#Family gatherings make me kind of miserable actually

[ireadwithmyears]

Christmas Eve family gathering is already making me want to rip my hair out. According to my mom I’m being rude because I put my headphones on simply to... *checks notes* Respond to a text because I couldn’t hear my screen reader through all the conversation and to block out the noise because I was starting to feel a bit overstimulated by how loud it was getting.

[commsroom]

like many things, eiffel's enthusiasm for thanksgiving is primarily food motivated - he wants a big, home-cooked dinner of Real Food that was made by someone not him - but he does seem to actually... like thanksgiving, in particular. he's not excited about christmas turkey, remnants of the same turkey, because he hates christmas. if he's spiteful enough, it overrides even his stomach. which just kind of makes me wonder what eiffel's pre-hephaestus thanksgivings were like. he doesn't seem like someone who had family gatherings growing up (though maybe that only contributes to why he likes thanksgiving, if he never had to deal with it as an obligation), he's not close to his family, he didn't have a lot of close friends on earth. was he ever invited to spend holidays with kate's family? or anyone else's? was he perfectly happy getting a pre-made plate and watching tv by himself? does he just fantasize about the idea of A Feast, made worse by the bad food in space, and thanksgiving is the most reliable non-christmas ideal he has for that? (yes.) is he thankful he doesn't have to go to family gatherings while other people around him are stressed out and miserable about theirs? (also probably yes.)

[anxiously-obnoxious-poet17]

Seeing as tomorrow’s Christmas eve and the concept of time is setting in and making me depressed

CHRISTMAS DPS HEAD CANONS !!!! (To compensate for the lack of updates to the fic)

The poets are out of welton for Christmas break, celebrating with family and presents

Charlie: has a huge family one of those rich white ones, SOO many cousins but is the oldest out of most of them, talks shit with that one aunt, if he had older cousins he would be the one to sneak them alcohol he’s chill like that, lives and breathes for presents, they always suck tho cause his parents don’t pay him much mind, is usually buzzed by the end of the night, gets into an argument with a male family member cause he’s not “masculine enough”, further solidifying the Charlie dalton gender fluid head canon in my brain, also BIIG gag gifter he will put your present in a box and then wrap it a trillion times just for that 5 second serotonin he’s an ass but I adore him.

Knox: definitely all younger siblings kind of guy, either all girls or all boys, is a mamas boy, helps out In the kitchen, sucks at gift giving, he tries his best but it’s either money,clothes, or a card, tries to hand make things but fails miserably (bless him), entertains the younger kids, the older family members are wildly impressed by how well mannered he is he really is just a kind sweetie, gets pestered about girls and just lies about Chris even tho him and Charlie have been going steady for a MINUTE, gets asked about Neil and Charlie (his closest friends since always) and everyone raves about how Neil is the star student at welton and then the conversation switches to Charlie and everyone’s like “….oh him”, Charlie holds a grudge against the overstreet family for this very reason.

Pitts: he’s very older brother of all sisters coded like Knox, why do I feel like his parents are divorced (I’m not projecting I swear) gives the sweetest hand made gifts, like photographs or clay figures he’s very gifted in crafts, keeps to himself a lot during family gatherings, but clicks with one or two of his cousins, has one of those aunts that pinches cheeks and sneaks you a 20 with a sneaky little wink, gets teased by his family for his height, “when’s that Steven boy coming to Christmas I always liked him” says nana in the corner, his family seems pretty chill like exact opposite of the dalton/Perry family, his parents ALWAYS get a present for meeks, pittsie does eat his weight in Christmas food.

Meeks: middle kid bless his heart, not a huge family thing, also a bit of a mamas boy, grandparents love him, subpar gift giver, like pitts is a “this reminded me of you” kind of guy, gets so many jumpers and socks that he has a new wardrobe, gets ONE book or item he’s interested in that piques his little smart interest, “thanks I love it😐” meeks reaction to every gift, calls pitts and talks about what they got for HOURS, meeks literally fantasizes about spending Christmas at the pitts household, doesn’t help in the kitchen rather sets the table etc, thinks his family is so upsettingly boring, has 3 cousins MAX, talks about pittsie an enormous amount.

Cameron: huge family you ever seen gingers? THEY MULTIPLY (I have ginger family members I can say this), eats his weight in Christmas dinner, like Knox he’s an alright gift giver, forgets what people want the second they tell him, goes the socks/card/money route, only child but SO MANY COUSINS, gets teased by family for whatever reason my dude cannot catch a break, is asked a lot about school and subtly flexes how much he’s learned, YEARNS FOR FAMILY APPROVAL, his family forgets he’s there a lot of the night, bonds with the one cousin that’s close to his age, calls one of the poets at the end of the night just to talk to someone. (Why are these so sad CAMERON IM SORRY)

Neil: HATES THE HOLIDAYS (rightfully so), actually he love’s Christmas but hates his family, all the uncles and grandpas love him, calling him “such a ladies man or a bright young boy”, and the aunts adore him saying the same things, unlike Cameron he’s FORCED into talking about his studies and achievements which he hates but his father makes him (mr perry is gonna make me crash out), many older cousins few younger cousins, BEST GIFT GIVER EVER, so thoughtful remembers everything everyone wants, loves giving gifts and feels so happy when he can tell they love it, tries to talk about Todd and Charlie but gets shot down or ignored, has to put on a completely different personality and by the end of the night is EXHAUSTED, calls Todd that night and talks forever, complains a lot about his family but who wouldn’t, tells the other poets it was a great time, gives everyone gifts when he’s back at welton, is surprised when Todd or Charlie got him one in return.

Todd: younger sibling poor guy, is constantly overshadowed by Jeffrey, every time someone asks how Todd’s been he can’t speak quick enough so his brother just buts in, keeps to himself for a lot of the night, has some younger cousins he chats with, hand made gifts, overthinks every gift he’s ever gave, changes his mind about gifts constantly, he’s actually such a sweet and thoughtful gift giver once he actually GIVES the gifts, helps in the kitchen a bit but not full on apron and oven mitts like Knox, his grandma is his favorite member of his family, “oh just what I wanted🙂” he says as he gets a gift he in fact did not want, watched Jeffrey open so many presents from family, he assumes he doesn’t get many cause his family doesn’t know him as well as they know Jeffrey, but a lot of the family just forgets about him, nearly falls asleep listening to Neil rant about his awful Christmas, eats leftovers in his room, gets Neil a well thought out meaningful present, I would say he half assed the other poets but no poor thing put so much thought into a sweater.

together the boys all recount the gifts they got, comparing them (Charlie and Cameron) and raving about the food, Knox brought homemade cookies or pie for the guys, they all exchange gifts in the cave while Christmas music plays over Meeks and pitts radio, this time Knox and Cameron are content with the timing of the music (thanksgiving post callback hehe) Charlie spills every piece of drama and awful thing that happened, Neil keeps a lot to himself only telling Todd gritty details, Charlie much like thanksgiving brings various alcohol along with eggnog, which Todd, pitts, and Cameron spit out cause ew, and Neil absolutely loves the gift Todd got him and shows it off whenever he can (depending on what it is), they all hate there families but are more than joyous to come back to welton and be with their chosen one, they all have hot chocolate and coldly walk back to the school where they have the best holiday induced sleep EVER

well everyone since that took me AN HOUR… MERRY CHRISTMAS EVE OR HAPPY HOLIDAYS I improvised a lot of this so if any of it is funky FORGIVE ME I love these idiots and I am so excited to pretend to be Todd Anderson tomorrow when I avoid a lot of my family :)))

[melkyt]

Fun AU vibes

Shift the white lead effect up one generation, so instead of Law dying at the age of 13, he is going to die at around 26 right, but nobody knows that yet. People fall sick when he turns around 24.

Luffy just starts his journey at the time, usual shenanigans, something leads him to Flavence, probably that its a beautiful city, and they just wanna see it.

Luffy immediately runs off, gets lost, beelines for the place with the greatest amount of suffering and injustice, he has a compass for that kind of thing, end up in Law's small clinic, where he is scrambling to find a cure, functioning on no sleep, twenty cups of coffee and the determination coming straight from his willpower as a D.

Luffy notices that there are alot of people looking extra sick on the streets as he runs past and into the clinic. Does he know why he is there? No, but it's a doctor, and Chopper is a doctor, so he is like 'give me doctor stuff so i can bring it back to Chopper'

Law explains they have nothing to spare and tries to scare Luffy by making it seem that his disease is contagious to get rid of him... and it doesn't work. Years of fighting for people to help them and make them see that they are not actually a danger, only for this kid to A: not believe his lie, and B: call Law an idiot for thinking that he gives a shit.

Fighting breaks out outside minutes later, commotion. Law getting a message that the other countries are barricading Flevance and stopping any and all aid, that the disease has gotten too far and they wont be complicit in hiding it anymore. It wont be long till war breaks out

Law tries to get Luffy to leave, this is not his bussiness.

Luffy says, "Nah" he's a pirate, and he does what he wants. So the strawhats stay and cause a bunch of chaos, fight the world government again, take Flevance under their flag for a little while the dust settles.

Law is dumbfounded, standing in the ruins of some building watching Luffy wreck shit and fuck up the lives of the nobles that may have left but left all their stuff and secrets. Robin is quick to gather it and show it up for the cameras. The truth about white lead comes out, and this saves the people. They get aid and the marines arrive to chase Luffy out as they do

And Law, deciding that the only way to help his family and his people is to join them and find a cure in the wide world.

Luffy would still crash Dressrosa to fight Doffy, thanks to Momo and Kin'emon also having business there, and they still end up on punk hazard, (Law in canon really wasnt the one guiding them there even if thats what he says xd, they would still fuck it up)

Law is getting sicker and tries to hide it, alot of angst and hurt-comfort. When they do reach Dressrosa, he has a fever and has settled that he is going to die and there is no hope.

He tries to say that to Luffy, who isnt having it and says its all gonna work itself out, they will find someone soon! He points at Ceaser that they ended up taking by accident, who will rattle anything off to save his life and mentions a devil fruit

So they reach Dressrosa, Cora is alive (and miserable) either with his brother or back with the marines. He failed to save Dressrosa with his report, or I know Doffy became a warlord, and he reported it, but nobody cared, and Sengoku was not allowed to take action by higher-ups due to what Doffy knows. So Cora stayed just in an attempt to curb his brothers actions, and maybe he didn't feel like he had any other place to go since the Marines failed him again. Whatever it is, Cora is going through it

Doffy has not let anyone eat the op-op fruit, no Law, means no kid to groom into the next him, and Cora kept any others away. Cora ends up helping the strawhats, and leaving with Sengoku at the end as the man is retired

So anyway, the fruit, its still there in Dressrosa, right, and when they beat up Doffy, Robin gives it to Luffy and says a doctor should probably eat it.

Luffy throws it at Law even after they see the price tag and that they will be wanted by the world goverment. Luffy just goes "We're pirates!"

Law eats the fruit, survives, and cures himself. Then comes the part that he was dreading having gotten close to Luffy, though it has been fleeting touches and longing gazes from Law, nothing serious, still he feels that this place is home and he doesnt want to leave Luffy and the strawhats

Luffy nods and gives Law his vivre card "Here. You better join us when ur done, Traffy! You're crew, and I like you, " He answers before Law can ask if he is sure.

Law does cure his people and leaves everything to Lami, who took over his clinic when he left the first time. While Flevance will always be home, he belongs with the strawhats, he belongs with Luffy.

[swearyshera]

So we are at the end of the road on something that has always been about the journey, not the destination.  I’ve taken my time to gather some thoughts.  This blog has meant a lot to many people, not the least of which is me.  I’ve had a hard time these last few years – I think it’s been hard times for everyone, in one way or another.  Personally, I seem to remember discovering this blog not too long before I had a breakdown and handled it very poorly, making bad decisions that cost me a lot of friends, or at least people whom I thought were my friends up until a breaking point.  (Your blog was unrelated to this).  When I came out of hospitalization I had a few things to rely upon – a video therapy group was one, certain family members and, well, as silly as it sounds, hitting up tumblr for my daily dose of Sweary She-Ra to make me laugh. And then in mid-January, 2023, one of the people who was closest to me in my entire life died suddenly of technically unknown cause but considering his health issues, probably a heart-issue. It was sudden and devastating.  We shared She-Ra and the Princesses of Power together because he was kind of curious about it and I was a nostalgia-fan of the ‘80s series.  We both became massive fans of Entrapta.  In fact, my nephew / best friend got me into the fandom in the first place because he had a silly idea for a fanfic about Entrapta wrecking havoc in the Fright Zone just post first-season and had little confidence in his fanfic writing, but decided to pass along said idea to me, an inveterate fic-writer for many fandoms.  I was put through the wringer this year – it’s the first time I’ve been in partial charge of a memorial service.  I am feeling better now than I did at the beginning of this year because I’ve found the strength to keep doing things that he and I liked to do together and time helps.  And again, in all of this, I had a silly little comic where a sparkly purple princess calls people “twattingler,” others make liberal use of the word that originally meant Fornication Under Consent of the King, one character swears all the time but apologizes for it, one character is contractually obligated to use Ned Flanders style cursing and there’s a fourth wall breaker and an incompetent boss with indecipherable accent and Marxist unicorns and all the rest.  No matter what was happening with my emotions I could just… take a little break and look at the funny fancomic.  Sweary She-Ra for me has been like a warm mug of tea on a cold day or a bowl of baked macaroni and cheese with a butter-cracker crust made out of the old 1960-70 something Betty Crocker cookbook.  It’s been Internet comfort food that has been sorely needed at times.  So thank you.  I just want to thank you for this funny little fan project.  I don’t think you have any idea how much it has meant to your audience.  @freedfromthegalactichivemind

And I don't know if the audience has any idea how much it has meant to me!

