#I talk about writing for yourself very candidly and I do think it is THE most important part of being a writer on tumblr

[moonjxsung]

by (potentially) ‘shutting down’ ur blog, do you mean like deleting it or just taking all the fics off? Cause I’d be super sad if you werent around anymore :( (and I mean YOU and not ur fics - i mean I would be sad about your fics but I care about you a person hahahhaa sorry I’m so bad at wording do you get what I am trying to say alskjsjdjd I mean like you are who I care abt staying and not ur fics) ofc if and whenever you do decide to completely close this chapter, we all want the best for u and wish u the best and will support u 🫶🫶🫶

you guys are so sweet oh my god :( it’s so hard for me to fathom that people genuinely want to talk to me on here bc I’m so used to fulfilling the role of an author but I’m so grateful for the friendships I’ve formed on here and for lovely people like yourself who find solace in just stopping by to chat. Forever and always thankful for every single one of you and I will NEVER take that for granted

firstly, I would never abandon this account without giving you guys a reason or posting a goodbye message! so at least if I do disappear from here I will absolutely take my time to give my proper goodbyes and give my thanks to all of you, it’s literally the least I could do for ALL that you’ve done for me. I would potentially be open to keeping this blog around just as a skz blog, but candidly I’m not sure I would be on here too much. I’m so used to using this blog for publishing my work and just fulfilling the role of an author and I think I would feel strange assimilating back into a regular blog if that makes sense. BUT I also acknowledge that there are so many meaningful relationships and bonds I have with the people on here, so it’s not like we wouldn’t be able to connect some other way! When I do decide to close this chapter I will absolutely let you guys know where else you can find me and how we can keep in touch, and I hope you guys know even if this blog isn’t around, you will always have a safe space with me.

For now though I have no intention shutting down this blog just yet and I’m still writing longer fics so I’m not going anywhere for a while longer! You’re all stuck with moonjxsung for a little bit longer WHO CHEERED *extremely loud incorrect buzzer noises*

I love you guys so much whether you’re a reader or a silent follower or you drop by to chat regularly. Seriously, whatever role you play here you’re very important to me and I love you very dearly. If I’ve achieved anything on here I just hope it’s to make you feel like you belong on this corner of the internet !

this has been moonjxsung, signing off… (jk only bc I am going to sleep pls do not fret. ily all !)

[donnerpartyofone]

i find you unimaginably cool and ive expressed to you before on anon the sentiment that i feel a deep kinship towards you for how you speak so candidly abt your own stupidity (pls dont take that as me calling you stupid) bcuz i feel exactly the same way abt my own stupidity and hate when ppl try to talk me out of it but ANYways i just saw your post abt writing a novelization of splice and i am literally reeling. i love that weird ass movie so much and i think writing a novelization of it is one of the most off the wall and amazing things ive ever heard of. i hope that you will share when it is published bcuz i cannot wait to read it. pls know that someone out there understands you (or at least understands you as best as someone can thru this parasocial lens of tumblr and how you choose to share yourself there) and that someone out there thinks you are basically what i hope i can be when i grow up. thank you for sharing. thank you for articulating yourself as well as you do (i too have the itch to tell you you are not stupid but bcuz i know how it is i wont do it but besides that, i think you are one of the clearest and most well articulated writers ive ever encountered online or elsewhere). sorry, this all feels insane to type. im off two tallboy ipas and i just think youre great.

Dearest Correspondent,

Oddly enough, just the other day somebody liked an older post of mine, and when I clicked on it to remind myself of what it was, the next post down was your last message. Anyway, thanks! The whole novelization business is really funny. Do people even know what they are anymore? I didn't know anybody still made them until I was hired to do SPLICE. I used to get them from the drugstore sometimes when I was a kid because my parents were very uptight about what I watched, but they wouldn't be caught dead restricting anyone's reading habits. During my initial conversation with the SPLICE publisher, we kind of bonded over our memories of the CHILD'S PLAY 2 novelization, of all things, that seemed to help me a lot in addition to my ideas about what SPLICE should be like on paper. I tend to think of novelizations as just another piece of merch, but when you write them, I don't know, like you really have to live out the movie in your mind over and over again to figure out what the characters are experiencing physically, environmentally, how their emotional experiences affect their bodies, etc. You have to fill in the blanks of what they think and sense just enough to make your transcription convincing, while staying within certain bounds to honor what the filmmaker meant to say. SPLICE started as kind of a lark for me, and then almost immediately it became extremely personal; when I was nearing the end of my first draft I thought, "OK, well, I guess everyone is about to find out how insane I am." I was afraid it just sounded "crazy" and wouldn't be what the publisher was expecting. But after I turned it in, the surprise encouragement I got from actual-Vincenzo Natali was pretty amazing, so maybe it's good! Maybe you really CAN'T tell how crazy I am, and it's just very entertaining. You'll have to wait and see.

Parasocial relationships are tricky, huh, especially here on tumblr dot com. The best thing you can do for yourself is just be very aware that they are happening within you, a test you seem to have passed. I think a lot of us come here seeking understanding of our weirdest parts, but the more you put out there to find the people who get what you're saying, you simultaneously get a lot of reminders that most people have no idea what you're talking about. There will be people who seem to hate you because they've misunderstood you, and there will also be people who love you but whose interactions prove that they have absolutely no idea what you're communicating. I recently culled a bunch of followers because they were just creating a lot of noise, even though they may have meant well, and I was losing the clarity I needed to keep doing this. I started to see every post as a worrisome opportunity to find out how poorly people can possibly read me, and suppressing the urge to re-explain myself every day was becoming exhausting. And ironically, around the same time, I was briefly mutuals with one of my favorite bloggers ever, and just as I thought we were becoming chummy, they unfollowed me. I didn't freak out, actually I just unfollowed them back because I was concerned about being annoying, but I did have all kinds of Thoughts about this event. I have spent a lot of time reviewing what my projections were about that person, and what my personal investment in their narrative says about me. I think there could be something good to get out of this audit, even though the whole episode is sort of embarrassing. But Tumblr definitely gives you a lot of opportunities to examine your own filters, clean them out once in a while, and get to know yourself a little better--even if other people seem to be getting to know you a little worse! You just have to stick to your own course and see what comes of it.

Uh. What the hell was I saying. I don't know! But I appreciate your messages, I feel "gotten" by them. Some of the follower upheaval recently did involve the way that I process my experience of my own stupidity out loud on here--like I know that sometimes folks are trying to be helpful by contradicting me whenever I sound "negative" (read: realistic), but being told (by strangers) how to feel about yourself and that you're wrong about your own experiences is actually really awful, confusing, frustrating, and undermining. So I don't mind being reminded that my signal is coming through for at least some people. I hope you're doing good this holiday season. I wonder what beers you had, they sound fun!

Good tidings to you,

C

PS Isn't "on here" a weird phrase? I always feel like a primate when I say it, but I have yet to find a different phrase that conveys the same thing as accurately.

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

I've started to write a couple of posts about more substantive things in the Robins/James radio show I've been listening to, posts that talk about the actual quality of the content and the comedy, but I can't think of how to say what I want to in those, so in the mean time, I'd like to instead make a post about this thing John Robins tends to do that keeps me awake at night. It's not important or relevant to the comedy, really. But it does stick in my brain and I'd like to get rid of it, please.

Okay, a big part of John Robins' "thing" as a comedian is talking candidly about shame and regret and generally feeling like an idiot, in ways that range from lighthearted to harrowing. He can be very relatable in talking about feeling ridiculous amounts of guilt over things that objectively weren't all that bad, but you look back at yourself after and wonder what the fuck you were thinking, especially if you happen to be a person who finds things scary when you're sober but who also likes to get drunk a lot and when you're drunk these things seem less scary (and by "these things" I don't mean, like, drunk driving, I mean like talking to someone you don't know well) and then you get sober and look at what you did and absolutely hate yourself for it. The previous sentence would have worked fine if written in the first or the third person so I split the difference and went with second, it's fine, I'm not projecting too hard on to someone's comedy material or anything.

So John Robins can get harrowingly relatable in stories like that, carefully written ones woven into his polished award-winning stand-up hours, and that's great. But every once in a while, on his radio show, he'll drop in a story on the subject that hasn't been carefully polished or planned, it's not stand-up material, it's just sort of casually mentioned and somehow the casual nature of telling it makes it even worse. Forget Peep Show or The Office or Partridge or whatever other cringe comedy is out there - I have never cringed so fucking hard in second-hand horror as when John Robins drops some little story of a time he got drunk and talked too much and too sincerely about something that's way too emotionally important to him to someone whose response is anywhere from vaguely baffled to actively put off by his enthusiasm.

I mean, the first one was rough, but Jesus Christ, that second story. How the fuck do you sleep at night? If I did that I'd never sleep again, it would keep me awake every day forever. At least now, while I am lying awake at night feeling like an idiot for every time I have expressed too much of my disproportionate enthusiasm to people, I can tell myself, at least I didn't email it to any comedians I'm a fan of (I mean I mostly haven't, one time I said something to Mark Watson in a Twitter message when he'd solicited Twitter messages about his mailing address, and I used Twitter for the first time ever to send the requisite mailing address information but I also used the opportunity to add a couple of sentences about how amazing a comedian I thought he was right from the beginning of his career, I then could not look at the website Twitter or at myself in the mirror for about a year, there's also the time I met Josie Long and the time I met Grace Petrie and both times I was genuinely incoherent, but so incoherent that it almost worked in my favour, I probably said something embarrassing but luckily I don't think I of them understood most of what I was saying, aside from getting that I was very excited to meet them, oh also there was the time I emailed Stuart Goldsmith and then I couldn't listen to the Comedian's Comedian podcast for months because it would remind me of what I'd done).

And they're little things, mostly, the stories in those Robins clips. Not as important as the ones that become his stand-up stories. More everyday, but that might be what makes them worse, the way horror hits harder if you can inject it into the mundane. Jesus. We all do this, right? Try to keep a lid on how disproportionately deeply things emotionally affect us and hate ourselves for it every time we lift that lid, especially if there was alcohol involved? Relatable comedy. Comedy-horror.

[themerriweathermage]

Playing With Fire

Summary: Bren gets ready to attend Nix and Sunny's engagement party, with high hopes that everything will run smoothly. But this is the Badlands, and as soon as he gets to the party, he knows that some of the barons have come to play with fire.

Pairing(s): Sunny X Nix, It's Complicated (Quinn X Bren)

POV: 1st Person (Bren), 3rd Person

Warnings: Canon-typical Violence

Co-creator: @i-drink-and-i-write-fics

Divider Credit: firefly-graphics

I grumbled out a sigh, watching the scenery pass on the 611, on my way to pick up the suit that Hassan had made for Nix’s engagement party. Sebastian flopped into the seat across from me. “You sound like you’d rather be doing literally anything else.”

“Parties aren’t my thing.” Sebastian raised an eyebrow slightly.

“No? You seem to handle a crowd well.”

“Great.” I replied dryly. “It’s too many people, too many sounds, and too much expectation for me to act a certain way.” I looked away. “I’m happy for Nix and Sunny. But probably just as irked about this particular tradition as my sister is.” I dragged my attention away from the window and onto Sebastian. “You have any particular plans for the party?”

Sebastian shrugged. “I half figured I would be on duty that night.” 

“Oh? Did Sunny ask you to stay at the Estate?” I asked.

“No, actually.” Sebastian replied. “Though he did mention something about you needing an escort... potentially. So I just figured I’d be in uniform.” I wrinkled my nose.

“You can wear something nice, you know. You have my permission to do so.”

“Oh, I don’t own anything too fancy. At least, not in your house colors.”

“You tell me this as we go to the barony of textiles. Get yourself something nice. I’ll pay.” I replied. Sebastian’s eyebrows rose slightly.

“That’s very kind of you, but I’m not sure I should impose.”

“It’s fine, Sebastian, really.” I murmured, taking a minute to get up and stretch my legs. It wouldn’t be long now that we would be pulling into the station, and I needed to be prepared for a little more time on horseback. 

I was one of the first people off the train, heading down the line to gather Morroch and stepping into the transportation car when I noticed that one of the horses was already saddled. I was curious, peeking under the saddle to reveal the bright blue saddle pad with a silver butterfly embroidered on it. I didn’t quite entirely realize that we were traveling with Minerva over here. Regardless of this, I gathered up Morroch, leading him and Sebastian’s horse out of the car.

“Well, well, well...” Minerva greeted me, standing on the platform waiting for her own horse, and Gaius Chau standing beside her. “Look what the 611 dragged in.” I gave her a smile.

“Here to gather your dress for Nix’s party?” I asked. “Minerva. Gaius.”

“Baron Bren.” Gaius replied in greeting.

“Just Bren, Gaius.” I reminded him, passing off the reins to Sebastian and pulling myself to Morroch’s back. “If I’d known we’d had company, I would have invited you to travel with me.”

“It’s not such a long trip anymore.” Minerva replied. “But I’m sure we can join you on the way back.”

I wondered if it was just a lucky coincidence, or if there was something more to the both of us being here at the same time. But, I didn’t think to question it too much, just following Sebastian down the pathways laid out for us.

“If you want to talk with Lord Gaius, I’m sure I can find something else to occupy my time.” Sebastian teased. I just shrugged. I didn’t really know how to describe it but ever since the Summit with Quinn, I’d just felt a little bit off, like there was an important part of me that was just... missing. I hadn’t particularly found myself in a mood to be sociable in the last few weeks, and talking candidly with Sebastian on the 611 was the most I’d found my spirits lifted in some time.

We walked side by side into the town, tying our horses to the hitching post, and making our way to the tailor. “Baron Bren!” Hassan greeted us kindly. “Sebastian.”

“Baron Hassan.”

“And it’s just Bren, Baron.” I replied.

“Hassan, then.” He extended the same courtesy to me. “Welcome. I’ve been expecting your arrival, yours and--” He glanced behind me. “I don’t suppose you came in with Baroness Minerva?”

“I did actually, but they’ll be a few minutes behind me.” I replied, following him inside where he proudly displayed the suit. I ran my hand down the deep rich blue fabric, admiring the suit. Gods, it was beautiful but I couldn’t describe how much I hated this kind of finery. But it wasn’t my party and I wasn’t going to complain.

“To your liking?” Hassan asked.

“I think it’s marvelous.” I replied, hopefully convincingly. “Actually, I was wondering, would you be able to whip up something for Sebastian in my house colors? I can pay the extra fee.” Hassan blinked, looking at me and then to Sebastian standing behind me.

“Of course, Bren.” He replied, going to find a tailor to take measurements.

“You look less than thrilled.” Sebastian murmured.

“It’s... not really my style, but it’s also not my party.” I replied, turning to browse the racks of assorted jewelry, expert craftsmanship traded from Broadmore’s jewelers and artisans, while a tailor took measurements of Sebastian.

“Will you be wearing a weapon?” Hassan asked, and Sebastian nodded. “Don’t forget to add that into the repertoire.”

“What’s this about wearing a weapon to a party?” Minerva asked.

“What, like you don’t think Chau is going to show up and crash my sister’s engagement?” I asked. “Forgive me if I’m out of line, but somehow I doubt you’d show up to this kind of party unarmed.” Minerva held a finger to her lips.

“A lady can’t tell all her secrets.” She replied. “And really, if you think Chau is showing up, I can tell you, it’s not her I’d be worried about.”

“Ugh.” I groaned. “I hope he doesn’t. He has a tendency to bring drama wherever he goes and I’d like my sister’s party to remain drama-free.”

“Of course. That’s why you’re bringing an escort, right?” Minerva asked. “A well-dressed escort, no less.” I turned and Sebastian was draped in rich blue and silver fabrics, probably wondering what he’d just gotten himself into. I dropped a golden necklace on the counter, the pendant carved into a crystal shape.

“Adding a little spice never hurt.” I teased. 

“You have a good eye for this type of thing.” A voice sounded behind me. Gaius. I had almost forgotten that he was here. He’d been so quiet, but I suppose he was just waiting his turn.

I turned to face him, leaning back against the counter, and my jaw almost dropped because apparently he hadn’t just been waiting his turn. Apparently, they were still fitting him in an absolutely gorgeous dark purple suit that brought out his features even more than normal.

“Well...” I started, almost speechless. “You certainly clean up nice.” Gaius chuckled.

“Got any spice to share with me?” He asked. I raised an eyebrow slightly.

“You could try adding a golden trim to the jacket and instead a vest substituting a corset.” He gave me a little bit of a bewildered look, but I must have given the tailor an idea because the flurry of activity around him suddenly paused.

“I don’t exactly have the assets for a corset...” Gaius started.

“No, he has a point.” Hassan murmured. “You have a nice build for that sort of thing. It will only take a few adjustments to the vest. And you? No gems or jewels for you today, Bren?” I chuckled.

“No upstaging my sister at her own party.” I replied. “Not unless you have a nice hat for me.”

“I’ll just have to see what I can do about that then.” Hassan replied with a twinkle in his eye. “I’ll have it delivered with Sebastian’s suit, no?” I only shook my head and gave him a soft chuckle, paying him what I owed, and stepping out, needing to get some air.

It wasn’t long that I was joined, but it wasn’t by the person I was expecting. I turned, expecting Sebastian but getting Gaius instead.

“Join me for a late lunch?” He asked. “Since it seems that Sebastian is occupied and my baroness has a few things to requisition?”

“That would be nice.” I murmured, taking his offered arm and following his lead. “To be honest, I wasn’t expecting to see you traveling with Minerva today.”

“You didn’t think I’d go to the party?” He asked.

“I don’t know. I haven’t really felt very sociable in the last few weeks. Working at Gideon’s was particularly draining.” I replied. Gaius chose not to comment on the obvious, getting us a table at the tavern and ordering something for us to share. “This is nice.”

“I question your decision to put me in a corset, but yes, I suppose this is nice.” Gaius teased.

“Hey, you’re the one who asked.” I replied. “You have a nice figure. A corset vest will suit you nicely, I think.”

“It’s nice of you to do this for Nix. I’ll admit, as baron, I thought you would insist otherwise. The suit, it doesn’t seem to be up your alley.” I barked out a dry laugh.

“Did the flowy cloak give it away?” I asked. “I tend to stick to what I know, and what I know I like. And besides, I like the way that it weighs down on my shoulders.” Gaius tilted his head to the side curiously. “It helps with my anxiety.”

“I would have never known. You handle yourself with such grace.” I nearly snorted.

“I have to be the least graceful person I know.” I retorted. 

“But--” Gaius started.

