly, you couldn't stop yourself from crying your eyes out, with a small pause when they went to the restaurant and you to the Ghosts' kitchen to grab something to eat. A hoodie on your head, red eyes, and everybody knew, implicitly as you walked in, silently heading towards the fridge to grab something consistent to eat. Four tried to talk to you, but you only looked at him shortly before turning your back and going out. You told him you wanted to see nobody on that day, you told him that it wasn't against him but if you'd spend the day with him you would cry forever, complain forever and be a huge mess to deal with: and the point was that you didn't want to be a huge mess in front of him, not for an entire day.

He felt hurt, a bit, maybe more. He wanted to share your pain, but you couldn't collect yourself to share this moment with him, not before you managed to get used to it. But still, Four spent the day in the empty pool, skateboarding alone, or with Five by his side and talking about how he wanted to be here for you, but you didn't. His family left him, he had no one in his previous life, and the ones he trusted turned out to let him die so he couldn't understand why you cared that much, because he knew your parents thought you were happy and never tried to see through the veil you were putting on your face. He was mad at them for letting you spiral into a kind of depression, almost letting One kill you, he wasn't ready to understand that despite this they cared much about you. This was strange for him. You cared for people who didn't care enough for you. But they still cared and wanted the best for you, not succeeding, but wanting. And now, bleeding because you weren't there.

Curled up on your couch, you held the phone next to your face, waiting for them to come back. They came in with a large bag of groceries and you watched them unpack all the things you loved, all the things you missed here. You saw your mother cry, and your father too. This was too much, but not enough to make you turn off the phone. You brushed your fingers against the device, sobbing slowly. You wished you were there.

“I miss her,” she whispered into your dad's ear, you could hardly hear what she was saying through her sobs.

“I miss her too,” he replied, voice cracking slowly as he embraced your mother tightly.

“I miss you both,” you managed to articulate, tears falling on the screen before you wiped them wit the sleeve of your hoodie and pressed the phone against your heart. “It hurts how much I miss you.”

You felt like shit. Crying, hiccuping, with puffy red eyes and weight on your chest. You felt the pain they had, you shared it and wanted to take it away from them. But you couldn't, andthat was all your damn fault. If you could only turn back time, choose to ignore One and tell him to fuck off and continue living your boring life, just for them to be happy. Just for them. Just for them. Everything became blurry from your sobs, the trailer was spinning around as you wiped your tears with the hoodie and some tissues, eating ice cream as your parents watched your favorite movie together, remembering how much you loved it and telling what you would say here and there. And they were right. They knew you too well, they cared. They truly did. And you couldn't take this anymore, not alone.

You knew you told Four that you wanted to be alone today, but now you needed him. You needed somebody or you would die, for real this time. This was too much to take for you, and you thought you could handle it, turned out you couldn't. Luckily, he was back from the pool with Five, and he opened, tired eyes, in his white sweater and shorts. The look on his face was strange, he seemed horrified, anxious, lost, and all he wanted right now was to soothe your painful eyes as much as he could.

“Hey love,” you whispered between two sobs, “can I... Come in? Please?”

“Don't ask love, please, come in,” he replied, letting you in, as you slowly entered his trailer. And you stood there, in the middle of the room, awkwardly, as if you were a child waiting for their parents to tell them what to do, what to think, how to feel.

“Can I have a hug?” You finally managed to ask for it, your voice cracking as he opened his arms with a little smile.

“You need a hug, I shall provide,” he replied as you rand into his arms, desperate, sobbing, crying into his chest and not being able to catch your breath. You tried to speak, but the words coming out of your mouth were only blabbers, not understandable. He gently stroke your hair, putting small kisses on top of your head. “I love you, I love you,” he repeated, pulling you closer.

“I disappeared from their lives like, like, like... Like I never cared,” you cried out with difficulty. You embraced him stronger, as if your life relied on him right now, and indeed you were here thanks to him.

“You cared, you care, love,” he reassured you, never stopping putting gentle kisses on top of your head. “You did the right thing, love, and I can only imagine how difficult it is for youlove, but you did the right thing for yourself, you truly did, huh, look at me love, please,” he asked, his voice tender and reassuring. You looked up at him, looking like a mess, and he kissed your forehead then put his against yours and whispered. “You did the right thing, they would be proud I'm sure, they would be proud to know that they have such a wonderful daughter saving the world with a bunch of people. I'm sure they still are proud of who you are.”

