#HE WOULD HOWEVER SKULL FUCK A LIVING PERSON WITH CONSENT!!!!!!!!

[13tinysocks]

people when you say that u think toby wouldn't be abusive and wouldn't SA his partners

Mfs when you don't think ticci toby would beat you 16 times a day and skull fuck your corpse

[lanaevyssmoved]

8, 23, 50 afhiri . hand em over

8. Do they collect anything? If so what and why?

pre-game and during the game, no, but she is the type to pick up pretty rocks and keep them (or give them away to her friends.. please look after them!) HOWEVER after the events of the game during Domestic Life Time TM with gale, he starts to gift her with flutes. lots. of flutes. every flute he finds that he thinks she will like, the most beautifully carved, ones painted in bright shades, some custom made with custom engravings. she still prefers to play the infamous Flute 2 (the flute gale bought her at the start of their adventures together after her childhood flute went Missing.. it died), so the flutes end up in beautiful display cases in his tower .....

23. How would they want to die?

this is the most insane thing u could have asked me and is literally why i just Got out of Bed to respond . i am insane. you are insane. ANyway

before the events of the game if you asked afhiri this they'd look at you like you just spoke infernal. that girl hadn't even considered death to be a concept. you'd get the type of empty stare with a plastered on smile that makes u walk away slowly. and then quickly

this maintains until act 2 when gale gets told to off himself by god, or something, she doesn't really get it but she knows it means no more gale and, unhinged, that means no more afhiri, obviously. how can there possibly be an afhiri if there's no more gale? this clown fully intends to die with him be that at the heart of the absolute or in the depths of the underdark

post game unfortunately gale and afhiri are both insane in their lil verse and they seek immortality so they never have to be apart. originally gale was to extend his lifespan with their consent so they dont have to live without him, but he had the genius idea that they could just live for eternity together and then their love will never have to end!!! so, tldr, afhiri isn't going to die. this clown will live forever (omnious)

50. What is your favourite thing about them?

ohohoh. ok, to be honest, afhiri is incredibly healing for me. she was literally made in the wake of something quite rough for me, and i turned her into a character that could survive any hardship with a smile on her face because that's what i needed to delve into for my own wellbeing. my favourite thing about afhiri is how much she is helping me. i am a better person with them honking in my skull

IN A LESS EMOTIONAL RESPONSE my favourite thing about them is that they are so unashamed to do and say whatever the fuck they want whenever they want even if they get looked at like a total weirdo and freak (they are). this tief does not care if you think negatively about them because boy what theyre doing is working if youre paying attention and that shits cool. if afhiri was in modern day theyd have a youtube account where they dress as a clown and talk about the most pointless shit and people are so mad about that and its great.

[athrialuxegna]

Stronger than she thinks Part 2

Triggers warning: mental and physical abuse, violence, swearing

Part 1 | Part 3

Fanfiction | Archiveofourown | Wattpad

It was 6 a.m when I walked out of the cafeteria and nearly choked on my saliva when I saw Eric and Brent. They were laughing at some joke. I couldn���t help but feel a slight twinge in my stomach. If only Eric knew what monster Brent was. Who was I kidding! Eric would not give a shit about this. They stopped in their tracks when they notice me. My face contorted with disgust at the sight of Brent’s horny eyes looking up and down my body. A cold shiver ran down my spine.

“Christine, long time no see.” Brent’s smirk was full of himself.

He had me cornered. Eric was staring at our exchange. It was really bad. If I backed away it would give too much information and the same if I retorted. Ugh, one week of more or less peace wasn’t enough. I became a real ninja since my encounter with Eric. I have succeeded to avoid both men, but my luck was wearing off today.

“My life was brighter without the sight of you. Such a shame you just ruined it.” My sarcastic tone enraged him, his ears turned red and his eyes shot fire. Good. Then he smirked. Oh, crap.

“You know you miss me, Chrissy.” His voice was hushed and seductive.

All color was drained from my face. My nails were digging in my palms, blood slowly spilling from the crescent wounds. This nickname rang a bell. He had called me that when he was all over me. I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood in my mouth. Motherfucker!

“I have something better to do than talking to a prick like you.” I hissed back, turning on my heels.

“You’re so hot when you’re angry Chrissy.” He called after me.

A wave of entangled emotions was bubbling inside of me. It won’t be long before I break down. I began to run when I turn the corner. I went straight to the roof. The rain was pouring hard. Thick drops fell on my face and soaked my clothes. I screamed at the top of my lungs to the raging sky. I couldn’t take his attitude, his face nor his fucking nickname. I took out all my pent up anger and desperation onto the wall beside me. My knuckles hit the wall harder and harder until my knees gave out.  I imagined his face, as bloody as my hands, as shattered as my soul. I wish I could just disappear or forget what happened. Hot tears were streaming down my cheeks. Okay, maybe I was not drained yet.

“Why did you do this to me?” I asked to the raging sky, defeated.

“Why who did what to you?”

Eric’s deep voice startled me. He was standing right at the door, the only escape from the roof. Wonderful. I sighed deeply. I am so fucked, I thought. I felt like I was ready to jump from a cliff without a safety net awaiting me at the bottom. Everything was crashing down around me. I had nothing to lose now. Still, a part of me refused to admit what happened. My bruised ego wasn’t willing to let go. I closed my eyes a second before answering, my back still facing him.

“It’s none of your concern Eric,” I replied dryly.

The tears had stopped as soon as I heard his voice. I appeared weak enough right now to not turn around crying my eyes off. Eric came in front of me, crouching down to be near my level. His eyes more intense than usual as if he was trying to read my thoughts. I wished I wasn’t in the cafeteria earlier. I wished Eric would just ignore me.

“I know this is related to Brent.” I hold my breath at the name. “Tell me, Christine, what did he do to you?” His cold voice chilled me to the bone.

I shivered but held his gaze nonetheless. I shook my head in complete denial. Eric was the last person I wanted to confess to. Eyebrows furrowed and teeth clenched, I held my ground.

“Nothing.” My voice was surprisingly strong.

Eric huffed then closed the gap between us. His breath fanned my face, our noses nearly touching. My breath quickened at the sudden intrusion into my personal space. Tears brimmed in my eyes and I cursed my body for trembling like a leaf. Eric’s eyebrow quirked up, his piercings glistening at the movement. His icy blue eyes tore into my soul, curiosity burning inside them. However, his face was void of any emotion.

“Now, tell me why are you in such a state? You can’t fool me, Christine.” His low voice reached a deeper octave.

Seconds passed, I couldn’t bring myself to tare my eyes away from him. Even though I hated him to follow me up here. Didn’t he have better things to do? I closed my eyes and whispered finally.

“Brent raped me.”

My surrender cost me a lot. It was the final straw, the confirmation that my life became a living hell. Silence followed my confession. I found the courage to open my eyes. Eric was fuming, his gaze fixated on the ground. A hole would appear any second in the concrete at this point. His clenched jaw and fists told me that he was on the verge of losing his self-control. I didn’t know if it was a good or a bad thing. Was he angry at Brent for doing this? Or was he angry because Brent might lose his job as his consultant? So many questions swirled in my mind when his sharp voice cut the dreadful silence.

“When?”

“Monday night,” I replied curtly, not trusting my voice further.

“Son of a bitch.” He muttered under his breath. “We have to report to Max. Brent has to respond to his crime.”

His words held a finality that scared me. Will he report with or without my consent? His entire demeanor screamed that he was ready to bolt for Max’s office any second. I shot him a wary look and shook my head. It can’t be happening so fast. I hadn’t processed the whole thing yet.

I needed some time to prepare myself for the incoming battle. Should I say the truth or should I lie? An investigation won’t do anything without my word. Brent set up the whole thing, there was no proof. Unless… I went to the infirmary to be examined. No way, no one would ever touch me again or see my lady parts.

“Max won’t know anything. Brent can’t be judged for his crime because of the circumstances.” I retorted with annoyance.

“What circumstances? Rape is rape for fuck’s sake.” Growled Eric.

“You wouldn’t understand because I can’t even figure it out myself,” I admitted bitterly. “Cowardice is my crime.”

“What do you mean?” Something flickered in his eyes.

“While he was…” I trailed off. “I couldn’t move a muscle, my body won’t cooperate. I was helpless, an empty shell. I could just watch and... feel.”

The words ran out of my mouth before my brain could register. I wished I could disappear or that Eric would magically teleport somewhere else. I felt my cheeks burn from embarrassment and shame. I lowered my gaze onto the floor, I couldn’t look at him after saying this.

“It is pretty common during a traumatic experience. Your brain shuts down to protect you, it’s a defensive response.” He explained with a rather know-it-all voice.

A surge of unknown anger bubbled inside of me. His nose side triggered something deep. I huffed and threw my arms around to avoid punching him. His psychological bullshit wouldn’t help me to get rid of my guilt.

“I was a coward nonetheless and I’ll remain as long as I can’t forgive myself. Where’s the Eric I know, the ruthless leader? He would just say to suck it up and get on with my life or I would end up Factionless. Why do you care anyway? Just throw me over the roof already to end my misery!” I yelled.

Eric stood still, unfazed by my sudden outburst. He crossed his arms over his broad chest and waited until I calmed a little bit. His eyes boring holes into my skull.

“Enjoy, this is the only chance you’ve got to shout at me.” He smirked briefly. “No matter what you think of me Chris, this is part of my job to ensure the security of all Dauntless members. The only way to protect you and other women is to send him to justice.”

I growled inwardly. He was right. Brent should be stopped as soon as possible. He could do worse in the meantime. I sighed deeply and bowed my head. I was conflicted. Part of me wasn’t willing to give in. My intimacy had already been violated. I didn’t need a nurse looking down there now. I was selfish, I knew, but it was easier to ignore it than to face it. Tell me about being Dauntless, huh.

“I’ll tell you when I’m ready to report this,” I muttered.

Eric’s lips twitched up at the corners in an almost genuine smile. My heart skipped a beat at the sight, his face always tight and closed was a bit relaxed. Bewitched Eric returned. His changing demeanor was unnerving, I didn’t know what to expect next.

“We should go back inside to take care of your knuckles. Unless you want to catch the flu.”

He turned on his heels and stalked away. He didn’t seem bothered by the rain drenching his clothes and hair. I followed him down in the compound. The cold hallways made me shiver. My soaked clothes clang awkwardly to my body. I certainly looked like a penguin with a stick shoved up his ass or a pathetic excuse of a cowboy, walking after hours of riding a horse. We didn’t say a word until he took a turn I hadn’t expected. He was leading me down the leaders’ quarter. I stopped dead in my tracks.

“Why do you bring me here?” I questioned warily.

“You prefer Marlene’s questioning?” He retorted coolly.