“I think perhaps you just aren’t around enough to know the man behind the mask.” 

“So your graceful behavior is that of a baron, is what you are saying. Would it be presumptuous of me to tell you that I’d like to get to know the man behind the baron?” Gaius asked. I raised my eyebrows at him.

“Perhaps you should come to House Enduring sometime.” I replied carefully.

“Perhaps I should.”

When I’d left Gaius with those words, I didn’t expect to see him show up on the front porch the afternoon of Nix’s party, just as I was heading out with Sebastian as my escort, both of us sharply dressed.

I opened the door before Gaius could knock and was momentarily rendered quite speechless. It seemed that my suggestion had quite paid off, and it took me a minute to regain my composure.

“Nice hat.” Gaius commented softly.

“You look marvelous. But I thought you were going with Minerva.”

“Actually,” Gaius looked a little sheepish, “I was told to come ask you.” Sebastian gave me a look, amused.

“How about I leave you two be?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I mean, I don’t doubt Gaius’ fighting capabilities, but an escort would still be nice. I’m not about to complain about having two dashing men at my side.” I replied, leaving them both red-cheeked at the compliment, making my way to the station where the 611 was running her overtime. Nix and Sunny had already gone ahead to take a tour of the grounds, which left me, Lydia, Sebastian, and now Gaius making ourselves comfortable for the trip ahead.

Lydia gave me a look as Gaius found a seat, pulling me back. “You didn’t tell me you had a date for this.”

“I didn’t know I had one.” I replied. “I was taking Sebastian as my armed escort, but I won’t complain with what I’ve been given.” 

As we were escorted to the grounds of Rojas’ manor, I noticed one of the stablehands having trouble with a horse, and turned to Gaius. “Excuse me a moment, will you?” I asked, but not waiting for an answer either, jogging over to the stablehand and grabbing a hold of the bridle.

“Easy there, Valiant.” I murmured, taking the saddle and the bit and bridle off and putting on a halter and lead rope instead, giving him a chance to calm down on his own. When he could come to me, and put his nose under my hand, I knew he could be handled by the others. And then his ears pricked forward at the sound of kissy noises and I saw that Sebastian had somehow charmed an apple from someone and was holding it out for him to sample.

Valiant’s attention occupied, I gestured the stablehand over to brush him out. “What are these marks from?” Gaius asked, reaching out to touch the marks left behind on his when I grabbed his wrist in warning.

“He doesn’t know you.” I murmured.

“Saving yourself a bite, I see.” Rojas approached behind Gaius and Sebastian.

“The rochir himself.” Rojas gave me a smile at the compliment and leaned against the fence, looking at the marks on Valiant’s side. 

“Those are the marks of a man who doesn’t know what good horsemanship is.” Rojas replied. “If I weren’t the baron, and the man who owns this horse not also a baron, I wouldn’t consider myself above petty horse thievery.”

“Well I am the baron, and I don’t give a shit about the man who owns this horse. After all, the Badlands thinks I’ve stolen everything else from him: why don’t I just add horse thievery to the list?” I asked sarcastically. Sebastian snorted.

Even Rojas cracked a smile at that, shaking his head. “You should probably get going. Your sister has been looking to make sure you got here safely. And I’ll have my Clippers make a patrol of the grounds. He may not be invited to the dinner, but perhaps he can be intercepted before he makes it to the party.”

“You have my eternal thanks.” I murmured, brushing myself off and being offered both Gaius’ and Sebastian’s arms. I raised an eyebrow and wondered if they wanted me to pick one or the other, and then didn’t I didn’t care. “Don’t mind if I do.” I murmured cheekily, taking both offered arms.

“Has anybody ever told you you’re cheeky?” Sebastian asked. “You could have said no.”

“I’m comfortable where I am.” I replied, following the escort into the back gardens. Rojas had certainly outdone himself. It was almost like walking something straight out of a fairytale.

“You’re late.” Waldo called out, sitting around with Sunny, Nix, and Minerva.

“Fashionably late, might I add.” Minerva teased.

“There was a slight incident at the gates,” I replied. “Involving a horse.”

“I thought you were going to say involving Quinn.” Sunny muttered.

“It is my sincere and genuine hope that that will not happen.” I replied.

“You and me both.” Nix murmured, taking the offered seat as more guests began to fill in the backyard. I caught eyes with Rojas as we sat down to eat and he shook his head subtly, looking in the direction of where his Regent was standing, and I nearly choked on my drink. Because Esme was standing there with a cattle branding tool in her hand, rather idly heating it up over an open flame and inspecting the red hot grasshopper brand. I would hate to be the man that came uninvited to a party and ran into her.

With dinner served, all parties moved inside for the announcement of Nix and Sunny’s engagement, for some drinking and some dancing. It seemed like the coast was clear and I was just beginning to relax when Rojas announced their engagement, and then I heard it.

“From a Regent to a Captain and marrying a thieving whore.” My jaw tensed. “What a disgrace.” The crowd parted to let Quinn through. Damn it. But he came in alone, overconfident in his ability to charm a crowd.

“Odd choice of dying words,” Nix replied smoothly, “Especially since you weren’t invited.” 

Rojas gave me a sincerely apologetic look, and cleared his throat. “Unfortunately, he doesn’t have to be. As long as the event is not being held in a territory that has banned the Baron, anyone has an automatic invite.”

“That information would have been useful earlier.” Nix growled. Oops. I suppose I had put a little too much hope into thinking Rojas’ soldiers would have been able to find and detain him. Either that or he was better at hiding than I thought he was.

“I couldn’t resist a party,” Quinn offered a smile, rare, but it was more of a smirk than a smile.

“I’m not surprised you came. You thrive on people hating you. It’s why you’re alone.” One could have heard a pin drop at Nix’s words, everyone watching and waiting with bated breath, and Quinn’s eyes went wide at her words. It was no secret that our baronies had been on the brink of war with each other, but I’m not so sure that everyone else was aware of what else had happened in the last few weeks.

He was alone. No escort. No date. No nothing but him and his sword. And his horse, but if he still had a horse at the end of the week, I’d be surprised. And then his face burned bright red, and I couldn’t help but hiss a warning in Nix’s direction.

“Nix!”

There was no play to the emotion on Quinn’s face. I watched his eyes harden and his hand reach for the sword at his waist, pulling it out and leveling it in her direction. And then there was Sunny, standing in between the two, his sword meeting Quinn’s.

“If you even get within five feet of my fiancee, I will personally drag you outside to Meraxes.” Sunny growled, anger evident on his form. Quinn met Sunny’s eyes and then looked over his shoulder to Nix.

“Zaldrīzes buzdari iksos daor. A dragon is not a slave and your former Regent is about to become valzȳrys hen zaldrīzes. The Dragon’s Husband. So I would choose your next actions wisely.” Nix murmured. And then everyone heard it, the low rumble that rolled right on through the ballroom. Meraxes. And surely Quinn would not be fool enough to challenge the dragon... again.

He finally sheathed his blade and walked away, but not before his expression gave it away that he was not pleased. I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding and realized that Sebastian had stopped mingling during that entire affair to be at my side, his sword drawn and ready to defend me.

“I think I need a drink.” I eyed the bar where Quinn was sulking with a glass of whiskey and grumbled.

“I’ll go shoo him away.” Sebastian replied, making his way over there. I shivered under Quinn’s gaze when Sebastian made it clear that he was to move on, and then he scowled, anger in more than one way glinting in his eyes.

“I believe you said something about a drink?” Gaius asked, offering me a glass of wine as I tore myself away from Quinn’s jealous look.

“Yes, thank you.” I murmured as Gaius planted himself in front of me, blocking Quinn’s view. “You’re putting a target on your back, you know.”

“You look like you needed a rescue.” I took a sip of the wine, savoring the sweet flavor.

“It’s appreciated actually.” We moved to the side of the ballroom so as to not be in the others’ way when the dancing began. I could see that Lydia had convinced Sunny and Nix into a dance and given up after one before coming to poke us about it.

“You should dance.” Lydia prodded.

“You know I have two left feet.” I replied.

“Sunny and Nix danced.” She retorted. I rolled my eyes good naturedly, downing the rest of my drink and setting the glass aside. 

“Will you excuse me for a moment?” I asked Gaius. “My Regent is demanding a dance.” Lydia protested as I led her to the dance floor, falling in line with the others dancing.

“This isn’t what I meant and you know it,” Lydia chided, but smiling regardless as I spun her around.

“Anything to see you smile, Lydia.” I replied, finishing the dance and gracefully bowing out as the song ended.

“I am quite certain that she was talking about us.” Gaius handed another, notably full, glass of wine.

“Oh, I know she was.” We found a little bit of a secluded corner to take for ourselves, away from the busy chatter of the ballroom. “But there is an absolute one hundred percent chance that Quinn would try to steal me as a dance partner from under your nose. I think he’d rather face a den of wildcats than do that to Lydia. And besides, really, I am not coordinated enough to dance.”

“You shouldn’t have to watch your back from him.” Gaius frowned. “I wish he hadn’t come.”

“I also wish your sister hadn’t come but oh... such wishes are wasted.” I muttered, seeing Juliet and Broadmore mingling in the crowd. “You know, as much as she and Quinn do seem to hate each other, they have the same penchant for causing drama. Are we sure they don’t meet up for whiskey once a month and exchange ideas?”

“I think my sister wouldn’t be caught dead drinking the same thing Quinn does, let alone be caught alone in the same room as him. And I’m not entirely sure Quinn would walk out of that room if they were alone in it together, in all honesty.” I snorted. “The only person that man is charming to is himself.” And then Gaius glanced in my direction and gave me a sheepishly apologetic look. “No offense.”

I shrugged. “It is what it is.” I tracked Juliet across the room as she made her way to the happy couple, hoping against my better instincts that things weren’t about to come to a fight. Especially after she gestured in our direction. For a good minute, it looked like things were going smoothly, until I watched Juliet backhand my sister and my jaw actually dropped. It was almost instinct how quick I felt the armor crawl up my back and right down my nose, scales dusting my cheeks and throat. 

When Nix hit the pillar, I growled, feeling fire rise in my chest, but still frozen to my spot, rooted in fear that somehow overrode the feelings of anger. She was hardly defenseless with Dark Sister, but even I could tell she was disoriented and unable to defend herself from the Clippers closing in. Before I could shake myself out of my stupor, I heard Sunny growl-- the kind of feral growl that would make anyone second guess themselves-- “Step away from her!”

And then he had punched his way through Chau’s men and hoisted Nix over his shoulder, setting her down halfway across the room in the clutches of Rojas and Minerva, and he was right back in the fray, sword drawn and ready to go to war for his mate.

Before they could get into it, I watched as Nix pulled out Dark Sister. Oh, I knew now, someone was in for a nasty surprise.

“She’s a whore and unfit to be a baroness!” 

Sunny snarled again. “I’ll have your tongue for insulting my fiancee!” Nix lifted Dark Sister and swung down at an angle, severing the clipper’s head right in half. The Valyrian steel cut cleanly and the body dropped as the top of the head spun away. Everyone looked at her in shock.

“He can keep his tongue,” Nix huffed as she twirled the sword. “Who’s next?” The chatter of the room had completely died out and everyone’s attention was on her and her blood-spattered look. Even Sunny looked completely taken off guard, but I don’t think anyone had really seen her use Dark Sister to its full potential.

Finally, Broadmore, who’s attention was glued to Dark Sister, snarled, “Where did you get that blade?”

“Old Valyria. Standard issue for dragon riders.”

“You don’t deserve such a weapon!” 

From my vantage point, I could see the contemplation on Quinn’s face. She was only one woman but he’d have to go through Sunny to get to her. And if he managed to get through Sunny, he was going to have to get through me.

“Then come get it!” Nix growled, moving into a fight stance, and Sunny fell back to her side, his own sword at the ready. Broadmore advanced with his sword drawn, and Quinn behind him. Really?

Oh, I was offended. Well, I was more than offended. I was fucking pissed. I needed this man to fear for his life right now without scaring a whole ballroom of people. So I shoved down my Wrath and focused on just changing one part, my tail curling around Gaius’ feet in a warning rattle. 

I watched Nix recognize the sound and glance in my direction, and then Quinn stopped and also looked in my direction. And he came face to face with the parts of me that he probably still hadn’t reckoned with. I knew that my eyes had changed, pupils contracted into thin slits and that I was giving him an entirely predatory stare, shaking the rattle in warning. Gaius��� hand pressed into my chest and he stepped forward, hand on his sword hilt, but Quinn had already swallowed rather audibly and was backing away, sheathing his sword.

But the others, not so much. The others had no idea what had frightened Quinn enough to make him back away and still pressed the advantage against Nix. Until Nix reminded Juliet what had happened last time she’d pulled a sword on my sister. Then and only then did Juliet give the command for her Clippers to back off. And then there was one. And Broadmore no longer had the muscle behind him for backup.

So Nix stepped up and leveled her sword at Broadmore’s neck, not close enough to hurt him, just close enough to threaten him.

“Your move, Old Man Broadmore. Do you think you have it in you to steal a sword beyond your abilities?”

Now that the others had backed down, Rojas regained control over the situation. “Enough! Chau, Broadmore, you are done for the evening! Gather whomever you brought and leave. Tonight!” He ordered, turning to Quinn, who seemed to still be in shock from what he’d been shown. “You too, you walking disaster. Take your drama out of my barony.”

I took in a deep breath, letting go of the partial shift. Part of me couldn’t believe that had just happened; the other part was still broiling with anger. I turned to Gaius. “I’m sorry for doing this, in advance, but um,” I took off my hat. “Can you hold this? I’ll be right back.” 

And I didn’t wait for an answer, following the retreating barons out.

“Quinn!” This was one of the times I knew I had to make my voice carry, and carry it fucking did, because he flinched at the sound, turning around to face me just as my fist crashed into his jaw, making him stumble backwards in surprise. His hand flew to his cheek in shock and he looked in disdain at the blood wetting his fingers when he drew his hand away. My armor hadn’t entirely faded with all the adrenaline running through my system, and it didn’t seem likely to fade soon. “You are an infuriating, miserable, lonely old man!” I snarled.

He opened his mouth to say something and I cut him off, coming down the steps and shoving him backwards, both hands on his chest when I pushed. “Gods forbid you suffer the same agony you’ve put hundreds, if not thousands, of people through in the same silence and complacency that you require everyone else to suffer in!” I snapped, watching him try to find his footing as I continued to approach. I knew the other barons were watching me, and they could have been waiting for an opportunity but I didn’t care right now.

“You could have done us all a favor, you could have done me a favor,” I appealed to us, if but for a moment, because I knew I could and get away with it, “And stayed away for one fucking night! One night! One night for my sister to have the engagement party of her dreams, but no. Your only goal in life is to make people just as miserable and lonely as you are!”

“Sunny...” Quinn started.

“Take his name out of your fucking mouth!” I roared. “You’ve no right to speak of him or his honor! At least he had the courage to follow his heart.”

“That’s a fool’s notion.”

“I’m not surprised you believe that, considering you don’t have a heart.” I hissed. That made Quinn blink, both hurt and surprise flashing across his face. “Go home; you’re not wanted here!”

“Clip him!” I registered Broadmore’s order in the back of my mind but Quinn didn’t move on that order, and Sebastian had bloodied his sword by the time any of Broadmore’s Clippers made it that far. I stared Quinn down as a stablehand brought Valiant to his side, and issued a silent command of haste as soon as he was in the saddle. He gave me one last look, meeting my eyes with an unreadable expression, and turned to go into the night. “Unbelievable.” Broadmore scoffed, gathering up the rest of his men and leaving into the night behind Quinn.

I made my way back to the porch where Gaius was leaning against the doorway. “Impressive.” He remarked.

“Ugh, don’t.” I muttered, taking my hat and folding my jacket over my arm, making my way back inside. I slipped in at the bar and ordered a glass of whatever they could give me that was strong, needing to steel myself just to drink it.

If I thought about it too much, I was going to cry and I couldn’t do that here, not with all these people here. I rubbed at the back of my neck, willing the armor to go away, feeling it fade back into my skin, leaving me with bruised and bloodied knuckles.

“You’re hurt.” I hadn’t realized that Gaius had followed me and when I opened my eyes, he was behind the bar with a towel and a bowl of water, dabbing gently at my hand. Just bruises, I thought as he soon came to find out.

“My hurt is...” I tried to find the right words. “Not on the outside.”

“Did I say something wrong?” Gaius asked, wrapping my hand gently.

“I know Quinn is the enemy in many peoples’ eyes, but there was a time when he and I weren’t enemies. If our relationship was a battleground, then losing the headway I’ve made hurts inexplicably.”

“Maybe it’s just me, but I don’t think any relationship should be a battleground.” Gaius murmured.

“It’s not just you.” I glanced over the ballroom, finding Nix and Sunny together, sharing a sweet and tender moment now that the drama had left. I looked away and took another sip of my drink when I realized that there was a part of me that was so very envious of them, and they were moving in our direction. I prompted Gaius to move just past the bar, taking another drink with me when we did.

“You need to hold still,” Sunny murmured in Nix’s ear.

“Would love to, but-” she inhaled sharply. “It’s still really tender.”

When Nix hit her head, a cut had formed over the area. I knew that a bump would form soon and I could tell Sunny was trying to clean the wound before it happened. He had her sitting on a chair by the bar, a glass of scotch in her hand, and he was crouched in front to get a good look at the damage.

Hassan came up with a wet cloth, a frown on his face. “All that hard work ruined.”

Nix gave a sheepish grin. “I couldn’t let Sunny face them alone.”

“Speaking of,” Sunny took the towel from Hassan and started to wipe the Clipper’s blood from her face, “I know you’ve said Valyrian steel is sharp…”

“Sharper than steel,” Nix nodded her head.

“Nixy,” Sunny raised an eyebrow. “There’s sharp and then there’s what you were able to do.” Nixy?! I had to hide my smile behind my glass. The two of them being all cute with each other made my heart do all fluttery things.

“Sunny is right,” Hassan sighed. “If Broadmore ever figures out how your blade was made-”

Nix waved off his concern. “Impossible. The how died with Old Valyria in a completely different universe. All that is known for sure, or rather theorized, is that the blade has Dragon Glass inside and dragon fire is used instead of a typical forge.”

“Dragon Glass?”

“Obsidian.”

Hassan raised an eyebrow. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but both exist in the Badlands.”

She smirked. “Obsidian may, but not dragon fire. Not really. Meraxes’ fire is just made from any flammable fuel. The fire from Old Valyria dragons…”

Sunny raised his eyebrows. “Yes?”