He managed to calm you down a little, only hiccups now. His words were a compress to your bleeding heart, to your pained mind and to your wounded body. And he continued to whisper you how much he loved you as he held you in his arms, closely, to never let you go.

[imaginejamesandsirius]

Hey! I'm honestly in love with your stories. If it's not too much trouble I would like to request something. I have this head canon that James was the one with puppy eyes among the marauders. Can we get a little long story about them affecting Sirius? Only if you have time...ty

It wasn't fair. If anyone should have puppy eyes, it should be Sirius. Like, hello?? He was the one that could shift into a dog, it made perfect sense for him. But James? He was a deer! There was such a thing as doe eyes, sure, but that's not what James was doing. Doe eyes indicated a sense of innocence, whereas puppy eyes was using the wide-eyed look for evil. Like when Sirius said they should get pissed on Ogden's and James wanted to sneak out to buy chocolates. Instead of listening to Sirius's argument like an adult-- "James, c'mon you gotta think about how it's gonna feel when I blow you after taking a shot."-- James looked at him with this big arse eyes and said all plaintively, "But I want to get chocolates." And what could Sirius do in that situation but give in? It was completely bonkers that James had done that to him. 

It would be one thing if James only did it to Sirius, but he pulled it on Peter and Remus too! Remus wanted to do his homework, and James pulled out the puppy eyes so they ended up sneaking out to have a pint at Hog's Head. Peter wanted to ask Mary on a date, but James looked at him with the wide puppy eyes so he ended up grabbing ice cream from the kitchens for everyone. 

James and Sirius were passing a bottle of rum back and forth when Sirius finally said something to him about it. More like he'd been thinking about it-- because he'd wanted to try lemon vodka but James had wanted rum, and he pulled out the puppy eyes, so rum they got-- and said, "You're using your powers for evil and it's not nice," like he expected for James to know what he was talking about. 

"Hm? I wasn't aware I had powers. Much less that I was being evil about them." He frowned. "With them. You know what I mean. Why am I evil?" he asked, pulling out the wide eyes again. They weren't quite to puppy levels yet, but it was getting pretty damn close. 

"That!" Sirius said, pointing at his eyes. "That right there." 

"My glasses?" he asked, frowning in confusion. He took them off and looked at them, frown deepening. "What did they do?" 

"Not that," Sirius said, rolling his eyes. "These." He put his fingers in circles and held them up to James's eyes. "Your bloody puppy eyes, they're going to kill us all. Mostly me. Because I'm around them all the time. I swear to Merlin, it's like you're trying to make me fall in love with you even more than I already am. Does the word overkill mean anything to you?" 

James tilted his head, Sirius's fingers moving with the motion. "That's the first time you've said that to me." 

"That you don't know what overkill means?" Sirius asked, dropping his hands back to his side. 

"That you love me. Aww," he crooned, putting his hands on Sirius's cheeks and smushing, "you looooove me." 

"Everyone loves you, shut it," Sirius mumbled. 

"Not true, you big goof," James said. He was grinning like a loon, and he gave Sirius a very sloppy kiss. "You love me. You love me, you love me," he sing-songed. "Oh, did I say I love you too?" 

"You say it all the time," Sirius muttered. He was clearly not drunk enough for this, since he still felt embarrassed by his confession. 

"Well yeah, but it only seemed fair to say it back." 

"Say what? I didn't say anything. Nothing at all." 

James laughed, pulling Sirius into a hug that was nice, if a terrible angle. "Love you too." 

*

"What are you doing?" Sirius asked. 

James looked up at him from where he was kneeling over Sirius's trunk, his eyes going wide with- oh no. Sirius's heart skipped a beat, and mentally, he swore. James could get away with bloody murder if he gave Sirius those puppy eyes. Honestly. He could be covered in blood with guts in his hands, and Sirius would still say, "It's okay honey, you wouldn't hurt a fly." James blinked, then perked up like seeing Sirius was the absolute best part of his day. "Sirius!" Then he jumped to his feet and threw his arms around Sirius's shoulders. "Do you have my Snap deck?" 

"No, Remus borrowed it, remember?" 

"Oh, duh," he said with a roll of his eyes. He pressed a smacking kiss to Sirius's cheek, and Sirius forgot all about it until that night when he was trying to get to sleep. 

*

The puppy eyes did not get better over time. Sirius had-- irrationally-- hoped that the puppy eye manipulation would stop after a while. Like oh, they were adults now, with a house and everything, they could have normal conversations like normal people. Only James couldn't stop doing it. 