I began to walk again. Marlene was the head of the infirmary, a curious young woman who couldn’t hold her tongue. Eric’s smirk returned to his lips. He was himself again. Good. We entered his apartment. It was huge, tidy, and neat as if no one lived here. There was classical furniture, a black leather couch, a table, a full bookshelf. Three closed doors faced us, which lead to the kitchen, the washroom, and the bedroom, I presumed. Eric went into one of the rooms to get me spare clothes.

“You can use the bathroom to take a shower and change. We’ll take care of your knuckles after.” He pointed to the door closest to me.

I nodded and took the clothes from his hands. He disappeared quickly through the same door. I guessed he had a bathroom connected to his bedroom. Perks of being a leader. The hot water hit me and washed my emotions. Reality dawned on me. Eric knew. He was the only one other than Brent. How will it go between both men? They were working together, how was this supposed to go well?

I hoped that Eric would not do anything impulsive. It would only worsen the situation I was in. I didn’t even know what was the law regarding rape. Did it even exist? I wasn’t sure. Rape was a rare occurrence in Dauntless, exceptional trials that I’ve never seen in my twenty-five years here.

I tried to escape from my thoughts while drying myself. I get changed. Eric gave me one of his shirts, a large hoodie, and jogging. It smelt like him, his scent surrounded me. A mix of mint and leather. A strange sense of security settled in me. A knock on the door resonated.

“Are you finished?” Eric asked through the door.

“Yes, you can come in,” I responded, slightly surprised by his thoughtfulness. He could have barged into the room with no care in the world. We were in his apartment after all.

The door opened and Eric walked in. He changed into a similar outfit to mine. I couldn’t recall the last time I’ve seen him in anything other than his leaders’ attire. His tight shirt outlined his toned chest and his jogging hang low on his hips, I could catch a glimpse of his smooth skin. I adverted my eyes elsewhere, disturbed by my wandering mind. I was raped a week ago and I drooled over him. Something was definitely wrong with me. Did Brent hit me too hard?

I’d lie if I said that he wasn’t handsome, but Eric was Eric. He was untouchable, a leader, and most importantly the bearer of my secret. I needed to suppress the reminiscence of my crush on him. It wasn’t the time nor the best circumstances and, let’s be real, Eric could have any other Dauntless girl. So why bother with me?

Eric opened a drawer and took a first-aid kit without glancing at me. I had washed all the dry blood from my hands. The cuts were visible now. I let him take care of them. His rough hands were gentle and he kept space between us. I appreciated the gesture even though his changing behavior unsettled me. He bandaged my hands then cleaned all the supplies.

“If you want to fight find a real opponent. Next time the wall will win. Your bones are not that tough.” He remarked, his eyes resting on me.

“I wish I could kill him with my bare hands but it would do me no good.” I huffed while rolling my eyes.

“You could call me next time.” His voice light as a feather.

“What? You’ll do worse than the wall, Eric.” I responded, crossing my arms over my chest.

His laugh filled the bathroom. I’ve never heard it before. I was stunned for a second, processing what I was witnessing. I must’ve looked at him like he had grown two heads because he composed himself and raised an eyebrow.

“What?” The ghost of a smile lingering on his lips.

“I’ve never heard you laugh before,” I said without thinking.

His serious expression returned as well as his cold blue eyes. The Eric I knew was finally back.

“Now get out of here. I have work to do.” He dismissed.

I was about to leave when I look at him with worried eyes. He sighed and rolled his eyes.

“Come on, I won’t do anything about your secret without your consent.” He practically growled.

“Thanks, Eric.” I nodded slightly then walked out of the apartment.

Once alone dread fell onto me. I went to the tattoo parlor, my safe haven. Tori was cleaning her stuff when I walked in. She smiled at me and beckoned me to come with her to one of the tattoo stalls. I joined her and sit on the tattoo chair as if I belonged in here.

“Hey, Chris you want something today?” She asked, taking a sit by the chair I sat on.

“Yop Tori. I think I’ve got an idea.”

I explained to her what I wanted. She drew the design, it was better than what I have expected. The buzzing of the machine soothed me. It was a tough pleasure to get tattooed. The needles were in and out of my skin, the dull ache growing in my back. Tori hadn’t talked since the beginning.

“Now, would you tell me why you’re wearing man’s clothes and have your knuckles bandaged?” She asked out of nowhere.

I tensed slightly then relaxed not to mess up the tattoo.

“I ended up getting caught in the storm outside. Someone get me spare clothes. ” I answered carefully.

Tori hummed in response. Silence fell upon us once again. I must have fallen asleep because Tori woke me up by shaking my shoulder. I opened my eyes to see a large smile on her face.

“Good nap, sleeping beauty?” She mocked.

“Sorry, I won’t do it again,” I replied, stretching my sore muscles.

“Don’t do promises you can’t keep, Chris.” She laughed.

Every time Tori tattooed me I fell asleep in no time. I smiled and get up to see my back in the mirror. The beautiful Phoenix, wings spread, was looking back at me. It was stunning, the fine details made it seem real. A masterpiece that took my entire back. Satisfied and happy, I turned to Tori.

“This is wonderful. Thanks, Tori.”

She nodded and was called by another customer. I waved goodbye and took my leave. I didn’t know what to do on my days off. Even more so now that I didn’t have any friends to spend time with. I missed hanging around with Jenna and Kate. I have encounter neither of them since their visit in my apartment. A dull ache crushed my ribcage, I was alone. Brent took everything from me. He took more than my innocence, he destroyed my life. I couldn’t trust anyone, not fully at least. There will still be a doubt, a “what if” that will ruin my relationships. I wandered in the Pit like a lost soul. It was becoming full. I sat on a rock and watched Dauntless members passing by.

A hand fell on my shoulder. I jerked away and turned around to face Four. My eyebrows furrowed as my heart calmed his frantic beats. He looked tired, working in the control room took its toll on him. He seemed more dynamic when he was training the initiates. He arbored a somber expression, his eyes boring into mine.

“Chris we have to talk about something. In private.” He muttered.

I gulped, it wasn’t something good. Four had to know something to appear out of nowhere to talk. He had seen something. Cameras were all over the compound. Brent couldn’t avoid all of them. I didn’t want anyone to see what happened. If they were a trial, it would be watched by so many people. My body shivered and I get up to follow Four in an empty hallway. We stood a few feet apart, staring at each other, choosing our words carefully.

“Chris, I saw what happened Monday night. Eric and I were talking about the next initiation when the screens showed you and Brent.”

Eric knew before I confessed. I felt betrayed that he didn’t tell me. I swallowed thickly and shook my head. The situation was getting out of my hands. I needed to get out of here. The pitiful gaze Four cast on me made me sick. I couldn’t take his soft eyes. I turned around and ran as if I was chased by a werewolf.

I turned the corner and crashed into a strong body. My eyes settled on Brent. He had his arms wrapped around my waist to keep me from falling. His intense brown orbs plunged into my emerald irises. My body stiffened and I wriggled in his grasp to get free. It only made him tighten his grip.

“Oh Chrissy, I knew you would run after me.” His low voice rang in my ears.

I tried to pry him away from me to no use, he was way too strong. His lips graced my neck, a cold shiver ran down my spine.

“Brent get off me. I don’t want you.” I growled.

Footsteps echoed in the hallway. Brent let me go and I bolt out of here. Eric was right. Brent had to be brought to justice or he will continue. I went into my apartment and closed myself for the rest of the day. I didn’t eat this evening. I was feeling sick at the idea of explaining what happened to Max and the other leaders. My night had been restless, haunted by horrible nightmares.

[mitsususu]

Everybody wants to rule the world. In fic, Loki can always be counted on to help Steve and Bucky get together or stay together. Below are my Top 5 Favorite stories:

“Space Oddity” (M, 147k) by crinklefries, cyclamental art (cyclamental), nalonzoo

After the world ends, things happen to Bucky in this specific order: he helps defeat Thanos, he rejects Steve’s attempt to address Feelings, he watches Steve volunteer to put the Infinity Stones back in time, he waits for Steve to come back, he is sad when Steve does not come back, he realizes that everyone thinks Steve disappeared in 2012 (???), he gets taken to space by Carol Danvers (!!!), he meets up with a depressed literal alien Norse God, he and the depressed literal alien Norse God travel through space, he and the depressed literal alien Norse God hit a wormhole and fall into the--Multiverse.

What the fuck.

This is the story of how Bucky and Thor pick up the pieces of their lives, find their own worth, find their own person, and find their way out of a multiverse of 100 realities stitched together with 100 tropes. There’s love, there’s friendship, there’s an extreme amount of Tesseract fuckery, but most importantly there are sexy vampires. Bon Appetit.

+ Endgame Fix-It. Loki and Steve shatter the tesseract in 2012; Bucky and Thor go on a multiverse road trip to find them. Found family, self-acceptance, and the happiest ending.

-☆-

“Shake It Up” (T, 13k) by aurilly

Steve knows he shouldn't try to change anything while returning the Stones, but he can't help himself. A certain God of Chaos is willing to help.

Loki's in for a wild ride.

+ Endgame Fix-It. Steve and Bucky return the stones together. Along the way, they each end up enlisting Loki to help their 2012 versions

-☆-

“Not Another Alien Green Card Marriage” (T, 14k) by crinklefries

“Dearly beloved,” the tired-looking court magistrate said. “We are gathered here today to join this man and this, uh, Norse God in holy...matrimony.” * The bifrost is broken and Thor is stranded on Earth, working for SHIELD without any authorized documents. Loki gets way too drunk and regrettably horny one night and offers to marry the big, dumb superhero for a green card.

This turns out to be a mistake, because even though Thor is smoking hot, the Avengers keep breaking Manhattan, Loki’s apartment suffers an unfortunate setback, and the U.S. government requires way too much paperwork. Also, Loki hates his job and his best friend is in love with Captain America.

This would only happen to him. Loki would take a nap, if anyone would goddamn let him. Instead, he gets bangs.

+ Shrunkyclunks. Modern Bucky and Loki run into the Avengers over and over again. Madcap courting ensues

-☆-

“Bop, Bop, Bop: Bop To The Top” (T, 10k) by attackofthezee (noxlunate)

When Odinson shows up it’s with half the basketball team and a lot of noise that Loki absolutely did not consent to have in his creative space.

His senses are being assaulted.

“This is a sacred space,” He says and he can practically feel Bucky rolling his eyes behind him, but there are points to be made and Bucky’s judgement is not welcome here.

“It’s an auditorium,” Thor says like he doesn’t comprehend Loki’s point, which is fair, because he is, after all, very very dumb. All those hits to the head doing jock things like football and smashing beer cans against his skull really can’t be helping. 

Aka a vaguely a High School Musical AU

+ Modern AU. Blonde jocks have been assigned to help with the spring play and theater kid Loki despairs. Bucky however, is delighted, and gets a date to the prom.

-☆-

"Big in Japan” (T, 6k) by gunboots

Steve hesitantly reaches out and takes the object in Tony’s arms to survey it. 'It' being a pillow upon which was an almost frighteningly accurate illustration of Loki, their on-and-off again nemesis. "I don't--how did you even get this? Who would MAKE this?"

