#I am that dedicated to the toothpaste man

[dipplinduo]

*Out in the canyon biome cliffs in the terrarium*

*Cue Kieran and Juliana slow dancing with each other while the sun sets in the background*

Juliana: It's quite nice out here.

Kieran: Well......whenever we're with each other is amazing.

Juliana: You adorable aren't you?

Juliana: *Pulls Kieran in for a kiss causing him to blush madly*

Drayton (secretly watching behind the rocks while sipping lemonade): You guys thinking about what you're gonna name your kids?"

Kieran: KNOCK IT OFF DRAYTON!

LADIES, GENTLEMEN, AND FOLKS MAY I PRESENT:

[modifiedmonster]

Being the object of affection in the Hayakawa Household Headcanons*NSFW INCLUDED*

Content warning: Blood , menstruation , aftercare, oral F! giving and receiving , throuple , cussing, mentions of breeding, foreplay MDNI!

AO3 LINK

Chainsaw Man Masterlist Blog Directory

Authors Note: These headcanons are all separate times. If you enjoy please reblog and like. Begins below the cut (: enjoy

POWER

Power would only bathe if you either took a bath with her , or sat in the bathroom with her .

Even though you , Aki , and especially Denji detested the idea of it; Power took it upon herself to make matching "Team Kill Denji" shirts for you two .

"..but my noble peace prize.." she would protest under her breath after you explained that we couldn't kill Denji...as you sat on the bed wearing that damn shirt only to make Power happy.

Power knew right when you were about to start your period. Being the Blood Devil , it got her own blood pumping in more than one way.

You were lounging on the couch watching a movie with Power on one side, Denji on the other leaving you lovingly sandwiched in between "I yearn for blood," she murmured, her eyes glinting with a hunger that sent shivers down your spine. You felt your cheeks flush with embarrassment as Denji glanced over to Aki who was in the kitchen making popcorn but switched to boiling hot water to make a heat compress for your inevitable cramps. "Power, that's not appropriate...be a good girl." you stammered, trying to brush off the comment. But Power just grinned, her eyes never leaving yours. "I can't help it," she said with a shrug. "Tis just in my nature."

It didn't take long before Aki surprised Denji with a bag full of assorted jams and fresh bread as a reward for doing good on a recent mission. Power however took the opportunity to grab your wrist and drag you to the bedroom while the other two were distracted. She needed to fulfill her bloodlust after all, and you were a willing source.

Don't worry . As selfish as Power can be , she always made sure to provide pleasure to you especially during your time of the month.

A soft moan elicited from behind the closed door , grabbing the two mens attention. It was yours .They looked at each other briefly before looking to where you and Power were just at on the couch only to find it vacant.

As if it were a race they stormed down the hallway and burst through the door to find you on your back sprawled out wearing only one of Akis oversized teeshirts and Powers head between your legs . "Damned Devil!" they shouted simultaneously from the doorway. Power looked up at them with your crimson covering her chin , nose , and lips that formed a sly grin.

"I only take pleasure in the company of cats…and Y/N." Power growled before returning her attention to you.

AKI

The morning with Aki would start at 5:30 am with the two of you working in sync as he boiled the water and you ground the coffee beans , all the while Denji and Power snored loudly in their rooms.

While the water boiled you went to the bathroom and stood in front of the mirror , Aki behind you as you both brushed your teeth. His spare hand wrapping around your waist and rubbing the soft , exposed flesh of your tummy while you gave him a toothpaste covered smile.

Aki had been thinking a lot lately about the loss of his family to the Gun Devil , how his life had only been dedicated to defeating this Devil but now...now he was dedicated to you.

He stepped aside you to spit and rinse his mouth out as you kept on brushing. He was unusually quiet this morning , leaving you alone in the bathroom to finish.

Aki prepared the coffee with the precision of a barista, carefully measuring out the grounds and water to make the perfect cups of coffee. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the room, invigorating the senses. He carried the tray of steaming coffee on to the balcony and arranged the table with two mugs and some sugar and cream.

You took your time today in the bathroom freshening up before heading out for your morning coffee on the balcony with Aki. As always it was perfect; the only difference was Aki's mug was shaking within his grasp.

"Aki...you okay?" the question left your lips with concern as you took a seat across from him after guiding the mug in his hand down to the surface of the table.

Silence. You took a sip of you coffee and left the warm liquid to settle on your tongue . It was just silence for a moment before he looked to you , nerves evident in his eyes. "I want a baby ...with you." Aki suddenly said with intent , having shook the nerves.

The liquid tried to spew from your mouth but you managed to swallow it with wide eyes still locked onto him.

You belonged to Aki , but also Denji and Power ; but if we are being real here Aki is the only other adult mentally.

"Before you say anything Y/N , I already discussed this with Denji and he is on board." the heart within your chest was warming more and more as Aki began to nervously try and convince you , as if you needed it.

"Let's make one then." you beamed a smile to match the one on his face. "When ?" He asked whilst leaning in closer to you from across the table. You looked at your watch and then to him , a smirk plastered on your lips. "Right now seems as good as any."

Akis jaw opened like a fish , he was ready to knock the contents of the table off just to fold you over that table and fuck a baby into you right then and there.

That thought went to hell as you both heard arguing from inside. A sigh followed by a chuckle came from you .

"How many times do I have to tell you to flush your shit !" Denji screamed to Power , blocking her in the bathroom whilst the bickering went back and forth .

"Hold that thought , love. But i'm holding you to it." Aki said as kindly as he could through gritted teeth as he stormed inside to join in on the argument.

Denji

Denji loved sleeping , but even more so when it was with you . Even just a quick cat nap .

But his favorite was when you would lay with him and gently play with Pochita's tail that protruded from his chest. He found it soothing and would often open up to you, telling you stories of his childhood, his aspirations, and the bond he shared with Pochita. He would tell you about all the adventures he had with Pochita and how much the devil meant to him. He would speak with a sense of nostalgia and longing in his voice, as if reliving the memories and you would feel a sense of warmth and contentment as you listened.

Denji didn't mind sharing you with his roommates , but in all honesty he truly did want you all to himself sometimes.

To be the only one massaging your supple , squishy breasts that were always there for the taking . Bonus points if you weren't wearing a bra with padding. (wink-wink because its funny)

Denji ADORED showing you his "Super toast" , and after your morning routine with Aki you would usually join Denji to experiment with new recipes .

You were the barrier between Power stealing his food .

"Marry me , right now." He calmly demanded once after you surprised him with a basket of honey , assorted jams , butters , and cinnamon

[zapgraptrash]

42, 4 ocs of your choice :)

as in 42 (x4) times? i'll do that and do number 4 just in case i misread lol

42. Let them vent for a second, without the fear of being judged. What would they like to say?

slyger: WHY is it that OTHER ANIMALS can eat their own kind and it's accepted as part of NATURE, but when I do it, i'm A CANNIBAL and a MENACE TO SOCIETY? i'm not even fully human by the arbitrary standards! i'm sure PLENTY of other people would think this is STUPID if they too were to eat another human. it's not like i even do this ALL THE TIME either??? it's all STUPID, FUCK SOCIETY, HANNIBAL LECTER WAS RIGHT.

zapper: YOU KNOW WHAT REALLY GRINDS MY GEARS? grappler: taking multiple dicks at-- zapper: WHEN PEOPLE DON'T PUT THE LIDS BACK ON THINGS. HOW HARD IS IT TO DO? YOU WERE JUST USING THE THING, YOU WERE ABLE TO REMOVE THE LID JUST NOW, WHY IS IT SOOO DIFFICULT TO PUT IT BACK AFTER? grappler: is this because of the toothpaste or the pringles? zapper: YOU LEFT THE FUCKING CAP OFF THE TOOTHPASTE AGAIN??

dom: why do Hot Dogs come in Package of 10 but the Buns come in Package of 8? for the People who don't have a Bun with their Hot Dog people might say. but a Hot Dog with no Bun is just a Sausage. if you want Sausage, why would you buy Hot Dogs? there is no Substance to a Hot Dog Sausage alone. the Bun and the other Filling is part of the Dog as a whole. if you want Sausage alone, that is when you get Bratwurst or something. it makes no Sense to Dom why Buns come in 8 and Hot Dogs come in 10.

jeffrey: it's sooooo hard to be surrounded by MORONS all the time! in fact i have dedicated a paragraph of crticism to each of these empty headed freaks i am forced to be surrounded by, day in day out-- thaddeus: nobody has time for that. jeffrey: babe no i need to-- thaddeus: send post.

---

4. What is the thing they like the most about their friends and what is the thing their friends like the most about them?

grappler can answer this since blah blah his colour is the Harmony colour in the pride flag

i mean what's not to like about me right. i'm a fuckin riot, i'm the coolest person they know.

do i gotta give a reason for all of em? well ok i guess. they're not listening right? this shit is so lame.

uhh granox. he's hilarious and he doesn't even try to be. just the way he says shit and when it takes like 3 seconds for his brain to catch up that's hysterical.

ricky now that she isn't like our boss anymore, she's actually cool as hell. ultimate wingman. wingwoman whatever. she'll literally big anyone up and make em believe they can do anything. everyone needs someone like that in their life y'know.

dom, if you like ever wanted a friend who will dish out the physical affection, she's the one. i know it sounds big cringe but her hugs rule. and she like hangs on to your every word, she like remembers the smallest of things

thaddeus i mean uh have you seen him? yeah he's hot as hell and oh my god he sure knows how to [REDACTED]. ok but like fucking aside, he like knows a ton of shit? once you get him talking he'll talk your ear off about something and it's like, so cool to listen to? always the quiet ones.

does masuyo like consider me a friend? well i hope she does i guess. she's badass. like in the effortless way. not many people can pull that off.

slyger sucks ass hahaha he's a big fuckin baby. (is he listening? no? ok well you know the animal people he draws? what the fuck that's awesome man.)

i'm not gonna talk about zapper fuck him haha. he like knows how annoying i think he is already.

[hwanchaesong]

Hiii ! Can i request ateez as dads, please? thank u in advance 🤧💘

ATEEZ as dads:

a/n: I already gave their child a gender in this one so here ya go, I hope you like it~ ( ◜‿◝ )♡

Hongjoong:

ladies and gentlemen, we may now witness the softest hj on earth

when he first held his daughter, all that he can think of is 'love at first sight really does exist'

is always on the house after your childbirth, wanting to look after his family

teaches his daughter how to read and write

in his child's toddler period, you noticed that she always taps furnitures, like making beats

you told hongjoong about this and he is PSYCHED

immediately brought his daughter in his studio, showing her around and telling her stories about music

ofc this is hongjoong we're talking about, he made a lot of songs for his princess

even made a whole ass album dedicated for her

like how his mother did before when he was young, he also dresses her up in pretty clothes

does matching outfits with his daughter and takes photos of it, posting it on social media and boasting how pretty she is

he customizes some of her clothing as well, designs her shoes and makes accessories for her

he might be busy at times but never busy when his child calls for him

always there for important events and occasions, birthdays, first day of school and many more

proud af when his daughter called mint choco a 'toothpaste' right infront of San

even prouder of her when her first word is 'captain' (he repeats that word when he is with his daughter so that she'll learn it faster)

an excellent father, who will always put his child's well being and happiness on the top of his list

"Yes! I am captain, and you are my princess. You really are a smart one, good thing you inherited that from me."

Seonghwa:

cries like a madman when he first saw his son, bc finally he achieved his dream of having a baby and hongjoong did not make it for him

holds his child carefully, cooing at how adorable his baby is

he is so family-oriented that he gives most of his time taking care of his son

he wants you to rest after all you've gone through, such a sweet man

basically acted like a mother himself

changes the diapers, feeding, waking up at night to calm the crying baby down

spends time with his son a lot, showing him his collection of figurines

his son wants that cool looking robot? let's buy it

oh, he wants to try that flavor of ice cream? let's eat then

now he wants to go to the amusement park? what are you waiting for, let's go

he literally spoils his baby boy, giving him everything he wanted to the point that you have to step in and stop him

is really good at disciplining tho

talks to his son calmly that what he did was wrong, hugging him afterwards after a compliment of 'that's my good boy'

never uses violence because he believes that it is not the right way to scold a child

doesn't raise his voice in front of him as well, not wanting his son to do the same

he wants his son to grow up into a kind yet strong man

there are those times when he pinches his son's cheeks before kissing him afterwards

learned how to bake just to impress his son, and also because he wants to make the birthday cake himself

he loves his son so much that he is willing to drop or give everything in the universe for him

"Always remember that father loves you, okay? I will always be here for you to protect and guide you."

Yunho

big smile and loving eyes all the way

will literally melt when he saw his baby girl be comfortable in his hold

the type of father to cry when his child cries

very loving, patient, and positive parenting

calls his daughter cute nicknames

'small bear', 'puppy', 'moon pie'

never says his daughter's name when he is scolding her, not wanting to associate her name into bad things

buys things impulsively just because it reminded him of his child

has a lot of hobbies that he shared with his child

teaches her how to play video games, automatically making it their bonding time

cups his daughters face and kisses the crown of her head, saying that it's his way of passing his luck to her

always making sure to accompany his kid while eating, he thinks that it's a great time to converse with her as well

he dances with her a lot of course, showing his moves and her copying it afterwards

also them giggling when she failed but it's fine, Yunho's there to assure her that she did great

he watches videos on youtube, learning different hairstyles and doing it on his daughter

uses adorable clips and ribbons

then later you'll see that his daughter's putting the accessories on his head instead

he also reminds her of how the world goes, wanting her to grow up as a wise person

"It's okay bubs, you always do great. You are amazing, excellent, what more can I say? Appa is and will always be so proud of you."

Yeosang

tried to remain calm but the giddiness of seeing his child for the first time makes him jump around

he can't hide the awe in his eyes when he saw his baby

it's so tiny and adorable and it also inherited his birthmark!!

you sometimes see him caress the birthmark on his daughter's face while she sleeps, him sporting a fond expression

accompanies his child to school, them walking together as he holds her tiny hand

he leaves messages and notes for his baby to find throughout the day

'If you can open the third drawer on the kitchen, you'll find a piece of candy there'

'did you know that your father is a statue? find it out for yourself then ;) '

he meticulously teaches her the multiplication table

planning to put shame into Wooyoung if his 7 year old daughter can beat him in a multiplication game

orders chicken for his daughter, wanting her to enjoy good food

he teaches his daughter how to stakeboard, showing how it's done and her thinking how cool her father is

also shows her his collection of drones, and her calling it 'electronic flies'

he once dressed up as a prince in his daughter's birthday party

then he kneeled down on knee, asking her for a dance

you were legit crying as you watch them dance in the middle of the room

radiating happiness and sweetness that infect everyone

"Why is my princess so pretty? I really have to do my best to protect you so no one's gonna steal you away from me huh?"

San:

he is so excited for his child's arrival that he already set the nursery up months before your labor

the years of collecting toys is definitely worth it, finally being able to put them into good use

will definitely name his son 'Taeyang'

bc he is the sun that rises brightly during the darkness, allowing the mountain to display its beauty

this means that San's life will always be full of joy and fortune as long as he has his Taeyang around

he tells his son a lot of stories back when he was younger, boasting about how popular he is

he shows off his kicking skills, his child beaming and now wants to learn taekwondo as well

he dances in front of his child, then you facepalm when one day you saw your supposedly innocent little boy try and do hip thrusts

you are so gonna give your husband a piece of your mind when he wakes up, for now you don't want to disturb his nap and cuddle session with his son

the little bean has this habit of poking his father's dimples, so San tends to smile around his son for it to show

surprises his child a lot, like A LOT

one day he filled your table with foods, wanting to know what his son's favorite

the next day, he brought in tons of clothes, wanting to see what kind of fashion sense his son has

then he brought plane tickets to hawaii, yelling a 'pack your bags, we're going in a vacation!'

he is a literal big ball of energy and impulsiveness

but he does it out of love for his little one, wanting to know more and get closer to him before it's too late

he expresses his feelings in both actions and words, wanting his child to know and feel that he is loved

"I am so lucky to have you as my son, no one can even compare to you. Top-tier baby boy right here!"