When I started this, things were pretty shit, weren't they? Here in the UK we'd just come out of the second Covid Lockdown, with the third expected to happen imminently; the weather was miserable, we'd barely seen our friends in months, the world in general just sucked. And I'd love to say that I felt a calling to break through that with some humour, but no... it was nothing like that. This is what happened...

And so it all went from there.

I almost just went for random scenes as I thought of them, rather than starting from the beginning. But I thought "Eh, fuck it, let's see how far I get", and the rest is history.

Even as the storylines got more complex (bear in mind, I started purely with the intention to do the original script with a few swear words peppered in), I always wanted to keep things upbeat. The painful moments are those 'this is the good stuff, hurt me more' moments rather than actually horrifying things - I know there's been a couple of exceptions, but in general it's held true.

But I've always been driven by one thing - the world isn't very funny right now; it's stressful, sometimes downright terrifying. And if I can alleviate that for ten, twenty seconds per day and make that tiny bit of difference to someone, then I consider that a job done. I'm not out here claiming to have the cure for depression, or some kind of plan to save the world, but I (hopefully) can make a few people smile in the midst of all the shit that's happening, even if it's just for a moment.

So much has changed in the last three years, but this blog has been such a central part of my world, it'll be weird when it's over (maybe that's why I don't want to stop there!). But if this coming Friday really is the last chapter in this part of my life, I'll still be happy that it happened. And if you've ever smiled or laughed at the blog, I'm happy that happened as well.

[psalm22-6]

Source: The Jewish News of Northern California, 2 October 1992

I thought this was a very cool profile and an interesting perspective. I love the research she did on the gamins. 

Understudy says Jews will see themselves in Le Miz by Paul Freeman The theatrical epic Les Miserables tells the story of Jean Valjean, a noble, good-hearted man unjustly persecuted for a minor crime. To sate his extreme hunger, Valjean steals a loaf of bread only to find himself mistreated for the rest of his life. According to cast member Pauline Frommer, Jean Valjean's ordeal should strike a chord among Jews. 

“The persecution is not really about the loaf of bread," says Frommer, “but about who he is." 

Similarly, she says, "We, as Jews, are persecuted not out of anything we actually do, but because of who we are. That's the story of Jean Valjean, who is imploring Javert, 'Look at me as a human being! Don't look at me as a criminal!'"

[. . .] Frommer attributes the show's popularity to its spiritual quality. "It touches on what's best in human beings, revealing our aspirations towards creating new worlds," she says. "It brings out a longing in people to go out and create a revolution, to try to make things better. At the end of the show, it says that to love another person is to see the face of God. That's very powerful." 

Frommer understudies two roles — Eponine and Cosette. One requires a soprano voice, the other an alto. Fortunately, Frommer has a three-octave range. She also has to adjust to the differences between the personalities of the two characters. Cosette is gentle, while Eponine has rougher edges. 

Very often, Frommer doesn't know until only a few hours before the curtain that she will have to perform one of these featured roles. "That makes it exciting every time I go on," she says. "There's always an adrenaline rush. I can never get totally comfortable with a character. That's a big advantage, I think." 

When Frommer isn't called upon to play one of those roles, she focuses her energies on her work within the ensemble. "I play a boy for most of the show," she says. "To prepare, I watched the little boys in the cast, seeing what kind of tricks they liked to play on people. I also read [author Victor] Hugo's novel and learned about the contradictions of these little gamins. They're both playful and serious. They steal and eat from garbage cans, but they love the theater and want to know more about the culture of Paris." 

Growing up, Frommer had the unusual opportunity to experience a number of other cultures firsthand. Her father, after all, is the famed travel writer Arthur Frommer, who wrote the Europe on $5 a Day series of books. According to his daughter, Dad researched the hotels and restaurants, while his wife at the time, actress and acting instructor Hope Arthur, gathered information about museums. 

"I started traveling when I was 4-months-old," the 25-year-old Frommer says. "My parents would push me into drawers at night, because they didn't carry a crib. Every summer since then, until I was 14 and started going to camp, we would go to Europe to update the book.

"It gave me a great appreciation for how different, and yet, how alike we all are," she says. 

Arthur Frommer, who recently wrote a new book titled The New World of Travel and hosts a cable TV show of the same name, made Jewish historical sites an important part of the family's European visits. 

"In Spain we visited many synagogues," his daughter recounts. "We went to Israel when I was 11. My parents got off the plane and kissed the ground. I remember very clearly the Wailing Wall, which had a profound effect on me. It also meant a lot to me to realize that I was in a Jewish state, where I was in the majority, not the minority." 

In all her worldly travels, Frommer claims never to have encountered anti-Semitism, though on tour with Les Miserables she occasionally has felt that her Jewishness made her an outsider. 

"Usually, there are a lot of Jews in theater," she says. "In Les Miz, there's only one other Jewish member in the cast. In Kansas, my dresser told me I was the first Jewish person she had ever really known. But it wasn't a negative thing. She was curious about me. 

"Being from New York City, I grew up around many Jews. On Yom Kippur, the whole school got the day off. So it was strange for me to be seen as being so different. At the end of the week, the dresser gave me a pin that said, 'Oy vey.'"

Despite her Jewish upbringing, Frommer claims always to find herself cast in non-Jewish parts. "It's funny. In camp, I was in Fiddler on the Roof. I played the Russian sergeant. I'm always cast as the shiksa. They always cast the blonde in the non-Jewish roles," laughs Frommer, who plans to audition for movie roles when the tour hits Los Angeles. 

Nonetheless, Frommer remains hopeful. 

"Who knows," she says, "maybe someday I'll get the part I've always wanted, my dream role  — Anne Frank."

[dujour13]

Owlcatober 6. Family

Kenabres, 19 Arodus 4715

Dear Mom & Dad, Zarin, Fati & Layla,

While I’m afraid this missive bears bad tidings, know first that I’m safe among the brave defenders of Kenabres and in the hands of able healers. I won’t pretend to be well & happy; mostly it’s my morale that has suffered a blow, as you’ll soon understand.

This will surely be the first news that reaches you of Mendev’s recent misfortunes. You know already it has weathered constant siege by the forces of the Abyss for over a century, but sadly the arrival of our delegation coincided with a rare, concerted assault by rather more high-ranking demons than usual.

Of what befell us I’ll spare you the details, as much because I recall little myself: on the road outside Kenabres our delegation was attacked by marauding demons and none survived but myself.

By this same post I’ve written to the families of my friends and colleagues. At the very moment you read this they should be receiving the terrible blow I have had the misfortune to deliver. I don’t need to tell you how heavy a burden this duty has been. The pain of my wound is no rival for that in my heart. On the reverse I’ve listed their names and addresses; most are in Almas and perhaps would appreciate a visit, but especially Romi, who will be devastated and need help sorting her and Gilford’s affairs. Please give her all my love.

I don’t understand why I of all of them was spared, gravely wounded but left alive to be collected by passing samaritans, who kindly carried me into the city for healing. The folk here have, for the most part at least, been most obliging and helpful. (One passing gentleman suggested I be tossed in a ditch, and the Inquisitors here are excessively and insistently paranoid. However the silver dragon protector of the city, Terendelev herself, came to my aid right there in the city square as I was brought in, and the kind prior of the temple of Desna has been to see me since.) (Yes, you may tell Kyrash I met an actual dragon.)

My wound is coming along; please don’t fret. Besides grief, what I’m mostly feeling now is overwhelming shame, as if had I any decency whatsoever I should have perished alongside them, yet irrational as the thought seems I can’t shake it off. By now many times over I should have died and somehow Pharasma has turned her face from me at the last moment on each occasion.

Not to worry you! I believe the worst has passed and the city defenders, the ranks of which I’ve joined, have things well in hand. When our forces are gathered we will make one final foray to rescue the Wardstone and its protective aura will make Kenabres safe once again, and all will be well.

Though I won’t set out for home quite so soon. I wrote to the Council and plan to stay on in Mendev while awaiting the appointment of a new ambassador. There may still be a few tasks I can carry out to mitigate the total disaster of this mission.

In the meantime, I’ve taken up with a handful of brave souls among the city defenders and we’ve formed ourselves a merry little band of misfits, striking out into the city to rescue all the orphans & cats & stray Desnans we happen across. They are truly my only ray of sunshine in this miserable place. Let me tell you a little about them.

First, because she was first to leap to my aid when I was brought bleeding through the gates of Kenabres: Seelah, a fearless paladin of Iomedae from Solku, a bulwark against the pointed bits of demons and already a fast friend. I know what you’re thinking: thank all the good gods he has a paladin around to keep him from doing something crazy. Well, have I got news for you.

Next: have you heard legends of savage, mutant cave-dwellers beneath Mendev, light-fearing descendants of cursed crusaders? So they’re real. One of them has taken up with us—half-half-elf, half-a number of other things, and entirely an impressive hunter. This is the guy who tries to keep me from doing something crazy, but all he does is sigh and crack dark jokes so that’s not likely to stop me. I’m already fond of him. He still needs to come up into the sunlight if you see what I mean, but I’m confident we’ll get him there.

I also have some hope for Camellia, a kindred half-elf we took up with in the caves. I thought at first she and I might connect, but it seems she’s a typical highborn snob with too delicate a nose for the likes of us plebian Andorens, half-elvenness notwithstanding. Still she’s a fine fighter and does seem keen to slay demons at least. One thing that intrigues me: she’s in touch with the restless spirits of old Sarkoris, and I think that could play to our advantage.

In the streets of Kenabres we also stumbled across an encyclopedist, and for some reason she decided we were smart enough to merit her company, or perhaps peculiar enough to merit her curiosity at least. Mom, you’d love Nenio: she knows all the most useless trivia, and a few useful spells as well. She’s an accident waiting to happen but she’s hilarious. (Dad's thinking "not unlike someone else we know" right now, I can hear you.) Just need to keep her pointed at the enemy.

This one I think you’ll enjoy. Yesterday we were summoned in extremis to rescue a certified degenerate aristocrat—a Count from the bluest of Mendevian blood—because, I’m not kidding, he was partying so hard he didn’t notice the demon invasion. He’s just as bad as you’re thinking and a lot worse. On the other hand he’s an aasimar with some talent for divine healing and he really does seem to detest demons, so we’re keeping him on hand for now. I have to admit, he’s democratic about dishing it out. (And actually kind of funny sometimes but if the occasion arises don’t ever, ever let him know I said that.)

I should also mention the elf orphan, Ember. By my best estimate she’s three times my age but a child by elf standards of course, and has suffered so cruelly at the hands of the Inquisitors I’m afraid her mind has come a little loose. But if it’s flapping in the wind, the wind is blowing the right direction. Her apparently boundless forgiveness may at first seem symptomatic, but I see in it the inspiration of genius. And I suspect I’m not the only one. She is blessed with divine protection and while mindless of her own scars is keen to heal those of others.

I’m not sure why I saved the tiefling, Woljif, for last. Perhaps because I have more to say, and more yet to puzzle out on his account. He is the face of what Mendev has become: part human, part demon, and those parts at constant war. (I can hear you Zarin: “But is that not true of all of us?” - Fair enough.) I had to pull some strings to get him out of jail. He’s proved to be very handy to have around since then but I keep catching him looking antsy as if he’s going to ditch us at the first chance. I don’t think crusading is exactly what he had planned in life, and I don’t blame him. You would be shocked at how they treat tieflings here. There's a whole lexicon of terms for them.

Indeed he seems to have taken the abuse to heart. All his life he’s been told he’s demonic vermin, and he seems determined to live up to it. Not that he’s actually a bad person—no, I’m hesitating as I write this because that’s what I’m still puzzling out. He is a bad person, and though he’ll have you believe it’s Society that made him this way it is also out of a heart made black by greed and spite. But if my first instinct was to tell you he’s not a bad person, it’s because there’s something underneath the cunning, something he thinks he’s hiding but that’s obvious to me—a heart that's fighting back against the blackness. He has the hopeful look you get from a stray cat before it bites you. Like if he’s just given a chance, and a little food, maybe he’ll let his guard down. Ok, I know what you’re thinking—yes, I have a project. I just hope he sticks around long enough.

There’s a good deal more to tell, but I should rest while the ta fortress we’ve taken refuge in is relatively quiet. By the time this letter reaches you I’m certain peace will have been restored, indeed because this letter will not have reached you if not—so take heart that if you’re reading it, we’re already celebrating our victory!

All my love & hugs to you and the jerboas. With luck I’ll be home to play our Crystalhue duet, Dad, and yes I have been practicing.

Sia 🦋

[summerwritesfics]

🌎Proposition

Pairing: Shang Tsung/Kuai Liang Length: 1916 Words Rating: Mature Warnings: Criminal AU, Criminal!Shang Tsung, Cage Fighter!Kuai Liang, Runaway!Kuai Liang, Crimes & Criminals, Organised Crime, Homelessness, Petty Crime, Illegal Activities, Illegal Fighting Rings, Controlling Behaviour, Runaway, Running Away, Taking Advantage of someone in a bad situation, Cage Fights, Minor Injuries, Kuai Liang making poor life decisions, Touch-Starved

Meanwhile In Another Universe Masterlist

Notes: NGL I am obsessed with this ship atm, it’s like the only thing I wanna write right now XD Also yeh I think Shang and Kuai’s relationship would end up being very toxic here, but hey. Kuai’s got a lot of internal guilt over things that he really shouldn’t be feeling guilty for, and Shang is basically completely taking advantage of that fact. Although I do like the idea of Shang sitting and kicking his feet and giggling while watching Kuai beat people up so idk, maybe that’ll do it for someone else too lmfao.

Kuai hissed as his fingers laced the bruise very quickly forming on his cheek. At least it’s not my eye this time. He usually walked away from these cage fights with far worse. To be fair, tonight's opponents had been particularly pathetic. Worst of the worst was some prick who thought because he ran with a street gang that made him hard. A few well aimed punches and kicks had hopefully humbled the asshole.