Sometimes it was on purpose. Sometimes James wanted Italian when Sirius wanted Chinese, and he would very purposefully give Sirius A Look and whaddya know, they got Italian. 

Other times it was an accident. Probably. They'd be fighting and James would get hurt and his eyes would go all wide, and suddenly Sirius felt like the biggest piece of scum to walk the earth. James liked being right and all, but he wouldn't manipulate Sirius that way. It was just a pain in the arse to deal with. 

*

"I want a kid." 

"Your own?" 

James laughed, snuggling closer to Sirius's chest. "Course, who else?" 

"I dunno, maybe you wanted to steal one." 

"That's a weird way of describing adoption," James said. 

Sirius rolled his eyes. "It doesn't count as stealing if they offer it to you." 

"So you thought I was suggesting taking one off the street?" 

"Well it was more of a joke than an actual theory, but yeah." 

James shifted to look at him and- Sirius sighed. Why did he even bother, at this point. This was the way it always ended, there was no reason to keep fighting it-- but he also wasn't going to let it go because he wasn't a little wuss and he was going to fight his battles if it killed him. 

"I guess we're looking into adoption." 

James's entire face brightened. "Really? You don't need to- I dunno, think about it more or summat?" 

"You've mentioned kids before, so... y'know, I've been thinking it over. We'll bugger them up, but that's what all parents do." 

"We'll figure it out," James said, putting his head back down. "I'm pretty sure that's also something all parents do: guess and hope for the best." 

"Yeah," Sirius said, but he was thinking about the horrifying possibility that James would teach their kid the puppy eyes too, and then Sirius would have no refuge. 

[scattered--pages]

For the Lukanette lyrical prompt: "And I'm damned if I do and I'm damned if I don't/So here's to drinks in the dark at the end of my road/And I'm ready to suffer and I'm ready to hope/It's a shot in the dark and right at my throat", cause Florence is love

Notes: Ummm, so, I love you?! Because Florence really is love and omg this song ♡ Thank you heaps for this prompt, dear!!

Send me lyrics as a prompt for a Lukanette ficlet or a drabble? ♡

 ________________________________________________________

Shake It Out

Rating: Teen+

Word count: 2759 (okay, whoops, this ended up being longer than I planned  ♡)

_________________________________________________________

About a year and a half has passed since Marinette has received the humbling, but painfully difficult task of being the Guardian of all the Miraculous. It was a role that was exhilarating, beyond exciting, a chance to grow like none other before and it ended up brining far more positive things along than she thought it ever would. However – after a very good start and after almost a year of handling everything somewhat well, Marinette got tired. Stressed. And afraid. And so, this also brought far more negative effects in ways she didn’t really even imagine initially.

Of course, the ever-rising thought of her making a wrong mistake, a bad choice, a slip-up with consequences far too grave and any or all of these resulting in the doom of entire Paris or the fate of the Miraculous, but the consequences she failed to predict were the ones affecting her personal life. Marinette’s life, not that of Ladybug.

 And there were truly moments where the line between the two faded. Where she was suddenly skipping school or being late so much and so often that it reached the level where the principle had to alert her parents and she almost got expelled, all the while being horrified and desperate in finding ways to justify her actions because, of course, she couldn’t say the truth. She could never say the truth about this. Or the time when each new threat arising in the city due to the re-empowered Hawkmoth/Mayura team started suddenly bubbling up so much internal pressure for her that she was forced to find a way to first deal with her own genuine, painful and terrifying panic attacks before she could transform and deal with the actual attack taking place outside.

Or when the more outspoken and brave Ladybug overtook the typical ‘Marinette’ in certain situations of extreme emotional hurt or vulnerability, causing her to distance herself from a few friends of hers due to her growing either too withdrawn from them or, on the other side of this spectrum, to lash out suddenly in select moments of jealousy or even slight anger. Being a Miraculous Guardian at the tender age of now 16 was insanely challenging to say the least and even though this fact only started to truly catch up with her recently, it affected both her and those around her enough to cause an overwhelming amount of worry, anger and frustration from all sides. Except from one person.

And as she paced along the Seine nervously, back and fort, during what was supposed to be a calming walk for her, in her civilian form, this particular calming voice was what snapped her back from her over-thinking mind back to reality.

“Marinette?”

She jumped a bit, even though the voice didn’t really startle or scare her, as much as it simply surprised her.

“Luka? Wh-What are you doing here?”, she wrapped her arms around her, suddenly aware of the slight chill outside, her cardigan far too thin for an early spring evening by the river such as this one.