Nix took a deep breath. “Balerion the Black Dread melted the walls of Harrenhal during the Conquest. Valyrian dragons can melt stone. If Meraxes was real, nothing could stop her.”

I downed the rest of the glass after a moment of consideration, finding Lydia among the crowds and telling her where I was going before heading out into the night. I needed to clear my head, and found a quiet spot to shift into my dragon form. Meraxes lifted her head as I passed by overhead, tracking me no doubt, as I headed South, past the borders of Rojas’ territory to perch on the great Wall of the Badlands. I looked on for miles and miles at the expanse of green fields with grasses that waved in the breezes under the moonlight. 

I couldn’t tell if what I’d done tonight to Quinn was wrong. If what I said was wrong. I mean, I knew the words were right, that they were the truth, but I also knew that they would hurt him, especially when I was the one saying them. Just like he probably knew that him showing up tonight would hurt me. Because all that our relationship was anymore was just a battleground, an incessant back and forth between us with no clear sights on victory, both of us digging stubborn heels into the ground.

I would have given anything for it to have been Quinn and I in Nix and Sunny’s position tonight. But that required a type of blind loyalty to Quinn that I was smart enough and still sane enough not to have.

For the first time in a long time, I decided to be impulsive, heading off the Wall and continuing South until I met the coastline, settling down on sandy shores and just listening to the tide. There was a thudding sound behind me and I figured that Nix must have figured out that I left and came to see what was going on, but she never came down. Meraxes, to her credit, looked at me curiously as much as she did the last time she saw me in this form and I gave her a look, shifting back to my human form.

“You will never cease to amaze me,” I murmured, placing my hand on her nose. I could certainly see why Nix felt safe with her around. Though out here, I didn’t think anything was going to bother us. So for a while, I just wandered along the shores, picking up shells and pretty pieces of rock to take back with me, using my shirt as a bag to carry everything. It had to be late by the time I realized I was tired and needed to be heading back, and I let Meraxes lead the way back.

Either I must have been getting old, or Rojas sure knew how to throw a party because it was just winding down when we got back. And I’m quite sure that my absence had been noticed. I knew Meraxes’ certainly had been. But I didn’t bother to shift into my human form, just finding the one person I knew who would know me in this form (out of the few people who did) and depositing the bag I’d made from my shirt at her feet.

Lydia ran her hand over my head tentatively and I let out a rumbling purr, leaning into the touch, while at the same time nudging the bag towards her with my foot. She laughed and shook her head at me, placing the hat I’d left with her on my head and sitting down at one of the tables on the porch to examine the shells. “You were missed.”

I let out a warble in response. “Yes, yes, I know, you had to go get a breath of fresh air. I’m not entirely sure where you got it from though.” I shrugged, even in my dragon form. “I like the purple ones.” Oh. Oh, she reminded me of my mom. They were her favorite too. Our favorite. 

Nix quietly came up, the blood gone from her face but still on her dress. “I see you have returned from your adventures.”

I made a burring sound at her and she laughed.

“No, I didn’t send Meraxes after you. Once the idiots were gone, it wasn’t necessary for her to stay. So she followed you to make sure you were ok.” Nix sighed. “I don’t know if I have the energy for a train ride back. Rojas has offered rooms for anyone that doesn’t wish to travel. Sunny and I are returning on Meraxes, but perhaps you and Lydia should stay. See the market here when they open in the morning. I’ll have plenty of pastries waiting for your return. Maybe swing by Minerva’s on the way back.”

It was hard to miss Nix’s wink and I warbled at her, but all she did was laugh.

“See you in the morning, Bren. Whatever you decide.”

[sixsidedsex]

September 4th 2024

I dont know how coherent this is going to be. Im just going for a whole stream of consciousness thing. Ive included the date on this because I dont know when or if my feelings will change. I like to keep track of things

For who this is for. Its an ex partner of mine. If you see this, which I doubt you will, I want you to know that these are my genuine feelings laid out as candidly as possible. 

I think its a testament so how upset I am that im writing a letter to you at all.

So. I loved you. Very much. It wasnt a lie when I said i never felt the way i did with anyone than with you. You felt like everything to me. You can imagine how it felt when you split on me.

Issues I wasnt even aware of, problems I was willing to solve. All ignored in favor of a split second decision

I think I should have dealt with the grief then and left. But then you came back and I felt relieved. It was a chance to redeem my mistakes. Mistakes I didnt even know I had made

And I was willing to work through that with you is the worst part. I was willing to talk and work through My issues to make You feel comfortable. That is how much you meant to me. But you drifted and drifted without a damn word. It took me literally almost yelling at you to get anything out of you.

You can imagine my fucking heartbreak when you said you “didnt want to do this anymore” and that it was because i was “trying to change you”

Yknow i think part of the issue is your stubbornness against change. Because that what makes a fucking relationship work. You change each other for the better and its a wonderful thing. But youre too damn stubborn to admit you were wrong

It wasnt my fault. I dont care what you think. It was Not my fault.

Now let me address some of the problems I had with that conversation

I couldnt do anything to remedy you “feeling sick” around me. I cant do anything about that. But you assuming i felt the same was complete bullshit. I wasnt sick around you. I was aching for you if anything. Because i missed you and wanted our relationship back to the way it was. I loved you

A fucking part of me still does.

And its disgusting that I would be willing to talk again. But youre just not that kinda person.

Another issue was with the change thing. I didnt want to actively change you. I wanted us to both be better. 

But youre selfish. Uncooperative. Stubborn in the worst way possible.

Im not going to bullshit you when i think your brother was part of the problem. He obviously didnt like me and obviously had issues with your past relationships.

But that is not my fucking burden to carry. I shouldnt have to carry the weight of your brother’s, his friends’, and even his god damn Mom’s judgment. 

I think his attitude has definitely rubbed off on you. I mean it.

I know I used it as a “gotcha” in our final conversation but. I do think some kind of therapy would help you. 

Another thing i want to address is you saying you were “doing this for my wellbeing”

Bullshit.

I dont care if you were doing it for yourself. If you were doing it for yourself i wouldve respected that more. The fact that i had no say in my own decision to trust you again is insane. 

Part of me really hopes you never come back

The other part of me really hopes you do. And that youre sorry. And that if you are ill forgive you.

I dont know.

Its horrible that i miss you.

At least i have college to distract me

-Nico

[tickle-bugs]

Hello!! I hope this doesn’t come off as pushy or rude or anything but I was just genuinely curious, are there characters/pairings that you like but haven’t written about, and would you like to write for them in the future?

Not rude at all! Thank you for asking, actually, because yes! There’s plenty. I’m very open about how writers should write for themselves and what they like, and I do that, but…there’s definitely characters/pairings/fandoms I’ve always wanted to write for, but don’t, because they’re not necessarily fan-favorites or I just haven’t tried yet!

this is probably going overboard, but that’s my brand, so here’s a list (gonna exclude characters/pairings that I have WIPs for):

- *gestures at the entire musical/video games section of my fandom list*

- *gestures at the entirety of Ragnarök* (shoutout to ragnarök anon ilysm)

- I’d like to write some explicitly romantic Lokius! My next WIP for them is schrödinger’s Lokius again but I’d like to try my hand at proper romance I think.

- I’m still not currently writing for TUA because I’m super burnt out, but I always wanted to write more for characters that weren’t Klaus or Five. Nothing against them, I’m fond of them, but they’re hands-down the most requested characters and I would’ve liked to try writing for Vanya, Diego, Allison, Lila, etc more. Maybe Luther even idk. I also feel weird writing about Ben because he’s heavily infantilized by the fandom but he could be fun too! Idk my TUA feelings are complicated so I’ll leave it there.

- I really want to write something with Barry and Cisco from The Flash. No concrete thoughts but I love their dynamic and it would be so fun. Also maybe something with Caitlin? Niche fandom though!

- I’d love to write for Arrow. Felicity is my beloved. Oliver seems like a very fun character to write with literally anyone (also I was recently introduced to Barry/Oliver as a thing and I gotta say I’m intrigued!)

- Eggsy from Kingsman! Kingsman is one of my ultimate comfort movies and I’d love to write literally anything with him. He has a very distinct voice that’d be a blast to write!

- I wrote him in one of the five sentence challenges a while back, but I’ve always wanted to try writing Gabriel from SPN into a full length fic. He also seems like he’d be fun to write!! Also Rowena, Charlie, and Kevin. AND BENNYYYYYYY

- I can’t seem to get past episode one of critical role campaign 2 (I’m bad at processing audio so I have to sit and properly watch which takes time I simply do not have) but I am looking very disrespectfully at Mollymauk.

- I am utterly flabbergasted that I haven’t written properly for The Mandalorian, but I want to write Din. He’s so cute :)

- Avengers/MCU, maybe? Plenty of characters there I’ve never tried! Thor seems like he could be fun (Ragnarok fic perhaps)? I don’t really have any ideas for it but I think it might be fun!

- OH y’know what I really want to try? It’s not necessarily a character, but more ler perspective!!! I tend to take the Lee’s POV so we get ✨maximum description of feeling✨ but I had lots of fun writing ler!pov recently in One of a Kind and Stress Relief. So there’s that!

- I’ve already written a Witcher fic and I have a WIP for them in progress so this is technically cheating, but I wanna write Yennefer and Geryenskier so badly. I love Yen so dearly.

- I don’t know that anyone would necessarily be interested, but I’d have fun writing a fic about my D&D characters I think. They’re my babes!

- I know I already gestured at my video games section but y’all…I wanna write about the Peter Parker from the 2018 Spider-Man game so damn bad. Or even Miles!! They’re so cute wtf!!!

- not specific, but I wanna write more femme centered fics. Most of my content gravitates towards male characters because ✨gender is a weird soup✨ and so many female characters die or are badly written, but women are so!!!!!! In conclusion I wanna write about more women.

- Another nonspecific yet specific thing: Anime! I haven’t watched any series in a very very long time, but I have plenty of characters that I enjoy! The problem is I lose all grasp on plot and as a canon/canon-adjacent writer…yikes. But I would like to write for Haikyuu (lee!Bokuto, Daisuga, ler Akaashi), Fairy Tail, maybe One Punch Man (Genos my beloved)? I probably won’t, which is why they’re not on my fandoms list, but I think about it often. There’s other anime I know that I loved, like Owari no Seraph, FMA, Blue Exorcist, etc but I retained absolutely nothing, just very vague concepts of who the characters are. (Well I retained FMA but I have zero desire to write for it)

There’s a few things I didn’t mention that are firsts for me, but I have WIPs for them so I didn’t really count them for the list, but yeah. Hope this answered your question! Thanks for asking <3333333

[windblooms]

Hi!! Could you do headcanons of Diluc, Kayea, Childe and Zhongli with a s/o who is touch starved but is too shy to intimate physical affection please? Thank you!💙

decided to answer the two of these in the same ask since they have similar personalities for the reader, and they evolved into scenarios.  hopefully what i’ve written is all right!

edit: to the second anon, i’m sorry, i don’t know how people write more than 500 characters in asks. ㅠㅠ  is it maybe a submission . . . ?

childe:

as a very perceptive individual, childe would pick up on your hesitations relatively soon, however won’t say anything about them outright.  

while he may ask you if something’s wrong whenever you reach out, but self-consciously pull away, or when you’re on the verge of words but can’t bring yourself to speak, he won’t pry into your meekness. 

he knows that some people prefer to keep things to themselves or away from others – he’s a prime example of this himself.  so he doesn’t want to push you, but will continue to keep mental tabs on when you shrink away, or backtrack after you sound as if you’re going to ask him something.

if the trend continues for a while, he’ll eventually sit down to talk with you about it.  he’ll discuss with you patiently, not wanting to invade past things you might not want to share just yet, but he still tries to find the cause of your hesitancies so he can better understand you.

“there’s something bothering you, isn’t there?” he leans forward across the table, and rests his chin on his hand.  “you can tell me, you know.  i’ll try and help you with it.”

as you take your time to answer, he grows increasingly concerned, but still wears a poker face to not influence you as well.  across the table, he’ll slowly reach out his hand as a means of comfort, and clasp yours when you don’t pull away.

you begin to speak about your uncertainties, and childe listens intently.  ah, so that was it – now that you mention it, the two of you don’t hold hands much, or really touch each other.  he had assumed that’s how you preferred it, little to no physical touch.  but now that you’ve explained why you’ve concealed those wishes . . . 

“i’d be more than willing to hold you.”  childe’s words are soft, and he manages a small smile to encourage you.  as soon as your face flushes, though, he can tell that there’s something else you want to say.  so he pauses, expectant, but you still seem nervous.

he takes a gander and speaks.  “we can start off slow, if you want . . .  actually, anything you want, you can tell me.  you don’t have to worry about being embarrassed.”

from there, the two of you work out what you want.  you both agree to take it slow, since this will be a first for you; small touches against each other’s fingers as reassurance, and taps against his shoulder when you’re too nervous to outright ask for his attention.  he also has something of his own to suggest:

“there’s some custom that mondstadtians have,” childe ponders aloud suddenly.  “hm – something about tapping three times, meaning ‘i love you’?”

at his notion, you become bashful, and look down towards your lap.  you know where he’s going with this, and at your reaction, the snezhnayan chuckles, unfolding his hands from atop each other to squeeze yours in demonstration.

“one, two, three.  it’s just gonna be between us, all right?”

diluc:

diluc is arguably one of the most emotionally reserved characters in all of mondstadt.  sure, he’s got a sense of dry humor and wit whenever he feels snarky enough, but when it comes to personal sentiments?  he keeps them behind lock and key, with the exception of passive aggression.

if you’re self-conscious about asking for affection, such as when you’re about to reach out to tap at his hand yet pull back at the last instant, you find him looking at you expectatntly, his notorious half-lidded gaze fixated on you.  if there’s something you want, you’ll ask for it is his mentality, since he assumes that the two of you are both comfortable enough in your relationship to do so.  and relationships are built around trust.  so why are you hesitating?

that is to say, he doesn’t stare at you until you crack.  after a few seconds, he’ll look away, and resume whatever he was doing beforehand.  if it were anyone else, he’d most likely ask them verbally what they want, since there’s no use in prolonging the time, and he’s an impatient man. 

he makes a conscious effort to be more gentle with you.  he can’t quite tell if you appreciate it though especially in these scenarios, since you always chew at your lip and refrain from looking at him afterwards.

diluc will only allude to these instances.  he’ll ask “is there something you need?” or “is something the matter?”  he has no experience with physical affection of any sort, at least since his father all those years ago.  so he’d be quite lost with your circumstance; he doesn’t know at all what you want unless you make a verbal indication as to what it is. 

one day, in the privacy of his office, he senses your fingers just near his forearm.  diluc looks over in time to see you clasp his coat rather shakily, but your hold is there nonetheless.  much like usual, he’ll peer at you with a half-lidded gaze, although this time he addresses how skittish you appear. 

“something the matter?” he’ll say as per usual, but this time he isn’t vague; he’s referring to your sudden committance to reaching out as opposed to pulling away.

“ . . . just wanted to hold you.”  your confession is a mere whisper, but your boyfriend still hears it.  the two of you sit in silence for a bit, before he turns his body and puts his hand on the side of your head, pressing gently so that you lean flush against his arm. 

you’re speechless, however the circumstance doesn’t need words anymore.  content with you hugging his arm, and now understanding your wants, diluc continues to work as you drift asleep against him.  while there’s still a ways to go, as he’s sure that this isn’t the only desire you have, it’s surely a start.

kaeya:

the astute captain that he is, kaeya can hone into your desires with relative ease.

before you can retract your hand after reaching out, he’s already grasped it in his own.  you’re caught off-guard, not expecting his agility, but his grip isn’t firm or unpleasant; it’s gentle, as if he’s caring for glass.

he lowers his face so that the two of you are eye-level.  “no need to be shy.  it’s just us.”  kaeya’s reassurance is playful at first, until your contemplative silence queues him in on the severity of your timidness.

he’s concerned: is there something serious that’s bothering you?  he’d just assumed that you wanted to hold hands, or lean on each other.  for how long it takes you to speak, he’s thinking the worst: is a coworker bothering you?  are you ill with a fever?  kaeya’s eyebrows furrow, and he immediately speaks again.  “what’s wrong, precious?  tell me, please.”

looking up at him, you realize that he has the wrong impression.  tenderly enveloping your cheek with his hands, rubbing your skin with his thumbs, you sink into the affection – but he’s got the wrong idea.  

“i-it’s fine,” you begin, and he blinks rapidly.  “just . . . wanted to, uh,” you nudge further into his hands, and squeeze his arms gently, “ . . . touch you.”

ah.  your meekness makes sense now, although considering your personality, his initial guesses probably wouldn’t have been far off.  nevertheless, kaeya indulges you, even if you both continue the circumstance in silence.  it’s evident that you’ve been holding back this request for a while, and as much as he loves to tease and would like to in this moment, he doesn’t believe now is an appropriate time.

so, kaeya continues to stroke your face, soothing away your nerves.  his other hand clasps yours in your lap, giving you the time and affection you crave.  

he finds your vulnerability endearing, but there’s guilt on his conscience: why have you been nervous to approach him about this, and why did he not pick up on it sooner?  not that he expects you to come for him for everything – kaeya just theorizes that there must be some reason as to why you appear so touch-starved, and he’s thinking the worst about such a reason.

“feeling better?”  he inquires, still cradling your face, and he pulls you into a hug.  his warmth is reassuring to you – the security that you’ve longed for.  if this is what affection feels like, you’re not sure that you’d ever want to pull away.

“yeah.”  hesitantly, you lift your face from his chest, but your arms remain around his waist.  your boyfriend grins slightly, and ruffles your hair, pushing your bangs aside so he can kiss your forehead.

“tell me about it.  we can figure this out together.” 

zhongli:

about three weeks into your relationship is when zhongli receives questions from hu tao: “hey, you and y/n don’t touch each other at all.  i know you’re ‘professional’ and stuff, but jeez – not even hand-holding?  thought it’d get more exciting at this point.”

and while he initially thought of her remarks as rude – your relationship isn’t any of her business – it did prompt him to consider her words.

specifically, she’s right: while he’s generally busy at wangsheng, he strives to make time for you whenever possible.  and in that time, never once have either of you touched each other.  he’s never minded, since he’s admittedly gone without it for so long and is used to life without it – but it’s the modern age, and isn’t it customary for liyuens to . . . ?

so he takes it upon himself to ask you over dinner.  he’s made bamboo shoot soup for you tonight, and as you sit across the table from him, finishing the dish, he speaks so candidly it nearly makes you choke on your last bite.