Although knowing Kuai’s luck, he’d gather all his gangbanger friends and try to take him out for disrespecting him or some bullshit like that.

Kuai looked down at the envelope of money on the side. At the very least he had enough to keep him going for another few weeks. Maybe even enough to splash out on a cheap motel room for a night or two. That’d be nice, I could use an actual bed and a night of just watching shitty TV shows. 

He supposed, in reality, there was still a bed for him back with his family. It wouldn’t be so bad right? At least he’d be with Tomas again…

As if to remind him why he left in the first place, the scar on his face began to ache.

No. I can never go back. He sighed miserably to himself, grabbing the envelope and shoving it into his backpack. Sorry Tomas. It’s probably for the best you don’t see what I’ve become. 

He was brought out of his musings by the sound of the door opening. Expecting it to be Kabal or Kano coming to inform him of the next fight they’d want him to do, he turned his head. Only to find it was neither man, or even any member of The Black Dragon that Kuai was familiar with. He was a man of a similar stature to Kuai Liang himself, long hair and a very fancy looking suit. So fancy that it was completely out of place for someone to be wearing at an illegal fighting ring.

“If you’re looking for the toilets, they’re a little further down,” Kuai informed the man, jerking his head in a motion to indicate which way the man needed to go.

“Actually, I’ve found exactly what I was looking for,” the man replied, a strange smug tone to his voice that made Kuai wish he was in the ring with him so he could get away with punching him for it. “Scorpion, am I correct?” Kuai frowned at the man, hoping to prompt him to clarify why he was looking for him. “Although I assume that’s not your real name.”

“Kuai Liang,” he snapped, although why he told the man his name at all was beyond him. For all he knew, this guy was a cop or something. Then again, he doubted Kano would let a pig get this far into the club.

“I’m Shang Tsung.” He held out his hand as if to offer it to shake. Kuai did not respond to it.

“I’d rather you tell me what you want,” Kuai hissed, hauling his backpack over his shoulder. “I have other places to be, you know.”

Well, really he wanted to try and get a good place to sleep for the night. His preferred spot was kind of in high demand, an isolated bridge by the river. No one really went down there at night and it was mostly sheltered from bad weather. It could only fit about 4 or 5 people under there, so it was a bit of a rush to get to it before it was full.

“I have a proposition for you, if you are willing to hear me out.” Oh. Great. A proposition. 

“I’m not interested in whatever pyramid scheme you’re trying to peddle.” He hated that his snappy words seemed to cause the man some sort of pleasure, at least that was what the smirk on his face suggested. “Now if you’ll excuse me-“

“I can assure you, what I am offering is more than worth your while,” he tried, holding his hands up as if to try and block Kuai from leaving. Kuai just rolled his eyes. “It would include you having more stable living accommodations, if that takes your interest at all.”

Kuai paused, feeling a strange cold overcome him. “How the hell do you know I’m homeless?”

“Kano rather does have a habit of rambling once he’s had a few beers.” Shit, of course. Really it could have been anyone from The Black Dragon who told him, but Kano did make the most sense. Loud mouthed bastard. “I’ve watched you fight for the last few weeks, and I can’t help but think your skills would be better suited elsewhere.”

Kuai stayed silent. He had no idea where this was going.

“I work for Miss Sindel Von Edenia. Are you familiar with that name?”

“Wait, you don’t mean that woman who runs that one crime family or whatever? Outworld or something like that?” Kuai was confused, that was one of the biggest crime networks in the city. So much so there was no way in hell they’d bother with someone who committed petty crime at best like himself. “If you work for her, what the hell are you doing in a dive like this?”

“We like keeping an eye out for upcoming talents in our field.” Kuai huffed and rolled his eyes yet again, this guy was so pretentious. “And I am personally seeking out a bodyguard currently.”

“A bodyguard?” Kuai asked slowly, finally realising where this conversation was going.

“Well, bodyguard, enforcer, I am in need of someone good with their fists,” Shang Tsung chuckled, ambling towards Kuai slowly. Once close enough, he gently took Kuai’s hand in his, rubbing his thumb along Kuai’s knuckle. “And from what I’ve seen, you are exactly what I’m looking for.”

“Why me?” Kuai asked, wanting to rip his hand from the other man, but the part of him that longed so much for such a gentle touch stopped him. “There’s dozens of other guys fighting in that ring on a weekly basis. Why me?”

“Maybe there are.” Shang Tsung tilted his head, a small smirk on his face as his eyes swept Kuai up and down. “But none of them look quite as enchanting when covered in blood as you do.”

Kuai choked on his own spit, as his entire world went red hot. He’d been propositioned enough times to be somewhat aware that people found him attractive for some reason. No one had quite ever told him that he looked good while causing others pain however.

“Y-You said…” Kuai cleared his throat, trying to swiftly move on. However the way Shang Tsung looked at him indicated the embarrassed fluster was exactly the reaction he’d hoped for. “You said about stable living accommodations.”

“As my bodyguard, I would require you to be available 24/7.” That sounded extremely unnecessary, if you asked Kuai Liang, but he wasn’t about to voice that. “I have a spare room in my condominium, it would be yours for as long as you are in my employment.”

That did sound good. He’d been living on the street for almost a year now, the brief stays in motels were a small reminder of what he left behind. It’d be nice to have more security in that regard.

You could just go home, moron. The fact that thought was in Bi-Han’s voice disturbed him more than it should have.

But… he could just go home, couldn’t he? It wasn’t like that wasn’t an option. He could go home, head hung low and tail between his legs. He could go back to his brothers.

His gut twisted. He couldn’t go back to his brothers. He loved them, but he just couldn’t.

Tomas would be so disappointed by what he’d become. They’d both always shared the same sense of morality, yet here Kuai was, taking part in illegal fights, stealing money and food to survive. How could Tomas ever look him in the eye again? How could Kuai ever live with the shame Tomas would no doubt feel?

And then there was Bi-Han. His scar began to sting again, the wound that had caused that explosive final argument before Kuai left. Returning to that house would be proof that Bi-Han had been right all along. That Kuai couldn’t look after himself, and he needed his elder brother’s to coddle and smother him for the rest of his life.

He just couldn’t stand having to live the rest of his life being thought of as incapable of even the most basic of self care.

He’d never meant to leave forever. When he walked out the door, he’d intended to wander around for a while to clear his head before returning to plead his case. But in the end he just… Never went back. The longer he spent away, the harder the idea of returning became. Eventually, he just came to one very simple conclusion.

He could never go home to them.

A hand on his cheek brought him out of his musings, a thumb wiping away a tear that Kuai hadn’t realised was there. He tried to resist the urge to nuzzle into the hand. He couldn’t remember the last time someone touched him so gently. He’d grown far too used to the harsh hands he encountered in battle.

“Of course you’ll also have a generous pay check,” Shang Tsung continued, “I wouldn’t expect you to pay rent, or even pay for food. That would be all part of the package in your employment.”

“That…” Kuai paused, squinting suspiciously at the man in front of him. “That sounds too good to be true.”

And his Father, ever the savvy businessman, had always told him if something sounded too good to be true, it probably was.

“I can understand why you would think that.” Shang Tsung gently patted Kuai’s cheek, pulling his hand away. “I think the question you should really be asking is if you can afford to pass over the potential opportunity?”

Kuai hated that he had a point. His current situation was not ideal at all. He needed something to change, something that didn’t require him to go home. Maybe this all sounded like fantasy, but the fact there was a slim chance it could be real was very tempting.

“How about this, I’ll give you a trial period,” Shang Tsung continued. “One month, and if you are not satisfied you can walk away, no questions asked.”

A month's trial huh? He supposed he could do that.

“Okay.” He nodded, although not as confidently as he probably should have. “You have one month to convince me that your offer is worth my time.”

Shang Tsung smiled brightly at that, saying “you’ve made the right choice.” Seconds later, he was slipping his arm around Kuai’s waist, and gently ushering him towards the door. “Why don’t we talk more about the details over dinner. My treat, of course.”

Kuai didn’t say anything, but did allow Shang Tsung to guide him. He hadn’t realised how hungry he was until the word dinner had been mentioned. Right now, he couldn’t tell if he was doing the right thing, or if this was going to end up on his neverending list of shitty life decisions. He briefly thought of his brother, Tomas, of how stupid he’d probably think he was being.

Tomas… Maybe one day you’ll forgive me for all of this. 

Kuai doubted it though.

[trinity-mia]

a story as endless as the ocean

the lightning thief

1.2 committing a felony (don't do this)

warnings : ANOTHER effing monster attack, some more cussing, mention of arson

word count : 5.8k

1.2 Blow Torching a National Monument So Badly, I Could Be Tried for Arson (Even Though It Literally Wasn't My Fault)

I could safely say we were all miserable that night. None of us liked the thought of spending the night in a place where we had just killed the only occupant, so instead, we spent the night camped out in the woods a few miles away.

The clearing we settled down in was obviously a frequent gathering point for the local kids to hang around. It was about a hundred yards from the main road and rather marshy. The ground was littered with flattened soda cans and fast-food wrappers. We spent a few minutes piling the garbage together so we could dump it in a trash can tomorrow on Luke's suggestion.

It was easily the worst place that I'd ever spent the night, but with the snug sleeping bags we'd taken from Camp, it wasn't too bad. We'd decided against a fire. The Furies and Medusa were enough for one day, and a fire would most definitely bring more unwanted visitors.

I kind of regretted it, cause frankly, I was freezing, but again, I'd had enough of fighting for today. Well, for the rest of my existence really, but I didn't exactly have a choice in that matter. My father had seen to that very firmly.

I volunteered for the first watch, and Luke gave only a moment's objection before he fell fast asleep. Grover, however, simply laid down, staring up at the sky with a brooding expression.

"Regretting ever meeting me?" I asked as lightly as I could. Really though, I wouldn't blame him for it if he was. Tyche definitely had some sort of grudge against me. On the other hand, I did manage to survive all the shit I went through, so maybe she actually liked me. Something to dwell on at another time, I guess. 

Grover startled out of his thoughts, turning to stare at me and shake his head wildly.

"Don't be ridiculous, Allie!" he objected. "You're my best friend, I love you. It just... it makes me so sad. And mad. I'm mad about it too."

I frowned at him. "What makes you sad?" I pressed. "Can I help?"

The side of his lip quirked up briefly before falling again, his frown returning. "This makes me sad," he gestured at the rubbish pile and up at the sky. "I mean just look at the sky. You can't even see the stars. They've polluted the sky. This is a terrible time to be a satyr."

I bit my lip. I knew already that Grover was an environmentalist, but he talked about this with so much emotion, feeling guilty seemed to be my only option. For what, I wasn't exactly sure.

"I'm sorry," I finally ventured. "I guess it must be really hard for a nature spirit to see this sort of stuff. We'll dump it tomorrow."

He sighed heavily, shoulders slumping. "Do you know what a searcher's license is?"

I shook my head. "Not really," I admitted freely, not worrying about my lack of knowledge on the subject. "I just know that your family has a tradition of getting them, and you'll only get yours if we succeed in the quest."

I cocked my head to the side for a moment as a breeze wafted through the clearing. It was fresh and sweet and brought with it the smell of berries and clean air. Suddenly, I was nostalgic for something I didn't know.

"Tell me about it," I requested quietly. 

Grover gave me a studying look, like he was trying to decide if I was worthy of knowing about his dream or not. I must've been, because he nodded, straightening and beginning to explain. "The God of Wild Places disappeared two thousand years ago," he told me. "A sailor off the coast of Ephesos heard a mysterious voice crying out from the shore—"

"'Tell them that the great god Pan has died!' Yeah, I know that story," I said, recalling Chiron teaching it at the beginning of the year.

"RIght. When humans heard the news, they believed it. They've been pillaging Pan's kingdom ever since. But for the satyrs, Pan was our lord and master. He protected us and the wild places of the earth. We refuse to believe that he died. In every generation, the bravest satyrs pledge their lives to finding Pan. They search the earth, exploring all the wildest places, hoping to find where he is hidden, and wake him from his sleep."

"Wow," I said simply. "So you want to join them?"

Grover nodded. "My whole family has been searchers for generations," he explained. "My dad, and my Uncle Ferdinand. You saw his statue back at Aunty Em's."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Grover waved me off. "Dad and Uncle knew the risks. Every searcher does. But I'll succeed. I'll be the first one to come back alive."

My eyes widened in shock at that. "The first? What happened to them all?"

"Nobody knows," Grover shrugged gloomily. "But we have to keep trying. We have to believe that we'll be the one to find Pan and wake him up. It's the only thing that keeps us from giving in to despair when we look at what's happened to the world."

I stared at the orange haze of the sky and tried to understand how Grover could pursue a dream that seemed so hopeless. Then again, was I any better?

There was no way I'd ever be able to make Hades do what I wanted, after all. I was only a seventeen-year-old girl with a sharp tongue and a stupidly large amount of money. He was a god, and one of the most powerful gods at that. I was screwed and I knew it.

"How are we going to get into the Underworld?" I asked him. "I mean, what chance do we have against a god?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "But we'll figure it out. We all have faith that you'll succeed in this, Allie."

"Why?" I demanded, angry that I could feel that my voice was shaking and trying to hide it. "Why is everyone so goddamn confident that I can do this? I've known about this stuff being real for a week!"

Grover chewed on his lip, genuinely considering my question, which I appreciated. "You've just got this aura around you," he finally told me. 

I paused in tugging agitatedly on my braids to stare at him. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Just the way you talk and move and just... just act. It makes everyone feel that you'd lay down your life for ours without thinking about it."

"Of course I would," I replied instantly. 