Clearly Steve doesn't find the attention-to-detail on Loki's costume as hilarious as Tony does, which whatever. Like he said. Killjoy.

A.K.A The one time Tony buys Thor the world's worst souvenir and it somehow worked out in the end anyway.

+ Post WS. Dakimakura! Thor starts carrying around a body pillow with fanart printed on it. Loki founds out, and Bucky keeps the Steve pillows

-☆-

+ More Loki fics in the Space list

[onisionisacanceronthisearth]

Why we care about Onision and Coolguykai’s kids (Masterlist)

There’s a lot of information floating around about the kids but I don’t know if anyone has made a post compiling it all together so I figured I would do so. Also because an “argument” used again the anti-o community is that “we’re creepy for even thinking about kids” so I figured I’d show that we’re not just thinking about them for no real reason. For some slight background information, they have an older son around age 7 and a younger daughter around age 4. This is written in bullet form under the cut with bold sections for easier/quicker reading for those who would prefer that. Feel free to add more if you know anything and I’ll keep updating this post. Eli=Kai

Update: The girl fell 12 feat out the second story window to the ground giving her a depressed skull fracture. This was because Kai was cooking and left the child alone in a room with the tv and a caprisun while they were cooking and James was in the garage. The right side of her head was caved in and requires constant monitoring. The girl was known to climb the furniture and also known for standing at windows by the couple which is why the windows are supposedly kept locked to protect her. Even then, she was left totally without supervision and fell as far as she did right onto the driveway. She may have serious brain damage. James filmed her body while Kai comforted her because he was paranoid it would be seen as his fault (the video wouldn’t absolve him of anything, he’s just an low IQ dumbass). James also made a lot of awful sexually themed tweets while he was in the hospital with his potentially dying daughter. Here and here are links to the full police report, the daughter’s name was redacted due to her age

Greg refuses to talk with children who cannot speak properly yet. Besides the obvious stupidity behind this (children learn to talk from being spoken to), giving a child the impression that they are only recognized for what they can do for their parents is an emotionally damaging thing to do. It’s also damaging to show emotional neglect which Greg is doing by not caring for his children beyond the uses he has for them

Greg and Eli will have sex in front of their kids and while sharing a bed with them. Early exposure to sex is harmful for kids and despite the obvious fact that Greg isn’t a dom, he still does have rough and harmful sex with Eli and the other girls they bring in for threesomes. We have seen the marks on Eli’s neck, we now know those kids likely have seen Greg give them to him. There was an incident where the boy was in the room on a tablet while his parents were going at it right in front of him as well as the now infamous story that the first time Sarah had a threesome with the couple (Greg and Eli suddenly started having sex without Sarah’s knowledge or consent then she joined after), the daughter was in the bed with them too. They would start and stop sex as the girl kept waking up because they were right beside her on the same bed

During a blackout once, Eli decided to vlog about it. In the video you can see one of the children under the table with a tablet shining in their eyes. Instead of comforting the kids they were told to hide under the table with a tablet while their parents vlogged about it. The parents then promptly went out to eat. It’s unsure if the kids went with them (we didn’t see them in the vlog) so either the kids were out with them while their parents spoke quite vulgar in the car, or the “loving” parents left their two very young children alone at home during a blackout with nothing but some tablets to keep them happy

Overall it does seem like the parents think that tablets are an adequate babysitter for toddlers. Even if that toddler isn’t in the same room as them. That is very obviously not safe nor a good substitute for caring for a child. Given the accident the girl had, it’s clear they think that if they leave an active toddler in a closed room, totally out of sight, with a tv that that’s safe

They chose to parent their children using the “gentle” and “attachment” parenting techniques. They do not implement these styles properly however on top of the possible negative effects of these parenting techniques. This has resulted in:

Not ending breastfeeding at an appropriate time or with the proper care required for prolonged feeding

Breastfeeding at night without brushing teeth afterwards resulting in the boy losing his teeth at age 2

The boy not being told to not be physically violent with his sister or dealing with the child’s violence but instead instructing him to punch Greg instead (the boy will push his sister off the couch for example).

Sleeping with the children despite the couple clearly wanting sex constantly as mentioned above

And all the other complications of never telling your child no, never introducing new things to them or imposing rules or restrictions, having one parent refuse to give you boundaries while another that doesn’t even care to talk to you half the time, etc. The parenting style is meant to be gentle, but this results in, as stated above, not telling the children not to hurt people either

The children supposedly only had one friend (or at least the boy did) which was Maddie’s daughter. Greg and Eli spontaneously decided to end their relationship with Maddie resulting in their son losing his only friend and playmate. Given the nature of the split from Maddie, it’s clear their son was not a factor in the decision at all (not saying you have to remain friends with someone for the sake of your kids but the decision to drop Maddie was bullshit and clearly selfish)

While baby sitting his and Maddie’s kids, Greg refused to change Maddie’s daughter’s diaper and didn’t even bother telling Maddie about the diaper being full. This resulted in Maddie coming back to find her daughter covered in feces and it had been on her daughter long enough that the resulting rash caused her daughter to bleed. Greg clearly doesn’t give a shit about babies (no pun intended) and makes me wonder how often his children’s diapers were messy and he did nothing about it

The Jackson house is FILTHY and not suitable for children. Just recently I posted one of Eli’s videos and it contained a part where Eli saw the dog walking around with food in its mouth that Eli didn’t even know where it came from and not even phased by it. Food being left out is a mold and bacterial hazard on its own, very harmful for children. But it’s also teaching kids bad habits and also if the dog could find it, kids could too and toddlers love putting things in their mouths

Greg used to have a large sex doll that had no business being in a small house with children running around with no supervision

Greg’s initial wetland work created a direct line to the lake they live on, that’s a serious drowning hazard, especially for someone who didn’t think he could watch to make sure his kids wouldn’t walk to a tree that could hurt them. He has also now planted (or at least bought) poisonous bright red berries among a bunch of edible ones. So much for worrying about the kids...

The diet of the Jackson family is atrocious. It’s already showing negative effects on the parents but that is much less dangerous than having malnutritioned children. The children are growing and developing and they require proper nutrition for this, not doing so can result in many dangerous complications on top of both mental and physical stunting of growth.

Update: Greg’s daughter has been seen recently in a video and yes, she is crazy small for her age

Greg has been reported as yelling at his child and blaming said child for “causing them to lose” a game. This was reported by Maya while the three of them were playing a video game and were teamed up together. Greg literally yelled at his toddler for not being perfect at a fucking video game not only turning the game into being about winning, but putting expectations on a child that just should not be the case. As a parent, and even as a younger sibling it can even be beneficial to let them win because otherwise it would be unfair to play any games with them, especially those requiring larger amounts of skill. You wouldn’t expect David Beckham to play soccer with his kids with the same vigor he’d play professionally would you? And if you’re playing a game as a team with your kid and you want to win, it’s up to you to play better to make up for the obvious difference in skill when a toddler is playing

Speaking of Maya, when yelling at her for refusing his advances he spontaneously laid on her without her consent and with no real warning (it was intended for her to be another one of Eli’s girlfriends and she was brought over, as far as she knew, to meet with Eli to see if they were compatible in person), Greg was actually holding his child and running in and out of the room screaming at her. The subject matter alone was inappropriate for a child to hear (Greg asking why she was not sexually attracted to him because “everyone was” for example), let alone being carried by a screaming man running around the house. It almost seemed as if Greg decided to use his child as a human shield because there was no other reason for him to pick up a child to bring to a room where he was going to scream at a young woman. The child couldn’t even leave if he wanted to because he was being held

There was audio in the background of one of Eli’s videos where you can hear Greg scream to “take some fucking responsibility for once”. This was either directed at one of his very young children, or yelled at someone else in the house or on the phone loud enough for the children to hear. Again, not a good environment for these children to grow up in

During a livestream the boy once entered the room to tell Greg that he loved him, Greg didn’t respond back in kind. I get that Greg likely wanted to get the kid out of the livestream for his so-called privacy, but that doesn’t stop him from from quickly responding to the kid while doing so. Especially in a private livestream with people who know of your kids and are waiting in line to enter into the household as a third

The children get to watch Eli flinch and otherwise act scared of Greg, they may not understand it, but their brains will remember this. It is also encouraging them to be more scared of their father than they already likely are

James gets mad if Kai turns on the heat even in January. Toddlers and children can be quite sensitive to the cold and it doesn’t matter how he feels, what matters is his children (which clearly isn’t how he feels)

Update: A recent video of the girl has shown that her hair is a sad mess. At that age the girl’s hair should be bright, shiney, and healthy looking. Unfortunately it is unkempt and dull. It would look like her hair is washed too often with bad products and not brushed as it should be on top of visual signs of deficiencies leading to unhealthy hair. I’d take a potshot and assume this child were deficient in amino acids and other healthy fats if she were brought to me (disclaimer: I cannot officially diagnose anyone over the internet). It may also be due to her horrific accident

[coulsonxarchive]

      triggers for terminal illness are below.

      project t.a.h.i.t.i. is not something coulson is comfortable speaking about ( to those with the proper clearances, of course ). it’s obvious by his avoidance of it that it doesn’t settle right with him, and it really never did. this is one of the biggest examples of where his loyalty lead him to perform acts he is not even remotely proud of.

      considering how the avenger’s initiative was his baby in some fashion, he was originally on board with the idea of having a contingency in place should the worst happen to a member of the team. they are, and always will be, entirely invaluable and each of their skillsets are entirely irreplaceable. what’s more to that, they as people are irreplaceable.

      the first of his discomforts came with the human test subjects of t.a.h.i.t.i. ---while he understood that each of his coworkers were terminal in their cases and willing on their own accord to try something ( anything ) to possibly cease their inevitable passing, experimental medicine toes a very dangerous line at the best of times. still he allowed the project to proceed with their consent and with the hope that they could possibly live out fuller lives than they were handed.

      with the side-effects of gh. 325 becoming apparent, coulson wanted to shut down t.a.h.i.t.i., but was convinced by the doctor working on the project to keep it going. the second of his discomforts came with the use of the memory writing machine ---how it worked, what it did, and the concept of erasing entire instances of their patient’s memories ( even if it did erase what was forcing them to mutilate symbols into their own bodies ).

      coulson was not, is not, and never will be comfortable with the knowledge of how the memory writing machine works. it’s torture, to be kept conscious and awake while your brain is being openly re-written, while the caps of the patient’s skulls are removed. ( now, a good portion of legitimate medical procedures on the brain are performed this way, however the patient typically doesn’t feel pain? and the fact that he could hear them screaming means that these people were not properly numbed out ).

      the fact that he signed off on, an approved this machine’s use, haunted him up until the moment he was killed on the helicarrier. it’s a guilt he bore like atlas, keeping it heavy on his shoulders, and never forgiving himself for the consideration thereof. 