Mingi:

the type of father who doesn't want to hold his own child at first bc he's scared that he might do something stupid like dropping the baby

but when he did, man he can't get enough of it and will get his hands on his child almost 24/7

will coo and talk in tiny everytime he is in his son's vicinity

he is not afraid or embarrassed to do aegyo or do baby talk in front of other people if it means that his child will smile over it

does a lot of goofy things just to see and hear his small bean laugh

the type of father who expresses his gratitude and apologizes straightforwardly to his child

this man will show his son a photo of his abs, proudly stating that he worked hard for it and that is the reason why you can't resist him

now his son wants to hit the gym as well so you can't resist him when he tells you that he wants to eat sweets

encourages his son at all times, telling him that he can do it and it's okay to fail as long as he doesn't give up

his son's achievements are like his own as well

affection is Mingi's middle name and he gets jealous when his baby boy gets too close with his uncles

"I am still favorite right?"

is very attentive to what his son is saying, that is why he remembers everything about his child

keeps a memo of his son's firsts, these notes will serve as a reminder that he was there for his child in every part of his life

he does this sweet routine with his son where they alternatively write in a journal

writing down the things they did today and their wishes in life

he secretly reads his son's wishes and hopes, wanting to grant it

he's no genie, but if it's for his treasure then he'll go out of his way to make everything come true

"You love this right? I am your papa so I am supposed to know what your interests are! Come here and let me hug you now!"

Wooyoung:

acts like how he is with his little brother but X91836382731117 softer

he thought that kyungmin is the most adorable on earth and now his son slapped him in the face without even knowing it

apologizes bc his baby deserves it

"I'm sorry, don't cry, yes daddy is such an idiot. I take it back, you are the cutest."

man is so in love he feels like his heart is gonna burst

the type of father that is clingy to his child ksks

always picking him up and hugging tightly

kisses his forehead, cheeks, nose

boops his nose and Wooyoung swears that he can die happily when his son giggles at his antics

cooks an unholy amount of food and feeds his baby boy a lot bc he needs to be tall and buff when he grows up

he always asks what his child wants and he will give it to him no matter what

always has this tender look on his face whenever he stares at his son, thinking of how lucky he is that he was given a blessing

he also thinks that he has to borrow the book on how to discipline a stubborn child from him hyungs

you laugh because now he knows how difficult he is to handle

having his own mini-me that literally glares at him when he tells him to stop being messy or playing too much

pillow fights!

really he just lets himself be smacked by a pillow bc his son's award winning smile is worth the pain

very caring tho

everytime his son gets hurt, he's always there, carrying him and patching him up

he teaches his boy to pose in front of the camera

proudly showing you the photos afterwards bc damn, he knows his son is gonna be sexy like him in the future

he feels like he is on top of the world knowing that his pride and joy is just a few meters away from him, happy and healthy

"You are such a natural for this, you should be a model when you grow up, goodness. My baby boy is so handsome and adorable!" *high pitched squealing noises*

Jongho:

one look at his child and he immediately knew that he'll be a lovesick bear for her

she looks round and soft and he just wants to protect her from the harsh world

sings her a lullaby to make her sleep

it's always been like that, like his daughter knows that it was him singing and immediately calms down in his voice and presence

reads her bedtime stories as well as an alternative

his impersonations make his daughter giggle all the time

he shows off his strength to his child, breaking apples in half *cue his daughter clapping and saying 'again! again!'

does magic shows to entertain her

that orangutan doing opera, yeah, that's his baby girl's favorite thing on earth and you hear that everyday in your home

he teaches her to play and enjoy her time outside rather than spending it on gadgets

she listens well to his father, and now they always play some sports in the backyard

man is so protective like you jokingly told him one time that your daughter is growing really fast and sooner or later he'll find a boyfriend her self

he snapped his head looking at you, from then on, he doesn't let any boy get close to his precious darling

oh? a boy gave his baby girl a candy for valentines? hold up, he'll bring the buffet to her instead

brings his daughter out and letting her explore the world

goes to amusement parks, gardens, malls, beaches

backhugs his daughter then hoisting her up in his shoulder, giving her the prettiest scenery she has ever seen

Jongho wants his daughter to live a satisfying life that she can be proud of when she becomes an adult

"You see that? I want your life to be like that, colorful, bright, and vast. So, papa bear will always do his best for you, my baby bear."

[lesbiansoncaffiene]

AFTG As Shit Me And My Friends Have Said (pt. 2)

Y’all like the last one so much (it’s my most liked post as of rn so thank you!!) that we now have a part dos

Also features quotes from my gov class and from my (twin) brother

Matt: I am very happy to declare pawnshops as “EBay irl”

Dan: dear god

——————————————

5:24am

*Nicky named the chat Toothpaste Man Fanclub*

5:25am

*Andrew left the chat*

—————————————

Renee: I cannot believe I have to say this, you’re not allowed to cut into a cake baby

Aaron, his scalpel ready: goddamit

——————————

Matt, drunk: Me when I cut off my ear for the lols

——————————

The AFTG fandom: Gender, in the state of this nation? I think the fuck not

——————————

Wymack: Wow I have a lot of white in my beard

Abby: It’s because you’re old

Kevin: Well the alternative is dead so..

Wymack and Abby: ..

——————————

Aaron, to Katelyn, who always falls asleep during Marvel movies: do you wanna watch a Marvel movie?

Katelyn: *snorts*

——————————

Seth: What if you’re pregnant and go to China, and your baby is born while you’re in China

Renee: You can’t fly in a plane during your 3rd trimester of pregnancy

Seth: Yea but what if you drove

*disappointed sighs*

———————

Kevin: omg I found a picture of my best friend in PreK

Kevin: The one who told me Satan was gonna eat me

Matt: ….I’m sorry what-

————————

Nicky: My only goal in life is to piss off my ancestors by going to the spice section in the grocery store

————————

Kevin: someone tried to mansplain on me in my history class, I hope they know that I’m a self-diagnosed autistic bisexual with a god complex who is going to prove him wrong

Dan: yep time to call Betsy

——————————

Jean: listen I’m aroace but if Mothman ever wanted to fuck…..

Laila: shut uP, ShuT UP-

——————————

Aaron: we have to take care of these egg baby’s in my healthcare class *shows eggs with goggly eyes attached*

Andrew, looking it dead in the eyes: eat it. Eat the baby

——————————

Nicky *on the bus*: SCOOBY DOOBY DOO

Matt: WHERE ARE YOU

Neil, from the back: emotional hell

——————————

Jeremy *about some gossip*: omg what a plot twist

Alvarez: that only happens in books

Jeremy: shhh I’m projecting

——————————

Renee: wow, that was great parallel parking, you must have aced your drivers test

Andrew: my what

——————————

*3am on a school night*

Dan: Don’t you think it’s weird that getting lab work done is basically walking into the doctors office and asking them to take your life juice?

Allison: if you don’t shut up and go to sleep I’m calling Wymack

————————

Neil: I hope Wymack lets me make Jack do the little lad dance for missing practice

Seth: that would bring all the serotonin that I’m missing back into my life tbh

————————

Andrew: I’m a very slow reader, I should not start a 10K fic at 2:35am

Neil: You going to anyway aren’t you

————————

Allison *showing Renee a meme*: Why was my first thought when I saw this ���I should send this to my therapist’

Renee: Because you’re mentally ill, babe

———————

Andrew: Why make good decisions when arson is an option?

Aaron: Is arson… not a good decision?

———————

Nicky: okay so how do we let Andrew know that we know he’s gay. I have a few ideas-

Renee: well, we should be subtle-

Nicky, already pulling out a full on rainbow costume: do we /have/ to?

———————

Allison: is my straightener in your room?

Neil: I don’t think anything in my room is straight but you can check

———————

Andrew *on a rant about Adam Levine’s voice*: it sounds like he’s been hit in the balls

Wymack, who woke up two minutes ago when he thought someone was breaking into his house at 3:38am: what the fuck

————-

Neil: My lungs thought it would be funky and fresh to stop working when it is in fact not funky nor fresh

Matt: You just had an asthma attack, can you shut up-

———————

Aaron: I have therapy today

Kevin, trying to be supportive: that’s hot

————————

Renee: I love you but your pizza cutting skills are enough to ward off God

Dan, who cut the pizza into squares: yeah that’s fair

——-

Dedicated to Jess who read these and approved 100% *sorta*

——-

Part 3? Possibly?? If y’all like it???

——-

Part 1:

[hopespeaknursery]

Lipstick Stains

Taking some of my writing and adding it to the blog! Little!Korekiyo and CG!Gonta

TW: Mentions of abuse

I never imagined life turning out in the way that it has. Waking up in the morning to a gentle hand on my shoulder and a kiss to my cheek. One that gently rouses me from my sleep. And, when I open my eyes, I'm always greeted by a pair of deep, red eyes, hidden behind those small spectacles. A little too close to my face, as though he were observing me, making sure I'm truly awake. It's routine at the point, waking up nose to nose with him. At times, it's a bit too close for comfort. But the minor annoyance is always remedied when he smiles at me, and greets me with a, "Good morning!" Bright and early as usual.

Knowing him however, I'm almost certain he was up hours beforehand. Feeding his collection of tarantula's, and telling each and every one of them good morning. It's a routine he and I have both become very used to. And frankly, I'm glad he doesn't try to get me up to help him. I don't want to be within five feet of those insects at any given time.. I suppose if I were an entomologist myself, I would have liked to spend my first waking moments with my studies. Or, in his own words, 'friends.'

Every morning, he wakes up at around 6 in the morning to greet his friends, get them fed, and give them a little time outside their cages. Then, at around 8, he comes to rouse me as well. Once I am awake, we begin our routine. It's not too different compared to the one I had before meeting him. Brush my teeth and my hair, apply my makeup, have breakfast, get dressed, and continue about my day. But, now that I and Gokuhara are living with one another, and have established such an...interesting relationship, things have change quite a bit. For he cares for most of my morning routine for me. Because I, in his own words, am his 'Little one.'

It's a bit hard to explain how this relationship came about. It's not something either of us would have thought of on our own. But nevertheless, it's something we discovered together through a group therapy session. Gonta and myself have both had our own inner demons to work through. And while therapy wasn't exactly something I initally wanted to do, I ended up going for his sake. As he was a bit too nervous to go on his own, despite the recommendation. It was here that we both began to open up a bit more. He told stories of his forest family, of the difficult transition from the forest to civilization, his desire to be more 'gentlemanly,' and how much he misses his forest family. I'll admit, I knew how he still loved them. He's a person who wears his heart on his sleeve, so it wasn't hard to tell. But, it was here where I learned about how mixed he felt about his birth parents, how confusing he still found the world to be, how frustrating and embarrassing it could be when he didn't understand what everyone else did. It was a lot. And he was carrying it all on his own..

After he began opening up so much, and spilled out his heart, it became a little easier for me to do the same. Bit by bit by bit, things began to come out, being spilled onto the table. I talked about my travels, about the things I'd done and seen. And eventually, about the tribe that beat me nearly to death. I had never truly considered it to be traumatic. But that doctor was the first to label the experience as such. Eventually, and I do mean eventually, I was able to talk about Miyadera. My late elder sister. I had already been told now and again that what happened was wrong. But it was something I had trouble accepting. It's...not easy admitting to abuse. Having to realize that something was wrong, when someone told you for years and years that it was okay. That it was right. You feel...dirty. You feel bad and wrong and disgusting. Especially when you recall that with time, you ended up lusting for her just as much as she lusted for you... I still have a lot of trouble ridding myself of the grime all over my hands.

Anyhow, after a few sessions, it was that therapist who brought up the idea of age regression. It was just a passing mention, nothing that he actively talked about or encouraged. Yet, for some reason, it really caught Gonta's attention. On his own, he began to talk to the therapist more about this. And, I suppose I assumed he was interested in the 'regressor' role. However, he surprised me one day when he told me he was much more interested in the caregiver role. He admit to me in the same breath however, that he wasn't sure what he enjoyed the thought of more. Him being a caregiver...or me being a regressor.

The way he put it, he had a good childhood. He was very happy with his forest family. And he wouldn't have had it any other way. But as I spent most of my childhood in the hospital, watching over and talking to my sister, I didn't have much of a childhood myself. Despite the fact that I had convinced myself (And that she had convinced me) that I was happy. Not only that, but he was fascinated by the idea of caring for a baby. He had seen many a baby animal during his time in the forest, and he had loved and helped care for so many of them. But a human baby was something different. Something just as special. And, he truly wanted to dedicate some of his time to caring for me. His own 'baby.'

Of course I had refused outright at first! But...it was a bit too difficult to say no to that face for too long. And besides, I supposed anthropology does delve into psychology at times. And, what was a better way to study such strange ideas, then to immerse myself in them?

And thus began our strange, yet comforting relationship...

"Good morning~" That usual greeting is what rouses me, as I feel his big hand on my shoulder. Opening my eyes, per the norm, I am greeted to his own, deep red ones. "Time for Kiyo to get up!"

Kiyo. That's his favorite nickname for me. I don't mind it I suppose. It makes him happy. So, I take it with a grain of salt

"Good morning.." I yawned in response. I can feel him pull the blanket off before I am fully awake. Then, he slipped one arm under my legs, and the other under my back, lifting me into his arms. I swear, I don't think my feet ever touch the floor in the mornings! As I try to wake up more, he carried me into the bathroom. With a happy hum, he set me down on the closed toilet seat. He usually lets me stay in my pajamas through the morning unless I have placed to be otherwise. Then, he tends to insist upon helping me dress.

As I rub my eyes, he gets out my toothbrush and dots the toothpaste on. I was the one who taught him how to not use more toothpaste than either of us need. I tend to teach him a lot of things. It's the least I can do after hes stayed by my side so long, and taken the best care of me that he can. He truly does do the very best he can for me..

I am roused a bit more when I feel the toothbrush poke at my lips. So I open for him, and allow him to press the toothbrush into my mouth. He does the tops and the bottoms well enough. But I know I'll have to do the backs myself later. After the teeth, he begins to brush my hair. But again, I'll need to go back and brush through it once more, just to make sure all the tangles are out. It soothing however to feel him do these things for me~

Typically, as he does these things, he speaks to me. "Gonta's Rose Haired tarantula molted last night! Got bigger~ Gonta placed molt into container for observation. Rosie is doing very well now! Very comfortable!" he tells me as he brushes my hair out. "Would Kiyo like to see molt?

"Perhaps after breakfast," I answered. I'm not so sure if spider skin is the first thing I want to see before I eat...

"Okay!" he chirped in response. He's the only person I know who would be so excited over a spider molt. But, I don't blame him. We all have our passions. And we listen to one another, and we respect one anothers passions. I know he doesn't understand too much about anthropology, and insects aren't my specialty. But, partners and friends are there for one another. And, we care for one another.

"Alright!" Gonta says, placing the brush to the side. "Gonta will get breakfast ready now! While Gonta do that, Kiyo use bathroom! And then come to table, okay?"

"Of course," I nod. That's our typical routine. Yet, Gonta still feels the need to remind me. Still, I can't say that I don't appreciate it. Gonta presses a chaste kiss to my forehead, and leaves me to my business.

Once he is gone, I am quick to lock the bathroom door. I have...things to do. First, of course,I finish brushing my teeth and my hair. Then, I open the cabinet beneath the sink, and pull out a small, plastic bag. Hidden away in the back. But I know I could put my things in plain sight, and Gonta wouldn't see. He has no reason to be suspicious. For he seems to be a naturally trusting man. I do feel bad for keeping such secrets. But..some things simply cannot be shared.

From the bag, I pull out two items. My mask, one I haven't work in a few days now. And, a small tube of red lipstick...

Gonta has never liked it when I apply the lipstick. Not because he has something against males in makeup. Rather, he hates what it represents. He hates that it is for my sister. He hates that I still do it from time to time. He gets so upset every time he sees it. But, he was never able to enforce me not to wear it. He had tried now and again. But, he is not so good at enforcing rules in general... I don't think he understands however.. I am not the only occupant of this body. I need to make her more comfortable. Give her something. I...haven't seen my tulpa in some time. My mind is preoccupied with Gonta, with our relationship, and with my own bettering mental health. But, I cannot deny that I still hear her voice. Warning me, holding me, and reminding me time and time again that she's the only one who will ever love me, and that I'm the one she needs. She's gone. She passed years ago. And yet, she still with me always... Miyadera...

I uncap the lipstick tube and turn the bottom, letting the red wax come out. I can hear her whispering again. Talking to me, and whispering as she runs her hands up my chest. Miyadera. I truly wish you were someone I could hate. Someone I could say without a doubt, was a bad person. Someone I had nightmares about, instead of these ugly, complicated memories. Because, as much as I might want to, I don't hate you. Dare I say, I still love you. Not in the same way you loved me, but I love you all the same. And, I can't tell you no. You were...are my big sister...

Without much more hesitation, I begin to apply. Carefully applying the lipstick to my bottom, then my top lip, coating it in red. I no longer feel quite like myself. It feels like placing on a new skin, becoming someone I am not. And, I'm not sure if that scares me, or makes me more comfortable. It's hard being someone I am not so happy with.

Once I am through, I place the mask back on, concealing my sin. I know walking out there with my concealing will be just like walking out there with my lips pursed. It's obvious what I am hiding. However, I am not prepared to be more open. I...suppose I am ashamed.