He smiled a sad, worried smile at this and proceeded to take his jacket off. “My home is right there, remember?”, he teased gently, nodding towards a boat a bit more downstream along the river’s flow as he pulled his jacket around her.

“Oh…!”, Marinette followed the direction with her gaze and her jaw dropped slightly. She didn’t realize she managed to pace back and forth and here and there for so long and so out of focus of reality that she managed to reach all the way to here without even realizing it. “But, n-no, no!”, she attempted to slowly shrug the jacket off, “You’re going to freeze!”, her hands reached to get it off and hand it back to Luka but by placing both of his won hands against her shoulders carefully but firmly with a teasing smile, he made any attempts of detaching said jacket from her body near impossible, to which she even frowned slightly, causing him to instantly chuckle and shake his head.

“I’ll be fine, even without the jacket, I’m wearing a sweater that’s even slightly too warm for my taste, and I’ll honestly feel worse if you freeze when I can do something to help that.”

She exhaled, her expression suddenly that of sorrowful, almost guilty confusion.

“Why are you still putting up with me?”

He simply shrugged, the playful hold on her shoulders easing as he stroke them with his thumbs gently. “Because I care. Because a lot of people care about you and it breaks my heart that you seem to not believe that.”

Her expression now remained the same, as well as the emotions it carried, save for the sad smile that she added to it slowly, her head tilting to the side a bit.

“Except, a) I’ve been horrible to everyone and about pretty much everything lately and b)…”, her gaze flickered to the side a few times, cheekbones reddening in a way that made her grateful for the fact that the streetlight reflecting from the water’s clear surface wasn’t that strong of a light source at all, “… you care about me… differently…”

“You know…”, Luka now returned her sad smile, only it carried a different background entirely, his eyes drifting to the floor while he started to slowly let go of her, “I’m an idiot because I… don’t think I even really asked you if you minded that…” He prepared to step back but, within a second, Marinette’s hands were on his, keeping them in place.

“No, no!”, she was surprised by how quickly and confidently she said that, but a much as it made her face feel like it was completely burning now, she didn’t take it back. “Luka, you… Know I dont.”

And true, he had a reason to believe so. They weren’t in a relationship or anything like that yet, like Kagami and Adrien or Nino and Alya were, not officially, but they were spending majority of their time together, in their civilian forms and, of course, unbeknownst to them, in their Miraculous forms as well. More than that, they grew incredibly close quite fast. To the point that now, almost a year since Marinette made a point to get over Adrien, Adrien was just a friend and an occasional fleeting painful sting at her heart, but the majority of her affection and her emotions were now finally allowed to belong to Luka. To the point that they have already had a couple of brief moments of weakness resulting in a kiss, but nothing more was said or done. And because of the latter fact, because it was nothing more, Luka didn’t dare to be convinced that this was a confirmation of anything or to push or prod, but this time, he felt he needed to push slightly in the opposite direction in order to prevent himself from pushing on in this one.

Still, even after her hands gripped his and she, very determinately, kept him close to her, he didn’t know how to react, instead only staying still for a second, followed up by a barely noticeable quiver of his lower lip as he opened his mouth to speak but found himself unable to. She noticed though.

Her broken smile widened slightly. “I’m… being selfish, actually. There’s this… someone, erm…”, she shook her head, trying desperately to remain as vague as possible, “ …something, taking over my life and my composure a lot for awhile now, very incresingly so, and vou’re the only thing keeping me grounded and sane lately and… always have been one of the few people making me feel safe and sure of myself and, at least due to this, I really don’t want to let you go…”

What she said was a partial lie, but for once, he didn’t catch it.

“So it’s…”, he took a breath and nodded firmly, more as a way to keep himself strong than anything else, “… just because of that…” Suddenly he made sure to quickly continue, “And I want you to know it’s perfectly fine if it is, I’ll still be your fr-”

“No…” It escaped Marinette’s lips without her control. But once again, she didn’t regret it or take it back. This newly found courage paired with an impaired capability of hiding her feelings at least had some good uses, it seemed. “No, it’s not just that.”

Stunned yet again, Luka stayed silent, looking back into her eyes, running her words in his head over and over again to make sure he understood them right this time until a melody reached them, played from a near-by cafe, catching his attention.

And when he looked back at her, he smiled again.

“That… something, that’s keeping you down… You never told me everything, so I’m sorry if I don’t always manage to make you feel better as best as I could…”, she was already prepared to counter him on this immediately, but he simply placed a finger against her lips, “… but there’s something I haven’t tried yet.”