      ultimately, the guilt of his conscience and overall distaste at what the project wound up being forced coulson to resign from it ---if he couldn’t have it shut down he wanted no part of it any longer, though the psychological damage of his involvement had been done. his campaign to have t.a.h.i.t.i. shut down was only ended with him, aboard the helicarrier.

      obviously, and for the first good portion of his resurrection, coulson was wholly unaware of t.a.h.i.t.i.’s employment on his person. he’d been implanted with memories suggesting he’d survived his injury, and that he’d spent time recovering in actual tahiti, on a warm beach. it took two years for him to discover the truth.

      coulson is not alright with anything that happened regarding t.a.h.i.t.i. there is significant psychological damage at the re-learning of its existence, at what it had done to the first six patients, at the memory writing machine, and its use on himself. he does not believe that anyone’s importance outweighs the psychological damage the patients suffer if the memory wiping machine is not used because of the cellular memories associated with gh. 325, nor does he agree with the physical pain the patients suffer during the procedure of the memory wiping machine. if he died, he should have stayed dead. period.

      he’d been lead to believe that t.a.h.i.t.i. was headed by fury, and the knowledge that he was responsible for it in its entirety was soulcrushing. the knowledge that he had been operated on as invasively as the other six patients was crushing. all of his prior guilt came crashing back into existence, coupled with new associations thereof that he was deemed as irreplaceable as an avenger, that they would have used this on the avengers if something catasrophic happened. on anyone.

      he bears a very, very faint scar from the procedure, which required a keen eye and proper lighting to see. the knowledge of t.a.h.i.t.i.’s existence, up until the destruction of the guest house, and his involvement therein is a weight he will bear alone until he dies again. and the very fact that he then became a subject of his own former project has stirred up emotions and anger that has yet to be fully addressed.

      edit: for clarification ---coulson doesn’t agree with the existence of the memory wiping machine in general. tampering with anyone’s memories is incredibly invasive regardless of the reason, and it’s very creation is pretty fucking abominable to him.

[icefrozendeadlyqueen]

Expectations: Chapter 1 - New Beginnings

Word count: 2241.

Summary: Are we just pawns, is that it? Villains, Heroes or Lucky? Right. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wednesday, July, 26. New Character's POV. Ashley High School.

"Your mother and I want the best for you", my step father explains as I stare out the car windows at my new school. What's going to be my new school anyhow? It was a need for me to be taken off my old preparatory to be here. I don't mind the chance. It was just too sudden for my comfort. It was inexplicable and under qualify. I mean, who am I to be here? I am no hero. Everybody knows Ashley High School is for heroes only. I am far from a hero.

"Look, for now. This is good. A new start. We all needed that". He starts once again. My eyes roll at him more than they should have. My lips parted to say words that never came out to him. I was just hoping something happens, so I didn't need to speak to him. Our worlds never combine. He would stay on his side of the line, and I would be in mine.

His actions are good. I understand his reasons why we had to move. I just don't appreciate him trying to explain his reason. I don't appreciate him trying to explain himself. We already talk about it a few month back. It was the idea. He probably didn't get the memo; however, he was in the room next to my mother.

Flashback - 3 month ago.

It was the earliest I could remember. We were getting ready for summer, that's how my mom calls it. She is from the old times when summer was a thing. It surprises me when she talks about this vacation time that kids of all ages were allowed to have. It was amazing. She told me she loved it; however, in this time we live now. Summer doesn't exist what so ever. There are vacations that family plan ahead, and we are able to leave school without consequences. It's like a family tradition.

My brothers and sisters were in their rooms doing their usual things. I don't particularly ask on what's going on. We don't particularly talk that much when we don't have too. Everyone has their own thing. They have their own personal life, and I have my own personal one. The idea I had was to go out and be with my friends for the day; however, Salazar, my step dad had other plans for me.

"Is that you, Bella? Come to the kitchen at once", I bit my bottom lip looking at the front door. What's stopping me from just opening it? Nothing. I can totally do it. I resume walking towards the door before I hear my mother, "Bella. Please come into the kitchen". I instantly stop in my tracks. Salazar just uses my mother as the bait. This is one of the reasons we don't like each other. He thinks he has a right to control me. Oh, how wrong he is. He isn't even my real father.

A tsk escape my lips while I walk past the stairs. I passed the living room maneuvering through all the unpacked boxes and unplaced furniture. The living room was a complete mess to my mere surprise because this wasn't messy last night. I would remember I ate dinner in the living room last night. Everyone was already asleep when that happens. I am a loner. It seems bad, but I just need one friend. I have a friend, Stella. She is my best friend. The sweetest girl in Vigorous Preparatory.

It's not the best school to be sweet; however, Stella makes it wonderful to be attending. She has the most elaborate jokes of all times. I do believe Stella is a smartass. The only problem is that she is an airhead sometimes. We have similarities, but the only difference is that I am not air-headed or have a sense of fashion. Stella fashion sense comes in pink and white. Oh, I can't forget her love for fluffness. She takes it to a whole new level.

I shake my head looking into the kitchen. Boxes everywhere from the counters to the floors. I glance at them as I came into the kitchen. I take a seat at the table in front of my mother. She was seating parallel to me with a big smile on her features. Salazar is standing to the right of my mother. He has a reassuring hand on her right shoulder while I am glaring daggers into his skull. I am hoping it makes a hole, or that he burst into flames. I might be acting like an attitude brat, but I just can't trust him. Yeah, that's it. I don't trust him.

"Sweetheart. We have big news", A smile on my features the moment my eyes fall on my mothers. My mother has amber eyes that remind me of fresh honey. She used to bring these big jars of it from the market. She always knows which are the best ones to pick. My mother has beautiful almond hair. Her hair is longer than mine while I prefer it to be shoulder length. I love my mother's hair color. Ungratefully, I have brown hair and brown eyes. I am the most basic of all the combinations out there, but I am happy with whatever I was given. I have got the best mother in the whole wide world.

"News? like what? You are redecorating?", I try my best to quick out the mystery they have going on. It was a joke. I found it funny; however, Salazar glares up at me. I roll my eyes at him, "Is it everything a joke for you?", he asks me. I didn't respond just lean back on the chair. I cross my arms not even looking at him. Instead, I glance out the window on the left, "Salazar. Leave us, please. You know she is getting used to us". My mother explains trying for Salazar not to be angry at my behavior again. We don't mix well with water and oil.

A sigh escapes Salazar's lips as he glances at my mother, "Madelline. You need to stop consenting her behavior". He speaks up before turning around and leaving the room. I look at my mother as soon as the door he went in close. My mother looks down at all the boxes, "Bella. I need you to cooperate. It's a change, but I do believe you'll like this new place". She explains to me with the sweetest tone, and I can't say no to her tone. I mean, that's my mother's power after all. I don't remember much after that. I know, I had packed all of my stuff that same night. I am able to say that my mother is good.

End of Flashback.

"Look, Salazar. Let's just do like this never happen. You stay in your side while I deal with mine. I am going to a new high school. Do you want to know the truth? I am tired of changes. I am tired of changing every damn time you fucked up. It's always. It's not my fault or my siblings, is it? I had a life back in Oster. I had friends which it's hard to get. I had a life", I didn't stop neither waited for him to protest.

I could only see the shock on his features as I take the biggest breath in history, "You are the worst. I am now here while my best friend gets bullied back in Oster! You think that's fair??? NO! I had no choice! I was her shield. I protected her. Now, what do I do now? ha? Yeah, I thought so". I grab the door handle jumping out the car. I closed the door after taking my backpack. I didn't look back once as I walk away into my new life, Ashley High School. Did I explain this is a heroes school? Let that sink in.

I had a pretty good idea of what to do in this school. I might need to get a transfer or suspended. My mother won't have any choice to sent me back to Oster. I could go back with Stella. I can't leave my best friend on her own. She is basically an outcast in Oster. I didn't mind being an outcast with her. It was our own special time together. We would explore and do these amazing things. Other kids at Oster call us weird.

Well, we were weird? I wasn't the one that looked like a mutant survivor of an experiment. That's putting it nicer. They aren't the nicest kids in Oster; however, Stella and I didn't mind much. We had a thought an idea. It was our idea. Our friendship was worth much than a simple game.

I sigh heavily shaking the feeling of dread. Stella would want me to be happy. There is a thought. I was determined to make the few days I have in this school worth my while. I could have a story out of this. One, I can tell Stella. I got the simplest outfit I could think off. I am not trying to make friends with anyone; however, I had to wear something. I went with blue jeans that I got from Fnarg is a pretty good store back at Oster. A plain white shirt protected by my favorite leather jacket. It was my mother's gift to me for turning 16. It was like my sweet 16th gift.

I came prepared with white sneakers. I had seen the layouts from the internet of the high school. They have a lot of buildings from different things. I had no idea there were so many heroes. I have completely forgotten how many there were. I thought there were only a few like Stark Tower and such. That's basically all I know. I am not glued to know everything about heroes. I don't particularly care. I do know, they don't like villains. I am no villain. I just know how to survive certain situations.

I check the A.H.H app to figure out where the hell am I. I have completely no idea as everything looks the same to me. I look up localizing where I am supposed to go. A quick pace on my steps trying to move through groups of students. I didn't want to talk to anyone at all. It wasn't an option I was willing to take. I glance around noticing I am the only one to approach the machine. It looks like a cylinder made of metal. I am slowly approaching noticing the 3 lines of 3 that are at the bottom. They are placed in a horizontal line while at the top has a small box.

I stop in front of the cylinder. I look around seeing how no one looks at me. I place my hand down onto the small box seeing that it was scanning it. A ring bell came into my phone as I look at it. Did I just get my schedule on my phone? Cool!. I look back at the cylinder not sure what to do now. I fix my backpack to one of my shoulders. I glance down at my phone reading through the schedule while I walk away from the cylinder. It explains here I have a class in building 7 located in room 356. I look up noticing I am back at the front of the school. I glance left and right trying to figure out where my guide is. They said somebody was going to come walk me around.

A roll of my eyes came as I glance at the time, "Holy shit! 9:16am? I am so late". I whisper to myself taking the left sidewalk. I passed some group of Cheerleaders. They didn't shove me to the side like they do at Oster. They were too distracted talking to each other to notice me. A breeze blew by once in a while, but I didn't trust it much. The weather in Ashley High School is control by students or heroes with weather powers. It's not a fair game, to be honest. What if they wanted to burn the whole damn school? What about then?

I am shoved back, and I truly fall onto my ass. I wasn't truly looking up or around me. I look in front of me noticing a girl on the floor. She glances up at me with a death glare, "Look, where yo- Oh, I know you". A finger to her chin as she looks me up and down. She slowly stands up cleaning her jeans. I roll my eyes at the sweet time she is taking. She hands her hand towards me, "Are you, Bella? The new girl?". I take her hand nodding. She smiles widely at me, "Yeah, you are?". I ask like a dumbass.