“would you like to hold hands in the market tomorrow?”

“what?”

zhongli makes a strange face.  he knows you heard him, so why do you also look startled, and are averting your eyes?

he repeats himself nonetheless, and while you do answer him this time, it’s by mumbling under your breath.

“ – odd question,” is how you start, and your boyfriend folds his hands underneath his face, yet doesn’t rest his chin.  “um, sure.  yeah, sure . . . ”

you most definitely do not sound sure, but it’s in a way that further perplexes him.  you look . . . thrilled now?  he can see that you’re refraining from smiling – the corners of your mouth flutter – but why?  zhongli doesn’t recall saying anything that would be good news . . .

“is something the matter?” the archon supplies instead, to which you shake your head.  your hands are in your lap.

“ah, no.  what you said just came out of no where.”  an unconcealed smile from you now, and zhongli finds himself relaxing.  if you’re certain, that’s all he cares about.

he stands up, and prepares to take your dish to the kitchen.  before though, he makes sure to bring you up to your feet, and intertwines his fingers with yours.

“may i kiss you?”  he asks, suddenly, unexpectedly.  he sees you nod, the slight pressing of your lips together, and gives them a quick peck before retreating; zhongli can still taste the slight bamboo left over.

when the two of you draw away, there’s a noticeable flush on your cheeks.  once more, you seem giddy, however this time he doesn’t have to ask why.

“i’ve never done this before.”  there’s trepidation in your voice that causes his brows to furrow slightly.  “so . . . it’s all right if we start out slow, right?”

“of course,” zhongli doesn’t hesitate to respond.  you could mean so many things, and he isn’t sure which you’re referring to: initiating physicality with him, or maybe that you’ve never had a partner before . . . ?  but he doesn't dwell on that.  “your comfort is what matters.”

in the market the next day, zhongli finds comfort in the slight tugs on his coat sleeve from your fingers, and the smile that beams on your visage.

[stuff-from-the-void-matron]

-Being The Duke’s Assistant- (3)

(a/n: some people really like this fic lol so here’s another chapter for y’all! also if you want a chapter 4 then please comment and reblog! otherwise I won’t have the motivation to keep writing more! thank you! <3)

–

-Learning About The Lords-

–

You’d seen more of your ex-neighbors since your run in with Vasile Kazloŭ the week previous. Seems word got around the village that you’d not in fact frozen to death or been caught and dragged into the woods by some snarling beast. And you knew a good few of them were just stopping by the Duke’s carriage under the guise of shopping just to see if those rumors were true. Not that you particularly cared what your ex-neighbors did now. If seeing you for whatever reason got them to buy something from the Duke then no skin off your nose. 

But today was different. Today the Duke said he’d be educating you on his biggest trade deals. Such deals being the Four Lords of the village. You’ll admit you gulped at hearing that. The four lords were quite notorious to the people of the village. And not for anything good despite what the fanatics would like to think..

Lady Dimitrescu, the mysterious lady who ruled the imposing castle upon the mountain that takes young women in to work but never lets them leave again. There’s a saying in the village that if a girl you know is going to work at Castle Dimitrescu then you should shower her in kisses since you’ll never see her again.

Lady Beneviento, the mysterious veiled doll maker who lives in a shadowy haunted manor that makes all those who enter there see their deceased family members. Seeing visions of the dead drives all who enter there to insanity. Most never leave, but the few who do are never the same as they were upon entering.

Lord Moreau, the monstrous looking recluse who controls the giant killer fish that has swallowed whole more than its fair share of poor fishermen of the village. It terrorized the workers at the Reservoir, devouring men like fish until they’d had enough and abandoned the site. It now sits in decay, waiting for the next fool to wander in.

Lord Heisenberg, the lord who owns the cryptic factory on the very edge of the village, where all the dead villagers bodies are sent and never seen again. Rumor has it that it used to be a coal mine but nobody living from the village has set foot in the rusted structure in decades. But despite this the factory’s smokestacks constantly billow dark soot into the sky.

Every villager knew of the four Lords. 

But apparently you were going to be learning more detail on them. Which you admit to not having much of. All you knew is what most every other villager knew. To be wary, be respectful, to pay your tributes, and do not draw attention to yourself otherwise. Those that drew attention were quite often known to draw their last breath.

The Duke it seemed was on good terms with each of the lords, at least you assumed so since he talked about them quite candidly. Not whispering their names in a hushed tone or with any amount of fearful reverence. Actually he talked about them as if they were just fellow business partners he has evening tea with. Which... well as far as you knew, could very well be the truth. But despite the Duke’s blasé outlook you felt yourself tense up when he mentioned how, as his assistant, you would be accompanying him on his future meetings with them, so it was best he told you about them now so you didn’t go in blind. Part of you wanted to just avoid that by not even going into the same building as the four lords. But the Duke squashed that thought by saying he couldn’t very well leave you to sit and twiddle your thumbs in the carriage while he was inside. 

Which you supposed you should have seen coming. You were his assistant after all. Where he goes, you go. It’s your whole job. So you steeled your resolve and took solace in knowing that while under the Duke’s protection you would be fine. you weren’t some random villager now thankfully. But even still... seeing the towering Castle Dimitrescu looming in the distance made you queasy. Your mind swam with the stories you’d been told as a child, warning you of what laid in that castle. The carriage drew closer to the imposing structure but you remained straight faced, not wanting to reveal how anxious you were. Plus, if you were being honest? This was all pretty exciting in a way! You’d left the village years ago sure, met lots of new people while you studied abroad. You learned about all the goings on of the world outside your simple village. But all of that paled in comparison to getting to meet the Four Lords.

You hoped you didn’t embarrass yourself..

-0-

While you got closer to the castle the Duke told you about the first Lord, Lady Dimitrescu and House Dimitrescu. Apparently they were famous for their incredible wine. The Duke even admitted to having a bottle of it himself stored away in the back. “For special occasions,” he told you with a smile. You also learned that House Dimitrescu also had their own vineyard where they grew all the grapes that went into the wine they made. He also revealed that there was a ‘rumor’ that Lady Dimitrescu had a very special bottle of wine in her possession, one that has belonged to her family for generations, that was called Sanguis Virginis. And its literal translation is "maiden's blood". The Duke was a touch vague on the wine, but he said that Alcina Dimitrescu has a secret process that enriches the wine’s flavor and gives it a thick bouquet. 

After that he began talking about the second Lord, Lady Beneviento and House Beneviento. The Duke spoke with a sad tone here, saying the Beneviento family slowly fell apart a long time ago. One by one the family members disappeared. And the current head of the household, Donna Beneviento, had a sister when she was a child, Claudia. But Claudia grew ill and passed away, causing her parents to grow depressed and soon after take their own lives, leaving poor Donna alone. The Duke knows Donna to be very kind, but also very lonely. She’s an incredibly skilled doll maker, even better than her father had been when he was alive. But she has trouble speaking with people without the aid of the doll friend, Angie, that her father gifted her as a little girl. He warned you that Angie could be a bit of a troublemaker, chuckling as he did.

Then came the third Lord, Salvatore Moreau of House Moreau. You raised an eyebrow when you noticed the small hint of revulsion in the Duke’s voice as he spoke about this lord. It seems that Moreau was... an odd one. The Duke tried to speak kindly of the man but even he, with his usual jovial outlook, couldn’t hide the slight way he cringed as he explained Moreau’s history. It seemed he had been a sailor at some point, and the very last of his family line, but some years ago he’d... changed physically to the point where he avoided people. He hid himself at the Reservoir his family owned and scarcely stepped foot outside of it. And after one too many... accidents there the workers abandoned the place, leaving Moreau alone to wallow in his self pity. The Duke warned you that Moreau did not look... human. And he asked you to please not stare at the man. He wouldn’t appreciate it, surely.

And then the final Lord, Karl Heisenberg of House Heisenberg. The Duke warned you that despite Lord Heisenberg’s rather casual sounding attitude, the man was quite harsh. And his factory was incredibly dangerous. He warned you to never stray from his side while there, for your own safety. You gulped but nodded as he continued. It seems the Heisenberg factory was a coal mining factory. You discovered that the Lord was an engineer, but the Duke revealed that he’d been known to tinker with things other than machines as well. That ominous note made your stomach drop. But you felt your anxiety lift a bit when the Duke told you that he was Lord Heisenberg’s supplier for a certain machine part he needs in bulk, so the man knew not to upset him. So you would be fine.

“But I think we’ll have to cut our conversation short, it seems we’ve arrived at Castle Dimitrescu,” the Duke said in a cheery tone you weren’t matching.

‘For any god listening to me... let us be alright,’ you thought helplessly.

-0-

[usaigi]

Mr. Knight, Jake & Marc

Lunar sys au character cards | Read all chapters on ao3

Prompt based on my own post

‘Mr. Lockley, can I please speak with you in my office for a second?’ Mr. Knight motions towards their room. Just beyond the front command room, passing through the locked hatch door exists a white corridor with numerous rooms. Some lead to pocket-sized rooms, uniquely personalized for each alter. Not necessarily a utopia, but certainly a safe space. Other rooms remain locked, with Jake holding onto the only key, but what lay beyond remains a mystery to even him. 

For Jake, his room resembled the shitty apartment they lived in briefly in Washington Heights. Leaky faucet and infected with cockroaches–the true New York experience. Right after they got discharged from the military, after Marc fell into that never end void of darkness, floating aimlessly through space, cold and empty. 

The first time Jake had any real control over their lives, instead of just a passive influence. The first time he felt like he was more than a just tool, more than just the bottled-up rage, the first time he was a real person. However uncomfortable that thought made him. However uncomfortable that still makes him. 

Mr. Knight, unsurprising, has the most monotonous and unimaginative room. It’s all white, from top to bottom, with a sparse amount of office furniture.  

‘Whatdya want?’ Jake asks as he follows them to their office, leaving the door open behind him. 

‘We’ve, and by that I mean the identity of Moon Knight, have received an invitation to collaborate with some other local vigilant individuals,’ they say, handing him a printed copy text exchange screenshot. 

‘Who?’ Jake asks, squinting down towards the paper. 

‘Daredevil, Ms. Jessica Jones, and Mr. Luke Cage,’ not bad, he thinks. They could do worse.  

‘What are you guys talking about?’ Marc questions, leaning against the doorway.

‘Ah, Mr. Spector, in full transparency we are talking about Moon Knight -related affairs. While I’m aware that you formally occupied that role I believe you’re currently distancing yourself from all Moon Knight matters?’ They say candidly. 

‘Yeah, well, I still want to know what’s going on considering it affects us all,’ Marc replies. 

‘Very well,’ Mr. Knight says as he handles Marc another copy of the printed-out text exchange. ‘As I was discussing with Mr. Lockley, the team colloquially referred to as the Defenders requested our help in a case by the docks.’

Marc lets out an exasperated sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. ‘Ugh, Daredevil is kinda a dick. I don’t want to deal with that.’

‘I understand your aversion to working with Mr. Daredevil but please keep in mind they requested assistance in stopping a villainous organization called ‘The Hand’ in case that sways your decision.’

‘Of course, they have a dumb name,’ he snides.

‘Wait, why do you hate Daredevil?’ Jake circles back, taken aback by the news, this is the first time he’s heard of them even meeting. 

‘He’s an ass. Ran into him a couple of weeks ago. Was feeling switchy and I could feel Birdy nearby. He was going on about a plan and we couldn’t focus so Birdy asked him if he could just write it down for us because we were having a bad case of brain fog and he said no,’ Jake lets Marc finish before letting out a small chuckle. 

‘Sorry, I would have told you if I knew you were going to work with him,’ Jake grins, slapping Marc’s back. 

‘Tell me what?’ Marc asks, narrowing his eyes. 

‘Dude’s blind. He wasn’t trying to be an ass, he just can’t see,’ 

‘Oh.’ Marc turns white, as if all the blood rushed out his head, staring off blankly. ‘How long have you known him?’ He follows with a murmur after a minute. 

Still smiling, Jake answers, ‘Years, before the blip. He’s my lawyer. How come?’ 

‘I don’t know if it was Birdy or Steven or me even but someone called him a pretentious ableist two-legged-rat,’ he drops his head, pressing his palms into his eyes, ‘and then he said ‘you really weren’t joking about your memory issues, huh’ and I allegedly punched him straight in the face.’

He did what?

Jake can’t help himself, he throws his head back with laughter, echoing throughout the room. He can’t even remember that last time something made him laugh this much,  ‘Oh my God, Marc, that’s hilarious. But please, if you’re going to punch my friends in the face can you at least get it on video?’   

‘Would you still suggest I decline the invitation? Perhaps I can send them an email,’ Mr. Knight redirects, unamused by how off-topic they’ve gotten. 

‘No, we can help. I’ll just stay close. Keep Marc on a lease and all.’ Never missing a chance to tease him, Jake winks before Marc tries to crawl away in shame.

[shurisneakers]

shut in [10]

Summary: When your high profile mission goes terribly wrong, you’re forced to hide in a safehouse with a man you’ve never met before. With seemingly nowhere else to go, you’re forced to work together to figure out who is trying to have you assassinated before it’s too late. (Sam Wilson x Reader, Hitman AU)

Warnings: cursing, anxiety, ptsd, shooting, abuse

Word count: 2.8k

A/N: double digit chapter!!! like 3 parts to go everyoneeee woo!!

i also appreciate feedback so if you would like to, please consider dropping me an ask or comment ly guys!!

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Shut In Masterlist

The nostalgia was strong. 

The last time you and Sam were sitting like this, you were deciding on what to make of the bread supply that was now dwindling. The soup had ran out maybe a day or two ago and you were left with just bread, peanut butter and jelly.

You two had to devise an escape plan. You’d been there long enough and now with Sam making his first public appearance as Mob’s Most Wanted, even if it was for a good cause, there was no doubt that people would be after you.

“What if we go back to Ransone and let the rest sort itself out along the way?”

You made a note of it on the paper but you weren’t very convinced with the idea, not with the realisations you had made along the way.

“Do we know any other hideouts?” you asked instead, tapping the pencil against the paper.

“None that you don’t already know.” He chewed on his lip thoughtfully. “What are your thoughts on caves? Think we can make a bed outta some leaves?”

You wrote down ‘Sam’s cave idea’, just to humour him. Stupid, but more plausible than other options.

“If we make a run for it, what are the chances we’ll survive?”

“With law enforcement, civilians and gang members looking for us, I’d give us about-” you said candidly, “-two months. Three max.”

It wasn’t like you had no experience running from the state, but it was never on this scale. 

“We’d have years if it was only law enforcement, but we had to go get the entire fuckin’ mafia involved,” he huffed in annoyance.

An idea occurred to you that made you pause, but you hated it.

“What if we split up?” you suggested halfheartedly. “It’ll take them more time to find the both of us, if they’re looking for us together.”

When he didn’t reply, you looked up at him from the sheet in front of you.

“We’re not splitting up,” he began steadily, just as you knew he would. “The same people who are after you are after me. We need to stick together.”

“I know. I’m not saying we can’t meet again after that, I’m saying that maybe it’ll be easier for us to hide.”

He couldn’t deny that it wasn't the worst idea, but something didn’t sit right with him. He didn’t want to do it.

“Okay, then how do we find each other after that? When? I don’t have your email; fuck that, I don’t even have your number.”

“We’ll schedule it, I guess,” you murmur, trying to work out the logistics. “Whoever gets there late has to buy ice cream. And I’m particular about the flavour I like.”

You tried to lighten up the mood but he wasn’t having it, as much as he appreciated it.

“I don’t care if it’s more difficult,” he said slowly. “But I’d like us to stick together. Not until we’re out of this mess. Then if you want to never see my face again, which you shouldn’t because it’s beautiful, we’ll go our different ways.”

He was adamant about it, and you knew he’d argue and poke holes into the plan until it didn’t make sense anymore. You weren’t going to argue.

“Okay,” you accepted. “We stick together.”

A smile spread across his face which equated to one of triumph. “You got any other ideas?” 

“We stay right here and fight off whoever comes.”

It was dumb. This place wasn’t yours, and staying here would be a death wish. That didn’t stop you from saying it since neither of you were holding back on implausible ideas.

“This is our house now,” Sam added with determination, playing along.

“Damn right,” you affirmed, cracking a smile at him.

Bringing your attention back, you stared at the list. There is one option you wanted to explore but you weren’t sure if you could because you didn’t have the resources. But he may.

“You got any friends whose help we could use?” you asked cautiously, unsure of how this would play out. 

He continued chewing on his lip for a second like he was analysing all options, before nodding. 

“I got a friend. Well, my only friend,” he corrects himself. “His name’s Riley.”

“He got a place we can stay, this Riley?”

“He does. But I don’t want to involve him. He’s-” he paused, trying to find the right words to frame what he’s thinking “-he’s been through a lot.”

“We’ll leave him alone then,” you assured, realising that it must be a touchy topic for him.

Sam didn’t move on, though. 

“I’m all ears if you want to talk,” you offered. 

He pressed his lips together, giving you a tight smile. He looked like he wanted to say more but was holding back. You reciprocated, hoping it would give him some reassurance, noting how he exhaled softly.

“When I joined the cartel, I didn’t really have anyone to talk to since everyone was much older than I was. Riley was the first friend I made. He was a mouthy li’l one.” Sam smiled wistfully and you found yourself smiling with him. “He talked so much shit and he had the spunk to back it up but he never really got that far because no one wanted to test their luck with him.”

“We spent whatever free time we had together. He didn’t have a family so he and I-” he trailed off but you knew what he was getting at. “Ransone found out. Didn’t like anyone in his stupid squad becoming all buddies because if we turned against him, he knew he’d lose.”

Shared experience. You didn’t have any friends in the organization either; they were always separated from you willingly or by force. You wondered if that’s why you had taken such a liking towards Sam, knowing fully well that it was the first time in years you were able to be friends with someone without having to worry.

“He started pittin’ us against one another. Combat training, preferential treatment, just plain out sabotage. Riley’s the reason my back’s all kinds of fucked up.” He gave a short laugh. “Tried everything he could to make sure we’d stay away or even kill each other if it came to that.”

“But you didn’t.”

“But we didn’t,” he confirmed. “Ransone fuckin’ hated it, so one day, he decided that he’s going to finish it once and for all. Sent us on a fake mission so that we’d be alone together, then told us that only one of us could come back. One of us had to die or else both of us would. Some sick fuckin’ form of entertainment.”