Against his touch, her lips formed a small puzzled frown, which was a vision so beautiful and adorable to him that he could have kissed her right then and there and never let her go.

“You know, one of the best ways to get rid of a lot of negative emotions, expectations or fears…”, letting go of her, he moved away slightly and outstretched one of his hands, “…is dancing.” He cocked his head to the side, asking a question without words.

“Oh, nooo, n-no, no, no… I don’t dance, or to be more precise, I’m quite sure I can’t dance!”

“Everyone can dance”, he shrugged with a soft smile, “I’m not asking you to waltz with me or do the tango”, he grinned and she chuckled, “I’m just asking you to dance.”

She bit her lips, feeling a very slight hesitation… but took his hand, nonetheless.

“Okay…”, she smirked, “Teach me.”

Reciprocating her smirk, he took her hand and slowly pulled her closer until they started moving into almost a slow-dancing kind of way. He spun her around and then back into his arms and there was something about how easily and naturally he did that, something about that gorgeous crooked smile he was giving her, just inches from her face, that made Marinette feel incredibly warm and exhilarated in the way, she came to find, only he could make her feel. But they weren’t at the cool, calming ice rink now. And the breezy spring evening was suddenly not cold enough to keep her as in check as she wanted to keep herself whenever he did something that caused this beautiful, dizzy feeling to arise inside her that quickened her heart and breath.

But, for once, perhaps because she so desperately needed something like this, she didn’t want to fight getting lost in a moment like this one. She craved and needed the way he made her feel, safe and wild at the same time, feeling just secure enough to almost be able to let go completely. Marinette never felt like that. Marinette never acted like that. Not even as Ladybug, not even at the peaks of her confidence. But with him, it just happened. And normally, she would wonder over and over again in her head if he could somehow sense this, how he’s literally driving her crazy in a way, if he thought her to be a foolish, silly girl for letting him affect her this much, especially since she practically rejected him at first and since, ironically, she felt that all of these feelings became immensely obvious and accentuated after she removed any barriers that she once upon a time used to carefully set in front of the emotions that were steadily growing for him because she wanted them kept down and silenced for Adrien. But not now. She moved with him and laughed with him and let him sway and spin her in his arms and she could swear she never felt more alive.

It was a couple’s dance of sorts, the one that they were sharing, but it wasn’t defined by any specific set of steps or movements, more like a combination, actually. And that was the beauty of it, it was just defined by – them. And as the music picked up its tempo and volume slightly and she found herself dipped down in a way that perhaps started teasingly and playfully, she could feel her heart wanting to burst in warm sparks in her chest sparkling and spreading through her torso in a way she didn’t expect so suddenly. It felt like sparks flowing down her body and as it instinctively caused her to bite on her lower lip, she could have sworn that she felt his breathing hitch for a moment. Because the way he leaned over her, pulled her waist against his, much closer and tighter than at the ice rink, as he started to pull her slowly back up, eyes staring into each other without blinking, bodies close to the point she could feel the tempo of his breathing through the movements of his chest against her… It flipped some sort of a switch inside her. Everything has been so wrong and so irredeemable and so wrong lately, the pressure constantly dropped onto her shoulders unbearable and so strong that she was fully convinced she truly couldn’t handle it at all. But now, here, with him, like always, all of her feelings just floated to the surface. Or perhaps rushed, ran and instantly flooded to the surface would be a better description of what she was feeling when he leaned his shoulder down against her, breathing heavily, as two teal eyes peered right inside of her and made her melt. And, for once, Marinette was completely and entirely sure that at least for now, she was enough. She was strong. She was alive. Her skin was burning and the air flowing heavily through her lungs at a tempo she wasn’t used to felt like breathing for the first time in months. There was no way on Earth she was letting this go. There was no way in hell she was suppressing anything tonight. As a rebellion against Hawkmoth wanting to see her destroyed, against people who knew her and were ready to judge or leave her when she was clearly going through something akin to a nightmare, against any residual feelings for Adrien and against this whole nightmare as a whole – Marinette was going to grip paradise tonight, she’s going to be young, and free and hungry and loved and to hell with anything else.