"Wally. Wally Blackwell. Nice to meet you. I am your guide".

[sicklylittlesnowflake]

•You never really go to parties and are always really uptight and we made fun of you for it/expressed frustration at this so you forced yourself to go to this party and shit you’re so sick and you won’t go home because we made you feel bad I’m so sorry how can I make it up to you?? (Keith is not a fan of parties but his friends eventually pester him into going to one despite being sick as a dog.)

(I started this fic with the intention of having it for whumpmas, so if that is not a testament to how slow I am as a writer, idk what is! Also, btw this is weird but I love when sicknarios I write get back to me, lol! And I did write this scenario with Keith and E from les mis in mind, so this is a great prompt! This is college au, btw, I find it kinda difficult to write alien parties lmao!)

Parties are the perfect culmination of everything Keith hates in life.

Bright, strobe, head ache inducing lights with a wide variety of flashing, psychedelic colours, ear piercingly loud music with a tremendous beat that makes his heart thump and thump and feel way too overwhelmed, warm, sticky bodies way too close too each other and making him feel suffocated, too much people, having fun and feeling free when Keith can only feel more trapped.

Too much people.

Too much.

Keith has spent so much time in solitude, in simplicity. And being thrust into a situation where there is too much all at once is alien to him, and he can’t help the rapid beating and thumping of his wild heart when he looks around for some sort of serenity.

Keith feels trapped in this room, the overwhelming humidity and heaviness of this air weighing down on him and compressing his lungs so he can’t breathe.  He hates watching all these people exhilarated, vibrant, alive. When he can only feel more lifeless by the second.

He feels like an alien like this. Like he isn’t part of this world. Keith doesn’t even feel like here’s here. He can’t even feel his body, he doesn’t feel like he’s connected to it, and he’s floating away. Looking down.  And he hates what he sees.

All Keith can feel is the pounding and raging headache that seems to pierce into his skull and the pain is only worsened by the tremors of the pulsating waves of sound from the obnoxiously large speakers that litter the place.

He didn’t even want to be here; Shiro had told him this would be good, that college was great, and he needed to start living that college life. Shiro said he needed to be more sociable, because he would make the best friends of his life here. Pidge would tease him , and so would Lance. And Hunk encouraged him kindly, and Keith did not have any energy to fight them. So he went. And he could not have regretted a decision more than this very moment.

Keith stumbles around the night club like he’s drunk, and he doesn’t have one single drop of alcohol in his body. If he can be drunk on a fever, he definitely is. Due to his feverish haze he’s lost Shiro and Pidge, and his only hope is finding Lance and Hunk who are probably the life and soul of the party.

In this haze he hasn’t even realised the tickle blossoming within his sinuses and before he knows it he’s doubling over with one loud, powerful sneeze that grates against his throat with no time to cover, and just aim towards the floor. He gets a slightly irritated look from some person, and honestly, he doesn’t even mind. Keith feels awful being this germ incubator in this tightly knit space. This cold is horrendous, and he’s probably just passed it on to a good three people and he feels terrible.

Keith stumbles and wobbles around the night club dizzily, the technicolor lights seeming like an acid trip he did not consent to, and it seems to be sending waves of messages to his brain to hurt and throb. He feels a tad bit of anger and bitterness towards Shiro, Allura and Pidge, and maybe a little bit towards Lance and Hunk, but in fairness to them, they hadn’t pushed him to go this particular evening, but they had in the past.

“You need to enjoy your college experience, Keith! Get out of your room for once, embrace your youth!” Shiro had told him, in a way that was so middle aged dad he wanted to tear his hair out but so perfectly Shiro he couldn’t help but be persuaded into it.

“Don’t be such a stick in the mud, Keith,” Pidge had whined.

“It’ll be so much fun, Keith! Plus, I heard that Lance is wearing a pretty cute outfit tonight,” Allura had teased, causing him to scowl knowing she had played with his heart and manipulated him with the promise of his crush looking cute.

And Keith couldn’t even find Lance, so there was about zero reason for him even being here.

As Keith continues to feverishly navigate around the crowded night club, pushing past bare, sticky skin and profusely overheating, he is suddenly tapped on the shoulder.

“Hey, will you kiss my friend?” A girl slurs, an arm sluggishly wrapped around her equally as wasted friend, giggling to her heart’s content.

Keith opens his mouth to politely refuse, but before he’s even aware his nose is itching horribly and Keith is doubling over with one loud, almost obnoxiously, heavy and sickly sounding sneeze he doesn’t cover.

The girls take a step back, giggling and backing away from him and fading away worth the crowd.

“Too bad, he was pretty cute though, just gross,” He hears one of them say before they disappeared entirely.

Keith sighs sadly, the girl was pretty, and he didn’t swing that way but he still felt kinda bad for being so gross. But his guilt doesn’t last long before he’s back to pitying himself and reembarking on his quest to find Lance.

He doesn’t even know why he’s so keen on finding the guy, he doesn’t really know what he’s expecting and maybe it’s his fever talking, but he’s not leaving this damn club without seeing his cute as fuck crush who is the reason he’s in this hellhole to begin with.

And it’s almost like a fairytale but it’s the sound of a beautiful melody, like a mesmerising serenade that captivates him him and lulls him over to the source.

He knows that voice anywhere.

He would know Lance’s melodic, tenor voice anywhere, it’s sweet and enthralling and it makes him feel all warm inside. Everything the little shit does makes him feel that way, but Lance’s voice is a siren’s song calling him and putting him on this spell and he’s forever his.

His voice has taken on an edge, a kind of rock and roll gruff to it that he finds insanely hot–maybe the fever adds to it though, he doesn’t know–and it’s sure tell sign that Lance is drunk.

“I guess I got what I deserved, kept you waiting there too long, my love. All that time without a word, didn’t know you’d think that I’d forget, or I’d regret, the special love, I have for you, my baby blue!” Lance sings, people dancing and bopping and head banging to his song.

Keith  manages to get a glimpse of Hunk who was jamming it out on the drums, and then he saw what he was looking for.

“Fuck,” Keith breathes out, “Allura was right.”

He did look pretty great.

He had his hair tousled and ruffled in a way that made him look so irresistible and adorable and these strobing lights that he hated served one purpose, and that was making his skin glow and his eyes twinkle and pop. His blue t-shirt hugged his body and his jeans were flattering and he looked so great. Keith wanted to faint.

Partly because of how attractive he looked, but also because he was now super light headed.

Lance looks beautiful and radiant, flashing a random girl watching one of those charming, flirty smiles that makes Keith jealous every time he does. He understands Lance isn’t his, but god he wished he was.

Keith shakes his head angrily, he’s never  his sentimental or sappy over Lance, maybe he really is that sick.

Then Lance looks over and they lock gazes, and this stupid lazy grin wipes across the boy’s face and any jealousy or bitterness or illness Keith is feeling seems to disappear when he does.

However Lance seems to realise his current state because his face drops. He quickly passes the mic to the random guy who’s playing the guitar and rushes over to Keith, albeit in a zig zagged direction as he seems to be tripping over his own feet.

“Keith?” Lance greets worriedly, only he can still remain appealing despite reeking of alcohol.

“Hey Lancey-Lance,” Keith slurs feverishly, before his nose twitches and he’s doubling over and aiming two harsh sneezes towards the floor.

“Lancey-Lan–god, you look awful! And Jesus, for you to be calling me that you must be running a–” Lance cut himself off and placed the back of his hand against Keith’s forehead and frowned.

“Dammit, Keith! That’s not good, we gotta get you,” Lance hiccups, “–home!”

“Why did you come, anyway, while you were this sick?” Lance frets, hiccuping again.

“M'not a stick in the mud,” Keith mutters feverishly, leaning into Lance’s side and nuzzling his face against his chest in exhaustion.

He pulls Keith into his embrace and kissed the top of his head, eyebrows furrowing in confusion, “What? What are you–oh.”

Lance’s heart sinks, “Keith. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry for teasing you, I didn’t mean to hurt you at all, I just..I wanted you to be with us. When you’re not here..I miss you.”

Keith shakes his head, “Not you.. you didn’t make me come tonight.”

Lance bites his lip, “Still. I contributed to make you feel like you were uptight and boring when you are nothing but exciting and lovely. I’m sorry Keith, please, let me make it up to you.”

Keith cant help but crack a weak smile, “I didn’t know you were an emotional drunk. I’m glad I came here tonight, now I can blackmail you.”

Lance can’t help but laugh a little, “But we’re taking you home right now.”

Keith sneezes loudly into Lance’s chest, muttering, “Sorry.”

Lance smiles softly, tapping him on the nose, “Alright, Mullet. Enough, we’re going home.”

“But they’re having so much fun..look at Hunk..he’s jamming out..” Keith points over to Hunk.

“And you..need to keep singing..” He insists tiredly.

“No way, you’re too sick!” Lance protest as he began to walk Keith out, simultaneously pulling out his phone to order an uber.

Once they arrive outside Keith let out a sigh of relief to feel the fresh air, basking in all the space and the soft lighting. His head seemed to ease up a little bit.

However the cold quickly began to seep in, causing him to shiver violently. Lance pulls off the jacket he had tied around the waist and helped Keith out it on. He then pulls the boy into a hug to share his warmth.

“Thank you,” Keith manages to choke out before erupting into a series of harsh, heavy coughs.

Lance could only smile weakly, obviously feeling guilty but pushed it aside to wave over to the Uber driver and guided Keith in.

***

Lance hauls Keith onto his bed, with him muttering about taking out the aspirin because they’ll both need it the next day, and heads straight towards the bathroom to collect a damp towel for him. Once he returned he laid the cloth gently over his forehead and pulled a chair over, sitting beside him.

“Shiro called. He was wondering where we were, I told him you were sick and he feels awful. They all do. Pidge says Korean takeaway is on her tomorrow, if you’re up for it,” Lance explains softly.

“You’re not a stick in the mud, Keith. Okay? You’re not boring. You’re not any of these things we made you feel and I’m so sorry we ever did. You’re sweet and kind and such a great friend and– I’m so sorry, Keith, we should’ve understood. I love parties but there are days where I just don’t even want to get out of bed, I should’ve understood, showed you some compassion. I should’ve..”

“Lance, stop.”

He looks over Keith, feeling guilt and feeling responsible for Keith being this sick. He feels awful, he had made yet another mistake. He feels so stupid for being unable to read in between the lines, his jokes going too far and he hadn’t even noticed it. He just wanted  Keith to be with him, to be happy. And he had to go and fuck it up.

“You’re really good at hiding how you feel, Lance, but you can’t hide it from me, stop feeling so guilty,” Keith croaks.

“I can’t help it, I was hurting you and I didn’t know,” Lance murmurs.

Keith coughs harshly, feeling his chest rattle from the force of it, “I’ve felt worse pain.”

“That doesn’t make it okay.”