I look in the mirror and my concealed face, and, I'm not sure who I see..

With a sigh, I step out of the bathroom, her whispers getting softer. She is satisfied. But I know once she sees Gonta, she's going to be angry. I don't know what she is at this point. A tulpa? Perhaps not. Just a voice in my head? I'm not sure.. What is she?

Who is she?

I hate the look Gonta gets when he sees me. His face falls, as though he's sad, or disappointed. He sets my plate down on the table. Toaster waffles. As expected. He doesn't know how to cook on his own yet, but he is working on it.

"Kiyo is wearing mask.." he comments. "Why is Kiyo wearing mask?" As though he doesn't know why. But I can tell that he knows already.. And yet, I continue to feign innocence. I'm too ashamed to admit to it outright.

"It's very cold this morning," I say to him. "I feel more comfortable with my mask on."

He hesitates as he stares at me. "How will Kiyo eat?"

My only answer, is unzipping the zipper on my mask, freeing my mouth somewhat. But that only makes him frown harder. He doesn't seem to know what to say. So, instead of saying a word, he begins to cut up the waffles. I can tell by the look on his face that he is thinking quite a bit. I say nothing for the time being, just letting him think. Finally he offered me a forkful. "Kiyo eat?"

I nod, and easily lean forward. But..well, this is exactly why I don't tend to eat messier foods when others are around. I can feel the syrup slide onto my mask. And he really has to work to get the piece in there. Eating with utensils in general is terribly difficult with my mask. It's even harder when someone else is feeding me.. But, we try for a moment. Until...

"This no working.." Gonta said, setting the fork to the side. With my eyes wide, I look up at him to see his expression...mixed. "This don't work!"

"Alright, alright, I know," I said, hoping to calm him. I knew how frustrated he could get when he couldn't understand things, or figure things out. He wanted so badly to understand.. "I will feed myself, it's okay. Why don't you sit and-?"

"No!" I hadn't expected him to take such a tone, and I put my hands up. In a sort of 'surrender' pose. "Gonta want to do it! Gonta supposed to take care of Kiyo!"

I...am not sure what to say to him. I don't know how to make this easier for him. I try my hardest to teach him things, step by step, bit by bit. But some things are harder to teach than others. And, this is one of those things that feels just...impossible. "Gonta.."

"Gonta...Gonta think Kiyo should take off mask!"

"My mask?" I ask, placing a hand on my cheek. Oh dear, not this again... "I've already told you, I'm feeling cold. Please do not make me take this off."

Gonta's face goes from upset, to hurt rather quickly. Oh dear, what did I say..? "Gonta wish Kiyo would not treat Gonta like he dumb. Gonta know he not smart. But, Gonta is doing the best he can. How can Gonta take care of Kiyo, if Kiyo not help Gonta?"

I'm at a loss once more. I don't know what to say to him.. "I'm trying to help you. That's why I am saying, I will feed myself. I will let you try another day when it is not so cold." Oh why is he being so insistent upon me removing my mask? What does he hope to prove this way?

"Is not cold! Gonta knows it not cold! So...so Gonta thinks Kiyo should take off mask!" I refused to move for a moment, just staring at him as I keep my hand on my cheek, as though it might keep him from taking it off. Oh dear. His eyes are already starting to well up with tears. He's always been a rather emotional person. And, he deals with most of these emotions, through tears. But, I couldn't move to comfort him. So, he speaks once more. "Gonta is sorry, so so sorry. But, Gonta says...d-daddy says that Kiyo needs to take off mask!"

I find myself freezing at that. Daddy is...a term that we use very sparingly. It's not that it makes us uncomfortable. It's just...we aren't used to it yet. You can't just use such terms all willy nilly when you aren't used to it yet. It's certainly enough to quiet me however. "Please? Daddy wants to take care of Kiyo. But daddy can't do that if Kiyo doesn't trust daddy! So please take off mask!"

So, it was a matter of trust, was it? I...

Why was my throat starting to close up? Why was my heart starting to beat too fast? Why did I feel so anxious? Was it because of the mask? Or the daddy thing? Or, was it because of how noisy Miyadera's voice was within my head? She wouldn't leave me be. The voice was so angry. And, I didn't know what to do..

I stood up, and he stepped back on instinct. I love Gonta, trust me when I say that. He's the most beautiful person I've had the pleasure of meeting, both inside and out. But, in this moment, his words reek of ugliness. And I despise ugly things.. I want to run away. I don't want to be close to him. I do trust him, I truly do. But, it's Miyadera that doesn't trust him. And, it's so hard to argue with someone like that...

"I have to go," I managed to say.

"Ah please wait Kiyo! Daddy is sorry!" Gonta said quickly. "Please wait!"

But I do not listen. I can not listen. The intruder within my head is too noisy for me to hear him. I walk away.

Or, I try to anyhow. i'm barely looking where I am going. I only take two steps. And my foot gets caught on the table leg, sending me to the ground. I could hear Gonta gasp, and ask if I was okay. He gets up, and the thump I hear afterwards, is most likely the sound of the chair falling over. I can hear him scrambling, trying to figure out what to do. And in the meantime, I don't move. I can't move. Everything is too loud and I do not like it. I can't take off my mask. She will be angry. I am sharing this body with her, and I have to make her comfortable. Or she will be angry. What are you? Are you a tulpa? An alter? A never ending voice in my head? I need quiet. I need quiet! I love you Miyadera. I still love you. But at the same time, I hate...no. What kid of brother hates his own sister? I don't care what you did, I still love you! I still love you!

And yet, you scare me..

As I lie there, I'm not able to stop the sudden sobs that had been pushing at my through, from erupting from my lips.

I keep my eyes on my knees, listening to the sink run as I sit on the closed toilet seat. My mask is sitting on the bathroom counter, as I had finally removed it. And on display, was the red line of lipstick. There was no point in hiding it anymore. Glancing towards the sink, Gonta's face is flat. He doesn't seem mad. He's just...thinking. He's wetting a cloth with water, with the intent of wiping away the makeup. I don't protest. I suppose I ought to let him.. I put my eyes back down again, fiddling with a thread on my pajama bottoms. I don't know what to tell him. I don't know if I ought to apologize or not. So, I say nothing.

I know I shouldn't act this way with him. I know partners are supposed to trust one another, and tell one another things. But, it's hard. Some things, are just too hard to talk about. And, the more you love someone, the harder it can be to talk about certain things. There are people in this world, who do not like it when things and people are not in the way they should be. Some people are just too sick for them, or too odd. And even though you trust the person you love, you don't ever want to risk them leaving, or being scared away. It's so much easier to put these feelings in a place where no one can see them. Or talk to strangers about them. I see the beauty in others, even in those ugly parts that they try to hide. There is something to me, that is so wonderful, finding the thorns in the beautiful rose of a person.

But not everyone is like that. I like to think that I can always trust Gonta. And yet, the temptation to hide away is too strong. I care not what people think of me most times. I am more then willing to be open. Maybe even a bit too open. But with Gonta it is just...harder.

Gonta comes over once more with a cloth that is a tad too wet. It's still dripping.. He kneels before me, and he gently begin to wipe my lips. Wiping away the red lipstick the best he can. Water drips down my chin and onto my lap. But, I keep still. It's the least I can do for him after the stress I put him through.

And then, it is silent. It takes a moment, but eventually Gonta breaks our silence. "Gonta...is sorry. Gonta knows is hard breaking habit. Gonta knows Kiyo can't be pushed to do it. Gonta didn't mean to yell.." Oh dear, he's tearing up..

I place a hand on his shoulder as I speak. "Gonta, you do not have to apologize. I shouldn't have lied to you. I should have been honest with you, shouldn't I?"

Gonta sniffled, taking my hand from his shoulder, and placing it on his cheek. He holds it there with his big and warm hand, sniffling softly. "Gonta loves his baby very much. Gonta will always love his baby. And, Gonta really love his baby's smile.." With tears streaming down his cheeks and onto my hand he said, "Gonta can't see smile when mask is on. And...and when Kiyo wears makeup, Gonta's see sister's smile. And Gonta not like sister!" My eyes are wide as I stare at him. My face is mostly clean now, with some lipstick smeared onto my cheeks. Water and makeup still drips down my chin, and I'm too surprised to wipe it away.

"Gonta is very sorry. Gonta doesn't m-mean to cry. Gonta tried to hold it in but.." He sniffled and sobbed once again as I stare at him. I knew how upset he got when I would give into the things Miyadera demanded of me. He was not upset with me, he was never upset with me. But, he was upset with the situation. Because, it was another situation he just didn't understand. Despite how badly he wanted to. This poor man...

After a moment, I sigh. And, I'm surprised to find that the tight sensation in my chest is still very present. I tilt my head just a bit, my long hair falling against my shoulder. The ends are still a bit damp from the water, but it's the last thing on my mind. "I'm not mad," I say softly. "I'm sorry too. I can't apologize for the habits, and I cannot apologize for what Miyadera does. But, I do apologize for not talking to you. Please understand, I don't mean to be so secluded. But..it's never been easy to talk about these things. I would like nothing more then to be open with you. But it's not easy. It's never been easy. And, I truly don't know if it's ever going to be easy."

"Gonta know..." he sniffled. "Gonta know that. Gonta knows Kiyo try.."

"I do. But, even if I can't be so open, you make me feel like I can be open. It's still frightening but..." Ah. My hands are shaking a bit. Why are they shaking? But, I manage to speak anyhow. "But, I trust..my daddy." My voice comes out in a mumble. But, he still seems to hear me.

Rather suddenly, he is standing. He put his arms around me, and he hugs me close. Crying into my hair. "Daddy! Kiyo called Gonta daddy!" he cried "Daddy loves Kiyo!" he sobbed. "Daddy is sorry! Daddy and Kiyo are going to work together always. And, we will feel better together! Gonta loves Kiyo!" With a sniff he said, "If Kiyo needs mask...then Kiyo can have mask. But we work together. And, we...we figure things out. Gonta promises. Because family help family! And Kiyo is family!"

After a moment, I place my arms back around him. I don't know what more to do other than that. "I love you too.." I whisper. And, I truly do love him. With all of my heart. I feel like I can trust him. And, I want to be with him for a very long time.

Because, he is my special person...

[royalynx]

(   *  💀  /  daniel ezra, cis male, he/him  )  —  is that kingsley shacklebolt i just saw rushing down the corridor? i hear they’re a twenty two year old gryffindor, returning for their seventh school year, but their friends would tell you that they are grounded & commanding as well as opinionated & strong-willed. if you want to know more about them, i guess i could tell you that they’re pureblood, and from what i hear, they’re currently allying with the order. when our divination professor looks into their crystal ball, they see: the calming presence in the back of the room, muggle records hidden in drawers, steaming mugs of tea, the warmth of a hug, the burn of quiet fury.

CHARACTER INSPIRATION: Luke Cage (Jessica Jones), Kingsley Shacklebolt (Books: Order of the Phoenix through Deathly Hallows), Jake Reilly (Private Practice), Terry Jeffords (Brooklyn Nine-Nine), Alphonso ‘Mack’ Mackenzie (Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.), Matt Simmons (Criminal Minds), Odafin Tutuola (Law and Order: SVU), Spencer James (All American).

TRIGGER WARNINGS: ???

LINKS: Pinterest (Coming Soon). Playlist (Coming Soon).

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒

I N T R O

full name ➵ Kingsley Akiel Shacklebolt

nicknames ➵ King; Kings; Kas; Shack; Shacklebolt; Royal

pronouns ➵ he/him/his

orientation ➵ bisexual biromantic

birthdate / age ➵ May 8th, 1957, 15:32 am / 22 years old

birthplace ➵ Birmingham, England

childhood home ➵ Birmingham, England

current residence ➵ Hogwarts, Scotland

religion ➵ atheist

occupation ➵ full - time student at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry

P H Y S I C A L

height ➵ 5 feet, 10 1/2 inches / 179 cm

weight ➵ 78 kg / 171lb

body type ➵ mesomorph ( athletic; generally hard body; well defined muscles; rectangular shaped body; strong; gains muscle easily; gains fat easily )

hair ➵ black, shaved/cropped 

eye color ➵ dark brown

dominant hand ➵ ambidextrous

FC ➵ Daniel Ezra

voice ➵ Daniel Ezra

special characteristics ➵

tattoo of a lion on the back of his neck that roars when danger is near

acne scars on cheeks

perfect posture

smells of ➵

broom wax

toothpaste

lavender, anise, basil, bergamot and lemon; geranium, ylang-ylang and jasmine; oakmoss, vetiver, tonka bean, patchouli, vanilla and sandalwood - Brut by Faberge

E M O T I O N A L

zodiac ➵ taurus sun (x); virgo rising; virgo moon

MBTI ➵ ISTJ (“The Logistician”)

positive traits ➵  grounded; commanding; courageous; considerate; observant; dedicated; forbearing to an almost mind-boggling degree; put-together; knowledgeable; self-reliant.

neutral traits ➵ fearless; calming; stolid; diplomatic; paternalistic.

negative traits ➵ opinionated; strong-willed; quiet; stubborn; high-minded; aloof to some; reticent; stoic; overcritical; has very high expectations of himself & others.

likes ➵ playing Quidditch; freshly baked bread; playing Gobstones at 3am; a warm bed; muggle record players; purple; watching the sea; forehead kisses; DADA; organized notes; wearing rings; honeycakes; David Bowie; dragonhide boots; chocolate frogs; firedrakes; Charms; Firewhiskey; watching the fire in the Gryffindor common room; twenty; red wine; laughing with Frank and Alastor; Transfiguration; The Beatles; his sister

dislikes ➵ legilimency; bigotry; raisins in chocolate; Divination; messy desks; foggy London; Sacred 28; people flaking on him; his team losing Quidditch matches; pumpkin juice; using school brooms; sushi; magic quills; pixies; History of Magic; the treatment of squibs by wizarding society; muddy orange; gigglewater; the texture of mushrooms; feeling unsettled; licorice; rollercoasters; toads; the word mudblood; Turkish delight

amortentia ➵

freshly cut grass

roast chicken dinner

aftershave

sandalwood

M A G I C

blood status ➵ pureblood

wand ➵ Alder wood with cherry trailed over the front like the path of a river, or a lightning bolt, White River Monster spine core, 14 and a 1/4 inches, solid

whilst Alder makes for an unyielding wood, its ideal owner is not stubborn or obstinate, but often helpful, considerate and most likeable. Whereas most wand woods seek similarity in the characters of those they will best serve, alder is unusual in that it seems to desire a nature that is, if not precisely opposite to its own, then certainly of a markedly different type. When an alder wand is happily placed, it becomes a magnificent, loyal helpmate. Of all wand types, alder is best suited to non-verbal spell work, whence comes its reputation for being suitable only for the most advanced witches and wizards. (Cherry, a very rare wand wood creates a wand of strange power, most highly prized by the wizarding students of the school of Mahoutokoro in Japan, where those who own cherry wands have special prestige. The Western wand-purchaser should dispel from their minds any notion that the pink blossom of the living tree makes for a frivolous or merely ornamental wand, for cherry wood often makes a wand that possesses truly lethal power, whatever the core, but if teamed with dragon heartstring, the wand ought never to be teamed with a wizard without exceptional self-control and strength of mind.) The use of a  White River Monster spine produced spells of force and elegance. 

patronus ➵ Lynx

E D U C A T I O N

Hogwarts class ➵ Gryffindor, 1981

extracurriculars ➵

Gryffindor Prefect / September 1980 - June 1981

Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team / September 1979 - June 1981

Gryffindor Chaser / October 1975 - June 1981

Charms Club / September 1975 - June 1981

Toothill Duelling Club / September 1978 - June 1981

Slug Club / December 1977 - June 1981

courses & exams ➵

Ancient Runes - O

Charms - O

Defense Against the Dark Arts - O

Herbology - O

Arithmancy - O

Muggle Studies - O

Potions - O

Transfiguration - O

Care of Magical Creatures - O

now studying Alchemy ( predicted an O )

M I S C E L L A N E O U S

health ➵

strawberry allergy

pets ➵ 

Archimedes; the family owl ( great horned owl )

handwriting ➵ Sebastian Bobby

F A M I L Y

Ora Shacklebolt (nee Kayoude) ➵ paternal grandmother; socialite; alive

Kingsley Shacklebolt I ➵ grandfather; Wizengamot member; alive

Yara Audley (nee Idowu) ➵ maternal grandmother; homeschooled; apothecary worker; alive

Akiel Audley ➵ maternal grandfather; homeschooled; Quidditch supply store owner; alive