She was fire and she wasn’t blushing or pulling back this time or looking away and still, still Luka was careful and doubtful, his gaze searching hers hopeful but confused. And somehow this, the heart and patience and kindness of the boy in her arms tipped her over the brink and without being able to even control or plan it, her lips crashed against his… And they stayed like that for a second, two, before his lips caressed against her lower lip in a way that caused less than a moment to transpire before her teeth grazed his upper lip with her next kiss, then her tongue, and when his tongue just barely brushed up against hers, her mind seemed to have swerved like she was intoxicated, because the next thing she realized was that her hand was tangled in his hair and grasping at his back, pulling him somehow even closer, closer against her, before he lifted her up, swiftly and effortlessly onto a small half-wall behind them and, oh, it made her want to never let him go. She gripped at the firm shape of the small of his back and one of his palms cupped her face, stroking her lip as he kissed it hungrily, the other running against her outer thigh and something between them must have been electric because they both shivered at the same time and chuckled sweetly against each other’s lips.

There was no care or thought left in her mind other than him. Her head, her heart and her body screamed only Luka. Luka. And only Luka.

Her home.

Her acceptance.

Her freedom.

[erudite-rebel]

i gasped when i saw your magnus archives au because i'm a huge fan and your artwork on head archivist ooblek is so incredible. do you have any stray headcanons on it, or maybe how grimm translate to entities, or anything really because i'm so fascinated with this concept.

//You got a big storm comin'

Soooo TMA AU was basically caused by @nightmarebcrn and @jinxedcrow getting me into The Magnus Archives and the subsequent chaos thereafter. Barty was actually built slowly after I began season 3 I think (but it may have been season 2 or even earlier. I remember not realizing just how bad I was setting him up for pain). I'm gonna give a write up with as few show-spoilers as possible beyond the basic concept (Entities) and I will chew on the Grimm bc I didn't quite work on them when I developed this but now that you said it that brain's a-firin' away.

So!

The Archivist of Beacon AKA Why Barty Can't Have Nice Things

While I have written a statement on Barty's past, I'll do a quick write up of his history and who he is as the Archivist.

With all of my iterations of Barty, he is neurodivergent. He has Aspergers (low-spectrum Autism) and ADHD. This presents primarily in hyperfocus, being less than adept at social situations, a tendency to shy away from direct eye contact, and stimming (bouncing his leg, jittery movements, counting in dead languages).

Different to his canon verse, Barty is an only child and his parents were of equal age.

His first contact with the entities was when he was a young boy. He was raised primarily running around a now closed, privately run museum that operated near Oxford University. While no doubt several of the items within have made their way into the Beacon Artifact Storage, at the time he was aware of nothing specifically evil. A new lot acquisition included an unusual set of canopic jars that were written off by several scientists as very good fakes. Despite that, one of the employees – Dr. Herbert Renshaw – became obsessed with them and succumbed to their lure. He killed four people by removing critical organs and permanently disfigured a fifth before disappearing with them. While Barty witnessed the attack which killed his parents, and saw what it entailed, he repressed much of it for most of his life. Working at Beacon brought most of it back.

After his parents died he was looked after by his grandfather, who was a strict and no-nonsense veteran of the second World War. The arrangement lasted only two years before he died of cancer and Barty was released into the foster system, inheritance waiting for him when he turned 18.

Shuttled through foster homes, Barty became something of a punk. He had a big chip on his shoulder, was lonely and desperate for a place to fit in when there were so few that could address his needs. Finally he was sent somewhere with a reputation for 'curing' delinquency. Without knowing it he entered a residence under control of the Web.

Qrow Branwen was in his year in high school. While he and Barty didn't at once know each other, as they were both rather withdrawn and loners, they eventually grew close because of similar interests and attitudes. After a few months Qrow spotted a tell-tale scar on the back of Barty's neck. He'd escaped the same boys home the year before in a bid to be placed elsewhere with his twin. Suddenly frightened for Barty's life, he hatched a plan to help Barty escape. Because Barty was far more under the influence of the Web than Qrow had been it had turned into a rescue mission than a run away. The two of them burned the home to the ground and somehow managed to evade implication.

Barty went to stay with Qrow and Raven with their foster mother, Morrigan Branwen. She was careful to help with his needs, and Barty loved her like a mother, though he never considered Raven or Qrow his siblings. In Qrow he'd developed a bad crush that quickly turned into a deep, devoted love. While Barty wasn't much given to the concept of soulmates, he considered Qrow exactly that.

He and Qrow both were accepted into University and he'd thought they would always be together. Eventually though Qrow began to fade away from him, consumed by something else, and dropped out of University. He cut off contact and disappeared. Barty didn't see him again until Morrigan's funeral and never got any explanation for what happened.