It was exactly something that Ransone would do. Dramatic, vile and utterly despicable, just for his own joy,

Your eyebrows knit together when his eyes glazed over. 

“Riley, he- he didn’t even let me have at the gun. Just straight up chose for the both of us that he was going to be the one who died. He was so tired, of everythin’.” The muscles in your jaw tightened at where this was going. “He didn’t do it though. We figured out another way.”

You didn’t realise how tensed you were until you forced yourself to relax.

“Faked his death.” He shrugged. “It was the only way. Let Ransone believe he bled out and that I buried him behind the warehouse he sent us to. Shot him in the leg to make it look convincing. He’s still got a limp.”

“He made a run for it. Found himself a place in New Orleans, changed his identity, basically made turned into a whole new person. Ransone bought it for a while because I’d make it a point to visit the grave, leave some flowers and shit. Told him that if he messed with it that I’d put a bullet in his head and I was angry enough for him to see that I wasn’t kidding. I knew he’d figure it out eventually but I was hoping I’d get rid of him by then.”

“He lived in New Orleans for years. Never had a problem until recently.”

Sam paused for a second, but it gave you the time to pull up an old conversation you had with him.

“He’s the one Ransone threatened you with,” you connected the dots. “He’s the one he found.”

“Said he’d kill him if I didn’t take out Pierce for him,” his words were bitter, confirming what you said. “Sent me a picture of him in front of his house to prove it.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” you breathed, leaning back. Sam’s situation was more dangerous than you initially thought. Having Riley in the picture just made it more difficult to help Sam get out of the organization, especially since he was now leverage material.

“You asked me once what the scariest thing I had done was.” You didn’t get immediately what he was talking about until you remember the questions you had asked to get to know him better. “It was that. Getting him out of this life and trying not to get caught in the process.”

You didn’t know what to say.

“He’s the only family I got left.” The way his voice dropped made him sound so tired. “He’s already on their radar. If they find out I’m staying with him or that he’s helping in any way, they’ll kill him.”

You didn’t say anything, not like you had anything constructive to offer at that moment.

“That got dark real quick,” he remarked, the corners of his lips quirking upward.

Clearly he didn’t have anyone to talk to about this. To explain the entire thing from the beginning must have drained him completely.

“I’m sorry that you had to go through that,” you said quietly.

He paused for a second, looking like he was thinking to himself.

“Me too.”

______

The sky’s beautiful, you decide.

You could stare at the clouds for hours.

Which is what the both of you have been doing.

“If you fucking say it’s anything other than a dog, I’ll push you off the roof myself.”

“It’s clearly a penguin, Samuel.”

“I hate you.”

The cement was cool against your skin even though there was a blanket serving as a mediator between you and it. The sun nipped at your skin and your back was aching from staying in the same place for a prolonged period.

Sam tended to think better when he was outside, unconstrained by harsh white walls and artificial light. So you grabbed a spare blanket, a bottle of water and the ladder to haul the both of you to the roof. It was filthy, as you expected but you managed to tidy a part of it to the best of your ability before laying the blanket down.

“I know why you brought me up here, Y/N,” he piped up.

You just knew that when you needed some space, he often implored you to go outside. You figured the best way to help him was to do the same, not knowing what else you could have to give.

“Just wanted to let you know that I appreciate it,” he added.

Okay good. It helped.

“That’s a tree.” You pointed upwards, avoiding his gaze.

“You get three more seconds to change that answer to a table.”

“That looks nothing like a table. You’re delusional.”

He laughed, not offering a counter argument.

The outside did him good. He was calmer than when you first came here a few hours ago. He didn’t let his spite towards Ransone show very often, especially at this volume. Talking about Riley only reaffirmed how much he despised the man.

“We need to get out of here eventually, you know?” you mused.

You don’t want to. You don’t want to admit that saying it out loud made it worse.

“We do,” he sounded sure and you wondered if he ever felt bad about it too, “but we need a proper plan.”

The clouds shifted. It looked like a kid on a bike; not that you’d ever tell him. He would never agree.

“We need help,” you stated.

“We can’t.” You knew he’d say that.

“You know we do, Sam.”

“There’s no one out there we can trust.”

You liked that he used ‘we’. The only other times you had been referred to as ‘we’ had been for things so sinister, so violent.

His elbow was touching yours lightly. You wanted to move closer, press against him.

“There’s one person who might be able to.”

He turned to look at you questioningly. You did the same.

You waited till he figured it out on his own. His face shifted the minute it clicked in his head.

“No way.” He turned away, almost laughing out of bewilderment.

“It’s our only option.”

“Then we’ll find another one,” he began to sound more insistent, realising you were being serious. It was a crazy idea, you’d give him that, but it’s the only one you had that had a sure shot of working.

“We’ve tried. You’ve tried. There’s only one way,” you knew that getting annoyed wouldn’t get through to him and you also understood his hesitations. “He’ll help.”

“We don’t know that. It’s too fuckin’ dangerous.” He couldn’t afford that; not this late in the game.

“I know it. Lis- Sam. Look at me,” you commanded gently, and he obeyed reluctantly. “I understand that this is absolutely batshit wild, but I promised I’d help you. This is the only way I can think of. But I need you to trust me.”

He looked unsettled.

He didn’t have anything to go on. Only your word and his faith in you. He could say no and he knew you’d spend countless hours pouring over multiple options just to find another way. He could say no and you’d take it in stride and he wouldn’t have to worry about it. It wasn’t about trusting you, it was about not trusting the others.

But he could also say yes and let you take control, trust your instincts. You had never let him down before and he knew you wouldn’t now. He could say yes and help you work on one solid plan that had equal chances of failing as it did being a success, but it was something that you could be sure of.

“I’ll tell you this though, Sam. You always have a choice.”

He felt your fingers trace at his face patiently. He scooted closer, letting your bodies press gently against each other.

“Okay,” he whispered. “I trust you.”

He didn’t know if he made the right choice or not, but the smile that appeared on your face made him think that maybe he did.

God, he was done for.

___

“You ready?” you asked him.

“No, but what the hell; let’s do it.”

You let it ring right to the very end.

“Hello.” It seemed gratuitous at this point because you knew the conversation wouldn’t proceed with that.

“Code?”

“1993.”

“Y/N. Hello,” his voice came back loud and clear.

“Hey.” You snuck a glance at Sam. He was completely stiff.

“How are you?”

“I’ve been… good,” you admitted.

“Oh?” he sounded amused. “That’s a change.”

“Yeah.” You shifted on your feet awkwardly. “Listen, I need help.”

“Help with?”

“We need to get out of here. We can’t do it without you. I mean we can, but it’d be better if you lent a hand.”

“When you say ‘we’, you’re referring to…”

“Me.” Sam stepped forward towards the phone. You shifted it so it was between you.

“Oh, hello,” he sounded surprised, and he had good reason to be. “You know about-”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Y/N, you trust him?”

“Yeah,” you looked up at Sam, “I do.”

“Alright. If shit goes wrong, you’re both fucked. I’m not taking any responsibility.”

“We get that,” you sighed. “Can you help or not?”

There was a momentary silence on the other end as he thought.

“Tell me what you had in mind.”

“We got a hit.”

They turned away from their conversation with the person walking beside them at the interruption.

“This better be important.” They gestured to their companion who looked annoyed at being interrupted. He was too dangerous to have on anyone’s bad side but the agent didn’t care. This was crucial.

“Someone saw him. Wilson.” He was breathless from the flight of stairs he had run to come upstairs.

“Where?” They could hardly believe their ears, restraining to contain the excitement that was threatening to rise.

“A town, miles away from Pierce’s place. Said he roamed around looking for a store, bought some food and then left.” His eyes shone. “We think we might know where they are. A rough sketch at least. Couldn’t follow him too far because he kept checking.”

“Finally,” their face gleamed, completely discarding the guest they had and the confusion on his face. “Some good fucking news.”

“Do you want us to put a hit out on them?” The relief the agent felt was almost overwhelming. His partner may have died but it didn’t look like he was going to.

“No,” they said crisply, certainly. “This one’s on me.”

Next part

[watevermelon]

Cheater!Akaashi x Reader

✧ Summary: (Continuation) Akaashi apologizes to the reader, seeing her genuinely happy without him (MSBY Black Jackals Era) [forgiving/peaceful end]

A/N : Slight spoilers if you aren’t caught up to 392 ;) (reader ends up with our home-boy Konoha) ➳  Masterlist ➳  Part One

--------xXxXxXxXxXx--------

Walking away from Akaashi was one of the hardest things you had ever done in your high school career. He was the picture perfect boyfriend, the one you even wanted to spend the rest of your life with. Everything about him, from his kindness to his charming good-looks, you wanted to wake-up to it every day for the rest of your life.

Until one day, you just didn’t.

And from then on, so much as a thought about Akaashi set your heart aflame, ready to fight the setter with your bare hands. You had your friends to guide you through it all, even Konoha had drawn closer to you in your circle. And with time, it was easier to breathe in the halls of Fukurodani. Some people had pushed for details regarding your separation, especially since Akaashi was suddenly romantically attached to a certain captain, but the setter had adamantly requested for the others to leave you alone.

He had pursued you three times since your break, basically pleading with you to listen from his perspective.

You always said no.

And life moved on. Akaashi became the captain of the Fukurodani Volleyball team, both Konoha and Bokuto graduating to attend college nearby. Yukie, Haruki - all the older faces that you had come to know had finally left the school for good. And while some members of your friend group also graduated, it was bittersweet goodbyes for your worst year of high school.

Time really does heal wounds and you found yourself often forgetting all about the setter that broke your heart.

In high school, everything can feel like the end of the world. Whether it be a low grade, drama within your friend group, or even breaking up with some stupid person you called a boyfriend - it incited that deep curling feeling that just felt like: that was it. The end of the world as you knew it.

And in some ways that was true, but that wasn’t always a bad thing.

Now as a graduate-school senior, you had long accepted that there were still plenty of moments that felt like that. There was always going to be drama somewhere and some absolute sadist of a professor who liked to hand you a new asshole.

And it was not like you were suddenly a pro at handling these feelings. You still had doubts, worries, but this was all pushed back with your own brand of confidence built on the foundation of your earlier teenage years. With your friends, both new and old, you were ready to take on the world.

But first, final exams.

You were basically shut out to your roommates, either sheltering yourself in your room or in the library to get some good studying in. One of them was trying to follow a similar route, but she often got distracted by social media or newly released video games. The other had accepted her faith long ago, joking that the most she studied was during the breaks of the test.

And after having shared a class with her last semester, you found out it was not a joke.

There was only one class that you were particularly worried about and the final was tomorrow night. There were minimal distractions throughout today, even your boyfriend of almost a year was busy with his own classes and so the both of you were cooped up, mutually suffering at different colleges. 

It was only until this afternoon, did your focus break, nothing helping what you received today. On your coffee table was a simple letter, but you recognized the hand-writing even after all these years.

It was a personally written invitation to a professional volleyball game, home-court to the MSBY Black Jackals.

Bokuto and Akaashi had invited you.

The moment you received it, you called your boyfriend to see if he got one as well. Apparently, everyone from the old Fukurodani volleyball club got an invite. And, in addition to their crew, you had gotten one as well.

Your boyfriend assured you that if you were not comfortable with going, then that was it. Neither of you would attend. But you smiled at him surely, saying that anything regarding the two was long behind you. That was honestly the case, any memories of Akaashi brought forth a sad numbness, but nothing else. There was nothing you had to say to him, but you didn’t exactly want to hold back your boyfriend from being present at their reunion.

Slapping at your cheeks, you reminded yourself that you needed to focus on studying.

And so a week later, excelling with flying colors on that absolute bastard of a final, you mentally prepared yourself to see Akaashi and Bokuto for the first time in years. There would be no easy way to have that conversation, but with a group this large, you hoped that there would be no one-on-one time with either of them.

Sporting a loose denim jacket and leggings, you tried your best casual look for the night. Pulling it up into a high ponytail, you rushed over to the front of the dorm when the doorbell expectedly rang.

“Hey.” Konoha greeted you warmly, pulling you into a light peck in greeting. You murmured it back against his lips, happy to feel it curl into a smile against your own.

You hadn’t started dating until you were both in a few years into college, having kept in touch long after high school as you both attended schools in Tokyo. You went to the same college as Haruki and that was the silent lifeline between your relationship. From college parties to general hangouts, Haruki was a true bro and Konoha was relentless in his pursuit of your friendship.

It wasn’t like a sudden rush overnight or like the clouds had shifted to rain sunshine down on Konoha. It was simple, you liked Konoha and wanted to go out with him. He was more than just a friendly face or a wielder of cold humor. The previous volleyball player had a genuinely kind-soul that was more than just another person from Fukurodani.

You remembered how easy it was to be genuinely happy with Konoha. It made you want to do the same for him, to put a smile on his face and remind yourself what it was like to truly be needed.

The first time the two of you kissed, it was before you were even officially dating. You two had separated from the cluster of college teens, far away from the bustle of the house-party as you sat on the edge of the property. There was a pool a ways behind you, but you had sat together under a tree together and looked up at the night sky.

The stars weren’t visible from Tokyo, the lights of the city keeping them hidden from view. But that hadn’t stopped the two of you from thinking the sky was beautiful that night, laying back side-by-side as you talked to each other candidly.

“Professor Magnolia puts the mystery in chemistry.” You complained to Konoha.

He chuckled at your awful pun, probably more out of pity than actual amusement, you wondered. Replying back, “You still did pretty well in that class.”

“I don’t want to hear it from you, mister 4.0 GPA.” You quipped, a teasing smile on your face that he recognized.

“I could always give you some private lessons.” Konoha joked, but you both knew the suggestive line that was there. He seemed to recognize it and back off immediately, “Unless, of course -”

“I want you to.” You interrupted him.

Yes, you were the more aggressive party when it came to your relationship. At least, at the start. Konoha has been your friend forever. And there was no denying that the young man was plenty attractive and very handsome. But you tended to wonder if he was ever interested in bringing it to another step.

Whenever implications got too serious, or your mutual teasing had lingered a little too long, Konoha would make sure to put a wide berth of space between and the line. You honestly appreciated this very much, since Konoha was aware of your space and never encroached on your friendship. And it was not like he had put a complete damper on your relationship either, openly flirting back with you when you tried. 

Instead, Konoha put the ball entirely in your court.

You wanted this? You had to come and get it.

“Are you being serious?” Konoha asked as he sat-up, face serious as he contemplated your last statement.

But you smiled at him as you leaned closer, “Yes.”

He reflected your expression back at you, the both of you rising to stand for whatever reason. Konoha always towered over you, but now you were more aware of that fact as you looped your arms around his neck. You gravitated toward one another, lips meeting in a chaste peck before you deepened the kiss.

But it was not like your relationship depended on you making the first move, no way. Konoha was very attentive to the communication within your relationship. Once you made it clear that you were comfortable, he would make the move you both wanted.

From your first kiss to the first night you shared together, you nearly whipped your bra at him the week before to make sure he got the message.

And he definitely got the message.

Konoha went from your sudden high-school protector to the one you desperately wanted to spend your life with. You would do anything to keep your relationship steady and would feel your heart surge when he would whisper back similar thoughts.

And now here your boyfriend was, picking you up at the dorms before the both of you attended a MSBY Black Jackals game. You honestly never thought that this would happen. Konoha had attended some in the past, along with Haruki and the rest. It was never something that bothered you either, they were his best friends and he hadn’t done anything wrong.

You just never thought you’d be attending one together, at the invitation of your ex-boyfriend no less.

But you continued on anyway, waving goodbye to your roommates and taking Konoha’s hand as he guided you through the bustle of Shibuya. He held your hand tightly and you would squeeze back when you got closer to the arena, the large poster of current volleyball pro’s coming into view.

You had seen lots of images of Bokuto in his professional career. He was basically a household name now, a reliable outside hitter to one of the best Division 1 teams in all of Japan. There were highlights of him on social media and he had even starred in multiple commercials by now.

But the image of Bokuto never really lingered in your mind. He was always a passing thought, like you knew that he existed, but never really registered it that it was true. Seeing a huge poster with many unknown faces except the owl-haired man really brought back this fact.

Scanning your tickets, you were surprised when you were guided to another area. You and Konoha were being guided to a club box, a reserved area for larger groups to mingle together during sports events.

Many of the others during that Fukurodani volleyball club golden age were already present. You had caught up with Yukie in the past year, the nutritionist still as insatiable with food as ever. Haruki was probably the one you were closest to, since the actor and you kept in touch after receiving your undergraduate degrees in college.

He had even called you a few days before, saying that he heard from Konoha that the Akaashi and Bokuto had invited you as well. Your well-intentioned friend suggested doing something to their kneecaps even now, after all these years, but you said it was not necessary.

You had a feeling of why they wanted you here.

It was written out plainly in Akaashi’s letter: to apologize.

That was when you realized that you had never actually received one before. Akaashi was quick with excuses and even more desperate to have you hear his side, but never had the setter actually said the words, ‘I’m sorry,’ over what he had done to you.

And it was not like you need to hear it after all these years. It was something you were long over at this point, not even an issue.

But it made you wonder why now of all times was Akaashi asking to do this.

It was more like, if he needed to say it, then you were patient enough to finally listen.

Konoha said that the moment you needed an out, he would give it. There was already a back-up plan that could be in motion the very second you think it would be necessary. The two boys had made it the night before - Konoha getting a bad call from his family (actually Haruki calling him) and, if need be, he could cry on cue to get you two out of there.

You laughed and called them idiots.

And to your ultimate surprise, neither Akaashi nor Bokuto made an appearance before the game. You were mingling with the group when the announcer started introducing the teams. Those around you were making comments, talking about the young Hinata Shoyou from Miyagi or how the absolute bane-of-their-high-school-existence Sakusa Kiyoomi was now ironically on the same team as Bokuto.

You watched a volleyball game for the first time in seven years. The last game ever being the one before you broke it off with Akaashi. This was different in every way possible - the quick calculate looks of the setter Atsumu Miya. It was nothing like how Akaashi used to look at Bokuto, not how you remembered at least.

And you were actually enraptured in the game, interested eyes watching as the ball launched at high-speeds to each side of the court. At some point, Konoha placed a casual hand across the back of your seat, joking with Haruki that nothing less than food would get your attention.

It was only seven minutes into the first-set that Akaashi made his appearance.