Alaric Shacklebolt I ➵ father; Gryffindor; Senior Auror for the DMLE; alive

Meera Shacklebolt ➵ mother; homeschooled (opted out of attending Ilvermorny / Hogwarts); apothecary worker; alive

Eralia Audley ➵ maternal aunt; homeschooled; Senior Assistant to the Jamaican Minister of Magic; alive

Gabrielle Shacklebolt ➵ paternal aunt; Hufflepuff; Ministry employee; alive

Edward Shacklebolt (took wife’s name) ➵ paternal uncle; Hufflepuff; job; alive

Khenan Shacklebolt ➵ paternal uncle; Ravenclaw; curse breaker for Gringotts; alive

Kingsley Akiel Shacklebolt (II) ➵ self; Gryffindor; Future Senior Auror for the DMLE; alive

Bianca Omnira Shacklebolt ➵ sister; fifth year Ravenclaw; unknown future; alive

𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌

his parents used to say he was born for diplomacy. that’s what they’d drilled into him since he was born: fight the good fight, be honest and good and stay calm, always. they can only catch you off guard when you aren’t. he’d always been somewhat of a natural diplomat — the oldest child, expectations hung from his shoulders as if they were coats and he, a coat rack. he’d always been a quiet child, somewhat unassuming, almost shy, content to play and be alone, often found even as a baby, simply amusing himself with his fist over crying, wailing for attention. when they attended the galas and balls befitting of a family part of the sacred 28, little changed. in fact, he was praised for it — how level-headed he was, even when all he wanted to do was scream and shout and set fire to the curtains by the window to stop them yammering on about the importance of blood purity and their precious, precious privilege, how he smiled politely and shook hands and never, ever made a scene. he hated them. he hated every last one of them. their fake smiles and empty eyes, how they hated for no reason and believed themselves to be superior — a kernel of a fallacy that kingsley, even as a child, could never subscribe to.

but kingsley was nothing if not a good man, and a good son, and so, he stayed silent — at least, to everyone who never crossed the boundaries of their home. to them, kingsley was a young wizard who showed particular promise in their circle, but to those who saw him at home, his internal torture over it was obvious. he had muggle neighbours, even muggle friends, people who made him laugh and gave his parents presents when his beloved baby sister was born, and he could not abide the dual life his parents were living. when they were home, they were tolerant — amused, even, by the muggles they surrounded themselves with, something his mother always said was to keep them grounded, because she’d already lost one sibling to pureblood mania and refused to lose herself, or her husband, or either of her children. when they were at the galas, they were cold, a little aloof, they laughed along with jokes at muggles expenses, they shook hands, ate appetisers, danced and never seemed to show any remorse for the roles they had to play those nights, though he knew they had to feel guilty (he hoped they felt guilty.) he knew they felt they had to do it to survive — to thrive, even, in a world in which they weren’t always welcome, but he hates it.

he loves his family. kingsley loves them with every part of him, loves his younger sister with his entire heart, is never not seen at home without her practically hanging off his ankles, and then his knees, and then his hips, until she’s too tall and too old for that, he loves his mother and relishes her hugs and the way she always knows what to say to make him feel better, he loves his father and that deep, slow river of calm that seems to run through him, the same river kingsley has always felt took root in him, but he hates their legacy. he hates their part in the sacred twenty eight. he hates every part of it. he hates that they agreed to this — to what feels like a mortal lock, an unbreakable vow, tying themselves to this until the end of time. he hates that he understands why — their blood runs pure, he knows, in other wizards standards, but knowing what the sacred twenty eight stands for? what it really represents? kingsley thinks that their blood is the blood that’s dirty, that they’re the ones who ought to be ashamed of themselves for their existence, that they’re the ones who value opulence and power over people’s lives and that makes them wrong and evil and undeserving of their magic. it’s the first time — the only time — his parents have ever seen him truly angry — he remembers it well, being fourteen and all uncontrolled fury for the first time, how the quiet anger had burned and swelled under his skin until he couldn’t hold it in anymore, and how he’d made all the glass windows in the dining room shatter, the glass raining like sand when his father waved it away with a swish of his wand, kingsley’s chest heaving as he yells, raging against their indifference, feeling oddly soothed when his mother pulls him into his arms and whispers that she’s sorry. she’s sorry. she knows, she knows. he wishes that were enough — that apology, that acknowledgement that they were — are — hypocrites.

even still, his love for his family, flaws and all, remains, though he’s slowly pulled back from any engagement with the pureblood world over the years. he’s very proud to be his father’s son — the son of an auror, recipient of the order of merlin second class — and his mother’s. he’s proud to be his sister’s big brother, her protector. he’s even more proud when he gets his letter to hogwarts, confirming what they all already knew — magic is strong in the shacklebolt family. he picks up the family wand, purchased in america in the early 1920s — alder with cherry trailed over the front like the path of a river, or a lightning bolt, white river monster spine core, fourteen and a quarter inches, solid — and he feels a piece of himself slots firmly into place. hogwarts is where his father went, where his father’s father went (over ilvermorny), and though he can no longer pretend to be complacent to their every whim in regards to the sacred twenty eight (something which both his parents have since begun to shun), he knows getting sorted into gryffindor would make them both proud, and that’s what he wants, so that’s what be did — the bat barely touched his head before declaring him a gryffindor. even now, as a twenty two year old seventh year on the brink of graduating into a fully fledged war, he wants to make them proud. he wants to be a pillar of strength, safety, tolerance, love, support, he wants to be the friendly face ushering people to safety, he wants to be the one raining hellfire down on the prejudiced idiots who think that they’re any different to anyone else, with magic or without, on this planet, that they’re superior in any way because of their blood.

[conradscrime]

Lyle Stevik John Doe (Identified in 2018)

January 08, 2021

Ugh. I love a good John/Jane Doe case. 

However, I do want to just remind everyone that as interesting as these cases are, they are very sad. We need to remember that yes a person who is unidentified is very interesting because there are a lack of answers. The main one being who are they but also what happened to them? 

I think when it comes to John/Jane Doe cases we need to mindful and remain extremely respectful and not so judgemental. These people at one point were someone’s children, sibling, perhaps someone’s parent, someone’s spouse. They were most likely someone’s everything at one point. And now there could be a family or friend or loved one who has no idea what happened to them, has no idea why they haven’t heard from them or seen them. 

John/Jane Doe cases are probably some of my favourite to research because they are just that, interesting. But I especially think in these cases we need to be respectful because these people are no longer here to tell their story or defend themselves. And everyone no matter, deserves to have their name back. 

I’ve known about the Lyle Stevik John Doe case long before he was ever identified. I want to say around 2016 is when I first heard of the case and when he was identified in May of 2018 I was so happy, though his story is sad. Since being identified his family has chosen to keep his identity from the public which I do not blame them one bit especially because I believe the family assumed he was out living a life without them and had no idea he had been deceased for so long. My heart goes out to the family of Lyle Stevik John Doe. 

TRIGGER WARNING: This case involves the topic of suicide and someone taking their own life. If this is triggering for some I suggest not reading this case and to stay tuned for upcoming cases I cover! I have a lot planned and there will be new posts from me every Friday (and on days where I am not so busy with work and school I will have 2 cases uploaded!) 

On Friday, September 14, 2001 a man checked into a motel in Amanda Park Washington called the Quinault Inn under the name Lyle Stevik after arriving there via bus. The clerk told police that he may have been Canadian, as he spoke with what seemed to the clerk as an accent similar to a Canadian one. 

When registering for his room he entered the alias Lyle Stevik, and for an address he wrote down the address of a Best Western facility in Meridian Idaho. The police ended up locating the hotel and questioning the staff, but none of them recognized photos of him. 

The man was reportedly seen walking back and forth at the side of the highway near the motel, but it is uncertain whether these sightings were seen before or after he registered for his room at the motel. The man actually requested a different room after complaining about the noise outside the room was he given. 

The man was found deceased in his motel room on Monday September 17, 2001. An initial report said he had stayed at the motel for two nights, but he had checked in on September 14, which meant he had stayed there for three nights. He originally only paid for one night, but then planned to stay for a few more days. He had hung himself by his belt from a bar inside the closet. 

He had left a note that said “for the room” on the bedside table and left $160 in $20 bills to cover the remaining two nights of the weekend, which I think just shows what kind of person he was in life, a good person. The bills used to pay for the room looked fresh, it appeared that they had been recently taken out of an ATM machine. He had no wallet on him or credit card, so it seemed kind of strange that the bills looked so fresh, because how did he use a ATM machine if he didn’t have a card or wallet on him? There was also a note left that just said the words “suicide.” He is thought to have died on September 16. It is suspected that he may have died by suicide due to depression or because of a fatal disease, though the autopsy showed no signs of that. 

The man was described to have light-skin, and by his features some report that he could of been from Native American or Hispanic ancestry. He also had black hair which was trimmed and neatly combed and green/hazel eyes. He weighed between 130-140 pounds, and was about 6 feet tall. 

An investigator also claimed that there had been a piece of paper located in the trash bin that had “suicide” written on it as if the man were practicing how to spell it. Some believe he could not speak English well. I find this strange though because the clerk that gave him his room never mentioned that he could not speak english well from the research i’ve done, the clerk only said he had some sort of accent and like previously mentioned it was thought to be a Canadian accent, and I feel as though that would of been a very important detail that wouldn’t of been left out. 

Police also said he had closed the blinds of the room and lined the closet with pillows. The man had no luggage with him, he only brought a toothbrush and toothpaste which were found in the room. He was wearing a gray tshirt and  blue levi jeans and black timberland boots. There was also a blue long sleeve plaid button up shirt found laying on a chair in the room. 

So you may be wondering where the name Lyle Stevik comes from. Some believe that he came up with this name from a character in a book written by Joyce Carol Oates. The novel was called “You Must Remember” and it was released in 1987. In the story, the main character’s father, Lyle Stevik, contemplates suicide, and attempts suicide, however doesn’t suceed. The John Doe spelled the name Stevik, but in the book the character’s name is spelled Stevick, with a C.

The local coroner’s office also said the man could of been from African-American ancestry in addition to having Hispanic and native american ancestry. 

DNA analysis concluded he was at least one-quarter native american and one quarter hispanic or spanish. His teeth showed evidence of earlier treatment with braces. He had an old appendectomy scar which is when you get your appendix removed, and also a small mole on the left side of his chin. He also had attached earlobes which is a genetic characteristic. His nails were clean and trimmed as well. 

The man also was not wearing a ring on his left finger, and there was no tan line there or any indication that he had ever worn a ring on that finger. They also did isotope testing on the man and found that he had travelled to various states before his death. Isotope testing in criminal investigations is basically used to find out things such as locating the country of origin for a given explosive, or to identify drug trafficking routes. 

The examination also showed that he had recently lost a large amount of weight up to 40 pounds. The medical examiner estimated this weight difference after noticing that the size of his jeans were fairly large in comparison to his body. His belt also had extra holes that had been punched into it. His age was estimated to be between 20 and 30 years old, giving his estimated year of birth to be between 1971 and 1981. 

Some also found it strange that this man had committed suicide only a few days after 9/11 happened. Investigator’s tried to connect the two, some people thinking maybe he had lost someone in 9/11 and could not go on without them so he decided to end his own life. 

The man known as Lyle Stevik was a John Doe. They had no idea where he came from or where his family could be. He was buried in an unmarked grave at the Fern Hill Cemetery in Aberdeen, Washington, and went unidentified for almost 17 years. 

Because this man had only been deceased for a short period of time before being found, examiners were able to obtain fingerprints, dental characteristics and DNA. These identifying markers were placed in international databases, including CODIS, but no matches were made. It was believed that he came from Port Angeles or Aberdeen, locations from which buses daily traveled to Amanda Park. 

The man was not recognized by any of the bus drivers from those areas. There were also two men who had gone missing named Alexander Craig and Steven Needham, but both had been ruled out as possible identities of the Lyle Stevik John Doe. 

In April of 2007, Lyle Stevik was listed as the profile of the month for Missing From the circle, which was a public service initiative launched by Lamar Associates, a law enforcement advisory organization based in Washington, D.C. to help solve cases of missing and unidentified Native Americans. 

The case went cold. But in 2018, two genetic genealogists from the DNA Doe Project named Colleen M. Fitzpatrick and Margaret Press uploaded DNA profiles to GEDmatch to attempt to link the unidentified man to individuals living in New Mexico and Idaho. The DNA Doe Project is a non-profit organization dedicated to identifying unknown deceased persons. 

And then on May 8, 2018 it was announced by the Grays Harbor Sheriff’s office that Lyle Stevik had been identified through DNA analysis and comparison with genetic relatives, performed by the DNA doe project in collaboration with Aerodyne and Full Genomes Corporation. They found a cluster of matches of relatives, perhaps even two or three generations removed, in New Mexico. Through this they were able to find members of the John Doe’s birth family. 

The man was from Alameda County, California and was 25 years old at the time of this death. The Grays harbour county sheriff’s office notified the man’s family, who had believed him to be alive and had just thought he did not want to associate with them. His family had a set of his fingerprints that were taken in grade school, as part of a children’s identification program. 

The sheriff’s department compared those to the fingerprints of the deceased man taken in 2001 and made a positive identification. However, we do not know the man’s actual name because his family has asked to keep it private, they do not want him to be publicly identified. 

This case is oddly similar to a case that happened in 1996. A woman who went by the name Mary A. Anderson committed suicide in a hotel room in Seattle, Washington in October of 1996. However, this is known to be a fake name the woman used and they have never been able to identify her. 

She reserved a room via telephone on October 9 about 90 minutes before she checked in. She arrived with two bags and paid cash for two nights. She also entered a New York address and telephone number, which investigator later determined to be false. 

On Friday, October 11 her body was discovered by a hotel staff member after she failed to check out. She was found reclining in the bed, clasping a Bible to her chest with the pages opened to Psalm 23. There was a suicide note on the bedside table. She left no identification. 

The Medical examiner determined she had consumed a lethal mixture of metamucil and cyanide and ruled her death a suicide. The woman was white, said to be between ages 30-50, with well groomed manicured nails and neatly combed hair. She had an IUD inserted, and appeared to have had breast surgery at some point in her life. 

Police tried to identify her through fingerprint records on file with the FBI, as well as through missing persons reports filed in the US, Canada and through Interpol which is the International criminal police organization. They were unable to trace the origins of cyanide used and the medical examiner’s office said that the woman had purposely left out any way that she could be identified. I included a photo of her facial reconstruction down below along with Lyle Stevik’s.

Though I don’t really believe there’s any connection to these two cases they are eerily similar and as I mentioned earlier I think John/Jane Doe cases are especially important to cover, and especially important to be respectful of any friends or family if they ever come across this post. 

It makes me extremely happy that Lyle Stevik John Doe was identified in May of 2018. His family has asked to keep his identity from the public, however after doing further research I did find some websleuths who have supposedly found a picture of Lyle Stevik in a yearbook and have released his real name. Personally, the photo to me looks extremely real and does look like him, almost exactly. 

However, because his family wants to grieve in peace I will not be posting that photo or his supposed real name. I do not think that is fair to the family and I think we need to let this case rest. Lyle Stevik got his name back, his family has the closure they needed after all these years and that’s all that matters.

Thank you for taking time out of your day to read this post! I have included a photo of Lyle Stevik John Doe’s sketch but I will not be including photos of his  body or the supposed yearbook photo of him as I just find that extremely disrespectful to not only him, but also his family. 

Hope you enjoyed this case!

[p1nkymilk]

PhuTian enemies to lovers AU part 2: The Wound

holy crap somehow i knocked out 3k words, this is extremely angsty and definitely OOC and hellla self-indulgent so proceed with caution hahaha

warning for spoilers, and mentions of wounds and blood but nothing too graphic

Once my AO3 acc gets created, I''ll post there too but till then its on here as well sdogbsdigbosid

note: in this AU, Tian did not own the car, and it wasn't his friend that killed Torfun. She died of a random car accident. And also, Tian knows of his father's involvement. Here, they had to strike a bargain such that Tian would only be allowed to leave if his father had eyes watching out for him there. Phupha is ordered to keep a close eye on Tian, but he only knows that Tian's health isn't that great. He thinks that the main reason that he has to escort Tian around is because Tian is rich and privileged. At this point, he only knows very vaguely about Tian's health problems so he doesn't take them seriously. Also warning Phupha is definitely acting like an ass, but he will redeem himself in later chapters

The next morning, Tian got up and stretched, sighing because of the ache of his back from the hard mattress. The hard mattress and the tiny teacher's house didn't bother him as much as the memories from last night. It wasn't that Tian was in love with the obstinate, cold chief by any stretch, but when he first arrived, he was so impressed with the chief, his dedication, his skill, and most of all, how much he truly cared for Pa Phun Dao and its people. He wanted to make a good impression on the Chief, but even with Tian trying his best, it wasn't possible. And it hurt just a bit more because the Chief was handsome, one of most handsome men that Tian had ever seen in his entire life.