Years later Barty obtained both his doctorate in history and a degree in archaeology. His interests were always skewed to the occult, though something always kept him back from pursuing the real deal of the supernatural. He was looking forward to a life of academia, though something always felt empty to him. Sometimes he'd see a familiar face in a crowd and his neck would itch before they disappeared. He never really gave up the torch he carried for Qrow either, despite trying to move on.

After a talk he gave on  a lesser known cult during the height of the Egyptian empire, Dr. Ozpin Newman approached him about a job as Head Archivist in Beacon Academy. He might not have accepted the position if he had already been tenured, but Barty had a shaky research position at the University of London, and Ozpin was offering a good contract. Despite knowing Beacon's reputation he agreed... no one could deny the credentials of a Head Archivist of a major academic institute, even one with ties to potential supernatural research.

It was there he is reunited with Qrow again and settled into his job, hardly questioning why Ozpin might want him... why he made such an excellent candidate for  Archivist. He was determined to set the archives right after Maria Calavera's treatment of them, set on making a difference, trying hard to hold onto the belief that encounters – despite having been involved in two such events on his own – were rare.

Fear has a way of catching up, has a way of mutating you, as he was ensnared by The Eye, and caught up in a careful game of chess between Avatars. Guilt is acid in his veins as he loses his employees one by one to different entities. Scars began to pile. Secrets began to be revealed, whether the information merely curled out towards him, or a few careful worlds could force them from the lips of those he put question to.

Eventually he had to wonder if he was even really human anymore... when the voyeuristic statements of fear were far more nourishing to his body than food. But surely it's human to be willing to kill to protect Qrow and his people, to make the world right again?

So, that's kind of a basic write up. As for Grimm, I am currently toying with creatures that are far more horrifying than their base in RWBY. The Grimm are soulless manifestations of dangerous concentrations of fear given form, residual negative energies forming into mindless beasts able to be controlled and guided by their Avatars, provided that Avatar embraces its calling. Tools to reap yet more energy for the entities beyond the veil.

[mawritesbnha]

Thank you so much!! :D And I'm really sorry about that anon... I hope it won't happen again! Sooo most to least likely to: ask you to marry them! I don't know if you have a character limit? You can put as many as you want or just your faves! Anything's fine for me really!

Sorry I know I said I wanted to try most to least likely… but I kept changing the order and was overall unhappy with it… So this became a Likely vs Unlikely or a Would vs Would not kinda thing… Also I tried to put as many characters as I could, but please my darlings it’s better when you tell me who you’d like, otherwise I’m lost. I didn’t go into too much details but if you’d like to know more as to why a character is in a certain category feel free to send in a specific hc ask!

That was still a lot of fun, I really like this concept so if you’ve got more like this my pretties send them in!

Smoochies from Ma!

Would they ask you to marry them?

Yes

- Izuku: he’s so focused on hero work it’s gonna take him a while to realise he wants to do it, but he will eventually, a lot of rambling will be involved

- Shoto: again that poor boy didn’t have a great example growing up… but after years of being in a relationship with you, he finally trusts himself enough, he’s confident that you can build something even more beautiful together, gives you a little speech before asking, and if you say yes he’d love for you to come with him to tell his mother the news

- Hanta: you’ve talked about it before, but he wants to keep it a surprise so he’ll ask when you’ve forgotten about it, really sweet and romantic

- Denki: you can see it coming from a mile away, might have actually seen the ring already cause he’s terrible at hiding things from you and in general, adorable but a nervous wreck

- Eijiro: it’s the manly thing to do! actually he might have gotten the idea from someone else cause sharky bb is a bit of an airhead at times, but he’s really excited about it

- Mashirao: you had a feeling he wanted to ask you something important, but not that important, goes about it in a very traditional and romantic way, probably over diner

- Tenya: even more traditional, asks your parents for their blessing first, I’m not sure if he’d ask in public, I think he’d keep it private, his proposal sounds like a business deal offer… but if you say yes all that robot front is gonna melt away and this dork might laugh out of sheer happinness and spin you around

- Fumikage: reaallyy self-conscious… many times he backpedals at the last moment… until Dark Shadow lends an unexpected hand

- Ochaco: look it took her a while to admit she had a crush on you but ever since you’ve gotten together she’s been really forward, that girl ain’t wasting anymore time, she knows what she wants

- Yuga: prepare for a very pompous, public proposal with the shiniest diamond ever… or none at all cause nothing shines brighter than your future groom and his love for you