Grover flashed me a sad smile. "And that's why we trust you," he insisted. "And you have real power. In multiple ways. Allie, you are quite literally a global celebrity. You could probably go to the White House and create any law you wanted and it would get passed. And as a demigod? You probably can't control it yet, but your father is the god of the seas. He holds an extensive amount of power and you are his first mortal daughter. It's reasonable to suggest you are going to be stronger than most of his other children." 

I didn't know what to say to that. Truthfully, I'd thought about it a lot the night before, but didn't want to go much further with my thoughts— they still scared me. Not wanting to do the same now, I changed the subject to something I did want to ponder.

"I think something is off about this whole thing," I admitted to him. "On the bus, the Kindly Ones, did you hear them? They were asking where it is. Not her, it. We're missing something big, I know it."

Grover bit his lip, worry flashing over his expression. "Well, we have to go to the Underworld anyway," he finally stated. "The prophecy said we'd go west and face the god who has turned. And it said you'd find the bolt and return it safely. Everything will work out, Allie, you'll see."

I said nothing, but the Oracle's warning about being betrayed and war beginning played ominously in my mind as I watched Grover fiddle silently with his reed pipes.

More than anything, I wished for my mom to be there, holding me and stroking my hair.

"How about I take first watch?" he suggested. "You could use a rest." 

Before I could protest, he lifted the pipes to his mouth and began to play. Unlike his earlier attempts, the tune, something by Mozart I think, actually sent me to sleep. 

Eventually, the nightmare started. I was standing in a dark cavern before a gaping pit. Grey mist creatures churned all around me, whispering rags of smoke that I somehow knew were the spirits of the dead.

They tugged at my clothes, trying to pull me back, but I felt compelled to walk forward to the very edge of the chasm. Looking down made me dizzy. The pit yawned so wide and was so completely black, I knew it must be bottomless. Yet I had a feeling that something was trying to rise from the abyss, something huge and evil.

"The little heroine," an amused voice echoed far down in the darkness. "Too weak, too young. But perhaps you will do."

The voice felt ancient— cold and heavy. It wrapped around me like sheets of lead and filled me with sheer terror. I wanted to run, but my feet were frozen in fear.

"They have misled you, girl," it said. "Barter with me. I will give you what you want."

An image appeared in front of me of my mother. She looked just like she did the day she died. Her long brown hair was down, flowing around her messily, her face was bare of make-up with her loving smile that always made me feel safe and happy, no matter what. She was dressed in her pajamas. And her arms were open, like she was waiting for me to run into her embrace like when I was a little girl being picked up from school.

I tried to cry out, but my voice wouldn't work.

Cold laughter echoed from the chasm. An invisible force pulled me forward. It would drag me into the pit unless I stood firm.

"Help me rise, Astraea." The voice became hungrier. "Bring me the bolt. Strike a blow against the treacherous gods!"

The spirits of the dead whispered around me, "No! Wake!" The image of my mother began to fade. The thing in the pit tightened its unseen grip around me. I realized it wasn't interested in pulling me in. It was using me to pull itself out.

"Good," it murmured. "Good."

"Wake!" the dead whispered urgently. "Wake!"

Someone was shaking me. My eyes opened, and it was daylight. I shot up, gasping for breath.

"Allie?" Luke asked, just barely avoiding our heads knocking together. "What happened, are you okay?"

I shuddered. "Just a nightmare," I managed to croak. "It was just a nightmare."

Luke looked tense. "Allie—"

"Come on," I interrupted. "We need to get to the train station, and quickly. I can get all of our tickets."

***

We spent two days on the Amtrak train, heading west through hills, over rivers, and past amber waves of grain.

We weren't attacked once, but I didn't relax. I felt like we were traveling around in a display case, being watched from above and maybe from below, that something was waiting for the right opportunity. I tried to read the books my friends had packed for me and played some cards with the boys, but I just couldn't get into it. Our deadline and my prophecy loomed ominously over me and I always ended up getting up to pace the length of the train instead.

Once, I spotted a family of centaurs galloping across a wheat field, bows at the ready, as they (I assumed) hunted lunch. The little boy centaur, who was the size of a second-grader on a pony, caught my eye and waved. I looked around the passenger car, but nobody else had noticed. The adult riders all had their faces buried in laptop computers or magazines.

Another time, toward the evening, I saw something huge moving through the woods. I could've sworn it was a lion, except that lions don't live wild in America, and this thing was the size of a Hummer. Its fur glinted gold in the evening light. Then it leaped through the trees and was gone. Frankly, I was relieved. I'd seen it before and I was in a bad enough mood without adding fighting the Nemean Lion to it.

The tickets I'd bought only went as far as Denver and, since I didn't want to waste any time, we decided not to wait four more days for a train to get us where we wanted. I had a bad feeling about wasting time, and I knew it'd be quicker and easier if we just got off in Denver. 

Luke and Grover had to almost physically fight me to keep me from buying us expensive seats that would actually give us beds. I was tired of sleeping uncomfortably, but Luke said if we got into a fight, being in a bigger space would help a lot more. 

At one point, Grover's shoe fell off and Luke and I had to hurry to replace it before any mortals noticed something was off.

"Angel," Luke said seriously as we sat back down again. "We need to talk about your dreams."

I tensed at that. I had no desire to talk about my nightmares of the pit despite having had a repeat of the dream only that night. It seemed as if by doing so I'd be turning them from bad dreams into the quest related visions that Luke had mentioned to me before.

"Allie," Luke pressed me when I didn't speak. "This is important. I can't help if I don't know the problem. And I know you had another dream last night. Tell me." He cupped my face to turn my gaze to him. I felt a strange feeling of warmth in my stomach and chest at the amount of concern in his bright blue eyes.

He has to have gotten those eyes from his father, I thought hazily. No way is that color natural. Way too vibrant.

"Fine," I huffed, breaking his stare and crossing my arms stubbornly.

His smug look at having broken my stubborn will vanished as I spoke, his demeanor becoming serious again.

"That doesn't sound like Hades," he said, chewing over my explanation. "He usually appears on a black throne, and I've never heard of him laughing."

"He offered to bring my mother back to life in trade though," I argued, a pang in my heart. "Who else has the power to do something that if not the god of the dead?"

"Thanatos is the god of the dead," Luke corrected me, tapping on his leg. "Hades is the god of the Underworld and everything under the earth. But Thanatos has even less to gain from this than Hades does. I guess it could be him. But why tell you to bring him the master bolt if he already has it?"

I shook my head, wishing I knew the answer. I thought about what Grover and I had discussed, that the Furies on the bus seemed to have been looking for something.

"Where is it? Where?"

Maybe Grover sensed my emotions. He snorted in his sleep, muttered something about vegetables, and turned his head.

I silently reached over and readjusted his cap so it covered his horns.

"Allie," Luke began carefully. "You know that you can't barter with Hades. He's deceitful, heartless, and greedy. I don't care if his Kindly Ones weren't as aggressive this time—"

"If that was them being unaggressive, I never want to actually piss them off," I cut him off sharply. My eyes fell to my lap as I started fiddling with the locket and the new necklace that hung around my neck.

The locket was an antique, belonging first to my great-great-grandmother and then being passed down through the generations until I received it from my mom. It was in the shape of a rose, made of real gold. On the outer edges of it were engravings of a rose and in the very center was a diamond and engravings to make it look like the north star. When I opened it, I saw a picture of my mother at twenty. She was standing on the beach in front of the ocean, with me heavily bundled up against the cold sea air cradled in her arms. On the other side was the most recent picture we'd taken together, right in front of our beach house. I'd thrown myself in her arms and Danny took the picture at the perfect time.

"I know that I can't try to bring her back," my voice was ragged as I spoke, and my lip shook slightly. I scowled to keep the tears that were stinging my eyes from falling. "But I just..." I fell silent. I didn't even know what I was going to say.

I started when Luke's arms wrapped around me and pulled me into a strong embrace. I stayed there for about a minute before pulling away and adjusting myself on the bench.

"While you were still out you mumbled a little about your mother and what happened to her. What was she like?" Luke treaded anxiously. The question hung unvoiced in the air between us, and for a moment I contemplated pretending I didn't pick up his hint. Instead, I sighed, my shoulders slumping as I kept on playing with my locket.

"My mom's name was Sally Jackson," I finally told him. I didn't look away from the necklace, determinedly studying the rose engraved on the shiny surface to avoid his gaze. "She was actually the nicest person ever, I'd bet my life on it. Her parents died when she was five, in a plane crash if you can believe it. Every time I got on a plane she about had a heart attack. When she was in college, she ended up having to drop out of school to nurse her uncle until he died and then she had me when she was nineteen. She loved English literature, so I grew up on Jane Austen and Shakespeare, stuff like that."

He gave me a small smile. "Is that why you can quote the whole Romeo and Juliet balcony scene from memory and not have to grab a source?" 

I giggled. "That and I recently played Juliet in a remake that comes out in a few months."

"Ah, my mistake." 

"Anyway, she got me into acting around the time I turned two. The director of the first movie I was in saw her walking around outside our apartment and needed a young child for a few scenes and she let them use me. After that... I'm not sure. I guess they liked how natural I was at it and continued putting me in things and now... my life is what it is. Getting followed whenever I go out to dinner. Flying around the world to perform songs that I've written. Walking red carpets. Having every inch of my body scrutinized whenever I appear on a runway. It's not all bad, but it certainly isn't entirely glamorous, either." I shrugged. "And then, when I was six, she married this asshole named Gabe. He liked taking my money to fund his gambling problem. Then he'd get drunk, his equally bitchass buddies would leave, and if my mom wasn't home, we'd argue. A lot."

Luke frowned at me, obviously putting a few of my hints together in his head. It wasn't hard to see that the scars that most definitely didn't come from a monster weren't caused by accident. He obviously felt like I wouldn't go into it, and he was right, and changed the subject. 

"I met Thalia just outside of a dragon's lair in Charleston," Luke said quietly. 

I started in surprise at the non sequitur and opened my mouth to tell him he didn't have to explain, but he held a hand up. 

"She was twelve, same as me. We had both run away from bad home situations, not really abusive, just bad, and we met Annabeth a few months later. She had just turned seven. We traveled together for a few months, before meeting up with Grover. And then we headed for Half-Blood Hill. We were being pursued by a legion of monsters sent by Hades to kill Thalia, and there was no way that we could have made it. We were about to be overwhelmed, only minutes from the border. Thalia made us go on ahead. She sacrificed herself. Zeus turned her into a tree, so now her lifeforce guards Camp."

I glanced at him. "Is there some kind of rule?" I murmured. "All half-bloods must have as screwed up childhood as possible. Ancient Law number whatever."

It wasn't remotely funny, but Luke cackled in laughter, anyway. We both pretended not to see the other wiping away tears.

Toward the end of our second day on the train, June 13th, eight days before the summer solstice, we passed through some golden hills and over the Mississippi River into St. Louis. Luke craned his neck to see the Gateway Arch, which was a little anticlimactic, considering I'd been there before.

"Annabeth loves that stuff," he informed me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders.

"What stuff?"

"Architecture. It's her favorite thing in the world. She wants to build a monument that'll last a thousand years."

"Lofty goal," I observed. "Makes me feel embarrassed about my ambition of living into my twenties."

"Ah now, Angel," Luke teased. "There's having a dream and there's being fanciful. All the trouble you get into will have you being buried at nineteen, tops."

"Make sure that there are roses and sunflowers at my funeral," I snarked back at him, ignoring Grover's obvious horror at our morbid humor.

"Oh, but of course, Angel," he answered in a posh British accent. I patted his shoulder condescendingly. 

"Let's visit the Arch!" Grover said, obviously trying to move the topic away from my funeral. I glared at him with an incredulous look on my face. He cowered from my infuriated glare as I went to whack him over the head with my bag.

"Are you serious? This is a mission to stop the apocalypse, not a fucking sightseeing tour! What the hell is the matter with you, you goddamned, furry—"

Luke placed a hand over my mouth. I tried to bite him, but he was too quick, pulling it away and putting it back too fast for me to either hurt him or continue my rant. "Calm yourself, Angel," he drawled. "I agree with Grover. We have a while before our train leaves again, we might as well do some sightseeing to distract ourselves from the whole apocalypse thing."

"But I've already been—"

"Doesn't matter, you can go again."

So that was how we ended up standing in line at an elevator in the St. Louis' Arch while Grover passed me jolly ranchers, me trying to slip them into my mouth without taking off the mask and sunglasses I'd put on to keep from being recognized.

I kept looking around, though, at the other people in line. "You smell anything?" I murmured to Grover, voice slightly muffled from the mask.

He took his nose out of the candy bag long enough to sniff. "Underground," he said distastefully. "Underground air always smells like monsters. Probably doesn't mean anything."

But something felt wrong to me. I had a feeling we shouldn't be here.

"Guys," I said, shifting uneasily. "You know the gods' symbols of power?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, Hade—"

Grover cleared his throat. "We're in a public place... You mean, our friend downstairs?"

"Um, right," I said. "Our friend way downstairs. Doesn't he have a hat like Annabeth's?"

"You mean the Helm of Darkness," Luke nodded. "Yeah, that's his symbol of power. I saw it next to his seat during the winter solstice council meeting."

"He was there?" I asked.

He nodded again. "It's the only time he's allowed to visit Olympus— the shortest day of the year. But his helm is a lot more powerful than Annabeth's invisibility hat, if what I've heard is true..."

"It allows him to become darkness," Grover confirmed. "He can melt into shadow or pass through walls. He can't be touched, or seen, or heard. And he can radiate fear so intense it can drive you insane or stop your heart. Why do you think all rational creatures fear the dark?"

"But then... how do we know he's not here right now, watching us?" I asked.

Luke and Grover exchanged grim looks.