Well, it's a good thing I'm not here to fall in love, Tian mused as he picked up his brush and toothpaste. For a second, he took a deep breath and stared at Torfun's old name tag, which flooded him both with guilt and strength. I'm here for you, Torfun. I need to go on. I need to finish what you have started. Although, I really don't know what you see in Phupha.

Tian went outside and brushed his teeth, and then went back in and changed his clothes to a fresh pair. There was a knock at the door. Tian quickly answered it, opening the bamboo door wide.

To his absolute and utter shock, it was Phupha, glowering like a raincloud, standing up straight in his forest ranger uniform, looking a bit like a Greek--er, Thai God in the morning sunlight.

"Chief, why are you here?" Tian asked, surprised, just managing to conceal the frown off of his face.

"I have to walk you down to the school. It's special orders, that's why a rich kid like you gets a chief to walk him down the fifteen minute walk," Phupha responded curtly.

Tian winced. He knew that his father was using his influence to make sure that Tian, with his fragile health, was protected in this physically taxing environment. It was the most he could do just to convince his father not to have another, more medically advanced teacher's house built for Tian to stay in.

"Okay," Tian responded quietly. "Let's get started then, the sooner that we leave, the sooner you can be finished of this chore with my subpar company."

Tian was hoping for a flicker of pity, something, from the ranger's eyes, but all he got was a steady glare of stone, and then Phupha started walking.

"Hey, slow down!" Tian said. "I can't keep up!"

Phupha rolled his eyes, and slowed down a little, but not enough.

Tian tried to make small talk throughout the walk, but Phupha never responded well, more than a few short words. He clearly did not want to continue the conversation. It didn't stop Tian from doing his best through the conversation, but Phupha was a wall that did not move an inch.

Phupha left Tian with the much friendlier Yod and went on to continue his duties with a nod towards Yod and nothing towards Tian.

Yod winced. "He's really not a bad guy. He'll take some time to warm up, but he has a good heart. In the meantime, Rang and I are here to support you! And Dr. Nam, he is a good guy as well." "Thank you so much sir," Tian said gratefully, his eyes full of warmth. Yod's heart softened for the young volunteer. He was a little privileged, sure, but it was clear that he was a good person. He made a note to speak to Phupha about going a little easier on this young man. It was already difficult for Pa Phun Dao to receive volunteer teachers, and no one should ever look a gift horse in the mouth.

Tian introduced himself to the kids in the school house, the boisterous boy Ayi, the curious Khaoneung, the quiet Inta, the inquisitive Meejoo and the sleepy looking Kalae.

"Your name is Tian? Like Seetian!" Meejoo exclaimed, grinning.

"Not quite--" Tian started, but was interrupted by Ayi saying "What are we going to do today Seetian?"

"Today...." Tian said, thinking for a while. "We are going to go on a field trip!"

"I don't know if it's a good idea," Yod said hesitantly.

Tian wanted to prove himself, he wanted to show the world (and himself) that he really could be a teacher who helped his students, even if he was just doing this for Torfun.

"Us teachers--we are showing our students how to understand the world, right? What is a better way than to immerse the students in it?"

"Alright, if you say so...I'll come with," Yod said. "Stick with me at all times!"

Tian flashed Yod an excited grin. "Thank you so much, sir! Come on, guys!"

The kids were bursting with excitement, just like Tian and Tul back in secondary school, the morning right before the field trip to the aquarium or science museum. Tian smiled. Some things are just universal.

The group set out together, and Tian pointed out the different colors of all of the items around them, teaching them how to say each one in English. Meejoo especially was drinking in the knowledge, her eyes bright.

They were walking across the bridge to go to the waterfall. Yod suddenly got a call on his walkie talkie that something urgent came up. Tian convinced Yod to let him take the kids, promising that they were safe in his care. Yod didn't look like he wanted to agree, but he nodded anyway and sprinted off.

Tian and the kids finally got to the waterfall, and they had fun splashing around and swimming. Tian taught them the names of all of all of the items in English, and taught them about the scientific properties of water. They were drying off and getting ready to walk back. Suddenly, Inta asked, "Where's Kalae?"

Tian looked around the shore but couldn't find him. Heart racing in alarm, he swept the water with his gaze and saw Kalae sitting on the ground in an outcrop of rocks in the water, clearly in pain and very scared.

"KALAE!" Tian shouted in alarm, and ran through the water, swimming through when it got deeper. He got to Kalae, thankfully, and clambered onto the rocks, lifting him up, and carrying him back through the water. When he got onto the rocks, he stumbled and skinned his knee, but he didn't care about that at all. All he cared about was getting Kalae to safety.

"AYI! GO GET HELP!" Tian yelled. "GET THE DOCTOR!" Ayi was the oldest, so he'd have the best chance of success. He nodded and sprinted off. Tian laid Kalae across the grass once they got back to the shore. Kalae had a bad injury on his shin, the skin split open with blood streaming down his leg. Not only was he wincing from pain, he also looked terrified at the amount of blood flowing from the wound.

Tian forced himself to stay calm. "Kalae, look at me. I want you to answer these math problems while we wait for help. What's 7 plus 5?"

Kalae struggled to even formulate the thought, but he eventually answered, "twelve..."

"Good job Kalae, good job, now--don't look down!-- tell me what's 13 plus 5?"

"Seetian, I don't feel good, it hurts, it hurts..." Kalae cried, his chubby cheeks wet with tears.

"I know, Kalae, and I am so sorry. For now, focus on me. Tell me what 13 plus 5 is."

"eight....teen..." Kalae said.

"Hey, Kalae, I'm here now, you'll be okay," a smooth, assured voice sounded from next to Tian. He turned and saw a man in a white coat with an honest looking face.

"I'm Dr. Nam," He said quickly as an aside to Tian. "You can step back now. I can take care of this."

Dr. Nam cleaned the wound, holding Kalae's hand through the sting of the antiseptic, and then securely wrapped a bandage around it. Kalae was then helped onto a stretcher, and Yod, who was manning the ambulance, drove him to the clinic with Dr. Nam right next to him.

Tian was, firstly, relieved that Kalae was going to be okay. But then, guilt and self-loathing hit him out of nowhere. All he could do was stand there, stare at the waterfall, his heart turning and turning inside him, making him feel nauseous with guilt. The wound on his knee from the rock hurt and stung, but he wasn't even focusing on that. Kalae got hurt way worse, and could have died because Tian didn't have an eye on him.

Phupha walked up to Tian, storms brewing in his eyes. Tian internally prepared himself for whatever hurtful thing Phupha was going to say. Even more, Tian didn't mind that Phupha was going to scold him, because he deserved it. His first day, and it was such a disaster. It honestly couldn't have gone worse.

"You should go back," Phupha said shortly. "Back to Bangkok. At least there, you will not hurt anyone else." After saying this, he didn't even look for Tian's reaction, just walked away.

Without even being conscious of it, Tian's eyes started to tear up. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he stood there, barely able to blink.

"Chief, that's too far," one of the other rangers called out, walking closer to Tian. "Hi, Tian, I'm Rang," he said in an even-toned, kindly voice. "I'm one of the other forest rangers stationed at Pa Phun Dao along with Chief, Yod and Dr. Nam who acts as the medic. It's true that you probably should have looked out better for the kids, but this was an accident that could happen to anyone. Please remember that. It could have happened to anyone. Even the chief."

"Thank you, sir," Tian responded mechanically, mustering up as genuine of a small smile he could for Rang.

Later that night, Tian was lying on his hard mattress again, still in the same drenched clothes earlier from that day, his knee throbbing. He couldn't stop thinking about his mistake, that resulted in Kalae getting hurt. He didn't even want to start to think about how everyone in the village would see him, with distrust, and the rangers just with a cold pity.

There was a knock on the door, suddenly jolting Tian from his thoughts. He slowly walked to the door, putting weight on his right food because his left leg was hurt, and opened it. Tian saw who was on the other side and groaned internally. He wasn't equipped to deal with anymore cruel words that day, even if he deserved them.

Phupha's eyes narrowed in distaste. Tian just stayed quiet.

"Meejoo told me that you got hurt. Why didn't you say anything?" Phupha said, surprising Tian. That was not what he was expecting.

Tian kept silent for a second as he tried to figure out what to respond. He wanted to say "because I didn't think you care," but he decided to be more mature and not cause more problems. "I didn't think it mattered, Chief," he responded, voice devoid of emotion.

"If the wound gets infected, my supervisor, who reports to your father, will kill me for messing with the son of an important government official." Phupha responded after a couple seconds of silence.

Tian winced internally. Somehow, without realizing it, he had hoped--a little, just for some kindness. He should have realized that it wouldn't come, not from him.

"Show me the wound," Phupha said. "I've brought antiseptic and bandages. I'll dress it."

Tian moved forward to try to roll his pant leg up, but suddenly the wound sang with pain and Tian tipped forward, right over the steps. He thought he would fall on the ground, but thankfully he was caught. Not so thankfully, it was by Phupha. For a short second, Tian's hazy brain forgot who it was that caught him. He felt so safe and secure in the strong embrace, his face cradled tight against Phupha's chest. But he realized that it was Phupha's chest, and he scrambled back instantly. Phupha's arms shot out to catch him, and Tian looked up into eyes that were flatly annoyed. "Relax. If you fall over again, that will just cause more wounds and more problems." Phupha guided Tian by the shoulders outside to the bench right under one of the orange lantern. His movements, although precise, clinical and clearly trying not to touch Tian more than he had to, were not rough.

The Chief reached over and rolled up Tian's left pant leg.

"How did you know the wound was there?" Tian asked, thunderstruck.

"That was the leg that buckled first," Phupha responded shortly, continuing to roll up the pant leg until he got to the wound. He took a quick breath in.

"Tian, this wound is pretty big. You need to be transparent about when you get hurt."

On a day when Tian was more well-rested and less emotionally wrecked, or a day where Phupha hadn't said cruel words beforehand, Tian would have been able to interpret that statement for what it was, a clinical concern. But to his exhausted brain, Phupha was somehow saying that not only was Tian selfish, he was also someone who was trying to cause problems by hiding things.

"Don't worry, Chief, if the wound gets infected I won't tell anyone, and definitely not my dad. That way, you won't have anything to worry about," Tian said back, his voice completely devoid of emotion.

Phupha looked up at Tian for a split second, and there was a flash--a milisecond flash-- of regret in his eyes.

"It's not just that, Tian. You're the teacher of this village. Your health is important," Phupha said, trying now, for some reason, Tian didn't know why, to sound more diplomatic.

"If it were up to you, I wouldn't be the teacher of the village starting tomorrow. But I'm not going to go back. I made a horrible mistake that resulted in one of the kids getting hurt badly. Tomorrow I will go and apologize to Kalae and his parents. But I am not going back. I'm not, I'm not, I'm not, I can't, I can't go back, I can't--" What started out as a measured and rational sentence was slowly unravelling into panic.

"Tian," Phupha said sternly. But Tian wasn't even listening. He was thinking about Torfun. He didn't deserve this heart of hers. She did. Not him. But he has ended up with it. That's why he needs to stay, that's why he needs to dedicate his life to Torfun, so he can do a pale imitation of whatever greatness she would have accomplished. Torfun would not have let a child get hurt. Tears started to stream down his face again.

"Tian!" Phupha said, louder this time. Tian snapped his head back down to Phupha, startled by the loud noise.

"Tian, I shouldn't have told you to go back. I apologize," Phupha said tersely, looking into Tian's wide, shocked, tear-filled eyes, and then studiously continuing to dab antiseptic onto Tian's leg. "I shouldn't have said that, alright? I'm sorry. So stop panicking. No one is going to make you go back." Phupha looked right into Tian's eyes, holding his gaze.

Tian just nodded, wiping his face with his sleeve and sniffling.

Phupha wrapped the bandage slowly and carefully around Tian's knee.

"Can you stand?" Phupha asked quietly. Tian nodded, and slowly got up. Phupha stood stock-still for a moment, and then moved slowly to help Tian. But Tian didn't want to lean against him. Tian just wanted to go to sleep. Tian wanted to be born with a healthy heart. Tian wanted to be someone else: someone strong, someone capable, who didn't let kids get hurt. Someone with a shine so golden it could compare to Torfun's. Someone so bright that Phupha wouldn't hesitate to treat them tenderly.

So Tian moved away from Phupha, the movement sudden and jarring. Phupha saw that, and then his eyes, so strangely open in the lamplight, closed up again and became the pools of black stone that they usually were. Tian moved back towards the house, his movements jerky, and he brushed past Phupha, his arm touching--for a milisecond--Phupha's arm. And that was all that was needed. For suddenly, Tian was catapulted into a memory again. Here, Memory-Phupha was the one who was crying. He was crying silently, his eyes closed shut, and Tian could feel his memory self wrapping his arms around Memory Phupha, and stroking his head softly. "It's okay, it's okay, mountain of mine, you're here with me now, I forgive you, it's alright, you're the only one for me, don't you know that, the apple of my eye? " And then memory Phupha didn't say anything at all, but cradled memory Tian to his chest. Memory Tian melted into the warmth. Memory Phupha used his hands to move Memory Tian half a foot away, scrutinizing his face, and then he tenderly wiped the tears from Memory Tian's face, that Tian hadn't even realized were falling while he was giving Memory Phupha that reassuring smile. And then memory Phupha kissed above the high points of memory Tian's cheekbones, right where the tears were falling previously, quickly in succession, but so, so tenderly. Tian sighed in relief, and the memory suddenly faded.

Phupha had the strangest look on his face. There was still refusal and anger, which hurt Tian's heart, but something else that frankly, Tian was too exhausted to figure out.

"Thank you for dressing my wound, Chief. Goodnight," Tian said politely but emotionlessly, struggling to get up the steps, but ultimately succeeding. Without turning around, he opened his door, closed it behind him, fell on top of his mattress, and instantly went to sleep.

[sebseyesandbuckysthighs]

Three Soldiers and a Baby | Part One

summary: Three handsome bachelors find their day to day operations disrupted when an unexpected new roommate (who comes complete with a diaper and a pacifier) shows up at their doorstep. How will they deal with this new and baffling responsibility without losing their minds or killing each other in the process?

pairings: Bucky x Reader (eventual) featuring Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson

warnings: none, this is all very introductory

a/n: Here we go! The start of something I’ve been working on for a little while and finally managed to finish! As this is being posted I’m actually on a plane from Greece back to Canaduh for 12 hours. Pray for my sanity and my knees!

*warning to mobile users, the “keep reading” tab may not work so apologies in advance*

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 |

Late mornings were not typical for Steve Rogers, but that didn't keep him from enjoying them. By now he should have been halfway through his early run before heading back home for a shower and a large breakfast. Still, a break from his normal routine was not unwelcome. After rubbing the sleep from his eyes he turned to look at the empty space beside him. This was another part of his normal routine that he wouldn't mind changing; waking up alone. There was nothing he could do about that if he stayed in bed, though, so Steve tossed aside the bed sheet and got up from the hard mattress. After finding a pair of sweatpants to pull over his boxers and a zip-up hoodie to cover his bare chest, he made his way to the kitchen.

The Brooklyn apartment was by no means as large or luxurious as the Compound, but it was everything Steve wanted in a place. The area was great and central to a lot of local business. The bedrooms were a decent size and the living room and kitchen area was a large open space with floor-to-ceiling windows looking out onto the city. It wasn't the typical penthouse, but this entire level of the building was dedicated to just this apartment and the only way you could access the floor was by key. There were a few other security protocols set-up as well, of course. You could never be too careful. The last thing anyone wanted was an unwelcome visitor showing up at Captain America's front door. Not just his door since he also shared this space with two of his best friends and teammates. Having Sam and Bucky as roommates was just another great bonus. Well, most of the time.

Sam Wilson was seated on one of the stools by the kitchen island sipping from a glass of orange juice. His attention was seemingly fully focused on his tablet, but the second Steve entered the room all bets were off.

“Why did I move in with you people? What could have possibly possessed me to do such a thing? Desperation? Pity?” He tilted his chin upwards and pursed his lips as though really thinking about it. “Maybe I've just lost my damn mind.”

Steve rolled his eyes as he poured himself a glass of orange juice and took a long sip. “What is it now, Sam?”

“Not what...who.”

“Alright.” Steve conceded with a sigh. “What did Bucky do now?” Sensing that this wouldn't be short, or pretty, he took a seat at the counter beside him.