You heard him before you saw him, some of the others greeting him as he strolled in late. In his hands was a box covered by a large plastic bag, apparently an order from Onigiri Miya that ended up taking longer than expected. He greeted everyone individually in his cool, yet quiet voice.

Konoha and you stood together, walking over to greet him with your hands clasped together. Akaashi greeted the both of you warmly, a half-smile at you before his eyes dropped to your hands. There was no hiding the length of his gaze before he was called to the side by someone else, thanking him for the invitation.

It was strange and felt like anything but normal, but at least this wasn’t the catastrophe you were somewhat expecting.

Akaashi turned to the both of you once his attention was freed, “Thank you both for coming. Let’s continue this later after the game, once Kōtarō is free as well.”

You nodded, mustering the best neutral smile you could. Konoha did the same before you made your way back to the seats. Akaashi continued to mingle with the others from high school, never taking a seat and standing watch over the game. One thing that hadn’t changed since your teen days was how much Bokuto stood out, on the court and just simply in person.

While you would’ve liked to have shouted or yelled at either boy at the time, you did not hold any malicious intent after. Never had you thought of outing them to the school or ruining their reputations. Life was hard enough with high-school drama, this was not something you wanted to draw out.

Once it was all said and done, you just wanted to move on.

And seeing Bokuto did not bring back a sudden surge of unhappiness or fight in you. Rather, you felt a small drop of happiness that he was pursuing his dream. But that was quickly squashed down when you remembered the last time you saw him on a volleyball court.

Konoha held your hand the whole way through, you could feel his gaze in the corner of your peripheral. It was sweet, he was making sure that you were truly okay with this, not just saying that you were. Haruki teased that the two of you were too disgustingly cute, to which Konoha just lifted your joined hands and placed a light peck to the side of your head.

You felt Akaashi’s eyes on you then.

You begged yourself not to look, there was nothing in the world that could ever excuse what he did to you. You told yourself that you were over this, that this toxic feeling would not engulf you back then and certainly not now. There was nothing that would grant him mercy.

You looked anyway.

His bright blue eyes were looking right at you. There was no pretend smile this time, no mask he could put on in time to show that he was as neutral as he was before. Instead, you knew what was crawling at the edges of his expression - sadness, jealous, regret. 

It was only when you shared eye-contact that it lit your nerves aflame. He was openly staring back, his eyes almost pleading with you to say something. The look made you tighten your hold in Konoha’s hand. You were filling with something from the pit of your stomach. Not with hurt, but more like worry. Why would Akaashi and Bokuto even invite you here if he was still lingering on those feelings?

You had to wrestle your gaze away, turning back to the gaze and leaning further into Konoha. He wrapped a lazy arm around your shoulder, pulling you and steadying you toward him. You were able to remind yourself that, this time, you were definitely not alone. Even though Akaashi was still looking at you, you refused to turn back and it was only when Konoha turned did you wonder what was going on.

You watched your boyfriend turn to Akaashi and wave, shooting a kind smile which served as a placating look of feigned obliviousness, before lightly kissing the side of your head.

Akaashi turned away then.

You smiled to yourself, thinking no one else had seen the interaction. But Konoha knew you well and even playfully called you out in a low voice, “Oh? You liked that?”

“What? I can’t appreciate my own knight in shining armor?” You teased back, earning you a teasing pinch to your side.

“We’re here for a couple more hours, try not to seduce me any further.”

“Wha!” You contested as he flicked your forehead, “I was not.”

But Konoha just smirked at you, a fond expression on his face before turning back to the game. “You’re cuter than you give yourself credit for.”

You felt your cheeks flush, this was hardly the first time that he had said something like this. But somehow it always lit your cheeks aflame anyway.

The rest of the game went by very quickly, with your attention distracted to your boyfriend on your right. It was the simple things that you found so attractive - even so much as the small veins protruding in his arms when he flexed.

It was hot, ngl.

When the game ended, you were bracing yourself for something. Bokuto made his way to the reserved box, his loud voice above the crowd as many moved forward to greet him. You waited to the side, only moving when there was space to actually get a word in.

“(L/N)-san.” Bokuto greeted back, “I’m glad you came.”

He gave Konoha a high-five that progressed into a side-hug, boys. Somehow they had this handshake that you had never really seen before between the two.

“We hope to move this reunion back to our apartment.” Akaashi announced, many of the group agreed since it was a night before the weekend and no work the next day. They filled out individually, the rambunctious group loud against the cold walls. Haruki and Yukie lingered, you were sure since it was because you were still there.

You looked toward Konoha, there was no doubt that he would want to join in with his old-friends. Not that you really minded, it was just that now it was going to be taking place in the shared home of the two people who cheated on you. Were you mentally prepared to sit in a place that showcased all of their memories?

With the box emptying out, Akaashi approached the two of you first, “This may be the only semblance of quiet we have for the night.”

“Yeah.” You replied dumbly, unsure what to say. Konoha did not let go of your hand.

Yukie edged out of the room, but held-up a cell-phone motion as if she would call you to give you an out if needed. Haruki followed, but their pace was slow and their footsteps halted outside the door. They were probably going to wait, but just gave you your privacy. Bokuto was leaning against the wall by the door, waiting for the three of you.

“This has been drawn out for too long.” Akaashi continued once the door closed behind them, “I wanted to apologize for everything I did to you.”

“Oh?”

“You didn’t deserve it.” He stated, his kind-eyes now reflecting determination toward you, “I’ve long realized how selfish I was, trying to have both of your feelings. And it made me ashamed to think that I had never even properly apologized to you. I was so eager to speak, but never the right thing back then.”

You smiled, but said nothing. Not that you were unhappy, just overwhelmed with how earnest his apology was. You hadn’t expected Akaashi to be so genuinely repentant.

“You deserve all the happiness I could never give you and more.” Akaashi continued, his eyes lifting toward Konoha before dropping back to you. “I am so, so sorry.”

“Accepted.” You replied with an uneven smile, out-stretching a hand for him to take. Akaashi jumped at the chance, eagerly shaking your hand before shooting a grin back at you.

“Hey! Hey!” Bokuto started as he clapped a hand on Akaashi’s back, “And I’m sorry for keeping it a secret also, but...”

“But you loved him.” You finished for him. There was a time you wanted to step on Bokuto’s neck, but now you just felt nothing but understanding.

“That was a pretty dick move of me.” Bokuto continued.

“No hard feelings.” You replied back, earning a playful slap on the back from the wing-spiker that definitely hurt more than it was meant to.

“You were always the nicest one, (L/N)!” He said with a smile before turning to Konoha, “You’ve got a real catch here.”

Konoha smiled as he moved his hand to your waist and squeezed, “And I’ll never let her go.”

You gave him a similar smile, looking up at your boyfriend at feeling a fondness settle in your stomach over his kind yet protective nature. He looked down at you and couldn’t stop himself from lightly pecking you on the lips at that moment.

Bokuto let out a playful bristle and Akaashi shot you another one of his wistful smiles, but that was the least of your worries.

It had been a long time since you put those high-school days behind you. But there was a certain happiness, a content feeling inside you that had suddenly fostered at hearing his apology. You were more than ready to move onto your future, this toxic memory nothing but a stepping stone from your past.

➳  Masterlist ➳  Part One

[secretgamergirl]

A Little Horrifying Primer on Transphobes

Some time ago, I put together a Little Fact Checking Primer on Trans People, as a basic resource for disabusing people of some of the many completely ridiculous yet absurdly widespread beliefs about trans people that simply have no basis whatsoever in reality. And wouldn’t you know it, every single lie exposed in that primer is not only still widely believed, but is presently being used as a basis to sign some absolutely horrific human rights abuses into law. So it’s high time I follow that up, in this case focused more on who keeps actively spreading these lies and why. I’m going to try and keep things as light as I can here, but we’re going to be looking at the most monstrous side of human nature, so apologies in advance if this is a dark read.

First, let me just note that there are two things I don’t plan to do in this piece. I’m not going to waste time debunking the arguments of the people I’m highlighting (much of this is already covered in my earlier primer, others have done the work in cases where I haven’t, and frankly these people’s claims should be self-evidently utter nonsense to begin with). I am also going to be very selective in what I link to, or even share related images of, as I would frankly not like to fill a post on a blog I generally try to keep safe for all audiences with media directly dealing with, for instance, child sexual assault, and much of the relevant information also involves stochastic terrorism against innocent people, and I would prefer not to throw more fuel onto such fires.

Transphobes lie constantly, about everything.

To some degree this is obvious. We’re talking about people who scaremonger about the possibilities of trans women dominating competitive sports and assaulting people in restrooms, despite the status quo already reflecting the conditions they insist would make these inevitibilities for decades and centuries respectively, and their grim visions never once having come to pass, and also constantly insisting that the woman in the photo below is actually a man, going further to say this is evident to anyone giving her the merest glance.

It goes beyond that though. There’s at least a little plausible deniablity in claims like this, or that “science is on their side” if they were simply uninformed about the world they live in, never actually looking into what laws exist, what science actually says, and never actually meeting a trans person or even seeing a picture of one of us. I’m talking really bold lies here. Like wholecloth fabricating a story that a convicted murder was trans, including anecdotes about wigs dresses and a planned name change, in a major newspaper. Or to cite an old favorite of mine, the time a pack of bigots walked up to a crowd of people peacefully picketing a transphobic legal proposal, started roughing them up and taking closeup photos of members of the crowd to stalk online when they got home, got sufficiently riled up for one to straight up assault an innocent person half her size, filmed the whole thing, uploaded it to youtube, and used stills of that assault as acomanying photos when they went home to write articles about the assailant being a “grandmother” attacked by rowdy trans women. And yes, they did monkey’s paw my wish to see that specific image on newspapers. Interesting side note, when it came to real public light that J.K. Rowling endorsed this sort of hatred, it was because she accidentally pasted some profanity laden rambling about how the imagined moral character of the other party in that incident, years after the fact, into a post praising a child’s fan art of her work.

To be a little less niche, transphobes can’t get enough of spreading the lie that the young fellow in this photo is a girl. Specifically a trans girl, providing proof that all their scaremongering about the dastardly threat of trans girls in competitive sports has finally come to pass.

To be fully clear, that’s a man (or a boy if you want to split hairs about him being 17 in that photo). Mack Beggs. A rather insidious choice for this sort of story, considering the actual context for that photo. See, Beggs attended high school in Texas, during a (still ongoing as I write this) period wherein that particular state had caved to this exact sort of propaganda, and in order to head off a wholly imagined wave of trans girls competing on girls’ sports teams, and enacted a law mandating that in all such competitions must compete under whatever gender is stated on their birth certificates. And as it happens, the first, and to my knowledge ONLY time this has come up was with Beggs here, who again, is a man, as no one with a grip on reality could argue against, has “female” on his birth certificate. Which is another way of saying he is a trans man. The guys in the same boat as trans women who we talk about a whole hell of a lot less because their existence is extremely inconvenient to the majority of transphobic propaganda. Case in point. And this is all information it is really impossible to come across if you’re coming across this photo in any sort of respectable source. Take this story, which is as unambiguous about this as you can get. And yet, in the very comments section of that story, there they are. Carrying on like this story about a trans guy, forced by a transphobic law to compete as a girl, which he absolutely did not want, and received horrific threats over, using phrases like “female to male” and bringing up that he was assigned female at birth and is on testosterone-based HRT, is about a trans woman cheating the system. Or to quote word for word, “Now also transgender female want to be male also compete in female sport. biological born“ That’s not “being confused,” that’s standing next to you in a white desert and complaining about being adrift in a black ocean, bald-faced, not even trying to be convincing just make a power play, lying through one’s teeth.

I could spend this whole article on just this point. Lying about who they are, various people’s falsified credentials, whole websites full of “anonymous parents of children who think they’re trans” turning out to be one single woman documenting the abuse of her very much trans son, or of course the people behind the whole “bathroom bill” panic candidly admitting it was all based on utter fiction. I do have other points to cover though.

Transphobes are firmly entrenched in the media.

It is extremely difficult to find oneself in a position of having to explain to people that a particular group of people is effectively in control of press outlets, as that is rather classically a claim conspiracy theorists absolutely love to toss around at various marginalized groups (including trans people hilariously enough, but of course the most common and lingering version of this is the antisemitic variant). I really can’t get around it here though. Specifically in the U.K., you honestly can say that transphobes control the media. I already touched on this with the assault case I mentioned above and the fabricated story about the murderer, but this is a pretty well-documented situation. I mean, even The Guardian calls out The Guardian on this, and that’s the outlet that gets the most attention because it’s the one with the most otherwise respected name, but every paper in the country has been running transphobic propaganda pieces on a weekly if not daily basis for years now, and while they do get reprimanded by watchdog groups and have mass walk-outs over the worst of it, it’s not like there’s some governing body with the authority to step in about it. Meanwhile the BBC is constantly inviting diehard zealots like Graham Linehan to news programs where he compares being trans to being a nazi, and hosting debates where someone just sits down and repeatedly chants the word “penis” at a trans woman.

Things are better in the rest of the world, but we still have right-wing creeps like Jesse Singal both writing horrific propaganda pieces (we’ll get back to that one) and blackballing trans writers out of covering trans issues ourselves (and personally stalking the hell out of those of us who try). We’ve got our Joe Rogans and Tucker Carlsons out there (no way in hell I’m linking videos here, have a real information link and a still).

The line between diehard transphobes and straight-up nazis basically does not exist.

What even is there to say here? You can easily poke around havens for nazi activity for yourself and compare the particular unique vocabulary used there to the primary bastion of anti-trans hate speech on the internet (the “feminism” section of what was originally a site for parenting tips before violent fascists took the forums over) or just peruse the follows of the thousands of people I’ve blocked on social media and see if you can sort out a clear division in the networks of channers with frog avatars and the accounts with names like GoodieXXrealwoman, or you can read up on Gab and Spinster, the two twitter alternatives that are just different portals to the same server, set up by the same guy. Maybe do some research into “the LGB Alliance,” or WoLF but any way you slice it the only real difference to be found is the general purpose nazis take a little time off now and then to watch borderline pedophilic anime and the really dedicated transphobes think to use language that sounds vaguely well-educated and left-leaning. I mean, this came from the “feminist” side of the fence:

And not to belabor the point here, but the ones claiming to be a bunch of “feminist mums” sure do let the mask slip any time they’re confronted with the fact that “women” includes black women, and oh just have a whole thread about all the weird conspiratory theories these people have about how trans people’s whole existence is some sort of Jewish plot for world domination. I swear a few months ago they were all passing around a story about some bank having an above average number of trans employees and they were all just “and we all know who controls the banks, right?” about it.

Transphobes endorse an awful lot of people who are openly pro-pedophila.

This is the part where I am really loath to link the many many specific examples I have on hand. Or to talk about this at all for reasons of good taste. Or, for that matter, to talk about this in a tumblr post when there’s an ongoing problem of people with backgrounds strongly tied to this site making baseless accusations of pedophilia against every queer person they can find, so let me be very clear just what I’m talking about while avoiding anything too graphic.

That’s James Cantor. Transphobes love him for being one of the closest things they have to a scientist on their side. And I am featuring him in a screenshot here showing that he is followed by current queen of the transphobes J.K. Rowling, while speaking to both another big name in transphobic circles, Debra Soh, and based on their names, what I’m guessing is at least one straight-up nazi. And in case you think “the P” he’s talking about adding to LGBT (or “GLBT” as weird anti-queer bigots who also have issues with women often write it) might stand for “poly” or “pan” he’s all too happy to clarify that.

This is the entire thrust of Cantor’s work and life. He is the world’s biggest pedophile rights advocate. He wants it declassified as a mental disorder, all stigma on it removed, and tirelessly pushes forward the idea that the majority of.. people who feel compelled to sexually assault children are good people who present no potential harm to anyone and should in fact be lauded.

I am not generally one to claim that someone with a PhD is spewing out questionable garbage with regard to their field, but the reason I am aware of Cantor at all is that other transphobes keep trying to hold up a particular post on his blog as "a study” (which it is not) that offers “proof” (in the form of a blurry jpeg of basically some random numbers) of some ridiculous quackery about how trans kids will “grow out of it” if exposed to conversion therapy (another way of saying torture), which Cantor himself seems to be pushing, so I am somewhat skeptical of his academic chops. And I am, of course, REALLY suspicious that all these other bigots gravitate to him purely because they’re that desperate to find anyone with a PhD in anything that backs them up against literally every scientist in a relative field, to the point that they merely forgive his particular advocacy they are plainly all aware of, particularly when such a common fig leaf used by transphobes is “keeping children safe from sexual deviants.”

And of course, Cantor is most often invoked when coming to the defense of Kenneth Zucker. This Kenneth Zucker.

Those are separate papers. Zucker isn’t controversial though for organizing panels to discuss how attractive people agree small children are (at least not exclusively). Mostly, he’s known for running a conversion therapy center which subjected gay and trans children to various sorts of torture in an effort to “fix” them, which at least for those trans "patients” I have spoken with involved a fair amount of having them strip completely naked and talking a lot about their genitals.

Zucker is something of a controversial figure with the transphobic scene, as they are extremely on board with his sexual torture of queer children, but he does actual work (for some value of the term) involving trans people and thus is not able to commit as fully as they would prefer to making life horrible for trans people, due to a professional obligation to acknowledge reality now and then. As an aside, the similarly positioned Ray Blanchard, while not to my knowledge particularly interested in the attractiveness of children, lives in a similar purgatory of trying to reconcile his career, bigotry, and sexual hangups, yielding compromises like this:

Of course, that’s just looking at the straws transphobes grasp at when looking for scientific credibility. Real leaders of the movement include Germaine Greer, author of The Beautiful Boy, which is about what you are afraid it might be, and features a very young child in a cover feature he did not consent to posing for. Or Julie Bindel, who among other things is rather infamous for writing whole articles on subjects like whether a teenage girl she came across maybe has a huge penis you can totally see if you really squint at her skirt. Again, I will not share a link to go along with that one.

Transphobes terrorize and attempt to defund charities and other unambiguously good organizations.

Graham Linehan, previously best known for cowriting some sitcoms and possibly spending a year angling to get into my pants so awkwardly I didn’t pick up on it is now best known for trying to pull the plug on a children’s charity, in a story that somehow also involves Donkey Kong. Well, and the interview about nazis. And possibly the other interview about “defending me from nazis” until it got into his head that I might not be as young and hot as he imagined. Rather not link to a far right extremist youtube channel though.