"We don't," Luke admitted. I noticed his hand slip to his disguised sheath, clutching his sword pommel as he scanned the area.

"Thanks, that makes me feel a lot better," I said. "Got any Snickers left?"

I'd almost mastered my jumpy nerves when I remembered the tiny little elevator car we were going to ride to the top of the Arch, and I knew I was in trouble. It felt very different from the last time I was here.

We got shoehorned into the car with this big fat lady and her dog, a Chihuahua with a rhinestone collar. I figured maybe the dog was a seeing-eye chihuahua, because none of the guards said a word about it. Usually, I liked animals, but something about that dog made me feel uncomfortable.

We started going up, inside the Arch. 

"No parents?" the lady asked us. She definitely wasn't gonna be winning any beauty contests with her beady eyes; pointy, coffee-stained teeth; a floppy denim hat, and a denim dress that bulged so much, she looked like a blue-jean blimp. I scolded myself for the insulting thoughts, but couldn't help but feel as though I needed to be wary. 

"They're below," Luke lied smoothly. "Scared of heights."

"Oh, the poor darlings."

The Chihuahua growled. The woman said, "Now, now, sonny. Behave." The dog had beady eyes like its owner, intelligent and vicious.

"Sonny," I repeated. "Is that his name?"

"No," the lady told me. She smiled, as if that cleared everything up.

At the top of the Arch, the observation deck reminded me of a tin can with carpeting. Rows of tiny windows looked out over the city on one side and the river on the other. The view was okay, but it still felt weird and I wanted out of there.

Luckily for me, the park ranger announced that the observation deck would be closing in a few minutes. I actually thanked the gods, I was so relieved.

I steered Grover and Luke toward the exit, loaded them into the elevator, and I was about to get in myself when I realized there were already two other tourists inside. No room for me. Fan-fucking-tastic. The gods were seriously out to get me.

The park ranger said, "Next car, miss."

"We'll get out," Luke offered. "We'll wait with you."

But that was going to mess everybody up and take even more time, so I waved him off as I spoke, "Nah, it's okay. I'll see you guys at the bottom."

Grover and Luke both looked nervous, but they let the elevator door slide shut. Their car disappeared down the ramp.

Now the only people left on the observation deck were me, a little boy with his parents, the park ranger, and the fat lady with her Chihuahua.

I looked around uneasily and met the eyes of the fat lady. She smiled back, her forked tongue flickering between her teeth.

Forked tongue?

Fuck.

Before I even had time to sigh, her Chihuahua jumped down and started yapping at me.

"Now, now, sonny," the lady said. "Does this look like a good time? We have all these nice people here."

"Doggie!" said the little boy. "Look, a doggie!" His parents pulled him back. The Chihuahua bared his teeth at me, foam dripping from his black lips.

"Well, son," the fat lady sighed. "If you insist."

"Uh, did you just call that Chihuahua your son?"

"Chimera, dear," the fat lady corrected. "Not a Chihuahua. It's an easy mistake to make."

She rolled up her denim sleeves, revealing that the skin of her arms was scaly and green. When she smiled, I saw that her teeth were fangs. The pupils of her eyes were sideways slits, like a reptile's.

The Chihuahua barked louder, and with each bark, it grew. First to the size of a Doberman, then to a lion. The bark became a roar. The little boy screamed. His parents pulled him back toward the exit, straight into the park ranger, who stood, paralyzed, gaping at the monster.

Terror rose up inside my throat, nearly choking me as I scrambled to turn my necklace into a sword. There were still mortals there, so I didn't want to pull out Shaker. I'd have to go with only one sword this time.

The Chimera was now so tall its back rubbed against the roof. It had the head of a lion with a blood-caked mane, the body and hooves of a giant goat, and a serpent for a tail, a ten-foot-long diamondback growing right out of its shaggy behind. The rhinestone dog collar still hung around its neck, and the plate-sized dog tag was now easy to read: CHIMERA— RABID, FIRE-BREATHING, POISONOUS— IF FOUND, PLEASE CALL TARTARUS— EXT. 954.

I was ten feet away from the Chimera's bloody maw, and I knew that as soon as I moved, the creature would lunge.

The snake lady made a hissing noise that might've been laughter. "Be honored, Astraea Jackson. Lord Zeus rarely allows me to test a hero with one of my brood. For I am the Mother of Monsters, the terrible Echidna!"

I stared at her. All I could think to say was: "Isn't that a kind of anteater?"

She howled, her reptilian face turning brown and green with rage. "I hate it when people say that! I hate Australia! Naming that ridiculous animal after me. For that, Astraea Jackson, my son shall destroy you!"

The Chimera charged, its lion teeth gnashing. I managed to leap aside and dodge the bite.

I ended up next to the family and the park ranger, who were all screaming now, trying to pry open the emergency exit doors.

I couldn't let them get hurt. I ran to the other side of the deck, and yelled, "Hey, Chihuahua!" The Chimera turned faster than I would've thought possible.

Before I could swing my sword, it opened its mouth, emitting a stench like the world's largest barbecue pit, and shot a column of flame straight at me.

I dove through the explosion. The carpet burst into flames; the heat was so intense, it nearly seared off my eyebrows. For once I was grateful for being forced to do the lava climbing wall at camp. At least I was mostly desensitized to being viciously burned now. I was hardly able to feel the mask fall off of my face. 

Where I had been standing a moment before was a ragged hole in the side of the Arch, with melted metal steaming around the edges.

Great, I thought. I just blow torched a national monument. I was pretty sure that was a felony. Did Missouri have the death penalty? Oh, fuck, it did. Riptide was a shining bronze blade in my hands, and as the Chimera turned, I slashed at its neck.

That was my fatal mistake. The blade sparked harmlessly off the dog collar. I tried to regain my balance, losing my sunglasses in the process, but I was so worried about defending myself against the fiery lion's mouth, I completely forgot about the serpent tail until it whipped around and sank its fangs into my calf.

The pain was agonizing. My whole leg was on fire. I tried to jab Riptide into the Chimera's mouth, but the serpent tail wrapped around my ankles and pulled me off balance, and my blade flew out of my hand, spinning out of the hole in the Arch and down toward the Mississippi River.

As a last resort, I tried to pull out Shaker, but the Chimera wouldn't let me.

I managed to get to my feet, but I knew I had lost. I was weaponless. I could feel deadly poison racing up to my chest. I remembered Chiron saying that my swords would always return to me, but Riptide hadn't come back yet. 

I backed into the hole in the wall. The Chimera advanced, growling, smoke curling from its lips. The snake lady, Echidna, cackled. "They don't make heroes like they used to, eh, son?"

The monster growled. It seemed in no hurry to finish me off now that I was beaten. I summoned up enough strength to glare at it contemptuously like it was some sort of insect.

Then a noise made me glance at the park ranger and the family. The little boy was hiding behind his father's legs. I had to protect these people. I couldn't just... die. I tried to think, but my whole body was on fire. My head felt dizzy. 

There was no place else to go, so I stepped to the edge of the hole. Far, far below, the river glittered.

If I died, would the monsters go away? Would they leave the humans alone?

"If you are truly the daughter of Poseidon," Echidna hissed, "you would not fear water. Jump, Astraea Jackson. Show me that water will not harm you. Jump and retrieve your sword. Prove your bloodline."

I was genuinely torn. I knew that hitting water from very high up was the same as hitting concrete, but still. Chiron had said that children of gods had control over their immortal parents' domains. And I was dying anyway.

The Chimera's mouth glowed red, heating up for another blast.

"You have no faith," Echidna told me. "You do not trust the gods. I cannot blame you, little coward. Better you die now. The gods are faithless. The poison is in your heart."

She was right: I was dying. I could feel my breath slowing down. Nobody could save me, not even the gods.

I backed up and looked down at the water. I'd never been afraid of heights, but staring down, knowing I was dead save for a miracle, made me nauseous. I remembered the warm glow of what could've been my father. My mom had taught me never to give up until you were outright dead. I couldn't disrespect her memory by not trying to do something to survive. My eyes darted frantically around the area, searching for a solution to my situation.

My eyes again went to water swirling beneath us. I remembered the swirling green trident that had appeared above my head the night of that fateful game of capture the flag, when Poseidon had claimed me as his daughter.

But this wasn't the sea. This was the Mississippi River, dead center of the USA. There was no Sea God here.

"Die, faithless one," Echidna rasped, and the Chimera was about to send a column of fire towards my face, but I reacted quickly and with the last of my strength, pulled out Shaker and stuck it through the Chimera's mouth. I didn't wait to see if both had dusted or if I'd even fully killed the Chimera.

With a final thought of both of my parents, I turned and jumped out of the Arch.

*    *    *

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[heavybrainlady]

(photo credits to the real owner)

Hey, today is my first day writing for myself. Say it's a journal. Why the reason? I lack friends. I don't have anyone who will take me seriously. I think no one can comprehend. Or maybe it's just me and my issues.

As usual, I went to our "billiard business" today because I was given the assignment to manage our tiny "business". For a month now, I have been there. And despite the fact that I already know them and they already know me, I still find it awkward to face them. I do really suffer from what is known as social anxiety. Even in our school, where I have been with my classmates for quite some time, I find it difficult to speak in front of strangers and in front of large crowds. I terribly desire to have a close-knit group of buddies. A number of my pals live far away and are also far too busy for me to reach out to them. I've always made an effort to blend in, but I still feel excluded. I even attended their gatherings, yet I'm still an outsider. I don't know where I fit in.

It's awful to be experiencing this kind of anxiousness. I don't intend to develop this kind of condition. I wish I wasn't like this, but I have no idea how to change. Any mental health condition makes it impossible for you to manage your thoughts. I genuinely need professional assistance, but my family is unable to pay for it, and no one is aware that I have these kinds of mental health problems. They never questioned my wellbeing. Did you know? When I am having an anxiety attack, I'm merely writing about it. I just write it down in my "note" app since I have no one to tell. All of the information and thoughts about how I feel and what I want to convey that nobody knew.

Some people have a very narrow perspective of those who struggle with anxiety and depression. Some claim that they are simply exaggerating and overreacting. Actually, we're not. We are truly in pain. My hands shake a lot while I'm having an anxiety attacks. I occasionally have trouble breathing and a severe headache that feels like a migraine. Some people are puking. And that's how miserable our life is.

xoxo,

lone fairy

[purplesurveys]

1791

When was the last time you felt exhausted? Last night.

....and why did/do you feel that way? Well, it was New Year's. It didn't help that I had New Year's Eve work since my client is one of the handful of bodies organizing a major public countdown event so I had to be there for a bit; then I had to Fast and the Furious my way back home in the evening to make it to the NYE mass + my family's media noche. Then I had like 10 glasses of wine and did a ton of karaoke...I don't even remember at what point I fell asleep haha. Next thing I knew I was waking up at 10 AM.

How often do you feel exhausted? Pretty much everyday. My job is taxing when it comes to creativity and idea-generating.

What are three things you like about Instagram? I like the interface they have for the reels. It's also nice that small businesses have found a home in Instagram, so it makes access to food beyond the big franchises very accessible. I'd say those two are my favorite parts; I'm not the type to identify things I like about social media platforms as at the end of the day they're all the same.

What have you found to be the cruelest thing about growing up? You can do absolutely everything but if you get dealt a bad hand things can always fall apart at any second and out of your control.

When was the last time you went trick-or-treating? 🎃 I can't remember if I was 16 or 17 but it was definitely when I was in high school. My friends and I gathered at Chelsea's place then we went around the neighborhood for candies; I went as Sofie.

Which do you think is scarier: change or staying the same? Depends on what kind of situation we're talking about. Things aren't black or white in this context.

Would you rather go on vacation to Florida or California? And why did you choose that state? California. I'm not interested in either state but I feel like I'd be more at a loss on what I could do or where I could visit in Florida. Also isn't Florida kind of conservative? I might go crazy in there.

Can you believe that in three months it will be October already? I'm answering this from January, but I mean yes in general it is crazy how fast years go by.

In life, do you feel like you are winning or failing? Why so? I'm definitely winning. In the grand scheme of things I have a good job that I just happen to be increasingly miserable in, and in my personal life I'm relatively privileged. I just feel directionless at the moment, but I refuse to think that that means I'm failing.

Have you ever taken a selfie inside of a doctor's office? That is very specific haha. Yes I have actually! I took a few selfies when I was waiting to get treated for my dog bite because I partly also found it hilarious that I found myself in such a situation. My nose and lips were completely fucked.

What is your favorite season, and what are three reasons why it is your favorite season? Idk, I can never relate when it comes to these season questions. 

Are you good at painting your nails? 💅 Not at all. My hands aren't stable and I'm always either missing spots or painting beyond my nails.

Do you have a lot of regrets from your past? Yup, small regrets here and there. I don't have any major regrets, like the type I would lose sleep over.

What is one biblical command that you often have trouble obeying? Not believing in the Bible.

What do you do when you're feeling overwhelmed? I allow myself the time to first ignore the Thing that's overwhelming me, so I can get back to it once my mind is a little bit more clearer.

Do you prefer sun or rain? Rain.

Would you say you are more creative or logical? Logical.

How often do you pray? 🙏 Never.

What is the closest thing to you right now that is blue? My Koya bedroom slippers.

What was the last hot beverage you drank? My favorite hot chocolate from La Creperie.

What is your favorite thing that you've done so far this summer? Flew to Thailand to see Yoongi.

[fluxofthemouth]

Of course the farmers didn't set up any particular sleeping arrangements in the hayloft. Not for an enemy. Piter finds it inadequate for Faeyeth and frowns. First, because it won't do, and then because he realizes he would have accepted it for himself. Has he actually been successfully conditioned to see the noble-born as superior to himself?

I spared her and brought her with because she was kind to me, he remembers, as he pulls a hay bale into the middle of the space to start sectioning out two 'rooms'. He is small and slight, and unused to physical labor. He doesn't do it with a smile.