Keith smiles softly, “But you didn’t mean to hurt me. I know you never would try and hurt me. ..you said..you missed me when I’m not there. Yeah, I was hurt, but now I feel wanted.”

Lance manages a smile, “Always. You’re always wanted.”

“I hope you know that.”

“I know now,” He slurs feverishly.

Keith coughs again, and when he finishes he looks over at Lance with bleary, glazed eyes, and giggles, “You looked very hot tonight.”

Lance blushes hard, his eyes widening, “U-uh..n-no, you’re the feverish one, you’re hot.”

Keith scoffs before yet again coughing, “Don’t play dumb, you’re smarter than you give yourself credit for. You know what I meant.”

Lance shakes a little, so unused to being the one flirted with rather than the one initiating it, Keith did this thing where he shook his entire world and turned it upside down and he’d lose control.

“You’re not..you’re..you’re..uh..pretty. Uh, pretty cool. Pretty handsome. Whatever,” Lance blurts , extremely flustered.

Keith grabs at his hand with the sweetest look in his eyes, “Sing for me, please. It makes everything feel okay again.”

Lance swallows as his hand was grabbed, but he let himself relax into his touch and let it happen. He smiles.

“I’ve got no use for moonlight, or sappy poetry. Love at first sight is for suckers, at least it used to be. Look, girls are nice, once or twice, til’ I find someone new..but I never planned on no one like you.”

[dontcareajot]

Sleepless Nights

(That rubberbang thing I mentioned. Contains sleepy boys on the verge of something new. May or may not have written this a year ago at an ungodly hour. Enjoy?)

It’s a wet, dreary night. The moon is just barely peaking out from behind the clouds and the streets are blanketed by a thin, misty fog. Dan isn’t even sure what city they’re in. At this point they’re all blending together, one hotel room blurring into another. This hotel room happens to be particularly shitty but scratchy sheets and the potential for bed bugs aren’t the reason for Dan’s insomnia. He’s not sure he can pinpoint a reason, actually. By all rights he should be too exhausted to hold his eyes open, but he finds the live shows are draining in a different way. He enjoys them, has always enjoyed them, but right now he feels stretched thin. Tired, but unable to sleep. The world has taken on an almost dream-like quality that could have something to do with the fact that it’s nearing two in the morning and he hasn’t slept in roughly two days.

Dan isn’t sure how long he’s been sitting on the curb outside, long legs folded at an uncomfortable angle, when Ross joins him. Ross looks as bleary-eyed as Dan feels and he yawns as he takes a seat beside him. There are pencil smudges on the side of his hand and Dan doesn’t have to wonder whether or not his insomnia has been acting up as well. Ross brought a sketchbook with him on tour- a single sketchbook and his favorite pencil. “Sometimes I draw when I can’t sleep,” he’d explained. “Sometimes it helps.”

Evidently it didn’t help much tonight. Ross’ smile is slow and sleepy, but his eyes are starting to brighten. They look dark under the moonlight, the blue there but dampened. “Couldn’t sleep,” he says, voice kept uncharacteristically low. Dan isn’t sure if he’s asking or telling but he nods anyway. Then Ross confides, “I like it better when we share rooms.”

“Yeah,” Dan agrees, then clears his throat. “I know what you mean.” Having someone in the room with him is always comforting when he’s in a strange city and in a strange headspace.

For a while, it’s quiet between them. Ross rests his head on Dan’s shoulder and doesn’t say anything. He smells like hotel sheets and his own shampoo. They sit still for so long that Dan starts to think maybe Ross fell asleep- but of course he didn’t, and of course Ross can’t sit still forever. He sits up, abruptly, and takes Dan’s arm. “Let’s go for a walk,” he suggests, looking far more alert than when he’d first joined Dan outside.

Dan shrugs his consent. “If we get mugged I’m using you as a human shield,” he warns. Ross lets go of his arm as they stand but doesn’t wander far. Their hands bump as they start to walk. Dan picks a direction at random and Ross doesn’t argue. Dan is pretty sure neither of them has a destination in mind.

“Got your phone?” Dan asks, because he hadn’t thought to bring his outside with him.

Ross pats his pocket. “Yep,” he chirps. His jeans are rumpled, his t-shirt has a small hole in it near the hem, and his hair is a mess. Neither of them are really fit for human consumption, Dan thinks, but at least they’re both wearing pants.

Despite the hour, the city is still alive. Barely, perhaps, but Ross and Dan are far from the only people on the sidewalk. But the others are easy to ignore. As Ross chatters, filling the silence between them, Dan starts to feel as though they’re utterly alone. On their own planet- or, no, in their own dimension. Somewhere apart. It’s a sort of detachment he’s learned to associate with exhaustion or bouts of intense creativity. In this case, the former.

Ross’ presence is grounding, though. Every time he punctuates a statement with a light tap to Dan’s shoulder or a tug of his sleeve, it brings him back. Dan notices, absently, that Ross’ accent is out in full force tonight, barely muffed behind years of stifling it. And he’s warm, despite the weather. Dan notices that, too, when Ross takes his hand and leads him toward an oddities shop, somehow still open. He doesn’t let go. Neither does Dan. Instead, he twines their fingers. If Ross notices, or cares, he doesn’t show it- he’s too busy pointing out a morbidly impressive collection of animal skulls on display, his impish smile running contradictory to the way he says, “Aw, gross, dude.”

Ross’ hand is small compared to Dan’s. It isn’t soft or delicate. Ross has calluses from years and years of holding a pencil. Dan gets distracted staring at their interlocked fingers.

“Dan, look,” Ross urges, lightly squeezing his hand. “Fucking old school torture devices.”

Dan blinks at the selection of metal instruments- torture devices or ancient medical implements, he isn’t sure- and rolls his eyes. “Of course you’re drawn to the pointy objects.”

Ross giggles and doesn’t contradict the point. He’s already distracted by the next thing, dragging Dan with him down the aisle, and then the next thing and the next until they’re stumbling back out of the shop the way they came, having lost five dollars but gained an oddly shaped and colored rock that Ross had decided would make a good souvenir. He holds it up against the moon, smiling, the crinkles by the corners of his eyes the only real tell for his age. Dan figures he won’t miss the five dollars, even if he did give Ross shit for conveniently leaving his wallet back at the hotel.

Ross rolls the rock around in his fingers and then stuffs it deep into his pocket. He sways toward Dan, links their arms, and asks plaintively, “Where to next?”

It must be nearing three by now. They should be going back, should be crawling into bed and at least trying to sleep. Instead, Dan scans the storefronts around them. Most of them are darkened, empty, but a few stand out, their neon open signs acting as beacons. Dan spots one in particular and brightens. “Milkshakes,” he declares.

Ross shows his enthusiasm for this idea by squeaking and dragging Dan towards the all-night diner at the corner. It’s dingy, a little dirty, but well-lit and inviting nonetheless. Dan has the absurd idea that he and Ross might share a milkshake, two straws like in the old movies. But of course they each order their own- though Ross does reach across the table more than once to steal a taste or two of Dan’s, smiling impishly the entire time.

There’s something about the late hour and sleep deprivation that brings out the introspective side of Dan. Typically Ross would be the last person he’d go to to ramble about the deeper meanings of life, the inner workings of the universe, his own meandering and convoluted feelings- but he starts talking and can’t stop and, to his surprise, Ross proves to be the perfect sounding board. He takes Dan’s ideas and runs with him, spitting out his own and taking them through tangents that either make Dan laugh or make him think.

Their milkshakes are long gone by the time Dan catches sight of the clock and realizes they should go. But when Dan suggests heading back to the hotel, Ross frowns, hooks his feet behind Dan’s ankles under the table. “Few more minutes?” he begs, despite the darkening circles under his eyes.

Dan sighs, but… Well. It’s not like it’s a chore.

They do eventually wander out of the diner, walking close, knocking into each other a little. They reach Dan’s hotel room at a little after five and, though Dan still isn’t sure if he’ll be able to sleep, he feels tired enough to make a beeline for the bed anyway. He collapses into it still fully dressed, and half-heartedly kicks off his shoes. Ross’ room is somewhere down the hall. He seems in no hurry to get there, instead lingering in Dan’s doorway, a silhouette in the moonlight bleeding in through the curtains.

Dan watches him for a moment. Ross fiddles with the hem of his shirt, opens his mouth and closes it again.

He’d said he likes it when they share rooms. Dan hasn’t forgotten, and he wouldn’t mind someone else to keep the other side of the bed warm. He holds out a hand, beckoning. Ross isn’t hesitant at all about accepting the offer. He grins, uses the heel of his shoe to coax the door closed and then kicks them off in the entryway. He slides his hand into Dan’s and then slides under the covers. Dan figures he should probably cover up, too, but he feels boneless. Too tired to move and definitely too tired to even think about questioning the way Ross scoots closer, until he’s nearly tucked up under Dan’s chin, their hands still folded together atop the comforter. It’s nice, having someone beside him. Having Ross beside him.

Dan tilts just far enough to plant a feather-light kiss on Ross’ forehead. “Love you,” he mumbles, because it’s true. It’s always true, but it feels especially true in the moment.

“You, too,” Ross says around a yawn. He shifts once, twice, and then settles, curled close and warm. Dan drifts off far easier than he expected. He thinks, abstractly, that however sleepy he feels later, during the day, it will have been worth it.

[elle-in-hell]

when the day met the night

chapter two!! 

**warning** this chapter get’s a bit dark at the end for backstory purposes, so if you are in any way triggered by mentions of abusive relationships, homophobia, etc, i recommend you either read with caution or do not read at all. stay safe everybody:)

florist!eddie & tattooartist!richie

find it on ao3 here and chapter 1 here

chapter 2 - peonies (bashfulness & compassion)

“Bev! Beverly!” Richie pounded on his best friend Beverly Marsh’s door, practically jumping out of his skin with excitement. Usually he would just use his spare key, but he had left it in his bag at work in his haste to find her. Also, he would probably not scream at her to get to the door when she was sick at any other time, but still, this was an emergency in Richie’s eyes.

Beverly, however, was rudely interrupted from her sulking over being sick and contemplated pretending to be dead and just not letting her friend inside. Still, she did because she knew what would probably happen if she didn't and she didn't want to replace any more doors.

The faded green door swung open just as Richie was about to knock again and he stumbled slightly inside, to which Bev just let him fall. He scrambled to his feet, still shaking with energy and his ginger-haired friend just sighed and closed the door behind him.

“Okay, asshole, explain yourself,” she mused, flopping down onto the sofa and swinging her feet up onto the coffee table as Richie practically jumped into a nearby armchair.

“I just met the most beautiful boy in the world,” he blurted, something that would probably make Eddie Kaspbrak cry if he’d heard it. “He’s perfect Bevvie, and he works across the street and he’s just so tiny and his hair looks so soft and his eyes are really sparkly and fuck!” He pulled his hair out of its bun in frustration and let the loose strands hang wherever they pleased.