- Momo: she mulls it over for a while and when she asks she doesn’t really, it’s more like she brings up the idea of marriage to see your reaction and then timidly wonder if you’d want her as your wife

- Tsuyu: she wants a family with you, that’s the next step in her book, a bit shy about it though but straight to the point as always

- Mina: she was actually waiting for you to do it but grew too impatient and ended up blurting out her proposal at the oddest of time and sounding vaguely annoyed/offended she had to do it herself before getting really flustered

- Rikido: hides the ring in the cake he baked for you, has a hard time explaining why he looks so horrified when you finish it all up without noticing anything

- Koji: you might despair and ask yourself first cause it’s gonna take him the longest time to feel confident enough to ask you, but he’d come up with something so precious involving your favourite animals you’d do well to wait

- Itsuka: she doesn’t need it, but she likes the idea so if she feels like you both might be on the same page she’d bring it up but more like in a conversation rather than just popping the question

- Neito: is he serious? haha who knows! come on yes he is and he’s waiting for an answer, he loves you so much he wants to make it official and be able to brag about it, wants to do a public proposal and tries to act confident but he’s terrified you’ll reject him

- Mirio: if someone pointed out that you already look and act like a married couple he’d get really excited and probably turn to you all smile “let’s get married Y/N!”, but depending on your reaction then he might apologise later on and propose in a more serious way

- Neijire: doesn’t realise it’s that big of a deal and doesn’t exactly asks too, you were probably just watching some wedding show and she mused “we should do it too” or when walking in front of a wedding dress shop “oohh that’s the one I want”… like if you ask her if she seriously wants to get married she’ll go “eehh? we’re not???”

- Tamaki: oh boy… swears he’s gonna ask you and look you in the eyes while doing so even if it kills him but that might actually happen… he’s gotten really comfortable around you over the years but some things are still… too much

- Yo: if you’ve gotten to the point where he wants to marry you… you’ve gotten through a lot, and this boy must have been a huge pain… actually you might have been fed up with him one day and threaten to end things, expecting him to close himself off as usual and wish you farewell then… but no, he proposes. yeah, not a great timing

- Natsuo: such a good boy, so sweet, promises to always provide and care for you, and vows to himself to not be like his dad (as if you could ever be sweetie)

- Himiko: asks soon after you’ve gotten together, thinks about becoming your knife wife almost as much as drinking your blood

- Hizashi: he won’t yell his proposal… but he sure as hell is gonna scream his happiness if you say yes (everyone’s ears are not thanking you)

- Nemuri: thought she’d never settle down? wrong! if you can see past her sexual appeal while still appreciating it she ain’t letting you off the hook

- Jin: surprised? I don’t think he’d consider it if you weren’t part of the league or if the boss was against it for whatever reason though, but it’d make him very happy to marry you

No

- Hitoshi: he doesn’t really care for marriage, but depending on how you present the idea to him he’d agree to it and might even look forward to it

- Katsuki: doesn’t see the point, you’re already partners for life, what’s the big fuss about? he’d be hard to convince, but the more territorial side of him might be swayed, he wouldn’t want any “mushy stuff” though

- Dabi: too bad his very good friend Toya would’ve asked! marriage doesn’t sound good to him for many reasons, you can’t sway him

- Tomura: finds the idea a bit… odd? that kind of “like most people” stuff isn’t for him honestly… but you’re his player 2, that’s better, right?

- Hawks: I don’t think that’s what he’s looking for

- Kyoka: she wants to, but can’t work up the courage

- Mezo: he never gave marriage much thought so you’d have to bring it up, he wants to make you happy and if that’s what you want he’ll ask, but yeah not spontaneously

- Toru: she’s waiting for you to ask her

- Ibara: same I don’t see her being too forward in a relationship, but might prefer it if you actually just talk about it together instead of a big proposal

- Tetsutetsu: he… didn’t… think about it… and if someone else brings it up he’s gonna be mad at himself for not coming up with that one on his own and won’t ask cause he’s too busy pouting

- Fuyumi: sadly I hc her to think that’s not really her choice to make

- Shota: he’s a bit whatever about it, as long as you too are together he doesn’t care about formalities, he’d enjoy a sober wedding if you want one, and please don’t let Hizashi make a speech he’s begging you

- Toshinori: that poor man is dying to marry you, but it’d be like putting a target on your back and his biggest fear is losing you or seeing you hurt… keeping it a secret might be an option but I’m not sure he’d take that risk