There’s also a current effort to replace Stonewall (an organization named after the location where a pair of trans women kicked off a riot which is generally agreed to be the start of the LGBT+ rights movement) as the UK’s primary LGBT+ rights organization with the “LGB Alliance.” The hate group mentioned above, with the skull face and the rifle. Closest I can find to an article on that effort on short notice that isn’t propaganda.

Transphobes paper areas in truly disgusting propaganda.

I don’t want to directly link to grown adults skulking around children’s playgrounds and bathrooms plastering surfaces with mass printed stickers of crudely drawn penises, but would encourage you to read this very long post, being sure to load all the images, to really understand how deeply strange this behavior gets.

Finally, I cannot stress this enough, this really extreme behavior I’m citing, and the specific people involved in the examples I’m giving, these aren’t random cranks on the fringe of things. The people going on televised panel discussions, writing up news stories, and testifying before lawmakers in efforts to pass horrifically discriminatory if not literally life-endangering laws (there is a major ongoing effort to legally end all medical care for trans people, and I don’t just mean care directly relating to being trans) are literally the same people involved in the sexualization of children, nazi collaborations, and roving gangs assaulting people in the street. At a bare minimum I urge people, when booking guests and handing out writing contracts, to do background checks and see if they’re platforming actual terrorists. If we could actually bring legal consequences to bear against the worst of this, that would be great too. As things stand though, the whole world is just consistently citing a bunch of racist, woman-hating, serial liars with no real credentials, and questionable attitudes towards the sexual abuse of children, as “trusted experts” and refusing to seat actual trans people or people who have legitimately committed lifetimes to academic and practical work with trans people any seats at the table.

[flightsoffandom]

Co-Conspirators

Pairs: Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Words: 5421

Summary: Getting your career at the BAU started gets interesting when you realize you're attracted to your boss.

Warnings: None

Notes: Left completely gender-neutral. I had been interested in watching Criminal Minds for a long time, but a friend of mine finally got me to start it. Suffice to say my damn ass completely fell for Hotch. Was there other things I was planning on writing… Yes… but I couldn't help myself. Hopefully, now my obsession will chill out enough I can work on other projects for a bit.

I found this writing prompt @witterprompts​ and went with it. The original prompt is below.

"Look, I think it's a fairly simple question. Do you or don't you want me to work with you?"

Continuation of Co-Conspirators –Part 1*–Part 2–Part 3–Part 4–Part 5 –Part 6

You had initially gone to college for something completely different. Or at least you planned on using your degree for something else.  One of your classes had Jason Gideon come in as a guest speaker, which sparked an epiphany. So you picked up some extra classes and buckled down, reading as many books as you could on the subject, David Rossi’s books were among the ones you read. Whatever college social life you may have had was put on the back burner, so you could pour all your energy into learning. It took a lot of hard work, but you managed to do it. You wanted to help people. This seemed like one of the best ways you could do that. When you were ready, you pushed ahead and got an interview with the Behavioral Analysis Unit at Quantico.

    You had been beyond nervous. For the past few years, you had been training for this moment. So you steeled yourself before going into the FBI building. You made sure to wear something very professional, wanting to make an excellent first impression. Walking into the building was easy enough. When you got into the BAU area, you saw some of the other employees there. They were already watching you. It was easy to tell that they knew you were there for the job opening. While you walked up the stairs, you tried to absorb all the information around you. You reached the office and knocked on a door that read 'S.S.A. Aaron Hotchner', the man who would be interviewing you. You heard a voice call you in. You were thrown off when you entered Hotchner's office. He was older than you, but even with that scowl sculpted into his face, you immediately found him attractive. So that caused you to begin your interview precariously. You knew he was a profiler, so you did your best to bury your attraction to him. Agent Hotchner was your boss. You were going to handle this professionally. You closed the door behind you, "Nice to meet you, Agent Hotchner." You introduce yourself as you take a few steps closer before stopping a respectable distance from him. Hotchner motions to the chair on the other side of his desk, "Sit. Despite what the other profilers might say, I don't bite." You chuckle, moving to sit in the chair. Hotchner moved some papers around on his overflowing desk, “Hotch is fine.” He looked over what seemed to be your personal file. You weren't sure what to expect before you came here. There were rumors about the team and gossip sure. Agent Hotchner was supposed to be intimidating and mean. While he gave off those vibes at first glance, that wasn’t the feeling you got from Hotch when you took a second to read him. Hotch looked up at you from your file, “Your look qualified for the job, but you’re young. What makes you better for this job than other applicants with more experience.” You hum, quickly thinking to yourself. You make sure to thoroughly look around the room, trying to get every detail. You look back at your interviewer, “There are no other applicants.” You said with a very matter the fact tone. Hotch leans back in his chair, a ghost of a smirk on his face. “What makes you say that?” You sit up enough to get another look at the files on his desk, “All these files are paperwork for cases, the dates, and how they are labeled. Applications aren’t labeled like that.” Hotch narrows his eyes at you, signaling for you to continue. You smile, “You don’t have any other applications on your desk. Which means either I’m your last applicant or there were no others. ” You glance down at your watch, “Judging by the time of day, the stacks of paperwork on your desk, and the bags under your eyes, you don’t have a lot of time for interviews. This is why you’re doing this on your lunch break, and I don’t think you’ve actually eaten lunch yet. I imagine you would have scheduled all your interviews in one day to get it taken care of quickly. Limited time, limited people you are willing to bring in and try to fit into your already busy schedule. I'm guessing that I am the only applicant.” You pause and shrug, “I suppose I could also be the only application you deemed had enough potential.” Hotch leaned forward again, closing your file, “Can you start tomorrow?”

    You curiously peek at the papers on his desk. Interestingly trying to see if you missed anything as you respond, “I can start right now if you need me too…” You pause for a second, before looking back up at Hotch, “Was I right?” Hotch tucks your file away, “Yes.” You perk up. You had done exercises in classes and during training, but you always found them too easy. So being able to test your skills on something more challenging and being right was exciting, “Which one I am then? Only applicant?” You assumed you were the only one. Figuring if someone with more experience had applied, they would have easily won out over you. Hotch shakes his head, “The only file I saw with enough potential to bring in was yours.” You slowly stand up, making a curious noise. “Thank you, then.” You reach out your hand. Hotch raises his eyebrows and shakes your hand, “Don’t thank me yet, You'll still have to prove yourself in the field.”

    That was how you got your job with the BAU. To start out, Hotch partnered you and him together a lot, you were assuming it was a probationary situation. You did some cases with other people while you were learning. After you had been at the job long enough to handle yourself, you were still partnered with Hotch most of the time. Part of you chalked it up to the fact that you could handle Hotch’s grumpy and bully-like behavior. Quickly the whole team became your family. You spent most of your time at work, which meant you spent all your time with the team. You enjoyed hanging out with everyone on the team.

    Emily would help you learn new languages if there was time. You found it oddly soothing listening to Reid talk about whatever he was excited about at the moment, plus you usually learned something. Rossi shared a love for classic art, the two of you also shared a love of snarky banter. You and Penelope shared anything nerdy with each other, whether it was movies, shows, or comics. Derek would discuss books with you, and he would introduce you to new music. You were always happy to look at pictures of Henry while talking about family life with JJ. You and Hotch were workaholics together. Hotch got onto you about it a few times, but you always turned it back on him. It was hard to explain, you and Hotch kind of just gravitated to each other. There was always a calm mutual understanding between the two of you. Working so closely with Hotch didn't exactly help with your attraction to him. You were a professional. So you ignored it for the most part. You had resigned yourself to the fact that Hotch wasn't interested in you. Even if he was interested, he was such a stickler for rules that it wouldn’t matter.

    You had been good at remaining professional for a few years. However, you slipped up one night when you and the team went out to celebrate. A case had gone really well, and you all knew you deserved a break. Emily and Derek were the first two to get the idea rolling. Soon everyone was ready and willing to go, except Hotch. Since you both worked way too much when the team went out, it was usually down to either you or Hotch to be what Penelope lovingly referred to as the ‘designated buzzkill’. You agreed to go but kept wondering if you should invite Hotch. Reid quickly caught onto how you were glancing up towards Hotch’s office, “Shouldn’t we invite Hotch?” Everyone except you and Reid made a face. It was a collective look of ‘We could try, but he’ll just say no.’ Their skeptical looks sealed it for you. You moved away from your desk and to the stairs, “I’ll ask him.” Penelope let out an excited squeak, practically bouncing as she spoke, “You’re the only one of us who can speak fluent ‘Hotchner’. You can do it, sugar.” You chuckled and rolled your eyes as you walked up the stairs. You knocked on Hotch’s office door but didn’t even wait for a response before going right in. You and the team had only been back for maybe 30 minutes, and Hotch had already buried himself in paperwork. You walk over and sit in the chair in front of his desk. Hotch doesn’t even look up as he addresses you, “Yes?” You shift about in the chair using the sweetest voice you could muster, “We have all been talking…” Hotch looks up, cutting you off “A night out? I have paperwork.” Hotch had his scowl on, but it no longer affected you unless he was mad at you personally. You grin at him, “It will be fun.” Hotch just stared at you, waiting. You sighed and rolled your eyes quickly, dropping being overly nice, “Why do you make me do this?” Hotch leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. A smirk threatens to slide onto his face, Hotch still just stares at you. You glare at him, “Fine, you asked for it.” Hotch just waits, already knowing he pushed you to the point where you lose your verbal filter. While he had gotten onto you before for your lack of filter on cases, you think he enjoyed it when you spoke candidly in more casual situations. You point to his desk, “When is the last time you went somewhere that wasn't this building, the plane, or a company car?” Hotch goes to protest. This time you cut him off, “This stack of paperwork has been like this since you hired me... What two years ago now? You always do all your work. Go above and beyond. The files have changed, but the stack remains the same size. It can wait twelve more hours. At which point, you’ll realize trying to sleep is pointless. You'll come into work early anyway.” Hotch makes a face, doing what he does best and avoids the main parts of your argument, “It’s been two years and six months.” You open your mouth, ready to argue again, but are temporally confused. “What?” Hotch moves some papers around, “It’s been two years and six months since I hired you.” You gave him another confused look, “You remember how long it has been?” Hotch once again dodges the main issue. “Also, I’d like to point out that you also haven’t been anywhere other than here or on a case in a while, either.” You scoff, “I totally have…” Hotch rolls his eyes, “Sleeping in your car in the company parking lot doesn’t count.” You grumble and lean back in the chair. You decide to do what Hotch does and just avoid that statement, “What if I promised you I would help you with the paperwork after the teams’ little night out?” You could tell you were starting to win when Hotch sat up in his chair. Hotch motioned to the paperwork on his desk, “This is important.” You stand up and put your hands on his desk, raising your voice in a nonaggressive manner, “Mental health is important too.” You glare down at Hotch, “And I swear to god if I have to drag Reid in here and make you listen to the statistics about mental wellbeing and overworking yourself, I will be so pissed.” You get a bit more dramatic with your voice, “Aaron Hotchner, I already got that lecture from him the other day. If I have to listen to it again just to get you to go to the bar with us, I will.” Hotch puts his hands up in defeat before pushing himself away from his desk, “Please don’t subject me to that.” Hotch stands up, and you start grinning, “Thank you for caving.” You walk to the office door, waiting. When you looked through the window, the whole team automatically looked away. Trying to hide the fact they had been watching. You chuckle, shaking your head at how bad they were at ‘acting casual’. You walk down the stairs, “Stop pretending you weren't paying attention. Bossman agreed to join us.” Derek claps you on the back, “The boss whisperer has triumphed for us once more.” You roll your eyes, going over to your desk. “Why do you all act like Hotch speaks a completely different language?” JJ giggles, commenting, “Asks the only person who understands him half the time.” Hotch walks down the stairs from his office, “Let’s keep it that way. If the rest of you catch on, then I’m doomed.” You laugh. Now that you all were ready, it was time to go. The team went back to their excited chattering as you left the building as a group.

    At the bar, the team stayed together for the first few drinks. After that, though, everyone slowly splintered off on their own. You flitted from each small group for a while until like always, you ended up sitting next to Hotch. Hotch was nursing a drink while watching the rest of the team have fun. You ordered another drink. After a few moments of comfortable silence, you spoke up, “We are supposed to be having fun.” Hotch chuckles, “Is sitting over here with your boss your definition of fun?” You smile leaning back against the counter to relax, “Actually yes.” You take a large drink from your glass, turning to look at Hotch, “But you knew that already.” Hotch turns to face you, “I do. It’s the ‘why’ I could never figure out.” You laugh, playing with the small amount of alcohol in your glass, “You’re a profiler, you tell me.” Hotch glared at you before taking another drink. You couldn’t help the cocky look that fell onto your face. Hotch looks back out at the mixture of people floating around the room, “Really want to go down this road?” You scoff, getting another drink, “Hit me with your best shot Hotch.”

    Hotch motions to all the people mingling in the bar, “You’re as bad of a workaholic like I am. So you don’t have a personal life.” You make a fake offended noise, but let Hotch continue. “You find flaws in anyone who would be considered a potential romantic interest before even speaking to them. Convincing yourself, there is no use in trying.” Hotch glances back over to you, “It's why you like hanging out with me that I don't understand.” You cock your head, “I’ll answer that after I correct you on a few points.” Hotch crosses his arms, leaning back, waiting. You chuckle, “You guys are my personal life, my family. Your right about the romantic interest part, though... Hard to stay interested in someone when you can profile them in one glance...” You pause before knocking back your drink, “I like grouchy, serious people. Lots of nice silence that isn’t awkward gives me time to think. No bullshit, you’ll tell me if I did something wrong or whatever else. Plus, My mouth normally gets me in trouble but not around you. I can be a sarcastic asshole or brutally honest.” Hotch makes a noise, “Your mouth is a huge problem.” You nervously rub the back of your neck and chuckle, “I mean… I’ve at least gotten better when we are on the job.” Hotch smirks, “You have.” He pauses for a second, “What else? You’re leaving something out.” This is the point where you would usually come up with a convincing lie to hide the fact you had feelings for Hotch. You were a few drinks in. You could handle your liquor, so you weren’t drunk per se, but you had drunk enough that you didn’t really think about the need to lie. You smile to yourself as you let out a small hum, “Because… seeing a sullen person smile… and I don't mean smirking… a genuine smile... It’s a special thing to be able to see that.” You realized that was the first time you had said something like that or even admitted it to yourself. You let out a curious hum. Turning back around in your seat, facing the counter. When Hotch turned around, that’s when you notice the two of you were shoulder to shoulder now. You glanced over at Hotch. He had a real smile on his face. It made you happy seeing him like that. You forgot where you were and that there were rules against fraternization at work. Hotch was so close to you, so when your eyes met his, all logic left your body. You closed your eyes before leaning in and kissed Hotch.

    Hotch even kissed you back. It felt so right that you got caught up in it. Both of you kept kissing each other. That was until your brain quickly started to catch up to what you were doing. It only took a split second for your bliss to come crashing down. You had just kissed your very handsome, regulations focused boss. At a party with your coworker’s nonetheless. When you realized that you just put both your and Hotch’s job on the line, you pulled away. Hotch looked confused. You couldn’t tell if it was because you kissed him or because you stopped kissing him. Not sure what else to do, you decided to bolt. Digging cash out of your pocket before putting it on the counter to pay for your drinks. You avoid looking at Hotch, “I… I have to go.” You said it so fast it sounded more like one word then a sentence. You didn’t wait for a response. Booking it out of the bar and straight to a taxi to take you home. You were mad at yourself. You managed to stay professional for over two years. Then it only took one night out for you to ruin that. Though deep down, you knew the real reason you were so upset was that kissing Hotch had felt perfect, but there were multiple rules against things like this. You didn’t want to forget about that moment but thought it might be easier if either you or Hotch just forgot about it by the time morning rolled around. As soon as you went home, you went straight to bed, hoping to sleep it off.

    When you woke up a few hours later, you hadn’t forgotten. It was actually the first thing you thought about. Making you realize that maybe it was more than a crush you had on Hotch. You pushed the thought back in your mind and decided to just go into work. Knowing you couldn’t go back to sleep even if you wanted to. Even though you were walking into work a few hours before anyone else should be there, you weren’t surprised when you saw Hotch’s car already here. You had your fingers crossed that he had forgotten about last night, and you never had to think about this ever again. When you walked into the bullpen, you got your answer. Usually, when you came in early for whatever reason, especially helping him with paperwork, you would sit in Hotch’s office while you both worked quietly. However, today Hotch’s office door was closed. The paperwork you had promised to help him with was sitting on your desk. Last night may have just fucked up your usual routine and, even worse, a friendship. You sighed to yourself and just sat down at your desk and worked.

    Over the next few months, it only got worse. Where you and Hotch typically gravitated to each other, now you were both constantly apart. He no longer paired you two together on cases, never sat next to each other on the plane. The worst part was probably the early and late hours both you and Hotch always worked. You both were the only two in this part of the building at those times, and still, there was no real communication between the two of you. Just basic, stiff sentences. Neither you or Hotch talked outside of team meetings and cases. It was a shock to your system considering how close you two had been before that night at the bar. But you felt you had no one to blame but yourself. You also felt lucky you still had your job considering Hotch could have fired you.