Beverly chuckled, watching the clearly lovesick boy lose his mind over some kid he’d just met.

“I need to ask him out. I need to Bev, but I don’t even know if he likes guys, for fucks sake! He probably doesn’t, knowing my luck, but he works at a goddamn florist shop so I think I just need to go for it. Wha’d’ya say?”

She quickly looked up, having lost interest and just smiled, completely unsure of anything the wild boy had said.

“Yeah, sure,” she said, hoping that made at least a little bit of sense.

And with that, Richie practically leapt out of his seat and raced for the door.

“Oh yeah! One more thing,” he called, pulling the small bouquet of flowers from his bag and handing them to the sickly girl. “He helped me pick these out. Apparently they mean like health and strength or some cheesy shit like that, but I thought you’d like them so here.”

Bev sighed, remembering why she had willingly stayed with this kid for so many years as she pulled her tall friend into a hug and kissed his cheek, sending him out the door.

“Go get ‘em, loverboy!” She called down the hallway as she retreated to her kitchen and began to fill a vase.

By the time Richie made it into his car, he had already started to freak out. Nope, Eddie wasn’t the kind of boy that dates Richie Tozier. Boys that date Richie Tozier are two of a kind. The boys that date Richie Tozier are the boys that threaten him not to tell anyone by beating him up so bad that he can’t talk. They’re boys that kick the crap out of him immediately after making out to get themselves a clean alibi with their friends. They’re older boys that stick their hands down his pants in the gym showers when no one else is around.

No, the boys that want to date Richie Tozier are the boys who know he won’t tell their petty little secret, and the boys that don’t give enough of a shit about his feelings to treat him like a real person.

He tells himself it was stupid. That he can't believe he let himself get so worked up over some kid he just met. That there's no way he could waltz back into that store and ask out this boy because he'd run away screaming the minute Richie walked in the door. He still remembered what happened that last date he went on.

Junior year, one week before the last day of school, Richie Tozier had a boyfriend. Jeffery Carroll, senior, varsity basketball captain, and grade-A asshole. At least, to everyone else Richie knew. Jeffery Carroll was the first one to claim he hooked up with Bev. He was the first one who started the chain of egging the temple Stan's family attended. He was the one leading the vandalisms of Mike's grandfather's deli. He was the one who drove to Henry Bowers' house to alert him that the Hanscom family had moved in on his street and that there was "fresh meat" for their escapades.

He was the one who would threaten to bash his boyfriend's skull in if he told anyone about their relationship. He was the one who refused to go on dates with Richie but always told him it was because he had better things to do and better people to do. Jefferey Carroll was the boy who taught Richie Tozier what real relationships were and what he should expect from a partner. He was the boy who told Richie he was his first love before his friends found them together and Jeffery shoved him into a wall, kicking the shit out of him and lying to his friends that the smaller boy had come onto him without consent.

Richie Tozier became the "homo slut" that underclassmen would run from in the halls and upperclassmen would lock him in janitors' closets for hours. His grades went from on the road to valedictorian to barely eligible to graduate simply because he could hardly go to class.

He hasn't dated anyone since.

So that’s why Beverly doesn’t lock her door after Richie leaves because she knows that whether it’s five minutes or five hours from then, he’s going to come back and she’s going to be there.

Because Beverly Marsh knows about all the guys that date Richie Tozier and none of them will let him do this. All of them have ruined him beyond the ability to be the boy that dates Eddie Kaspbrak because he doesn’t feel like he has a say anymore.

Richie hauled his ass back up to Beverly’s apartment, trying the doorknob, and opening it slowly when he discovered that it was still unlocked. He walked over to the couch where his best friend in the entire world sat wrapped up in a blanket and sat down right beside her.

“I can’t, Bevvie,” he spoke, practically whimpering. Richie felt his shoulders slouch forward as his hair covered his watering eyes. It was all one fluid movement when he began to lean into the waiting girl beside him. She guided his head onto her shoulder as she ran her thin fingers through his tangled hair.

“I know, hun. I get it, believe me, but you can’t let them ruin this one for ya’, Rich,” she mumbled, continuing to move her hands soothingly. “With everything you’ve dealt with, I’m so proud of you for even wanting to go after this kid, which must mean he’s pretty special, huh?”

Richie couldn’t help but smile.

“Eh, don’t worry about me, Bev, I’ll figure it out, but maybe a little moral support would help,” he suggested, turning his head so he was staring up at the red-headed girl.

She groaned, sarcastically lifting his head off of her and dragging herself off the couch.

“Fine. C’mon, let’s go,” she started, sticking out her hand as Richie stared at it, his eyes wide.

“O-oh you meant right now? No, I definitely wasn’t implying we go right now, that ship has kinda sailed already, girly,” Richie joked, the holes in his comedic mask revealing his still nervous tremble.

But that didn’t work at all and within five minutes Bev was behind the wheel of the tall boy’s truck and on the way to the shop. Apparently she had an idea.

In their lives together, either of the two having an idea was almost never a good thing. Richie would soon discover that he really did have someone who loved him, just maybe not the way he wanted. But still, one person was a start.

message me to be tagged!! :

@im-not-psychotic

[saveme-ruinme]

Ambivalent | TWO

~ Superhero AU ~ Namjoon x Reader ~ fluff/angst ~ 

character guide/summary // ONE

Word Count: 3.7k

A/N: well this took forever, lets hope the next chapter comes a bit faster. Probs not tho, sorry. 

When you came around, your head was pounding. A dull throb had settled in the back of your skull, presumably where the intruder had hit you to knock you out. You groaned quietly, moving to rub the back of your head only to find that you couldn't move your hands. Looking down, you found that your hands were bound to the arms of the chair you were propped up on with black zip ties that dug painfully into your skin as you twisted your wrists around.

You shifted around in the chair to find that your ankles had also been zip tied. The room you were in was completely bare. It was nothing but white walls, a door, and a metal table in front of you, and a camera up in the corner of the room, the red light blinking at you. You didn't understand why you were here, why you had been kidnapped from you own bed. As far as you were aware, you hadn't done anything wrong. You were almost painfully compliant with rules and laws, afraid of any trouble you would find yourself in.

Anxiety and panic raced through your veins, making you tug and pull at your restraints harder, ignoring the sharp stings of the zip ties cutting into your wrists. The plastic of the chair sticks to your bare thighs, and you realise belatedly that you're still not wearing pants. You would've started laughing at the ridiculousness of it if you weren't terrified for your life. Instead, you tugged harder against the zip ties, cursing whoever had bought you here and bitterly hoping the asshole got a good look because you'll make him pay for it. Well, not you, you can't fight anyone, but maybe Jimin. Jimin would probably make the kidnapper do something terrible, or Yoongi would set him on fire for you.

Not that you'd actually ask either of them to do that for you. You'd be too scared to live with the guilt if something really bad happened to them, and if you asked Jimin and Yoongi for revenge, they'd probably do something really bad to them. Growing tired of rubbing your wrists raw against the plastic, afraid that you’d cut your wrists, you slump back against the chair. How in the fuck did you end up in this situation? You couldn't understand what you done to be kidnapped.

As you sat there mentally listing anything that could potentially get you kidnapped, the only door in and out of the room opened and a man stepped in the room. You studied the man who stepped into the room as he closed the door behind him. He had chocolate brown hair, and wore a pair of black thick rimmed glasses. The man was dressed quite well, as you noted his blazer worn over a plain white shirt. He had a plain brown folder in his hand, and if movies stereotypes taught you anything, it's that that folder probably was all the information he could find on you.

"Good to see you're awake," the man spoke, sitting down in a chair opposite you. "Although I apologise for how you were subdued, he didn't mean any harm."

"Who, muscles?" you ask sceptically. "What kind of name is that?"

The man chuckled. "It's an alias, used to protect his identity. Mine is Einstein."

"'Einstein'?" you echo, not sure if he was pulling your leg.

"A joke between my friends," he explained simply, smiling.

You noted how 'Einstein' dimples' shined whenever he smiled, making him look unfairly attractive in your opinion. He didn't have the same intoxicating beauty as Jimin, but as he snickered at his own joke with his cute dimples peeking, you realised bitterly how charming this self-proclaimed genius was. He was composed and calm, and you weren't wearing any pants.

"You haven't told me your name," he reminded you, making you embarrassed at having been caught staring at him.

"___," you answer quietly, shifting uncomfortably. "Why am I here?"

"My men found you in sleeping in the same home as Min Yoongi," Einstein informed you.

"What about it? We live together- so what?"

Einstein looked taken aback. "Do you know who Yoongi is? What he's done?"

"What has he done?" you ask, afraid of the answer.

"You don't know?" Einstein questions, looking openly shocked.

You shake your head, feeling dread settle in your stomach. The business that Yoongi, Jimin and Seokjin got up to was kept far away from you. You didn't want to know what information lay behind their cryptic answers, scared of what you might find. They were the first real friends you'd had in a long time, and you stayed ignorant toward whatever they did to keep your friendship. You knew it was never anything good, as there had been a few instances when the police would show up at the house demanding for either Jimin or Yoongi. But you figured if you didn't know what they did, then they were still the good people you knew them to be.

"Did they not tell you anything about what they do? You never wanted to know?" Once again, you shook your head, feeling shame creep into your face. The man in front of you leaned back in his chair, his face becoming neutral once again as the shock slips away from, leaving no emotions behind. "May I try something? You might've heard something and not known what they were talking about."

"Try what?" you ask slowly.

Einstein took a breath. "To read your mind."

A dramatic pause filled the room as Einstein gauged your reaction. He expected disbelief, or denial, as that seemed to be the most common reaction from all the people he's told thus far. He even got punched in the face once when someone asked him to prove that he could read minds, and Namjoon told him that he knew that man was cheating on his wife. Not exactly his finest moment, and looking back at it, he probably should've just told him that the colour he was thinking of was red, and that he thought of it because he couldn't stop glancing up at the red snapback perched on Namjoon's head.

You, on the other hand, looked only mildly surprised, if not a bit impressed. What intrigued him the most was how quiet your mind seemed to be. Usually when he told people he could read minds, their thoughts got so loud that it was hard not hear them even if he did try to actively block them out. However, as you sat opposite him, he couldn't hear a single thing from you. It was as if you were not phased at all by his ability.

"Ah, sure I guess. Not like I can stop you," you complied easily, which shocked Namjoon once again.

You seemed to be full of surprises from the minute Jeongguk had brought you back, slung limply over his shoulder wearing no pants. The story of you seemed to get stranger as they told him that you were able to resist Hoseok's empathetic abilities - something that annoyed the empath - and that you were sleeping in a lair of villains of your own free will. There was nobody keeping you there, and nobody to stop you from leaving. Now you had admitted to being friends with them without knowing the crimes they committed on an almost daily basis, but were somehow not surprised at his admittance of being a telepath?