Is that all I want, though? he asks himself, as he moves another one into place. For them to be NICE to me as they use me like a tool for their purposes? As they take credit for my work as an extension of their will and power?

He surveys his work so far, frowning. A new castle for Faeyeth. And she didn't even fucking build it. His fingers burn mildly with a bristly afterimage of straw. She is inside, being attended to. The entrenched patterns of this world are hungry.

But no... it's more than just that, he thinks. Studying the setup makes him think the walls should be two bales high, for better privacy. If three bales high could make it even better, they're never going to find out because he doesn't suppose he can lift a hay bale that high.

She is more than an idea, more than a representative of her station, he thinks, as he works on the wall. She's a young woman who's been controlled and sheltered all her life. She does not misuse or abuse me just by asking me for help. I am not responding to some 'divine right of kings' when I recognize need and offer support. I think I would do all of the same work for her regardless of her station, once i had decided to help.

There's loose straw all over the floor that could be gathered and pushed into a sleeping nest, but he's also been stepping on it. He cuts open a fresh hay bale and makes Faeyeth a clean one. He'll leave the farmers another silver for that. If he remembers, and if he remembers to care.

Once I had decided to help... but I DON'T go around helping people.

It's one of the more puzzling sides to this whole chain of events. He hasn't thought about his mother and her side of the family in a long time. They're a scheming nest of weasels; and his father's side of the family is a drooling pack of dogs, for that matter. But just for a moment, when he told the farmer that Faeyeth was family, he had an unsettling but not entirely unsettling curiosity about what could have been. What it would be like to have a bond built on trust, connection, and companionship. Because the safest, most reliable bonds he has ever known were always built on things like money and usefulness.

He shakes his head. He doesn't like to think about his actual family. And the theoretical family that could have wanted him and would have protected him doesn't exist and can't save him, then or now or ever.

A more practical thought: If she gets a bed, I get a bed.

He will have to make sure he offers Faeyeth a road to sharing their burdens of travel as an equal, as they continue to travel, and as she is able to learn her way out of the worst of that helplessness. Even if he wanted to carry out the role of a humble servant to a princess, it would be no good to her. Things would start out great, and then his patience would run out, and then there'd be no one around to maintain the old order of things by force, so he'd just snap and kill her. He is both a dog and a weasel. As dramatic and miserable and scheming and bickering as his family members might be, he is a worse creature than all of them.

When Faeyeth returns, the loft is ready: neatly divided in half by a wall two hay bales high, and with two sleeping nests set out. The loft is ready, and Piter is not: he only meant to rest, but then he very nearly fell asleep. He sits up and smiles to see her, then frowns as she says she'd like to ask him something, very nervously.

Right; of course the farmers told her everything. Well, here goes everything, up in flames anyway.

"You can ask me anything you'd like," he says, gentle and encouraging, though sorrowful in anticipation. Part of him is sure that a rejection is incoming. He's a little surprised to find that he already forgives her for that, but it's true.

When they arrived there, Fayeth was so tired already! Her feet hurt, as her shoes hadn't been made for walking. Yet, the excitement was there. And she wouldn't lose any opportunity to figuratively kiss Piter's frowns away by being her general self.

Of course, she was a pretty contained lady once they had company, and she did lower her gaze when he spoke of her marriage, pretty much looking like a beaten dove as she thought of what Piter had saved her from. The story to the family hadn't been a lie, though so lacking in details. Had her eyes been over the conversation, she'd feel a particularly warm, sorry, gaze from the farmer's wife.

For a moment, not even the exchange got Fayeth full attention, though she was rather curious about the papers.. she would have to ask about them later to Piter. She had never thought that people traded that.

And, oh, she owed him even more now, didn't she? But at least they had a barn to sleep in! A pleased smile was already growing, in a quite silly joy, before it faded.

What, he expected her to leave his side and sleep inside the house?

"No, no, I couldn't bear separating from Uncle!" she covered her cheeks, almost horrified at the idea. What if something happened in the middle of the night? If they needed to flee? What if the farmer wasn't proper? Of course, he was clearly married, but... what if? "He is the only person I have now" she explained. And maybe it was the sincere and irreducible grief spurring her very being, but they simply indulged her. Thank God. Because she trusted Piter. And if anything happened, she wished to be right beside him, because he knew things.

"Do come and wash yourself, though, dear" the woman said with an inviting extended hand "I'm Valeska" she offered.

"Clara" Fayeth said, rushed, even though she had already been introduced.

The woman got Fayeth to a more private room and brought her enough supplies for her to clean herself. Nothing fancy. But Fayeth managed, scrubbing her arms with something way rougher than what she was used to and trying not to make a face.

They short talked and Fayeth tried to be as honest as she could be. Oh, we traveled all night. Piter said it was safer. No, I had no wish or desire to be married (this part had an unmistakable dread and no one could ever assume otherwise). And then lots of: Of course I trust him, he is family. Don't worry ma'am.

And the woman seemed delighted at being called ma'am. What manners did this young girl have! What a sweetie! But of course, this wild thing must been living a fine life before, as her cloak was velvet. The dress seemed expensive. The shoes too. The words. The stance. The frown upon using a scrubber.

Once Fayeth was done cleaning her own face and arms, the woman left her alone. Fayeth's clothes were rather complicated, and it took her a while to manage to take those off. But in the end, she did it and managed to get herself clean. Just in time for Valeska to shove a simpler dress into the room.

Fayeth grabbed that, surprised by its lack of layers. A lack of layers that implicated it was easier to move and run with it. It was of a sandy yellow, and the cotton was so soft. There was even a hat. Fayeth loved hats!

But of course, it took a certain amount of convincing from Valeska for her to accept it. How could she accept something from farmers? They didn't have that much. Though they were clearly not lacking supplies.

"Clara, mind your safety while traveling, alright? No man is to be trusted" she said, while giving what was left of the soap for Fayeth to keep.

"I trust Uncle" she said, frowning in confusion. "I mean no disrespect, it warms my heart and should everything you and your husband have done for us— but why..." how could she ask this? "Why do you seem so..."

The woman waved her words away and touched her arms. She whispered something near Fayeth's ears that made her stumble back. "I... I should meet Uncle" she said, with a nervous smile.

Holding bread, cheese, a glass of milk, and her piece of soap, Fayeth was led to the barn. Her fancy clothes and cloak safely in a bag. She placed the food on a wooden table nearby. Or it seemed to be a table, anyway. "Sir Piter?" she called, in a whisper. She couldn't see well in the dark. Was he already here? Or in the house? "I've brought supper, for us. I have something... I have something to ask you, too.... " this part was quite nervous, a parallel to the generally collected being she had been since she arrived. "Are you there?". @fluxofthemouth

[ghooostbaby]

deeeep dive into why and how wei wuxian and lan wangji love each other, complete each other, are the inverse reflection of each other’s deeply hidden internal selves mirrored through the other’s external self, lan wangji’s inner wildness that he has to conceal and protect recognizing and loving wei wuxian’s outer wildness, wei wuxian’s deep, fuddy-duddy morality and values that he conceals with an elaborate subterfuge of jokes, mischief, and bravado, seeing and loving in lan wangji the ability to say no that it was never safe for him to express directly, “between you and me there is no need for thank you and sorry”

oh and a slight diversion midway through into a manifesto on WEI WUXIAN IS NOT INSECURE the whole story is about a society where being liked is ESSENTIAL for survival and it is actually completely perilous not to be liked, and his “people pleasing” is a skill and tool for his survival especially as an orphan and proven to be a necessary one when he stops doing it and STOPS SURVIVING

after the cut discussing the very interesting dynamics of consent in general in the novel, but not going into the consensual non-consent kink stuff till the last paragraph if you need to avoid for any reason.

I've been thinking about how Lan WangJi sees in Wei WuXian the exterior, unfettered expression of the wildness Lan WangJi holds in him and protects with rigid codes of conduct, propriety and outward dignity.

I have had this sense that these two are mirrors, either one reflecting the hidden, interior (and unallowed) self of the other. but it seemed more clear from Lan WangJi's side, especially knowing about his history with his mother and the spicy side that emerges when he drinks and in the extras.

I also - just... the way this whole story shows how romantic love is truly this longing for your self, to become yourself, to become the thing you're not allowed to be, seeing in that person the expression of whatever it is you can't become and longing for it, protecting it, joining with it as closely as you can without ever being able to let it live inside your own body.

On the surface it seems a lot more difficult for Wei WuXian to find a piece of his soul in Lan Wangji. I think its a bit too simplistic to see whatever draws Wei WuXian to Lan Wangji as a reverse-psychology sort of craving of acceptance from the only one who won't give it, pushing and pushing against this impenetrable boundary that he needs to break to feel assurance that no matter what he can make anyone accept him.

And he is SO drawn - in a mind boggling way, in the teenage flashbacks Lan WangJi rudely and aggressively throws him off over and over and Wei WuXian cannot keep away! Even when he talks about how boring Lan WangJi is, he never stops trying to be around him and talk to him.

I've seen discussions of the way Wei WuXian has always relied on the goodwill of others to survive, and that his placating of others to survive is a character flaw. Although that seems only halfway true. 

As a young child he didn't have anyone's goodwill for a while and he survived, and it seems like he can always find a way to survive from whatever means and sometimes very limited resources he has at his disposal. Doing what he has to do to become powerful enough to survive losing his core and being thrown into the burial mounds slowly costs him the goodwill of everyone around him - and what happens to him as a result shows how much placation was a truly necessary for someone without the protection of biological/hereditary family bonds.

(Don’t get me started on how his loss of his golden core and his development of demonic cultivation to give himself power by ‘unnatural methods’ through the use of a musical instrument is a metaphor for disability and the way ableist society sees the use of accessibility devices and tools. Actually please DO get my started haha.)

Wei WuXian is so charismatic and seems very used to getting what he wants and needs on the strength of that. He pushes a lot of boundaries and seems pretty confident and flexibly prepared to handle the consequences, whether beatings or harsh words. But he does work so hard to make others feel good, good with him, good with themselves.

When he is in the cave with Lan WangJi, Wei WuXian is described as "like one who forgets all past pain as soon as the wound heals". He can't resist coming up beside Lan WangJi and talking to him again and again after every time Lan WangJi pushes him off, only finally staying away when Lan WangJi bites him (and he still keeps trying to talk to him after a little bit!) and then calls him an awful person (!!! Bad Wangji! :(((( ). In the end, when Lan WangJi (very minimally) discloses what happened to his sect and his father, and even cries, because of all the defences/assaults Lan WangJi has put up Wei WuXian can't do anything or say anything to help and feels miserable.

Lan WangJi just absolutely refuses to allow Wei WuXian to take care of him - and I began to wonder maybe that’s what Wei WuXian actually really likes about him? Why he is unable to resist coming up to Lan WangJi again and again? Maybe because Lan WangJi refuses to let Wei WuXian appease him. He’s not trying to crack Lan WangJi to get to this impenetrable place of approval and acceptance. In a way he can’t quite understand, Lan WangJi is a respite for Wei WuXian from the constant work to be the one who pleases.

And  how different this is to how Wei WuXian is (or has to be) with Jiang Cheng when he wakes up in Lotus Pier after the cave. Jiang Cheng gets so down and really really needs Wei WuXian to do what he does so well (and wasn’t allowed to do with Lan WangJi) - chasing Jiang Cheng down while being injured and reassuring him about all his insecurities about his father's acceptance and becoming a sect leader and Wei WuXian's own abilities excelling his - and at first Jiang Cheng is pushing him away, but he really does need Wei WuXian to do all this to feel better.

Wei WuXian is described as not wanting to be lonely, and not wanting to see other people unhappy, and he keeps trying to push and pull with whatever he has to not be lonely and lift the mood for those around him. I don't think it's a kind of codependency or insecurity. It’s not that Wei WuXian is afraid to say no, in fact I would say he doesn't do anything he doesn't want to do, but he must always do it creatively, with humour. Similarly to Nie Huaisang, he uses a persona of foolishness to give himself a covert agency.

I also think I'm writing this because I don't like seeing this discussed as a sad bean character flaw for him to always need to be liked - its a strategy, its a tool, its how he survives and excels. Doesn’t the whole story prove how essential being liked is to a human’s survival? And he is so so good at being liked, in making others happy, even when he is refusing to do what others want from him that he doesn't want to do, he does it in a way that deflects criticism, with a smiling bravado that never says what it truly means and has people writing him off as shameless or foolish or just endearing himself toward them despite themselves.

He is always at work really, with jokes and flattery or mischief and teasing, to get the resources he wants and needs. Case and point, when he makes a big coquettish show for mianmian, definitely not being "people pleasing" for her, but the group of girls around them all find it funny and cute and in the end she gives him a perfume sachet which ends up being a valuable resource for later. Or the time he outright tells Jiang Cheng that if you give the girls some lotus seeds they'll remember you and return the favour in the future. (Also notice how his interactions with girls seen as flirtatious are actually strategic resource-gathering acts.) These are the skills he has developed to meet his own needs. (THIS IS NOT A CHARACTER FLAW. I REPEAT.) He takes what he needs and steals from the Lotus Pier markets knowing it'll be paid for, he lives like he never know when his next windfall will come from so he'll take what he can when he can find it. Like Jiang Fengmian said, if there is no guarantee of a meal in the future then today's meal should still be enjoyed. It’s how Wei WuXian said to Nie Huaisang at Cloud Recesses, you have to find ways to make your own fun out of whatever you have. So he gets kicked out of class, goes fishing, gets alcohol, he pursues his own pleasure. He actually is quite insistent of his own agency and right to choose, he just can never directly say no.