Last night the three roommates had gone out to a nearby bar. Not for any particular reason other than maybe seeing Bucky off before his solo mission. A few years had passed since his stint in Wakanda and after taking some much deserved time to himself Bucky agreed, however reluctantly, to return to active duty. There were of course some concerns, but it didn't take long for Bucky to prove himself and become a powerful addition to the team. His friendship with Sam was a little turbulent at times, but it was mostly due to the fact that they enjoyed pissing each other off. A night out at a bar was usually a recipe for competition.

“You wanna know what he did?” Sam said. “I'll tell you what he did. Picture it, a beautiful Saturday morning after a night out with no hangover in sight. No missions. No plans. No responsibilities. Just me and half a pizza in the fridge calling out her siren's song to me.”

Steve chuckled, but once he saw the lack of humor in Sam's eyes he cleared his throat, motioning for his friend to continue.

“So there I was, humming some Earth, Wind, and Fire as I made my way to this very kitchen when none other than the edgelord himself comes barreling into me. No shirt, no shoes, stinking of his nasty ass cologne from the night before, but wait,” Sam paused, pretending to sniff the air suspiciously. “There's another scent desperately clinging to life despite the overwhelming odds.”

Steve grimaced knowing what that meant. How out of it was he that he managed to sleep through the confrontation? “Okay so Bucky ate the pizza. It's not a big deal. Besides I don't remember anyone actually laying claim to the leftovers. You know the rules.”

Clearly, that wasn't the end of it though as Sam raised his hand in declaration. “Oh but it didn't end there! Barnes' reign of bullshit managed to completely ravage my entire morning in the span of twenty minutes. The guy is going for a record at this point.”

Apparently after eating the pizza Bucky then went on to finishing the last of the toothpaste, using Sam's towel to dry himself off after his shower, and topping it off by drinking the freshly-brewed coffee that Sam made for himself before Bucky was finally out of the door and heading for his mission briefing.

“He's back on his bullshit, Steve.” Sam folded his arms in front of his chest and stared at the other man. “Tell me this isn't about that girl still.” When Steve didn't answer right away Sam threw his hands in the air. “It's been two years! He can't still be hung up one girl.”

It was actually closer to a year and a half, but yes Steve did think it was about that girl. They never really knew who she was, only that for awhile there Bucky was the happiest Steve had ever seen him. He spent more nights away from home and would come back in the morning with a love-struck look that not even Sam could wipe away. When asked if they could meet her Bucky would dodge the subject or say it's complicated. Turns out it was a lot more complicated than they thought when he came home one day telling them that it was over. It was Steve's hope that during one of their nights out he would find someone new and move on.

“The guy just needs to go on a couple dates and get laid.” Sam suggested.

As much as Steve doubted it would be that simple he remained hopeful. “Did you see anyone leave his room this morning?” The other man snorted and shook his head, which was condescending enough to earn a unappreciative growl from Steve. “What I meant to respectively say was no. Barnes was solo this morning.” A sneer exposed Sam's white teeth. “Just like you.”

The blonde groaned and leaned back on his chair. He wasn't exactly doing any better when it came to finding love. There were girls he would see for a little while, but nothing that turned out to be more than just a fling. “What the hell is wrong with us?” Steve mumbled.

“What the hell do you mean by 'us'?” Sam scoffed indignantly. “Don't group me in with you two hopeless fools. I just so happen to be seeing someone.”

That got Steve's attention. “Bullshit. You do? Since when? Who is it?” The barrage of questions and disbelief in his tone did little to improve Sam's already sour mood. “What the hell, Steve? Do you know who you're talking to? Look at this.” Sam stood up, holding his hands out as he showcased himself with a slow twirl. Only Sam Wilson could pull off a silk robe and boxers set. “I'm a masterpiece. It was only a matter of time before I was swept off my feet and taken off the market by a beautiful woman.”

If there was one thing that could be said about Sam Wilson it was that he never lacked in confidence. Steve smiled at his friend. Sure, he was still a little shocked, but genuinely happy for the guy. “That's one lucky lady. What's her name?”

“Ah-ah. Nice try, Rogers, but these lips are sealed. ” He mimed zipping his lips shut and throwing away a key. “All you need to know is that she's a lady agent and she has good taste. Otherwise, I'm a man of mystery and I do not kiss and tell.”

Steve frowned. “But you're always prying into mine and Bucky's love lives.”

“Do as I say, not as I do, Cap.”

“Yeah fine, whatever.” Steve got up from his seat and made his way back to his bedroom to change. “I'm going for a run. And don't worry. I'll talk to Buck when he gets back.”

“Yeah, you better.” Sam called out. “Cause it he does just one more thing to piss me off, I will not be held accountable for smothering him with a pillow the next time he passes out on the couch.”

After three hours of running, Steve was on his way home and yet no closer to figuring out a way to help his friend. He scoffed and shook his head as he passed through the elevator doors. How could he help Bucky out of his funk when he didn't have a clue for himself? He was deep in thought as he rode up the multiple floors wishing that the answer to Bucky's happiness would appear before him. Though, when the doors finally opened to his floor, he was greeted by something that wasn't there when he left. There on the floor right outside of their door was what looked like a basket. A very particular kind of basket. One that shouldn't be sitting out front of anyone's door let alone the home of three bachelors. Before he could take a step closer, the basket started to cry.

part one >> part two

a/n: There we have it, the series has begun! What did you think? Are you ready for what comes next? I hope you liked it and are as excited as I am for more! 

Feedback is always appreciated, leave it here!

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[nicolasnelson]

Sizzie fic - Perchance to Dream [oneshot]

Title: Perchance to Dream Relationship: Lizzie Saltzman/Sebastian Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety, Panic Attacks, Sebastian’s POV Words: 2,388

Summary: Sebastian has a dream about Cassandra which scares him. Thankfully Lizzie is there to comfort him, but he wonders how long she will stay by his side.

Requested by @fandommatchmaker19​ // Prompt: Would love a Sizzie one-shot in which Lizzie comforts Sebastian about something.

[AO3 LINK]

Sebastian could see her face in vivid detail, every inch of her as fine as an artist’s masterpiece. Her loving gaze and playful smile invited him in, and she whispered a promise to him.

“I will protect you always.” She kissed his palm and brushed her hair aside, allowing him access to her stunning neck.

“I cannot,” he said, though the temptation burned in his chest. Cassandra always did this to him, teased him with what he could not have.

She scooted closer to him on the bed, wrapping a leg around his torso and pushing her body against his. She slipped the sleeve of her silk gown off her shoulder so her breast pressed against his skin. Soft and warm and oh so tempting.

Sebastian nuzzled his cheek against her neck. His body was taut as he fought to maintain his control. If he broke for even a moment, desire might take over.

“Please, Sebastian,” she pleaded. “Blood will increase your lust. I want to feel all of you, to experience you the way only your victims have.”

“You may not survive it,” Sebastian said, his voice soft and strained. He sounded a little scared, even to his own ears, and maybe he was. It was hard to stop feeding once he started. The only times he managed it were when his victims were less than desirable.

She ran her fingers through his hair and pulled his head closer against her neck. “I trust you.”

Sebastian chuckled against her skin. That was a mistake. No one should trust him when he could not even trust himself. The warm, sweet scent of blood tickled his nostrils, and he looked down to see Cassandra had drawn a knife under her collarbone. Red pooled from the cut in rivulets, trickling down onto her exposed breast.

His mouth watered, and he licked his lips. He could feel that his self control was already gone.

Sebastian awoke. He sat up in bed and saw the woman beside him, the long blond hair. He sighed in relief. He hadn’t killed her after all.

“Cassandra, dear,” he whispered and turned her onto her back. Dead eyes stared up, not quite meeting his, and he scrambled backwards off the bed. He hit the floor with a thunk.

And then he opened his eyes and found himself in a different bedroom. He was in bed, a blond woman beside him. It was all so familiar, like he was reliving the same nightmare. He didn’t dare check to see if she was alive.

The room was suffocating him, the floor wobbling beneath his feet. He stumbled to the door and tried the knob, but it wouldn’t turn. Oh, God. He was locked inside.

He slid his back down the cool wood and crumpled up, arms wrapped around his legs. His whole body was shaking, and he felt the tears trickling down his cheeks. Like the blood trickling down Cassandra’s chest. Oh, God. He still remembered the taste on his lips, sweet like strawberries.

“Sebastian, are you okay?”

He jumped, looking up to the blond woman. As his eyes focused on her, a name popped into his head. “Elizabeth.”

He sighed with relief. At least he hadn’t killed her. He hadn’t killed Cassandra either. He knew that now. It was just a dream, a memory, but knowing that didn’t calm him down. He was still on edge, like balancing on a tightrope above a pit of blood.

Elizabeth Saltzman sat down next to him and put a hand on his knee. “What happened?”

“It’s nothing you need to worry about. You should go back to sleep.” He gave her a small smile.

Elizabeth laughed. “That was the saddest smile I’ve ever seen. Come on, Sebastian. You can’t keep this inside. I know what that’s like. It’ll just burn you from the inside out.”

“Like your episodes?”

“Exactly. You’ve seen how bad those can be. I don’t want you to go through that too.” She grabbed his hand, which was still shaking, and squeezed his fingers.

There was something soothing about being with Elizabeth. She understood him better than most, and she had the patience to learn more. It hadn’t always been that way. He could remember a time when she hated him, but now they were at a comfortable place. Not lovers, but certainly more than friends. Partners in copulation and the occasional crime.

“It was a dream,” Sebastian said. It felt wrong to say it aloud, like he was lying, because it was so much more than that. “Not a dream. A memory. There was a time I nearly killed Cassandra. I managed to stop myself, but it has always haunted me.”

“The past tends to do that,” Elizabeth said, sighing. “And you have more of it than most.”

Sebastian laughed, but it was soft and self-pitying. “I wish memories were not so long lasting. You would think I would forget after all these years, but I can never forget. Even when I am not actively thinking of them, they influence my actions.”

Elizabeth pulled out her cellular device. “I’ve got a playlist I like to listen to when I think I’m about to have a meltdown. It doesn’t always work, but sometimes it helps to get my mind off what’s bothering me.” She hit a button and music sprung forth from the device. She set it on the floor in front of them and leaned her head on Sebastian’s shoulder.

Sebastian squeezed her hand, grateful to have her by his side. The music was indeed soothing. He focused on the words and seeing how he could relate to them. The refrain particularly resonated with him.

I don't know if I can stay strong. Hold on, for too long. I've been lost. I need you here to calm me down. I need you here to calm me.

“Thank you, Elizabeth.”

“You’re welcome.”

They stayed like that through several more songs until Sebastian really did feel calm again. He’d never been able to calm himself down with music before. These fits of anxiety had plagued him for many, many years. They always made him feel like he was dying as a memory replayed in a loop in his head.

But Elizabeth had helped get him out of that loop. He had to do more than thank her with words. He had to show this beautiful creature how much she meant to him. How grateful he was that she had treated him like a person and not a child or someone crazy. She hadn’t seen his anxiety as a weakness at all.

And he’d never seen her struggles with her mental health as a weakness. So why all the self pity? He was strong and capable too. He was allowed to break down sometimes. His life was complicated and difficult. It was a wonder he hadn’t had a big meltdown after waking up in another century.

Everything was still so new, and he was still adjusting. Some things were amazing improvements that made life more convenient, like these devices that played music and relayed messages to other people. Some things were more annoying, like the doors that would open suddenly when you walked near them. Others were downright mind boggling, like the game of matching candy that people played on those devices for hours on end, wasting their lives away, chasing the satisfaction of reaching each new level.

It was a whole new world, and he wanted to make the most of it.

“Can we go for a ride in your vessel?” Sebastian asked.

“Right now?”

Sebastian chuckled. “Why, yes, my dear, it is my time of night after all.”

“We’d have to sneak out,” Elizabeth said, though there was a smile on her face and a glint of mischief in her eyes.

“Add it to our list of crimes, Bonnie.”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes, laughing. “I should never have shown you that movie. You relate far too much to Clyde.”

“Only for his dedication to Bonnie,” Sebastian said, drinking her in. Elizabeth really was the most wonderful creature he’d ever met.

...

They snuck out through the kitchens in the dorms. Pedro was in there having a snack, but he promised Elizabeth he wouldn’t tell anyone. Sebastian wasn’t sure whether they could trust the small child, but he didn’t really care if they got into trouble. He was used to it by now.

Elizabeth put the top down on the car and drove them through the town and onto the interstate. Sebastian enjoyed the cool air against his face. It reminded him of horse riding, but it was so much smoother and faster, much more exhilarating. He looked over at Elizabeth to see her blond hair whipping all around her like a tumbleweed.

“Oh, hush. Your hair doesn’t look any better,” Elizabeth said when she caught his amused smile in the mirror.

He glanced at himself. The wind was slicking his hair back, much like the 1931 version of Dracula. “This is very old wine. I hope you will like it,” he said, smirking.

Elizabeth barked out a laugh at the reference. “Aren't you drinking?”

“I never drink”—Sebastian paused dramatically—“wine.”

Elizabeth jerked the car to the right and took the exit. She drove into a small patch of woods and parked the car. “Should we put the top back up?”

“Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn,” Sebastian said.

“Oh, God. I love it when you quote Gone with the Wind.” Elizabeth grabbed his neck and pulled him into a hungry kiss.

Her breath still smelled of peppermint toothpaste, and Sebastian found it downright intoxicating. He helped maneuver Elizabeth over the center console so she could straddle his lap. It felt nice to look up at her, like she was some goddess smiling down at him, bestowing kisses upon him like gifts no mortal man deserved.

Sebastian had to remind himself he was no mortal man. He’d made his share of mistakes, but this beauty believed he was worthy of her affection. He had confidence that he looked the part, but he never believed he had the personality to match. All his charm was heavily practiced, as he’d spent years studying (and flirting with) the masters. Kings and prostitutes and everything in between.

Elizabeth pushed her hair behind her shoulder, exposing her neck to him. “Do that thing I like.”

Sebastian was hesitant for a moment as the old fear gripped him, but he obliged, pressing his lips against Elizabeth’s smooth skin. He ran his tongue along the back of her ear, playing in the corner just behind her earlobe. Elizabeth melted in his arms, goose pimples prickling all along her skin as she shivered in delight.

He was still surprised she trusted him to do this. Was she even a little afraid he might be tempted to bite her instead? Or was she like Cassandra, naively trusting he’d be able to stop once he started?

Witches couldn’t know the allure of blood, how it wasn’t like a delicious cake they could eat bit by bit over time. Blood was like wine to an alcoholic, drugs to an addict, that stupid candy game to mindless teenagers. You didn’t have to be a ripper to become consumed by that hunger.

Elizabeth nuzzled her nose against his, pulling him from his thoughts, and he couldn’t help but think instead about how adorable she was. And how unfairly lucky he was to have her in his arms. He wasn’t good enough for her, and she knew it, but she wanted him anyways.

Their lips met again, tongues dancing to the familiar choreography, and he ran his fingers through her hair, marveling at its softness. He imagined transporting her to his time. Not his drab life on the colony, where he was devoted to Cassandra, but the time before he became a vampire. His life in Europe, the elaborate parties he had attended. Elizabeth would look wonderful in one of those ball gowns, with her hair pinned up, that lovely neck on full display. Dainty gloves on her dangerous hands. Pink slippers on her beautiful feet.

Oh how she would have turned heads. He would never have gotten the chance to dance with her then, only to admire from afar.

“I am pleased with how my life has turned out,” Sebastian admitted, a little surprised that he’d uttered the thought aloud.

Elizabeth sat back a little to study his face. “Because of me?”

Sebastian let out a chuckle. “Well, yes, you’re a big part of it. But there’s more to it. If I hadn’t been desiccated in that box, the colonists would have killed me. I never would have gotten the chance to see the twenty-first century, to attend a school of witches, werewolves, vampires, and other things I had never heard of, like tribrids and phoenixes.”

“Well, they are one of a kind,” she said.

Sebastian smiled. “As are you, Elizabeth. I am at an odd place in my life right now. While I am grateful to have the chance to live in this world and interact with you, I fear that all of this will not last. No one in that school trusts me, even after everything I do to help all of you. It feels like I may never earn my place. I am merely being used for my muscles and my vampiric abilities.”

“That is not how I think of you,” Elizabeth assured him.

“Do you think the others will ever change their minds? Or will they continue despising me forever?”

Elizabeth pressed her forehead to his. “Forever is a long time. I think they can warm up to you eventually. I’m doing everything in my power to persuade them.”

Sebastian felt that bubbly happiness in his chest. The kind that made him nervous. Elizabeth was doing so much for him, and all he was doing was helping her when she asked, offering his body to her when she asked.

Maybe it was time he did a favor for her without asking. A gift perhaps, or a special day just for her. An idea was already forming in his mind.

“Elizabeth, how would you feel if I took you on a proper date?”