"You're not surprised," Namjoon observed. You shook your head. "Forgive me for prying, but why are you not surprised?"

You shrugged. "Not that different from someone else I know."

"Kim Seokjin, you mean?"

Now Namjoon was getting somewhere with you. It was difficult for him to grasp where you stood with them, what you knew and what you didn't.

"How did you know?"

"He and I were old friends once," he said wistfully.

You were confused, Seokjin had never mentioned knowing anyone with abilities other than Jimin and Yoongi. "He's never mentioned you."

Einstein's gaze bores deep into you, catching you off guard. "I didn't think he would." He sat there for a moment, lost in nostalgia as he remembered the person Seokjin used to be. Namjoon didn't understand why Seokjin had turned away from him, using his gift to manipulate people. Forcing himself out of those thoughts, he looks back at you. "I'll try not to be too invasive."

You raise your eyebrows at him. You didn't think anyone interrogating you would be so courteous. You thought he would just rip the information out of you and then decide how involved you were based on that, but the man sitting in front of you was set to prove you wrong in the way he considers your words before doing anything else. It was a rather sharp contrast from the person who knocked you out to bring you here.

"Ah- okay," you consented dumbly.

"It would help if you thought about the last time you felt they were being suspicious and weird, that way I don't have to dig through your mind. You might have accidentally witnessed something I can present as evidence against them."

"You want me to help you prove my friends are criminals?" you asked incredulously.

"___," he sighed, surprised that you had called them your 'friends'. He didn't know who you were to them, but he didn't think that either of them considered you to be their 'friend'. "They are already criminals. Dangerous ones. I'm trying to put them away to make the world a better place."

Namjoon watched your expression harden when he called them dangerous. He expected you to get upset, to tearfully defend them or blindly deny any evidence that suggests they would be criminals. Instead, you glared at him as if daring him to say something about any of them. You couldn't fight for yourself, something that you had accepted years ago, but you would always fight for you friends.

"Just because they've done some bad things doesn't mean they're bad people. Like how doing good things doesn't make you a good person."

He pitied you. Clearly you didn't know the extent of bad things Jimin and Yoongi got up to. Even he didn't know what Seokjin got up to, he could still tell that it was related to whatever the other two were running around doing. If he knew Seokjin as well as he thought he did, then it was safe to assume that his old friend was the one pulling all the strings. To what end, Namjoon was unsure of, nor the extent he’d go to achieve his goal, so the telepath was doing the safe thing and trying to put them all behind bars before something drastic happened.

“Please cooperate with me. I’m trying to save people.”

You scoff. “Is that why I’m here? To be saved?”

Annoyed that the progress he made talking to you had done a complete 180, he decided that it’d useless to try and talk you through it anymore. Whatever they had done to you would be revealed to him once he was inside your mind, and then he’d know the extent of the damage they had done to your mind. Namjoon guessed that Park Jimin’s seductive persuasion was heavily involved in the poisoning of your mind, and Seokjin probably knew all your weak spots, easily able to exploit you in that regard. And then there was the mystery surrounding why they kept you around.

Namjoon was excited. You were like a puzzle for him to solve, trying to find all the parts of you and put you all back together so that you may be able to return to a normal life. Resistance from you is inevitable, but Namjoon was sure he would be able to work around it and make you that your ‘friends’ were far from good people. He wouldn’t even consider them to be decent people.

“Don’t try and resist,” he warned.

“Not like I can,” you mutter, twisting your wrists around in the restraints.

Belatedly realising that you had been left in your restraints, Namjoon figured that you were better off left in them. At this point he had no idea what you were capable of, and it seemed like the safer option to leave you restrained. Not until he at least figured out what Seokjin wanted from you, as there was a reason he kept you around that Namjoon – or yourself, for the matter – had yet to find out.

Without another word, Namjoon opened his mind, telepathically grasping for yours. Reading someone else’s mind was less of hearing everybody in his head, and more like him being in someone else’s head. It felt like he was extending his mind to fill the room; sometimes it felt like he was bigger than his physical appearance and his entire being could expand to travel around the whole globe at once. The people in the room would be aware whenever he expanded his mind like that if they had the right mental training.

The ability to open his mind beyond himself is how his telepathy works, anyone who is caught in the same area are vulnerable to him, like their head has been cracked open for him to see all their secrets. Through the years Namjoon has been able to go from just extending his mind around himself, to being able to extend himself to one person. Learning flexibility in a mental context was tough and he often suffered through a lot of migraines, but it was worth having meticulous control over his power. It made things easier in this context, where the only mind he wanted to get into was yours, and nothing else would distract him.

Realising that he was trying to read your mind from the way his attention had zeroed in on you, you stubbornly looked away from him, not wanting to meet his eyes. After all, eyes were the windows to the soul and it might be easier for him to get a peek inside that, or so you rationed. Really, his intense focus on you was making you uncomfortable, causing you to fidget around as much as could considering you were still tied to the chair.

After a long moment of silence, you snuck a glance over at Einstein. His laser focus had increased, and there was a deep frown marring his handsome face. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, not understanding why he had that look on his face, like he was disappointed about something. You hoped that it was because there was no incriminating evidence in your memories, therefore no reason to arrest Yoongi.

You hoped Yoongi was okay wherever they kept him. No doubt they had put him in more serious restraints than the zip ties you woke up in. They wouldn’t even be considered a barrier for Yoongi and his pyro kinesis, he could melt them in a second. You wished that he would come and free you, bursting through the door in a hell fire craze to get you out of this bizarre situation you had somehow landed yourself in. Or perhaps Jimin and Seokjin would use their magic. It would be less violent if they did it, something you’d appreciate since violence wasn’t something you liked to witness. You just wanted to go home, you wanted to go back to sleep and forget that this ever happened.

“Would you look at that,” Einstein muttered, gaining your attention.

You felt your heart drop at that, dread pooling in your stomach. Einstein sounded astonished making you uneasy. Whatever he found out to make him sound like that would be nothing good, you were almost too afraid to ask. “What is it?”

“I can’t read your mind,” Namjoon admitted, falling back in his chair shocked at the new information.

He had never been in this situation before, he’d never met anyone he couldn’t read. This was a whole new experience for him and he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do or how he was supposed to react.

Namjoon opened his mind and reached out for yours. He did what he always did, what he had been doing since he discovered his telepathic abilities. He was waiting to hear something, to hear anything from your mind. Some minds whispered to him like they were afraid to think too loud. Others screamed information that sometimes disorientated him. His favourite was when he could see people’s memories playing out like a movie, those were always the easiest for his mind to comprehend.

However, when he tried to see into your mind, there was nothing. There wasn’t a wall to keep him out, or even white noise playing in your head to make it hard for him to get inside. Those were tactics that he had come across from others. Your mind was entirely different from anything he had ever encountered because it felt like there was nothing there at all. Trying to read your mind was like trying to read the mind of dead person; there was absolutely no life coming from inside your head. No hints that you had a mind at all.

The more he thought about, the stranger it seemed. No wonder Hoseok wasn’t able to use his empathy, he probably ran into the same problem Namjoon did. If you weren’t sitting in front of him, clearly alive and using your head, then he would’ve thought that you weren’t real, that you weren’t human. But you were human, Jeongguk had proved that when he knocked you out. If you an android of any kind than you wouldn’t be phased by Jeongguk’s blow against your head, let alone have passed out from it. Namjoon had checked you over himself when you got here to make sure there was no lasting damage. You had a heartbeat, he felt himself.

What in the ever loving fuck was going on? Why would Seokjin want someone like this?

“What do you mean you can’t read my mind?” you ask sceptically.

“Exactly that, it’s like you don’t even have one,” Namjoon tells you, still in disbelief. His mind was racing, trying to comprehend that he couldn’t read your mind, as well as coming up with any plausible reason why he couldn’t and attempting to figure out what Seokjin wanted with someone like you.

“Of course I have a mind! I’m using it right now!” you defend hotly, offended that he would say such a thing.

“Tell me; was Seokjin able to use his power on you? Has Park Jimin ever been able to persuade you to do anything?” Einstein questions suddenly, lurching forward to bombard you with questions.

“Uh- no? Not that I know of,” you answer, startled at his sudden change in attitude.

“Interesting,” he starts to babble. “You are able to resist any kind of telepathic power- perhaps even physical abilities? No, then Jeongguk’s strength wouldn’t have worked against you. Maybe unnatural physical abilities- has Min Yoongi ever used his pyro kinesis against you? Did it have any effect?”

You were in open astonishment now, watching Einstein mumble to himself in an attempt to understand the lack of affect his telepathy had on you. “I’m pretty sure Yoongi could turn me to crisp if he wanted.”

“So you are not immune to physical attacks, alright.”

“Uh- okay- but what is going on?”

Einstein looks up at you, much more excited than you would’ve thought considering his super power had no effect on you. This is such a weird day, you think to yourself.

“Did you know about your ability?” he queries, studying you intently.

You squirm at the attention. “What ability?”

“You are immune to telepathic abilities. I would guess every and all kinds of telepathic abilities.”

Your mouth drops open in shock. “But I thought that there were a few people who do it too, Jimin said that I probably wasn’t the only one who could resist him.”

“Seokjin never told you?”

You shake your head, confused and dumbfounded at the same time. Never would you have guessed that being able to tell Jimin no would be considered a super power. Yet, here you were, being told that a mind reader couldn’t read your mind and that it wasn’t a coincidence that he wasn’t able to. You really didn’t understand what was going on anymore.

“I’m afraid you’re going to have to stay here until we’re able to find out what the extent of your abilities are,” Einstein announces, standing up and ignoring you protests. “We don’t know what you are capable of and it is standard protocol that anyone with unknown abilities be tested and cleared.”

“I’m not an STI!” you exclaim, flustered at the thought of having to stay.

“It’s for your own safety, as well as the safety of the general public,” he informs robotically, not even paying attention to your anymore.

“Hang on! You can’t just keep me here!”

“Someone will be along to take you to a different holding cell where you will be sorted and moved into the appropriate facility,” Namjoon repeats the company protocol like he’s done a dozen times before.

This time is different, though. He can feel it in the excitement that rushes through him at the new information of you being immune to all telepathic abilities. He wants to know more, he wants to figure out how you work, how you’re able to effortlessly keep your mind closed off to him. Namjoon has found a new mystery to solve, and he is ecstatic at the thought of figuring you out.

“Wait a minute- what about my friends? What the hell is happening?”

“Don’t worry ___,” Einstein smiles at you, the first genuine smile since he walked in the door and your heart skips a beat at the sight of his cute dimples peeking out. Despite the crazy situation you found yourself in, you still manage to somehow blush over it, and the way your name sounds coming from him as his voice dips lower from his apparent excitement. “I’m sure we’ll see each other again.”

Without waiting for a reply, he breezes out of the room, leaving you sitting there pulling at the zip ties wrapped around your wrists as you call out to him.

What had you gotten yourself into?