And that little detail that Wei WuXian always tucks coins into his clothes just in case, that makes him able to buy food when he and Jiang Cheng are on the run... breaks my heart and reveals so much about the way Wei WuXian is constantly at work on ensuring his own survival and never takes for granted whether he is safe (he knows he never is). 

I've seen some people talking about Wei WuXian sacrificing so much for his brother and sister out of a need to be accepted out of a chronic sense of insecurity. But isn’t this just true? Doesn't he live in a world where being accepted is absolutely essential for survival? Doesn’t this whole story show the cruelty of a social system based on networks of hereditary/biological family that closes out and scapegoats any outsiders, and that without biological family connections that can enclose around you, you can never truly be safe if not constantly working to earn acceptance? (And then beautifully ends with the way a gay romantic relationship that queers marriage/family/etc disrupts all this and creates safety and inclusion for Wei WuXian without needing a normative family.) (AKA romantic love does not resolve some internal personal problem in Wei WuXian but disrupts and refuses and rebels against the problem of SOCIETY.) (*breathes heavily*)

And that’s why Lan WangJi is magnetizing to Wei WuXian. Lan WangJi is always saying no. Although what Lan WangJi sees in Wei WuXian is an exterior wildness, Wei WuXian is not really out of control so much as he is playing and caring and supplicating and showing off and pleasing people to get the resources and the acceptance he needs to live his life. He has firm values and desires that he can never outwardly state, only creatively spinning plates to distract and deflect while he refuses what goes against his values, protects who he cares for, or takes what he needs to in order to survive/thrive. Lan WangJi embodies an exterior of resoluteness and direct agency that Wei WuXian doesn't have the luxury of. And he's so drawn to him for his ability to repeatedly say no, to refuse to get along, or make others laugh, make other people happy, but just simply follow what he thinks is right.

Wei WuXian’s outward wild movement protects an inward stillness. He is an exterior of people-pleasing around an interior of refusal. He is an exterior of youthful rebellion around an interior of unflinching morality. He sees in Lan WangJi the outward expression of his stillness, his morality, his resistance that he can't express, that he's had to protect.

FYI after the cut gets more into the dynamics of consent in the story, and the last paragraph directly talks about consensual non-consent kink play in wangxian’s relationship.

When Wei WuXian is with Lan WangJi, there is no work to be done. Lan WangJi cannot be swayed by him, and so there's no point vying for resources or favors. Lan WangJi will either give him everything or refuse him everything based on who he is, it does not matter what Wei WuXian does and he can't do anything that will change Lan WangJi’s mind. Someone he literally can't win over. After the resurrection, they are often in an adorable tug of war, where Wei WuXian tries to take care of Lan WangJi, while Lan WangJi won't allow him to but demands to care of Wei WuXian right back. Actually, Lan WangJi insists that Wei WuXian take everything he wants or needs from him and is even angry when he doesn't take or when Wei WuXian tries to offer a gesture in return, even something as simple as a thank you Lan WangJi won't accept. It’s kind of adorable how frustrated Wei WuXian is in doing this thing he's learned that he needs to do, and just... so confused by Lan WangJi, and has to find a way to please this person who aggressively refuses to be pleased and is ONLY pleased by Wei WuXian being pleased.

(Not to mention the way Wei WuXian delights in finding that Lan WangJi can’t say what he wants, and they have sort of these chaotic cohesive both-being-so-pleased-by-working-hard-to-please each-other moments where Wei WuXian is letting Lan WangJi please him by finding out what pleases Lan WangJi and giving it to him.)

The wildness Lan WangJi had always hidden within himself is something he sees as just as dangerous as Wei WuXian thinks of his desire to refuse. He saw his mother be socially alienated, shunned, and eventually die because of her wildness. His ability to survive in the world, aka to be accepted by his family, is contingent on him being able to control this inner wildness. From a young age (re: Phoenix Mountain kiss) he could only understand his sexual desires for Wei WuXian as something repulsive or dangerous that had to be repressed and controlled, and that the only way he could imagine his desires as possible was as non-consensual. His secret gay desires were never available to him as anything but something monstrous.

Importantly, it’s not like everyone else other than Lan WangJi are all vampires cruelly demanding Wei WuXian’s constant sacrifice. Wei WuXian is always vibrantly, charismatically offering so much, before anyone has asked. It’s Wei WuXian who creates this kind of relationship for himself again and again. It’s Lan WangJi who simply refuses - he refuses to charmed, to be cared for. And so in the end Lan WangJi becomes the one person who Wei WuXian feels doesn't need anything from him. When he says he's eating the corpse's fruit to save Lan WangJi money and Lan WangJi says that will never be necessary. Or when Wei WuXian asks what toy he should win for Lan WangJi at the market game, and Lan WangJi says anything Wei WuXian gets will be the one he wants. (XD stahhhhp it’s too sweet !!!) He really just wants Wei WuXian to be, to exist, to spend his life discovering his own desires and allow Lan WangJi to help satisfy them, he doesn't want anything from Wei WuXian other than him living - happy and safe.

It takes someone like Lan WangJi to refuse Wei WuXian’s aggressive generosity, it’s definitely not an easy thing to say no to Wei WuXian, dazzling or annoying people so chaotically before they even realize there’s something to say no to. The sacrifice he gives to Jiang Cheng, he never even offers a choice - and perhaps it would have been too much for Jiang Cheng to accept if he had the chance.

Lan WangJi’s statement "Between us there is no need for thank you and sorry" seems like one of the most important sentences in the novel, and you can’t help but noticed the way “sorry” and “thank you” is littered meaningfully through the book. What is owed, what the characters owe to each other, the give and take, touches every part of the story (down to wangxian's erotic explorations!).

When Jiang Cheng talks to Wei WuXian at the Guanyin temple he makes a lot of contradictory statements about what Wei WuXian owes, what he was given, what he took, what he (Wei WuXian still) is owed in return. Wei WuXian, according to Jiang Cheng, took everything from the Jiang clan, and paid them back with their deaths. The Jiang clan give him his life when they took him in, and he owed Jiang Cheng service for the rest of his life as the right hand to the sect leader, that’s what Wei WuXian had promised anyway. At the same time, Wei WuXian sacrificed everything (his golden core) to Jiang Cheng, by giving everything he was taking one more thing - Jiang Cheng’s right to even be angry at him. Jiang Cheng had taken everything from Wei WuXian. Everything that happened around Wei WuXian after could be said to be because of the loss of his golden core, which Jiang Cheng might be said to be responsible for. But he never asked for it, maybe he never would have wanted it. He wishes Wei WuXian told him, but Jiang Cheng never told Wei WuXian his golden core was melted while he was sacrificing himself to save Wei WuXian. He wants Wei wuxian to say sorry, but that makes him feel pathetic. And Jiang Cheng says sorry too. It’s a mess of paradoxes, and in the end somehow it seems like the scales are balanced in the most hollow, dismal way.

What is owed, what is given, what is taken ... Wei WuXian has never been part of a family. He has always had to say thank you and sorry for everything he's taken. Wei WuXian himself admits that he used "thank you" as a way to enforce distance between himself and Lan WangJi. Lan WangJi's point i think is that they belong to each other, Wei WuXian is his, and he is Wei WuXian's, unconditionally. The way that Jiang Cheng speaks of him in the Guanyin temple (admittedly I read a fan translation and this is very nuanced, related to slight variations of grammar), even when Jiang Cheng clearly is so broken by the loss of Wei WuXian from his life, he talks about Wei WuXian as an outsider. It is what MY family gave to YOU, never what you took from our family. But at one point Wei WuXian was part of their family - but he takes too much, and becomes an ex-disciple, not a brother. Wei WuXian’s inclusion as a Jiang was always conditional. 

Even when Wen Qing and Wen Ning leave him to go take the blame for qiongqing path they tell him "thank you and sorry", drawing a line between them and him, so he doesn’t even belong to these people who he sacrificed everything for. The way Wei WuXian acted when he was younger, he was always keenly aware of this - he always knew that he didn’t belong to anyone, no one is going to protect him unconditionally. And after first escaping the Burial Mounds, he is done pretending. When Lan WangJi warns him about what a demonic cultivation path will do to his heart, Wei WuXian replies: “After all, on the topic of how my heart is, what could other people know about it? Why should other people care about it?” He is done pleasing. Nothing has changed really, he still belongs to no one and is alone, but now he is angry about it, and instead of saying thank you and sorry he is going to become too powerful to be at anyone's mercy. And then we see in the story afterward what happens to people who don't say thank you and sorry.

The whole point I think is the impossibility of choice, the impossibility of consent in this society. If he didn't forgo the behaviour his social acceptance was conditional on, he wouldn't have survived the burial mounds. But once he becomes powerful enough to survive and get revenge on the Wens, he is socially outcast. Except he was already outcast from the beginning.

And so how do Wei WuXian and Lan WangJi find a way through all that to a life together where all their desires are possible, where Wei WuXian can say no while also being pleasing (safe) to others, and Lan WangJi can indulge in his wild desires while still being good? The answer is kinky sex!

It is kind of miraculous and beautiful how Wei WuXian finds a way to say no, while simultaneously pleasing Lan WangJi, giving pleasure, while taking it, saying no, and knowing his refusal is not just tolerated, but gives Lan WangJi pleasure, knowing Lan wangji and knowing the painful belief Lan WangJi holds within that his desires are unacceptable and unspeakable, and that Wei WuXian can take care of Lan Wangji in a secret little way and please him and give everything to him by craving this wildness in Lan WangJi while at the same time he gets to say no again and again , and it won't push Lan WangJi away, he can refuse everything while at the same time be totally pleasing and thus safe, and also for Lan WangJi, Wei WuXian's pleasure at saying "no" while still being held onto, that he genuinely wants to be fucked even while begging Lan WangJi to stop (and the many ways he does give his consent for this throughout, especially their first time), allows Lan WangJi the ecstatic feeling that this idea that his sexual desires are only possible through force are not just something his lover forgives him for but something his lover is SO turned on by, and that he has consent for his fantasies of non-consent, Wei WuXian has the same fantasies from the other side, he is doing what he is supposed to while doing what he shouldn't, and actually these monstrous feelings in him allow him to take care of Wei WuXian in a way that he needs - that they both need - and all these impulses that are so wrong with Wei WuXian become very right and a way to do good. And they are just both so perfect and perfect for each other and I love them and I am so happy for them to have a long kinky life together.

[kirain]

I started playing rdr2 but stopped because like idk but I can't seem to get over the fact that all the women are prostitutes and they don't really have any important roles. Like what's Abigail do? Ooh she's a mother who's always mad? What do the other women do? Oooh they sleep with the gang. What's Sadie do? Oooh she becomes a badly written femme fetale who suddenly becomes a flawless killer. The women are just so badly represented.

I get the feeling you didn't play the game naturally or see any random encounters, because none of what you said is true. There's a lot to unpack here, so let's start with the "all the women are prostitutes" comment.

First of all, none of the women are prostitutes, a fact that deeply irritates Micah. During a coach robbery where he rides with Arthur and Bill, he even says, “Why the hell do we need a gaggle of girls who won’t even fuck you if you put a gun to their head? Is it too much to ask considering they get a piece of every damn dollar I bring in?” Poor baby. He even tries to proposition all of the women (Grimshaw included), but they all insult him and send him running with his tail between his legs. It’s hilarious and I love it. Arthur also responds to Micah with, “Everyone does their share. I don’t see you lifting a finger around camp.”

Now a bit about the girls:

Mary-Beth was a skilled pickpocket, but she ended up being caught by a group of her victims. She mentions this during a conversation with Arthur, where she points out how hard it was for women who came from nothing, and the inequality of it all. RDR2 actually regularly highlights how difficult frontier/outlaw life was for women back then, often pulling zero punches. While fleeing her pursuers, Mary-Beth luckily ran into Hosea, who helped her escape and welcomed her to the gang. You can see Dutch lusting after her a few times, because he's an old pervert, but she always shuns his advances. She was never a prostitute and she was actually underage when she joined.

Tilly was a child outlaw and a member of the Forman gang from the age of twelve. She ended up killing the leader's cousin because he [as is heavily implied] tried to rape her. She was around sixteen at the time and tried to return to her mother after the ordeal, but she unfortunately passed away while Tilly was running with the Formans. Out of options, she eventually joined the van der Linde gang after Dutch saved her from some unspecified trouble. You can find most of this out during one of my favourite side missions, where she gets kidnapped by Anthony Foreman in retaliation for killing his cousin. With Grimshaw’s help, you can rescue Tilly and put an end to it once and for all. She was never a prostitute and was also underage when taken in.

Susan Grimshaw was one of the original members of the gang and one of Dutch's first lovers. They parted amicably and both fell in love with other people (Dutch with Annabelle, and Susan with a doctor who sadly ended up dying), but she stayed with the gang because of their mutual respect for each other. She later became the arbiter of the camp and a kind of surrogate mother to Arthur, John, and the other girls. She was never a prostitute, but rather a rough-and-tumble outlaw.

Karen is a little more complicated. Overall, she was a scam artist (Hosea even called her an “actress”) who sometimes lured men into brothels, then stole from them or picked their brains for leads. That doesn't necessarily mean she was a prostitute; however, it just means she used sex as a manipulation tactic. Out of all the women in the group, she was the freest and most unconventional. She also stood on guard duty and participated in heists. The only man she ever slept with in game was Sean, and his death absolutely devastated her. If you talk to her or observe her interactions, you also discover she’s a raging alcoholic suffering from some very deep-seated issues. She likely did have to do things she wasn’t proud of in order to survive, but in my opinion that makes her one of the most realistic members of the group. She was never described as a prostitute.

Molly was an aristocrat who left her family to be with Dutch. His abusive treatment eventually led her to suffer an identity crisis, where she ended up hysterical and heartbroken. Her story is sad, but she was never a prostitute. If anything, Molly is the best example we have that Dutch views people as items, not human beings.