She blinked in surprise, then smiled sweetly. “I would like that very much.”

[missmeikakuna]

Tired Girl Ch. 4- F/F Fantasy story

Rated: T

Fandom: Original story

Relationship type: F/F

Description:

High schooler Nosderag is childish, impulsive and- worst of all- powerless in a magical world. Her strong sense of empathy leads her to rescue an injured fairy and bring it back to her dorm, to the chagrin of her love-powered rumoured lesbian roommate Dalzonf. Together they try to return the fairy to its enclosure before they get arrested for animal theft.

The problem is, people with love powers are seen as criminals, putting a giant target on Dalzonf’s back. 

CONTENT WARNING: This story will have homophobia, bullying and discussions of sexual assault.

Chapter 4: Anxious Girl

Nosderag slowly and oh-so-casually walked back inside, Dalzonf following close behind. They went straight to the elevator and made sure to be the only ones there. No one was to see the effects of love magic on Nosderag.

This time the effects included Nosderag twirling one of her dreadlocks and gazing at Dalzonf with an innocent lip bite. Her uniform skirt swirled around as she swayed back and forth.

While Dalzonf waited for the effects to wear off, Nosderag tried to look around the room. Just like before, everything but Dalzonf was out of focus. However, she noticed something.

On Dalzonf’s bedside table was a miniature idol that was wearing green. ‘Is that Terio?’ Nosderag asked, squinting her eyes in the hopes that it would come into focus. Dalzonf hummed and nodded. ‘So, like, why? Shouldn’t you have a Marosos statue? Since she's, you know, the goddess of… love?’ Nosderag batted her eyelids at that last word. Dalzonf rolled her eyes at the gesture of affection.

‘My parents are from Terio city, so we worship her mostly.’

Nosderag giggled. ‘Huh, why do they name places after gods anyway? Isn’t that confusing? It doesn’t make any sense. And why-’

‘Alright, that’s enough out of you.’ Dalzonf chuckled. ‘You are so drunk.’

‘I am not! I haven’t had any alcohol.’

‘You’re drunk on… you know what? You’re going to get back to normal soon enough. I don’t know why I’m trying to reason with you when you’re like this.’

As if on cue, Nosderag snapped out of her daze. Dalzonf asked, ‘So what are we going to do about this fairy?’

Nosderag opened her already slightly open backpack further, letting out Daliki. ‘She must be so hungry. Will you feed her?’

Dalzonf held out a hand but curled her fingers in hesitation. Eventually she touched Daliki’s head and closed her eyes. A thin stream of pink mist surrounded the fairy and then entered her mouth. She gulped the magic down and then flew to Dalzonf’s side, rapidly nuzzling her.

Dalzonf tried to move away from Daliki but she continued showing affection. ‘Be grateful you don’t have magic,’ she said to Nosderag, who frowned when Dalzonf pushed Daliki away. ‘Anyway, we need to get her back to that enclosure.’

‘Should we just tell them what happened and clear up the misunderstanding?’

‘Yeah, no. I’m not risking running into the police.’

‘But you haven’t done anything wrong.’

‘I don’t have to,’ Dalzonf retorted, creating a small ball of pink mist in the palm of her hand. Nosderag nodded in understanding.

‘So are we going to sneak in? What about the guards? And the magic shield… wait, how did I make it into that shed? It had a shield around it. I felt it but I made it through.’

‘Huh. Maybe you have powers after all. Is there such a thing as a power to break magic shields? Either that or their shields suck. That’s a distinct possibility. Whatever the case, we can use that to our advantage.’

The two were about to start planning when Nosderag’s stomach grumbled. After descending to the ground floor, Dalzonf led a lovesick Nosderag to the dining hall in the dormitory. She tried to ignore the stares from other students as Nosderag kept attempting to grab her hand.

The dining hall was about the size of a professional soccer field. Tall torches in the shapes of dragons stood at the perimeter, several metres apart from each other. Orange force fields surrounded the flames to prevent them from getting out of control. The tables were made of black wood designed to seem like charcoal. On top of each table were bowls of various brightly coloured fruits. A cart with a long line of students stood against a wall. In addition to granite plates and bowls, the cart contained sikoka beans for making hot sikoka, smelly dried blue kie kriz fish and a ridiculous amount of rice. 

Hanging over everyone’s head was a medieval European-style chandelier with, you guessed it, fire at the ends. At the end of the hall was a low platform with a giant unused cauldron atop it. Students loved to write inane and often offensive messages on the outside of the cauldron in pen. Knowing how many times this happened, the teachers never bothered to clean it.

Nosderag, still affected by love magic and seeing that she was in a public setting, tried singing another serenade. Dalzonf’s shoulders jumped up. Everyone was staring in silence. As soon as she could, she covered the other girl��s hand with her mouth. It was too late.

‘I guess she was getting desperate,’ Sosoka whispered to a friend, who cackled a little too loud.

Dalzonf lowered her head, turning back into the vulnerable girl Nosderag defended a week ago. She shuffled to the food cart line, Nosderag following closely behind.

When Nosderag returned to her senses and looked around the hall in confusion, Sosoka and her friend laughed at the sight. The other students joined in. The girls in line stepped away from Dalzonf while still keeping their spots in the line.

‘Why don’t you just tell them about the elevator?’ Nosderag whispered in her ear, absentmindedly grabbing her arm. Dalzonf tore her arm away and turned towards her with a fire in her eyes to rival all the torches in the room combined.

She ignored her for the entirety of breakfast and left for class without saying a word. The two didn’t share their first class of the day.

Instead, Nosderag had Potions Sapphire Class. As one of the few omlers on campus, she had a more limited curriculum but had to make up for it by taking more advanced classes and excelling in academics. While everyone else her age was in Potions Topaz, she was a year ahead.

A fact that brought a scowl to her teacher Dr Lomaschramm’s lips.

‘Try not to make anything explode this time, Ms Zotmin.’ The teacher’s voice went up and down like a children’s show character. Or a poor person’s impersonation of a rich person. Take your pick. Nosderag tried to laugh the comment off as she took her seat.

The air of the classroom was chilly thanks to the refrigerated potion pantries in the back. The teachers claimed that this was not the case as the fridges were closed. The non-refrigerated potions were kept in a wide, locked cabinet against a wall. A fat lot of good that lock did when students kept punching the unshielded glass and taking out potions to pull pranks on each other.

The class was small, with only half of the ten benches being used. Nosderag turned to her designated lab partner for the term but the other girl ignored her. Someone whispered behind her but stopped when she turned around.

‘I hope you’re paying attention in class, Ms Zotmin.’

Dr Lomaschramm towered over Nosderag. Her hooked, pointy nose made her cat-eye glasses slip down it as she looked down on her. She smelled of hand sanitizer and, when she opened her mouth, minty toothpaste.

‘Now, what do we never mix Aja’s Vine with?’

‘Himalayan healing water.’

Dr Lomaschramm pursed her lips. After a moment of thought, she grinned, showing off her eerily perfect white teeth. 

‘And why is that?’ Nosderag didn’t answer. The teacher turned her back on the class and returned to the whiteboard. She picked up a marker and began writing the first sentence of her answer. ‘We… do… not… mix... healing... potions... together. They’re like those newfangled interwebz security softwares. They compete against each other and are unable to work. Unlike the softwares, two healing potions will create an explosion.’

As she continued her lecture, Nosderag slumped in her seat, trying not to fall asleep. Slumping in her seat soon turned into slumping onto her bench. She closed her eyes.

A second later, she heard a zap and felt a sting on her neck, making her sit up in attention. She didn’t have to turn her head. The sound of snickering students allowed her to fill in the blanks.

‘Save your tolxing for the classes that require it,’ Dr Lomaschramm said.

The laughing quietened but was still audible. 

Nosderag’s other classes were similar. Strict and seemingly sadistic teachers, students high on schadenfreude and lessons that could put an insomniac to sleep.

There was one exception: cryptozoology. No, not the omler version in which wackjobs search for Bigfoot for the millionth time. It was a class dedicated to real magical creatures. The teacher Mr Fot was a portly soft-spoken old man with a clear passion for the field but little confidence in controlling a classroom of bored students. However, he always greeted Nosderag with a smile and gave her high marks. She listened to his classes with rapt attention, in stark contrast with the other students.

The classroom for this subject was cramped between two similarly plain rooms. The only interesting thing about this room was the globe on Mr Fot’s desk, which was decorated with pictures of magical creatures on the countries they originated from. The man brought it into the classroom every day in the hopes that it would inspire intellectual curiosity in his students.

Most of the students were too busy making jokes about his name, which meant ‘flow’.

‘Hey, sir, do you want some tampons?’ one girl asked in between fits of laughter.

When Mr Fot sincerely replied, ‘Oh, no thank you, I don’t need them,’ Nosderag’s heart broke on his behalf.

When Nosderag returned to her dorm, she kept interrupting her fairy-saving plan meeting with Dalzonf to rant about her day. Dalzonf eventually gave up on planning and listened to the other girl’s ramblings.

She even found herself smiling at Nosderag’s wild array of facial expressions.

[artificialqueens]

paris in the rain (when i'm with you) (Branjie) - ohhthereuare

AN: Rainy days and comfy clothes. Brooke and Vanessa just being happy and soft.

Inspired by the song “Paris In The Rain” by Lauv which became my official branjie song

This is me getting emotional over B looking soft in her comfy clothes and the fact that V liked the tweet when I sent her this song and said it made me think about branjie. If there’s any possibility that she listened to it and thought about them as well then I am a dead woman Here’s the link, listen to it and feel the vibe https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JZELmUooBlY Leave a comment, cry with me if you’d like because these two dumbasses literally own my dumb, drunk heart now Jenna I’m dedicating this thing to you bc you make me so happy and I can’t wait to actually cry and yell into your face in person

AO3

The rain was tapping gently against the windows of the van as the contestants were halfway to the studio for yet another day of stressful challenges. The clouded sky cast a grey glow onto the city, everything seemed to be a little bit more mellow and sleepier than usual. Even the queens were not as chatty, be it stress, unresolved drama or the weather. Vanessa and Brooke occupied their usual spot at the very end of the van, limbs impossibly tangled so no one could really tell when one ended and the other one began. The taller queen had her arms wrapped around Vanessa from the back and was looking out of the window, absently drawing circles with her thumb on her boyfriend’s small palm and placing soft kisses to her temple from time to time. Neither said a word, listening to the comforting murmur of conversation around them and each other’s calm breathing. Vanessa felt so warm and safe, tucked in the crook of Brooke Lynn’s neck, she would have easily said no to the whole show for the day if it meant being able to spend a few more private moments with her man. Especially since Brooke was wearing Vanjie’s favorite outfit- the white hoodie, that always smelled like aired out cigarettes smoke, Brooke’s cologne and a laundry detergent, and her worn-out grey beanie. As lovely as seeing her in tight-fitting pieces was, all put together and so gorgeous it took Vanessa’s breath away sometimes, she liked her best like this. She knew now it was mostly a dancer thing for Brooke, staying slightly uncomfortable and always professional on stage, only to change into comfortable and loose clothing as soon as she was done. She was always so soft like that, all grey and white cotton, sleeves a little too long so she held them in place with her fingers, too much material to show off her toned body but just enough to keep her warm and relaxed. It somehow made Vanessa feel like she knew and understood her better, who she really was as a person behind all the makeup and perfect composure. It made her love her even more. 

“You’ve been staring, boo.”

“Hmm?”

“Yeah, for the past ten minutes. You’re not as sneaky as you’d like to believe.”

“Maybe I’m just admiring the view” Vanessa shifted a little to place a small kiss to the spot where Brooke’s jawline dipped towards her neck. She stopped for a moment to press her nose closer, relishing in the smell of her boyfriend being the strongest there. A sweet blooming feeling spilled like hot ginger tea down from her chest and into her bones. She could melt right then and there. “Especially since the view’s all mine to admire.”

A slight pink blush painted Brooke’s cheeks like a summer sunset and she smiled before she reached her hand to adjust her beanie. Vanessa beat her to it, pulling the grey material down her face to cover her eyes. Brooke’s lips briefly parted in surprise and Vanessa captured them in a kiss. She tasted like menthol cigarettes, maple syrup that she had for breakfast with her pancakes, and toothpaste.

“As soon as this shit’s over, and we send both of your asses packing, we’re getting you a room!” A’keria shouted from the front of the van. Shuga and Nina laughed but they were both smiling kindly, excited for their friends’ happiness, even if it was making them nauseous at times.

Maybe on another day they would have shouted something back, a joke or a bit of harmless shade, but today they didn’t care about anybody’s opinions. Vanessa snuggled in closer, her back pressed against the taller queen’s chest, shielded safely by her arms. She noticed absentmindedly how well Brooke’s look went with the weather; looking like rain on the concrete, sipping on coffee with whipped cream, listening to chill indie music, feeling so at peace and like the raindrops separated you from the rest of the world. Vanessa could swear being with Brooke was like sitting in their own bubble with everything else soaking in an icy spring drizzle. Or maybe these feelings were turning her into a sappy piece of ass. Not like she cared much to be honest.

The blurry streets behind the window changed into a well-known by now parking lot. The rain showed no signs of stopping. Brooke sighed heavily, her mouth right next to the shorter queen’s ear so the puff of breath sent chills down the other one’s spine.

“I wish we could just stay like this” One last kiss on the cheek, lingering this time, leaving a ghost of a touch, a squeeze to their intertwined fingers, before she started untangling herself to get up “Too bad I have a crown to win.”

“Oh hoe, feeling confident today, aren’t we, Miss Brooke?” Vanessa laughed, her voice changing from quiet, low and relaxed to her regular rough self. She missed the feel of Brooke’s body instantly but the warmth where they had been touching remained. They started getting out of the van and into the unforgiving weather, Brooke walking first but reaching her hand behind her for Vanjie to grab. It was not much but it was somehow enough.

 Brooke was already on her second cigarette in the span of ten minutes, hanging by the balcony’s doors and listening rather than watching the ongoing rain put Los Angeles to sleep. They had an hour left before the PAs made their round around the building making sure all the queens were respectfully in their own beds, like children during summer camp. Vanessa walked into the room silently without knocking, her flip-flops slapping wetly and bare chest pulling Brooke’s attention for a second. She made her way to Brooke’s bed and grabbed the white hoodie that was thrown into a bundle of other clothes before putting in on. The sleeves were way too long but she didn’t bother with rolling them up, instead letting them hang over her wrists and reaching the tips of her fingers. The overall length was too much on her tiny body as well, ending somewhere mid-thigh. She looked exhausted, moves too slow for her usual frantic energy, back hunched and eyelids heavy. Brooke thought she had never looked more beautiful.

The Canadian queen finished her cigarette, putting it down in a small glass of water she kept outside and joined Vanessa on the bed. She left the balcony doors ajar so they could still hear the raindrops swishing calmingly outside.

“I like you in my clothes, you know.”

“Oh yeah?”

There was a teasing note in Vanessa’s voice, a promising growl that would normally ignite a fire in both of their bodies if they weren’t this tired.

“Yeah but I like you in everything so…”

They both snickered at how lame that sounded, but neither cared. Brooke was glad she had someone like Vanjie, someone who didn’t make her worry whether she said the right thing or not. She could be herself in her presence and after so many hours of anxiety, keeping yourself in check and watching your every move, it felt like more rewarding than anything she could win. Vanessa laid on her back and Brooke was there beside her propped on her elbow. After a moment she started tracing light patterns over Vanessa’s arms, shoulders, jawline, lips, nose, and closed eyelids. She watched her fluttering, dark eyelashes and how her lips parted with a huff when Brooke brushed her finger against the shell of her ear.

“Don’t fall asleep on me now, Papi. The PAs will have to kick your ass out of my bed if they find you here like this.“ 

“Mmm, yeah, whatever. Now shut up and cuddle me, bitch.”

Brooke laughed but obliged, wrapping herself all over Vanessa’s sleepy frame, arm thrown across her stomach and legs tangled together. She smelled like her own shower gel and Brooke’s hoodie, which was strangely arousing. The shorter queen turned her head and placed a messy, off-center kiss somewhere to the corner of Brooke’s lips. It still amazed her how just simply being with Vanessa made her so happy. It didn’t really matter what they did nor where they were as long as they were together.

“I think it’s time for you to go, you know.” Her heart squeezed painfully when she said it and she hoped Vanessa could hear that in her voice. There was nothing she wanted more than for them to stay like this forever. Maybe only a crown and scepter at their feet would be a nice bonus.

Vanessa sighed heavily before she opened her eyes and rolled onto her side. Brooke only had a moment to register the new fire shining in her eyes before Vanjie put her hand on the taller queen’s jawline and pulled her in for a goodbye kiss. This time her lips were already parted and hungrily possessive, making Brooke keep up with their pace, her fingers tingling with the sudden urge to explore and touch. Their quickened breaths and quiet whimpers mixed up with the sound of raindrops falling outside.

“Miss ya already.”

“You’re literally still in my bed.” Brooke huffed out a laugh but all she wanted to do was to get back to whatever was just happening between them.

“So?”

Vanessa sat up on the bed, still wearing the hoodie and apparently leaving with no intention of giving it back now, took Brooke’s hand for the last time and brushed her lips against the other queen’s knuckles lovingly. The look of pure love in her eyes was almost too much for Brooke to handle. She hoped her own eyes conveyed the same emotion for Vanessa to see before either one of them dared to put it into words.

“Sweet dreams, boo.”

“See you in the morning.”

They never wished for the clouds to clear out and for the sun to rise faster.

[angsty-violet]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Sherlock (TV) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade Characters: Mycroft Holmes, Greg Lestrade Additional Tags: Fluff, Hobbies, Moving In Together, Painting Summary:

Mycroft discovers a new hobby that Greg has.

Written for the Rupert Graves Birthday Project. Many thanks to @eventhorizon451 for the prompt and for the bidding.

Mycroft had never been one to devote his time to a relationship. To be honest, he simply couldn’t be bothered most of the time. Oh, he had had a few dalliances in school but overall he preferred the solitude and routine of his life. The dedication to his work.

He had no time to be distracted by learning things such as hobbies, interests or favorites. Nor did he have a want to learn any of it. Therefore, he was terribly surprised to find that he desperately wanted to know everything about one Greg Lestrade.

 This revelation had come at a very interesting point in time for the two of them. Greg had just moved into Mycroft’s exorbitantly expensive townhouse and the two of them were still learning how to mesh their lifestyles.

They had already had small spats over everything from the type of toothpaste they used to what kind of bed they should have in the bedroom. Their most memorable one had been over the hours that Greg kept.

Although Mycroft was not opposed to his lover being at work for long hours (he did still enjoy his solitude after all) he was opposed to being woken up disgustingly early in the morning. Especially since he knew quite well that Greg had not been called into work and was not making them breakfast. Mycroft had tried desperately to turn over and go back to sleep.

That was not to be. It seemed that after living with Greg for a  little over 3 weeks, he had become accustomed to the feeling of Greg next to him. Therefore, for the life of him, he couldn’t go back to sleep. He finally decided that he should go see what it was that Greg did so early in the morning. Getting up even hours before work.

Mycroft pulled on his silk dressing gown and made his way down the stairs. He normally would have dressed completely even before exiting the bedroom but he was hoping to entice his lover back to bed. He saw that Greg was standing in their sunroom with his back to the door. Mycroft could see what looked to be a canvas in front of him.

Was he painting?

“Greg.” Mycroft kept his voice even-toned despite wanting to exclaim in surprise. The two of them had been dating for 11 months and never had Mycroft noticed that he painted. Greg turned in surprise at his voice.

“Oh love! Did I wake you up? I tried to be quiet you know. Just came down a bit early.” Greg stepped in front of the canvas making sure to cover the entire thing. Mycroft raised an eyebrow at the obvious lie. He had done this every day for the past few weeks. It was not just coming down a bit early. Greg seemed to realize that lying was simply not going to get him anywhere.

“Okay. I’ll be honest. I came down to paint. I like to do it occasionally and I didn’t want you to know. I’m not very good at it and it is a little embarrassing.” Mycroft frowned in concertation. He had never wanted to give his lover any reason to be embarrassed about any part of him. It greatly upset him to think that he might have done so.

Greg, on the other hand, had a very different thought. He knew that it was nothing to be ashamed of. That painting was a very reasonable hobby that lots of people did even without the slightest bit of talent. However, he had spent so many years with his interests being shunned by his ex-wife that he couldn’t help but feel a little ashamed of it.

“There is no reason to be embarrassed about a hobby. Especially one like painting. Even if you aren’t good at it that doesn’t mean that you should stop. If it makes you happy you should continue to do it. I hope that I never gave you any reason to try and hide parts of yourself from me. I know that I can be a little…insensitive.”

“Oh no! You never gave me any reason! It's just, you know…” It was at that moment that Mycroft understood. He was surprised he hadn’t seen it before.

“Your former wife.” This was said in a statement and Mycroft resisted the urge to elaborate. He could go on a very definite tangent about how Greg’s ex-wife had emotionally abused him and used his love as leverage to get him to do what she wanted. Now was not the time for that though. Now was the time to assure Greg that he was completely in favor of anything that Greg wanted to do.

“Well, I can assure you that I am delighted that you have such a hobby. Although less so that you keep leaving me lonely in our bed. I would like to see this painting of yours, then I would like us to go back to bed and lie under the covers until it is a more suitable time.” Greg’s ears turned pink, just barely but he stepped back and revealed the painting.

It was no masterpiece. But Mycroft had expected so much worse. It was a painting of a park, not one that he recognized though. Mycroft could instantly tell what it was supposed to be, which was a good thing. And although he was no Renoir the painting was pretty good.

“Well, what do you think?” Mycroft studied for a moment and then decided that he may as well let love cloud his judgement. Everyone else did.

“I think that it would fit perfectly in the sitting room. Right over the couch. I have been trying to find a piece to go there for years and nothing seems to fit. This, this would be perfect there.” Greg’s entire face turned pink and he turned to look at the painting. He couldn’t quite see what Mycroft saw in it. The man had actual masters in his townhouse. However, if Mycroft really wasn’t embarrassed to display it then Greg was not going to put up a fuss.

His lover showed love primarily through actions. It this was his way of assuring Greg that his hobby was more than fine then Greg was willing to go along with it.

“I think you are right. It will fit. Once I finish up the last few flowers it will just have to dry. Now, I believe that you said something about going to bed?” Mycroft smiled at his lover and took his arm. They had hours before either of them needed to be anywhere, and the bed was still warm.

[seasonofthegeek]

Following the List, Part 2

Today’s drabble is dedicated to @alienducky to say HAPPY BIRTHDAY month! I hope you have the loveliest March ever! :)

Parts 1, 2:

“Ooo, can we splurge a little and get the peppermint body wash?” Adrien held up the red and white striped bottle and did an exaggerated pleased shudder. “I like how it makes my skin tingle.”

“Only if you do that again,” Alya teased, plucking the bottle out of his hand and dropping it in the cart.  Adrien repeated the motion and she poked him in the side and laughed as they moved down the aisle. “I forgot to check the sink shaving cream before we left. Any idea how you guys are? I know we need some in the shower.”

“We might be getting low.” Adrien rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “But maybe I’ll grow my facial hair out or something. I could rock a beard, couldn’t I?”

“Nino could.”

“That didn’t answer my question.”

She blinked faux innocent eyes at him. “Didn’t it?”

Adrien scowled. “May I please borrow your phone?”

“Why?”

“So Nino and Marinette can convince you I would look devilishly handsome with a beard,” he huffed.

“Oh, is that so? You’re sure they’ll agree?” Alya curled her tongue behind her teeth in a sly expression. “You seem pretty confident about that.”

He rolled his shoulders back and pushed out his chest. “I am.” She pulled his phone from its hiding place in her pocket and handed it to him. “Wait, this is my phone!”

“Nothing gets past you, Sunshine.” Alya rolled their cart down the next aisle and grabbed two boxes of toothpaste. 

“Yeah, but you had me thinking I left it home!” Realization struck and Adrien grinned. “You wanted to spend time with me, you little liar.”

“I didn’t lie. I simply didn’t tell the whole truth.”

“Mmmhmm, you wanted me all to yourself, huh? Man, you’re so in love with me.”

“We’ve been dating for three years.”

“Look at that blush. You’re crushing on me so hard,” Adrien teased. He wrapped his arms around her middle and pulled her to him so he could kiss the top of her head. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.”

“I’m breaking up with you when we get home,” she threatened even as her smile widened. She kept pushing the cart forward as Adrien shuffled along with her, refusing to release his hold.

“Pretty big talk for someone who tricked everyone so we could get some good quality shopping bonding in, just the two of us.”

She laughed. “I’m not getting out of this one for a while, am I?”

“I wouldn’t think so.”

She considered it for a moment and nodded. “I can live with that.”

They finished grabbing the rest of the items on their list and meandered around the checkout area while waiting on their partners. On the other side of pleasantly patient, Nino and Marinette finally joined them. They both had red faces and very happy smiles.

“You have lettuce in your hair,” Alya pointed out dryly as she plucked the wilted green leaf from Nino’s head.

The other woman giggled and blushed harder. “Oh, uh, yeah, he tripped.”

“Your skirt is backwards.”

Marinette hastily pulled it around so the seams were where they were supposed to be. “I tripped too,” she added with a guilty laugh.

"The grocery store? Really? Where did you even...You know what? Don’t want to know.”

“It was just some kissing. Nothing too scandalous.” Nino winked and slipped his hand into Adrien’s as they led the way to the register. 

Alya leaned in closer as they started to load their items onto the belt to be scanned. “Just kissing, huh?”

Marinette laughed. “Well, a variation of it anyway.”

“Mmhmm.”

“Want me to show you the place we found next time?”

“Obviously.”

Buy me a cherry coke?

[arcticdementor]

Here is the acceptance speech by Travis Corcoran for 2019 Prometheus Award for Best Novel for Causes of Separation.  (Corcoran could not attend the Dublin Worldcon but wrote this acceptance speech to be read there at the ceremony.)

I would like to thank the LFS for this year’s award, but more generally, I’d like to thank them for existence of the Prometheus award, all forty years of it. It’s good that our subculture has a long-lived award to recognize excellent science fiction, especially pro-liberty science fiction.

But the Prometheus award is not merely recognition, it’s an incentive!

In fact, I might not have written my novels without the Prometheus to aim for. But the Prometheus is not a financial incentive. The one-ounce gold coin on the plaque is nice, but neither I nor any of the other winners over 40 years would ever trade or sell it, and thus – ironically – it has no financial value.

And yet the award – a recognition by a community – is a huge incentive. There’s an interesting argument here about anti-libertarian tropes like the not-so-veiled anti-semitic and anti-capitalist propaganda of socialist Star Trek’s Ferengi, the bourgeois virtues, and the non-market human flourishing that only human liberty unleashes, but that’s a rant for some other day. Thomas Aquinas said “Homo unius libri timeo” – “beware the man of one book.” The meaning has shifted – almost reversed – from “beware the man who has studied one topic intensely” to “beware the man who has only one simple view of a thing.” I concur with this advice (in both forms!). Libertarianism is absolutely correct in its magisteria (the morality of freedom vs coercion), but we need other theories to augment it when we move our sights from individual liberty and financial incentives to other topics, like culture formation – and culture subversion.

…

Every ideology and subculture likes to tell stories about how it will naturally and obviously win. Nineteenth century Protestant missionaries knew that European Protestantism was the way of the future. 20th century Marxists knew that Marxism was. In the early 21st century Wired magazine told us that “netizens” would use technology to create a brave new world. The fact that every one of them has been wrong so far should inform our Bayesian priors. Perhaps cryptography, bitcoin, and the internet aren’t going to create a libertarian future. Perhaps the future looks a lot more like Orwell’s boot stomping on a face, forever.

Why might this be, and – if it does – how might we respond to it?

Last year I spoke about the essay ���Geeks, MOPs, and sociopaths in subculture evolution” by David Chapman, which argues that new subcultures are pioneered by geeks, appreciated by members of the public, and taken over by sociopaths. His thesis is a particular example of a more general case.

There’s also Pournelle’s – yes, that Pournelle – iron law of bureaucracy” which states “In any bureaucracy, the people devoted to the benefit of the bureaucracy itself always get in control and those dedicated to the goals the bureaucracy is supposed to accomplish have less and less influence, and sometimes are eliminated entirely.”

Robert Conquest’s third law expresses something similar: “Any organization not explicitly right-wing sooner or later becomes left-wing.”

Chapman’s essay and Pournelle’s and Conquest’s laws are three observations of a single underlying phenomena: the collectivists always worm their way in and take over. We know THAT this happens, but WHY does it happen? How can we model it and understand it?

…

My theory, which unites Chapman’s “Geeks, MOPs, and sociopaths”, Pournelle’s Iron Law, and Conquest’s Third Law is this: organisms, whether they’re unicellular, multicellular, or purely information, like Dawkin’s memes, egregores, and ideologies, mutate, evolve, and are selected for. Those that are best at surviving and reproducing soon dominate the population…and one of the best ways to survive is secure energy resources by hunting, killing, and eating (or, more gently, parasitizing) organisms that do the hard work of harvesting energy and building structures.

David Hines has a great essay at the status451.com blog titled “Days of Rage” where he discusses the surge in left-wing organizing and terrorism in the US in the 1970s. One thing that Hines points out again and again is that collectivists plan, they train, and they invade. I note that their organizations also exchange members and ideas (mate) and fission (reproduce). We are looking not just at a parasite, but at a class of parasite, forged and refined in the Darwinian furnace.

Evolution is a harsh mistress.

…

Predation and parasitism are selected for in the biosphere because they are efficient. They’re selected for in the realm of human culture for the same reason. It’s easier to harvest energy from a parasitized host species than it is to grow leaves, and it’s easier to take over a subculture than it is to create one. Thus science fiction will always suffer wave after wave of entryists, trying to claim the subculture for themselves. And, like Orwell’s Big Brother, they will rewrite history to declare that they invented it. “Let me join your club. You have to change now that I’m here. You have to leave now. We all agree that I made this, decades ago.” We see that all entrusts do this (“The United States was always about social justice ; the Jewish faith was always about social justice ; this TV station and car line and toothpaste were always about social justice”) and we conclude that they do because it is the optimal strategy, tested and chosen by evolution.

So, is that it? Are we doomed to lose all battles, to be preyed upon and parasitized?

In the biosphere, only a minority of organisms are predators or parasites. How could it be otherwise? Someone still needs to do the hard work of capturing solar energy and building biological matter. So too in the world of human culture. Tax-thieving governments and culture-thieving brigands can’t kill the goose that lays the golden egg. The Lotka-Volterra equations, first developed in 1910 to describe chemical reactions, but echoing Pierre-François Verhulst’s logistic equation from almost a century earlier quantified the mechanism.

And, since biology is economics is sociology, I note that Mancur Lloyd Olson Jr.’s theory of roving bandits, which are willing to loot everything from a village, and stationary bandits, who learn to restrain themselves so as to keep the village alive, and capable of being pillaged (or “taxed”) again reaches the same conclusion: predators can never outpopulate the prey … at least not for long.

Based on Lotka, Volterra, and Olson, then, I suggest that the collectivists’ social entryism will never be total. Negative feedback loops will ensure that. When will the entryist wave peak? Perhaps it already has. The last decade saw the cultures of video games and comics under attack from entryists, but perhaps the high water mark has already been reached, as we’ve seen several horrific market failure, such as the female Ghostbusters fiasco, Mass Effect: Andromeda, or that time when Zoe Quinn of comicsgate / Five Guys fame was given a DC Comics title. As the Twitter meme says “get woke, go broke”.

But on the other hand, perhaps not. Strauss–Howe generations theory, which I tentatively give the nod to, suggests that we’re going to be deep in the suck for quite a while yet.

…

What strategies can we use to improve our odds, to make life somewhat more tolerable in a world where Darwinianism means that threats are ever present?

Look to biology.

We can evolve physical defenses, we can evolve camouflage, or we can adapt to new environments that are less conducive to predators.

What do these mean in social terms?

Physical defenses means organizations building mechanisms to keep entryists out – a topic on which I am not an expert…and Pournelle’s Law and Conquest’s Third Law suggest that perhaps no one is.

The social equivalent of camouflage is a mixture of esotericism (in dangerous times people speak in code) and foot-dragging Vichy coexistence. Scott Aaronson and Slate Star Codex wrote essays on “Kolmogorov complicity” (a good pun on Kolmogorov complexity), and I urge you to read them.

My favorite, is the third option: moving to where the predators aren’t. Which – surprise – boils down to my old favorite, exit.

Jame C Scott talks about exit extensively in his book “The Art of Not Being Governed: An Anarchist History of Upland Southeast Asia” and in his later book “Against the Grain: A Deep History of the Earliest States”. He makes the core point that when you see a populace that does not have certain social technologies, that does not mean – contra the default narrative – that they never evolved them. Sometimes populations intentionally abandon technologies because those techniques make them legibile to control and subversion by the overculture. If you want to avoid computer viruses, rip the computers out of your Battlestar. If you want to avoid land taxes, burn down the land registry, or become nomadic. If you want to avoid having your subculture taken over by collectivists … what, exactly?