Abigail is the only prostitute in the game, but by the events of RDR2 she's an ex-prostitute. To say she's nothing more than "a mother who's always mad", I feel, does her character a great disservice. First of all, she left that profession behind to raise her son, to give him a decent chance in life. Unlike John, she stepped up immediately to become a responsible adult. I don't think people realise how impressive that is because, one, she could've easily abandoned Jack at the roadside (which was common back then), two, she could've induced an abortion, and three, she was quite young when she had him; around nineteen years old.

You say the women are "poorly represented", but they're stronger, smarter, and more mature than most of the men. A few of them even become self-sufficient in the turn of the century, something dear old Dutch couldn't even do/accept. Abigail in particular helps Sadie mourn her husband and the two grow very close. Their interactions are both grounded and heartwarming, with Abigail telling Sadie she’ll suffer the loss of her husband, but that it’ll get better if she keeps on living. She takes care of her, and Sadie later returns that kindness. These women are so full of quirks and humour and personality, I don’t know how you missed it.

As for Sadie ... where do I even begin? Badly written? Femme fatale? Flawless killer? Sadie is one of the best written characters. She's not flawless, she's exceptionally flawed, temperamental, and traumatised. It's never expressly stated, but it's implied at several points throughout the game that she was repeatedly assaulted while the O'Driscolls kept her captive. At first, she's petrified and miserable, to the point that all she does is cry and express suicidal ideation. Then, she gets angry. Very angry. Having nothing left to live for, her home and husband torn from her grasp, she throws herself headfirst into danger, which almost gets her killed on a number of occasions.

She's not a "flawless killer", she's a messy killer. She's not an expert death-dealer, and that's made evident from the start -- but she was a hunter who shared the workload with her husband, so it's not as if her skills just magically appeared. You do see how much it weighs on her, however, near the end of chapter six. If you help her kill the rest of the O'Driscolls, she laments what she's become because she thinks her husband would be horrified. She’s extremely complex and struggles between mourning and moving on.

I also can't help but laugh at the "femme fatale" accusation, because Sadie actually defeminises herself, which is understandable considering the hell she’s suffered. She even wears men's clothing, which wasn't illegal [anymore] back then, but it was openly frowned upon. Femme fatales use their beauty and sexuality to their advantage, ensnaring men with their feminine wiles. Sadie never does that and fights side-by-side with the boys. Interestingly enough, that's partially why Calamity Jane, an actual historical figure, garnered so much attention, because of how she behaved/dressed. It’s pretty clear to me that Rockstar might’ve used her as inspiration for Sadie. This was a real woman who lived from 1852 to 1903.

In addition, Sadie plays one of the most important roles, yet she does so without falling into the category of a Mary-Sue. She saves the gang and moves them to a new location when the Pinkertons attack Shady Belle. She hatches the plan that frees John from prison. She helps Arthur rescue Abigail after she gets kidnapped. She tracks down Micah and puts an end to his reign of terror. But most of what she does she accomplishes with a partner--Arthur or John--both of whom she respects immensely. No one, not even Arthur, does everything alone, and when they do there’s usually negative consequences. It's the camaraderie and shared experiences that make these characters successful, and aside from Charles and Hosea, I’d even argue that the women are more well-rounded and fleshed out than the men.

I gather from for comments that you didn't finish the game, so I hate to spoil it, but I kind of have to if you walked away with this mindset. The women of RDR2 are a force to be reckoned with.

[luveline]

summer shower [Fred Weasley x reader]

Summary: Fred makes your asthma play up.

Tags: reader-insert, fluff, friends-to-lovers, pining, mutual pining

word count: 1.3k

When you were just turning 21 years old, you met a boy. He was in his third year to your second of university, funny as could be, and beautiful.

Fred Weasley was a man of many secrets, which you'd come to accept the longer you'd known him. You had no idea where he was from, where his parents lived, or even if he had any family. You didn't know where he'd gone to school before this. You certainly didn't know why he liked pumpkin pie so much!

There were many things you did know.

His eyes turned from brown to almost black in the sun, superheated and lovely. He squinted one eye against the sun when you lounged in the courtyards in an endearing attempt to always keep an eye on your face. He never crushed flowers when he walked and he always trapped spiders in a cup with a piece of card instead of killing them, seeming endlessly bemused at the small creatures.

It was a warm summers day. You were trying your hardest not to smile as he lay in the grass. Your friends had all departed, claiming headaches and essays that needed to be submitted, though you thought these were all just white lies to allow you some alone time.

It didn't matter. No amount of free time would finish the game between the two of you. Well, you hoped it was a game: Fred pretended he didn't fancy you and you pretended you didn't fancy him.

You shared a tenderness with him that was unlike any relationship in your life.

He was smirking up at you.

"What?" You asked, pouting playfully.

"You look like you're trying to solve world hunger," he said through a grin.

You shook your head, fixing your gaze back down on the book in your lap.

"Maybe one day," you said without looking up.

Fred laughed. It was a perfect laugh, infectious and happy. You smiled despite your best efforts not to.

The pages were thin between your fingers, almost a thousand condensed into a 3 inch textbook for your course. The tip of your pencil rested against the page, though sometimes it felt appropriate to bring it to your mouth, contemplative. Fred watched silently as you underlined and questioned the subject, only quirkiness an eyebrow as your frustration became obvious.

"I don't understand," you admitted finally, "how that is relevant to anything. Look at this!"

You poked your pencil angrily at the figure in question. Fred's eyebrows creased as he tried to make sense of what he was seeing.

"Doll, you know I don't understand a lick of it."

You sighed, closing the textbook mournfully. It didn't surprise you that Fred couldn't understand, you couldn't understand and you were actually taking the course for the last two and a half years. He was doing a completely different subject.

You threw yourself down flat, much too close to where Fred himself lay on the grass, knocking the air out of your lungs. You tried not to get too wound up, worried any agitation would cause a flare up.

You'd had a very bad asthma attack only a few days ago and had spent a day or two feeling very fragile and sorry for yourself. You didn't want a repeat.

The grass was cold and a little damp from the early morning dew.

You nibbled at your lip, searching the sky for something it couldn't give.

Fred was watching you.

"Oh my god! What do you want, you hooligan?"

Fred rolled his eyes. "You looked at me."

"You were looking at me!"

"Doesn't sound true. Falsehoods of such a nature are unkindly and uncouth."

"You're uncouth!"

"Yeah?" Fred asked, eyes hot.

Your mouth dried up. He was especially tempting like this, looking all homegrown and hand spun. His hair was lightened by the sun cover, strawberry blonde against his tanned and freckled face. Tanned now only after months of suffering sun burn miserably.

"I know what you're thinking." He said. You paid close attention to his mouth.

"Which is?"

"How did I get to be so devilishly handsome? Honestly, it's a question I ask myself often."

You withheld the urge to turn your face into the earth and scream.

He wasn't entirely wrong. You had been thinking about his good looks.

"How did you know?" You asked. You'd tried for bravado, for sarcasm, but it came out wrong. A little too sincere. You cleared your throat.

Fred pushed up onto an elbow so that he was looking down into your face. He studied the slope of your nose and the laugh lines you'd slowly gathered since meeting him. He reached forward, too slowly, to place the pads of his fingers gently on your cheek. You could pinpoint the exact moment he rested his palm on your skin.

He smiled gently. You beamed.

"Can I ask you something?"

You tried to read his face, preemptively guess the question.

"When do you ask my permission?"

"It's the kind of thing that requires two consenting parties."

Your mouth quirked into a waiting grin. Fred's ears grew red.

"Not that."

"Fred Weasley, embarassed. Somebody call the news."

He didn't answer, pushing the hair out of your face in a repetitive motion that sent tingles down your spine and a hot flush to your tummy.

You tried not to read into it, closing your eyes against the waves of excitement and happiness roiling through you. You didn't permit yourself to think of what it meant, because what else could it mean? Friends don't do the things you both did. Friends didn't gaze down into your face with unspoken feelings.

You lay there for some time, the excitement slowly turning to bone deep contentment, feeling yourself drift into an almost sleep. The breeze was soft and sweet, the ground beneath you cushioned by grass, and the handsome man hovering above you only sweetened the deal.

"Y/N?"

"Hmm," you said, tilting your chin to prompt him to continue.

"Will you look at me a second?

You opened your eyes obligingly.

"I wanted to ask you, do you -"

He cut himself off, peering up into the sky. You frowned, only to feel the unwelcome spatter of heavy sudden rain drops on your face.

You gasped, rushing to collect all of your things into your bag. Your textbook was already dampening by the time you'd fit it all. Fred pulled you up and began to run. You followed, laughing and struggling to be heard over the summer shower.

By the time you reached his dorm building, both of you were breathing hard. Fred said something through a laugh. You struggled to answer, hands on your knees.

"Y/N?"

Despite having asthma all your life and suffering many attacks, each time felt just as urgent and scary as the first.

Your eyes filled with tears.

"You're okay! You're okay. Where's your pump, huh? In your bag?"

He didn't wait for an answer, reaching into your bag as you gasped, though insistent on leaving one arm on your arm. The pressure was reassuring.

You tried to manage your breathing as you always did, gasping and gasping and gasping.

"Here, princess. Open up," Fred said.

You covered the hand he held your inhaler with your own, clamping down on his hand so hard you could feel the fine bones under his skin.

It took a while for you to settle down, thought this attack wasn't anywhere as bad as the one you'd had days ago.

"My hero," you coughed out, lungs aching.

Fred grimaced. "I'll always rescue you, my femme fatale."

"Misogynist."

"You have paper lungs, my love."

"That I do, Freddie. That I do."

Fred rubbed your back, insisting on carrying you up the steps to his dorm room. If you acted much more frail than you felt, it was nobodies business but yours and Fred's.

[notstilinski]

Buzzfeed Unsolved Starters !

Taken from the new and final season (season seven) of the YouTube series, Buzzfeed Unsolved! Some of these have already been edited. You can change them however you see fit! 

“She was weak-sauce. Now she lives in my ribcage.”

“Don’t you want to throw a book at this cocky little-“

“This is the technique that you learn at ghost hunting school. They teach you this on day one.”

“Do you think that elderly gentleman was actually the fuckin’ devil?”

“Come take a seat on papa’s lap.”

“We invite you to make a home in the soul of (Name)!”

“I’m gonna haunt him, but I’m a little scared of this one.”

“That’s the hottest ass that the internet has ever seen.”

"I'm summoning all my ghost energy to vocalize into the physical world, "Hey. What the fuck are you doing?"

“When we first started this, did you ever think that you’d be on your knees and acting like a cat?”

"Uh.... Guys? The front door is open, like, completely open. As is the basement door."

“You know how ol’ bees stab you with a machete?”

“Are you drinking the Holy Water?! That’s disgusting!”

“Those are my boundaries. And my therapist said that it’s very important to set boundaries.”

If I woke up and saw that in the mirror, I'd be like, "Hm. Today is not my day."

“I’m starting to emotionally shut down.”

"You know your boys packing while he's sleeping."

"When I actually cross these items off that bucket list, I'm not really excited."

"I don't believe in ghosts, but I do believe that Iowa is haunted."

“Hey, you sick little weirdo.”

“Talk to me. I don’t respect you, that should rile you up. You suck.”

"I sense the sarcasm on your voice."

"You do what you do to make your partner feel safe."

“So, let’s see if I end up in a puddle of my own blood!”

"It's extra scary because the environment that you'll be in; darkness, quiet, is exactly the conditions when he murdered all those people."

"They just seem to have no fear. Which I used to see as courageous, but now I just think that they're an insane person."

“I’m so vulnerable right now! Oh my god!”

“It doesn’t feel right in there when you’re alone.”

“I'm surprised we don't hear any screams right now. He may be dead. It’s possible his heart just stopped, and he’s laying on the floor in there.”

“You look like you’re gonna ask me for some marmalade.”

“You murdered my family, now you're gonna die."

“There ain’t nothing more in this world that I want to see right now than those man mounds.”

"I appreciate the honesty. You are an asshole but-"

"Oh, shit, that's right. I always forget that you're a huge freak."

"You won't be alone down here. You'll have, uh, this creepy child."

"I love for him to come out of one of these solo investigations covered in blood."

"He's the only person that I know who, in winning, lost even more."

"Would love to introduce this little piece of shit to them.”

“We know you’re not a supernatural hitman.”

"Last night, we went out in New York City, and we painted this town with our vomit."

"See, I knocked my dang hat off because I was murdering so hard."

"I've never seen a man lose so many battles in a row. It's kind of crazy."

"We yuck it up in the house. I feel very safe and, then, I'm left to my own devices, and I lose my mind."

“I was talking a lot of trash earlier, and this is your time to really stick it to me.”

"They certainly know how to make a scary-ass fuck looking castle."

"Gather round, gather round. Look at the miserable moppets!"

"You're not gonna profit off of buying a castle and filling it with Dracula actors."

"You don't have to tell me anything else about him! I love (Name)!"

“I don’t like that I can’t escape this thing fast if I have to.”

“Not stoked, not stoked to do this. How did this become my life?”

"You're rarely afforded the opportunity to walk down a long tunnel and stand at the end of it in total darkness. And, ya know, I’m not about to look a gift horse in the mouth.”

"I'll Venmo (Name) fucking money if they let me smash it with a hammer. Or step on it with my boot."

“Why not end the season with the demon I started with?”

"I don't like to seem overeager when I answer the phone."

“I laid on a pentagram and screamed at the devil!”

“(Name)’s don’t play pranks. We also don’t play sports.”

“I’m on the pentagram, and I fucking did it for you.”

“I’m just an old pal, looking for one of my little demon friends.”

“Yeah. Well, I tried to play nice because I have to sleep there, but I did lose my cool a little bit.”