You reached your breaking point one random morning after a few months of this. It just hit you how much you actually needed to know what was going on. You didn’t even care what the answer was, you just wanted to know. So while you and Hotch were still the only two at work, you barged into his office.  Before you could even get the door closed, Hotch spoke up, “Yes?” You closed the door and crossed your arms, “If you’re pissed at me, could you go ahead and just say so?” You shouted that louder than you meant to. Hotch furrowed his brow and looked right up at you. You didn’t give him a chance to say anything just yet, “I was really drunk, okay? So don’t think anything of… of…” You tried to think of what to call it because calling it a kiss reminded you how much you enjoyed it. You subconsciously touched your fingers to your lips. As soon as you noticed, you dropped your hand and continued, “that situation… It meant nothing.” You didn’t even believe yourself and knew that Hotch saw right through it too. As an effort to hide more of your feelings, you let out a loud, annoyed huff before standing there and staring at Hotch. Hotch narrowed his eyes at you, testing you. “Then why are you yelling at me about it?” You scoffed a few times before you started walking around. You stayed mindful enough that it didn’t look too much like pacing. You calmed your voice, “Because I feel like I’m in the dog house because of it. You stopped partnering with me, practically stopped talking to me altogether.” You sigh, “I understand you could have fired me for that drunken mistake. You didn’t, and I appreciate it. But if you really hate working with me that much now, just tell me.” Hotch leaned back in his chair and watched you. There was some emotion in his eyes you couldn’t pinpoint at the moment. It almost looked like he was amused as he spoke, “You weren't that drunk.” Hotch moves some papers around on his desk, “You know, normally anyone else on the team would think being partnered with me constantly would be the punishment. Not the other way around.” You think for a moment watching Hotch, “I don’t feel that way about it.” Hotch nodded, “I know.” He looked a bit too amused for your liking. So you started speaking louder again, "Look, I think it's a fairly simple question. Do you or don't you want me to work with you?" You paused, but your nerves got the better of you. You let out a loud sigh before adding mostly to yourself, “I knew my mouth would get me in trouble one day… this just isn’t the kind of trouble I thought it would be.” Hotch chuckles at your comment, “I’m not mad at you.”  You scrunch up your face, confused. Hotch’s voice turns more serious as he finishes, “I do want to work with you, but I separated us because you’re a distraction.” You glare at Hotch, “What the fuck do you mean a distraction?” At this point, you may not have been thinking too clearly because you automatically took offense. You fully turned to face Hotch, your body language and tone reflecting your irritation, “We have worked with each other for over two years. Suddenly I’m a ‘distraction’?” Hotch stood up, crossing his arms and staring you down. You dug your heels in, “Am I really that bad at my job that I’m affecting your or the team’s work?” Hotch started walking over to you, “Will you stop and listen to me for a second?” Hotch had raised his voice just enough to get your attention. It was stern with no real anger behind it. You let out an exasperated huff but stayed quiet. Hotch stopped a few feet in front of you. Even a few feet away, Hotch seemed to tower over you. The serious look that was normally stamped on his face was softer than normal, “You’re a distraction because I have feelings for you as well.” 

You falter for a second, “What?” Hotch lets a smile slide onto his face, “You heard me.” You take a minute to think it over, “Then why didn’t you say anything before.” Hotch shrugs, “You’re the one who ran, and I wanted to cover all my bases.” You glare at him, wondering if this was a joke. Hotch wasn’t one for jokes, so it was unlikely, but part of your brain wouldn’t accept he was telling the truth. So naturally, you challenge him, “Since when?” Hotch raises his eyebrows at you, “Does it matter?” You give him a firm nod. Hotch looks off to the side, “Longer than I would care to admit…” Hotch knew you wouldn’t be satisfied with that answer, so after a pause, he looked back at you with a smirk on his face, “The first time you yelled at me. I was able to see how passionate you were. It started then.” You start laughing, “Really? You also wrote me up for that.” Hotch nods, “It was still against regulations, so, Yes.” Hotch pauses, “What about you?” This time the laugh that leaves you is a nervous one, “Since my interview.” You rub the back of your neck, “Tall, Dark, and Handsome. What else can I say?” Hotch makes a curious noise, “I just read that as regular nerves, not attraction.” Hotch smirks at you, “If I had known you had such poor taste, I wouldn’t have hired you.” You scoff and roll your eyes, “Shut up.” You look out the window down into the bullpen below, “If ‘poor taste’ is liking a man who is constantly pushing himself to do the right thing and can be an ass at times because of that. Then sure, I have ‘poor taste’.”  Hotch scuffs, “The word I think you meant to use was jaded.” You smile, looking back over at Hotch, “Nope.” You say it very matter of factly, letting the ‘p’ pop as you speak. You tilt your head and give Hotch a cocky grin, “So you like being yelled at?” Hotch rolls his eyes, “Only when you're the one yelling. If I didn’t, I would have fired you by now.” You chuckle but then have a serious thought, “How much trouble are we in?” Hotch sighs, “None… at the moment, but if Strauss catches wind of this…” It was finally time for other people to start showing up for work, just some background workers. Drawing both you and Hotch’s attention to the window watching over the bullpen. You think, “So we don’t let Strauss catch wind of this.” You tap your foot on the ground. “Everyone on the team hates the bitch, but…” Hotch nods, finishing your thought for you, “But… If we keep it a secret from the team, it will at least buy us time.” Hotch glances at you for a second before looking back out the window, “What do you suggest?” You tilt your head from side to side as you think, “We build upon what the team already knows about… We have clearly distanced ourselves from each other. The team has noticed… So we make it seem like we are actually mad at each other.” Hotch nods, agreeing with you so far, “An event about two months ago that would cause this ‘rift’...” Hotch scowls while thinking about it. You laugh, “It is us we are talking about. There are too many things to choose from. The team knows you can be a hard ass, and they know I have a smart-ass mouth.” Hotch chuckles, looking over at you. Your eyes meet for a second, and you can’t help but smirk. “Are you willing to get this elaborate with lying to our friends and colleges?” You were joking at first, but you had a serious thought. Your tone quickly changed, “In all seriousness… I don’t want to put your job on the line… Don’t get me wrong I want this, but not so badly that I’m willing to risk your career without both of us being on the same page.” You look over at Hotch. He furrows his brow, “It’s not just my job. It’s yours too.” You let out a melancholy chuckle, “Im young, I haven't built up my whole career yet. I could find somewhere else to work.” Hotch shakes his head, “You’d be miserable.” You shrug and smile, “ ‘Miserable’ is a relative term.” Hotch’s frown sets in deeper on his face, clearly he was starting to rethink things. So you quickly spoke up, “I just want to make sure we are on the same page. I’m more than willing, but if you want to back out before we break any rules, I want to give you that chance.” Hotch stares at you for a very long moment, “What event are we going to use from two months ago?” You smile softly, relieved that he wanted to proceed with things. You thought, “I cursed out that cop which you got onto me for even though the guy totally deserved it.” Hotch smirks, “He did deserve it but still inappropriate.” You chuckle and nod, “We could use that… act like someone in the department complained about it more and is riding your ass about it. Could combine it with several other things for more drama or leave it at that.” Hotch nods, “We can work with that.” You move away from the interior window, “When everyone gets in, we fake an argument and let the team see it.” Hotch moves back over to his desk, “They will see it and shouldn’t ask too many questions about it.” You sit in the chair in front of his desk, “From partners to partners in crime.” Hotch glares at you and rolls his eyes, “Crime makes it sound much worse than it is.” You chuckle, “Fine. Why don’t we plan something fun then? Maybe it will make you less grumpy.” Hotch sits down, crossing his arms, “Something fun?” You roll your eyes, “A date. I mean, we literally put all this effort into the lie to cover up something that hasn’t even really happened yet.” Hotch smiles, “Tomorrow night, we are supposed to have it off.” You give him a smug grin, “It’s official, then Aaron, we're co-conspirators.” With a sigh, Hotch leans back in his chair. As he rubs his temples, you can see a large smile on his face.

Continuation of Co-Conspirators –Part 1*–Part 2–Part 3–Part 4–Part 5 –Part 6

[danideservedbetter]

Alright so, here’s how things are gonna work.

First off, welcome to this side blog. Since it won’t be jolly fun fandom content and will be a little more personal I decided to separate my health and writing journey from my fandom stuff, although all my fandom content will still be linked on my main blog here.

(I write Izuocha/bnha content which isn’t super popular so if you’re not here for that then yeah, I don’t blame you. But if you are I have a link to our discord and community content pinned so def check it out if you’re interested.)

Secondly, you guys will hear details about stuff relating to my health like what kinds of things affect my disorder based on the tests some doctors are ordering, how I’m trying to improve my diet and activity, and routines and goals I’m attempting for myself. I am underweight, and that’s something I’m going to be talking a bit about, so if that’s triggering following this blog might not be the best thing for you. Details under the cut.

So, what kind of disorder do I have and why did I decide to make a health journey blog? My disorder is called idiopathic hypersomnia. Basically what that means is that when my disorder is acting up (based on factors like stress especially or my generalized anxiety rearing its ugly head) I have the capacity to sleep. And sleep and sleep and sleep and sleep. My longest recorded uninterrupted “sleep-attack” was 26 hours long and ever since I caught Covid in January, my body had been slowly growing weaker to the point I was starting to develop atrophy. I’ve had this ten years and my neurologist suspects inactive cells from mononucleosis I caught at 14 was the cause, because other IH patients have linked their sleeping problems to a case of mono or have had it at some point in their lives.

This disease stole many years and many things I’ve looked forward to from me. I lost friends and experiences and failed so many college classes I had to drop out.

I’ve decided I’m taking them back.

It’s not going to be easy. Just as it took ten years to convince myself that my tiredness was something I chose to give into, it took several extra years and many fights with my family to convince them that I had a real actual neurological disorder and that I need help sometimes. My parents and grandmother finally understand that I have to finish college and find a very special boss willing to work around my erratic progress on projects, but the outsiders they married are not as convinced. My grandmother’s husband kicked me out of their house because he wants to be the center of attention and doesn’t like that some days I’m so weak that I needed my grandmother’s help, and my father’s wife thinks I’m a lazy and ungrateful leech who “gets anxiety just being around” me. Both told my father I’ll never be happy so why even bother with me, but my dad is actually striving to understand his own recently-diagnosed PTSD so while we still butt heads he’s understanding that I have to take things day by day because every tiny circumstance affects my disorder.

Now, why did I decide to air all this out? Well, being open about my disorder and how it affects me has helped at least two people that I know of find out that the tiredness they experience isn’t the typical “American work force exhaustion” they were trained to believe is normal. So if I can help even one more, I’ll gladly talk about what this entails and how I deal with it day to day. Another reason is that I’m also one of those big advocates who believes talking candidly about mental health destigmatizes it and sharing ideas can help us grow as people and maybe make it a little easier to deal with.

So now that you know a little bit about me and my disorder, here are my big goals for the next three months provided my university takes pity on me and actually lets me go back.

First up: create routines to train my body to get used to living a full day fully awake. This includes waking up at the same time and going to sleep at the same time. It means getting dressed and going out and doing things, even little things— which I’ll get to in a sec.

Second: I write. I have a novel in limbo and I write fanfics. Writing is a big part of who I am and I’ve written one thing this year, which for a whole six-month stretch is upsetting and disappointing. Today is my reset. In the next 569 days I want to to finish the six stories I have in limbo (except the larger one) and finally reach my goal of posting 200k words in a single year. I wont be hard on myself if I can’t accomplish this because honestly finishing anything in the chaos of my life is going to be a miracle but. There ya go.

Third: go back to freakin college. I don’t care what it takes. Sit down with every official, every lawyer, and every professor it takes to get me back enrolled in classes in the fall.

Fourth: I have several smaller things I have to do, short term goals, stuff like that. I’m gonna create a to do list each day of small tasks I want to get done and while some of these things will be part of my daily routine I am throwing in like one or two things a day that just need to be done. My writing goal will change daily and I’ll keep y’all updated on that with every post I make.

Now, I know what you’re thinking. Dani! That’s so much!! Well, a few months ago I remembered hey!! I basically have a computer in my hand, why make it hard on myself. So I downloaded certain apps to help me out. This isn’t me saying “hey go subscribe to these apps because I said so” it’s just that through a lot of trial and error I’ve come to find that these certain apps work for me and I’ve yet to come across one that has the functionality of everything I need.

Tiimo — so this is an app I found developed by people with autism for people with autism to help them develop good habits and routines. It has preset daily schedules (things like morning routines or nightly routines or work routines) and an internal alarm to let you know when to move on to the next task. I myself have extremely low-level aspergers (to the point where my doctor won’t give me an official diagnosis because I didn’t want people think that *it’s* the reason I have issues with school), so moving from task to task can be difficult sometimes and I also deal with getting distracted. This widget also appears on my home screen so I know what I have to do at a glance. You can program in weekly and daily tasks to fully customize your schedule, which is fantastic for someone like me who wants to for example rotate chores. This is hopefully going to help me get my body in the habit of adjusting to routines and transitioning from one task to another, as well as getting important things done responsibly.

Promptly Journals — I’ve been told for a while that journaling is helpful mentally to kind of recenter yourself, so a bit ago I downloaded several journal apps to add to my morning routine. Now some will prefer more creatively free journals, but I prefer this one that gives me small prompts I can do in a short amount of time that just allows me to get my thoughts down. I can even add pictures at the bottom that go with the theme! I’m scared I’ll run out of prompts eventually lol but until then this app works very well for my needs.

Stretchingexercise — Now idk if it’s from lack of sleep from my disorder, the position I sleep in when I do sleep, all the physical labor I’ve had to do in the past couple weeks, my medicine, or w h a t but I suffer from body aches like no one would believe. I know stretching is supposed to help with that, so I downloaded this app to help me do non-demanding physical activity that wakes me up in the mornings and helps relieve pain so I don’t keep having to take pain relievers. This one has different plans for things like muscle tension, back pain, warm ups— and it also gives you rudimentary weight updates (I’m underweight lololol so we’re looking to fix that) or plan updates. It’s worked really well for me so far and gives you animations and descriptions of the workouts (some taken from yoga) as well as timed breaks and a narrated guide. It’s been pretty helpful in temporary relief and if nothing else gets my blood flowing in the mornings.

Widgetsmith Step counter — in addition to the stretching thing one thing my doctor and I discussed that helps with the sedentary lifestyle is simply walking. I’ve needed so bad to relieve my stamina and reverse the atrophy, and walks have been stellar for that. Now I live in the New Orleans area so humidity and heat force me to go at the crack of Dawn, but honestly my weenie dachshund Charlie really enjoys our time out so he goes with me! The CDC recommends 10,000 steps a day which seems like a lot and it is if you don’t get out much. But this gives me an excuse to get dressed and do the hygienic thing and help Charlie be healthy too, as well as give me time for brainstorming because we walk in a truly beautiful area. I’m sure everyone installed widgetsmith with the last iOS update (Apple users anyway) and while at first the step counter was just interesting I’ve since come to rely on it! We do our 5000 in the morning, which of course is half, and I find that other things I do throughout the day typically drive the counter higher. Anything leftover can easily be accomplished by an evening walk in our neighborhood. Now the caveat is that I have to remote have my phone in my pocket because I don’t own a watch or anything fancy lol, but honestly I need to keep it on me anyway so that serves as a good reminder.

Todoist — this one is my FAVORITE. Ever since I’ve decided that I have trouble keeping track of things I need to do and small stuff I need to keep in mind and appointments, etc, I decided to find a list app. This is the one I found that absolutely helps me for everything from my list of room supplies I need to buy, to my reading list, to general tasks I have coming up I need to complete. And its widget functionality keeps it right on my Home Screen! More organized individuals can just use tiimo, but I’m definitely not one of those individuals so this app is sorely needed and appreciated.

And of course, I know building habits the first few weeks is HARD. So for days my body doesn’t respond to my alarms, I have a checklist of the key things I have to do to keep my life as functional as possible.

So that’s that on that. I’m going to try to keep writing updates and my daily goals in a post in the morning, and reblog what I accomplished in the evening. It’s gonna be tough. But I’m thinking if I can start small I’ll be able to build my stamina enough to return to college and be successful when I do. I hope that anyone watching this journey draws some kind of meaning or inspiration from it. And you guys can even follow along if y’all want! Especially for writers or people trying to get healthier. I can’t promise what works for me will work for you (and honestly I expect things to change especially if I get accepted into college again) but hey, I figure it’s worth a shot.

I hope you guys enjoy watching this journey, if nothing else I hope it’s entertaining. And maybe it’ll be successful. I do know that I’m just gonna try for it, and hope it works out.

First daily update to follow

Xoxo

Dani

[jamaiskookie]

How To Ask Your Crush Out: A Guide For Dummies [knj x reader]

⚖ warnings: intense amount of crack and very very trashy writing 

⚖ word count: 3.3k (very smol boi today, just wanted to get this little drabble out)

⚖ genre: crackity fluff; my specialty :-)

⚖ A/N: been preparing for halloween so forgive me for the short fic, i’ve been pUMPING out content for you guys recently. 

masterlist asks 

⚖ synopsis: Prof. Kim Namjoon is pleased and delighted to present his new class: How To Ask Your Crush Out For Dummies; A comprehensive, follow-along six step guide for the introverted and shy. 

A triumphant Kim Namjoon jumps into frame in front of the huge chalkboard in a huge lecture hall, holding a piece of white chalk in one hand and a pointer in the other, with a slightly maniacal grin stretched on his face. His black thick rimmed glasses are crooked and skewed, sitting on the bridge of his nose, completely lopsided. He’s been awake for- oh he doesn’t keep count. Possibly 28 hours by now. 

“Good afternoon, everyone!”  (It’s 6 in the morning, and nobody is in the audience.) He stretches out the long, metal chalkboard pointer, who he has named Bertha, and smacks it against the chalkboard. It echoes through the empty hall. He secretly loves the sound the long pointer makes. It’s so satisfying, and the fact that he got it on Amazon Prime for only like 2 dollars makes the sound so much better. 

“Welcome to today’s class!” He’s still talking to an empty room. It might be the desperation in him, or just his good ole’ friend sleep deprivation fueling his somewhat insane behaviour. “Today I am completely focused on solving the greatest mystery I have ever encountered in my lifetime. Arguably, this is the most scrutinised cold case ever seen in the world. Today we’ll be tackling: How To Ask Your Crush Out. Would anybody like to start off by introducing themselves, their crush, and how long you’ve been infatuated? Hm?” Crickets. 

“Ah, there’s nobody here!” Namjoon exclaims cheerfully, as if he only just realised. He swings back, turning to the chalkboard and continues teaching. “My name is Kim Namjoon, or Professor Kim to you,” Again, completely empty room. “And I have had a crush on Y/N L/N for almost two years now.” His smile falters when he realises it really has been two whole years. Clearing his throat, he smacks an A3 sized picture of a pretty girl onto the chalkboard. 

You are wearing a long cardigan sweater in the photo, candidly reading with headphones wrapped around your neck. Namjoon has written a barely visible small ‘Y/N, October 4th’ on the top corner of the picture. He’s always had a bit of a photography hobby, but his pictures always seem to turn out better when you are the subject. 

It’s a bit odd how you look so much better when you don’t know he’s taking a photo. All the selfies and old pictures from university he has of you are just as beautiful, but there’s something ethereal about you in your natural state. Sitting down and reading a book in a library. That photo is miles better than any of the stupidly extensive photo-ops you plan out for your Instagram pictures. He stares at the photo before turning back to the (imaginary) class. 

“Let me introduce the- as the kids say- lomél. I believe this is an abbreviation for Love Of My Life. L-O-M-L, if anybody wants to write the spelling down.” He swerves Bertha around to point at your picture. “This,” He says, seriously. “Is Y/N L/N, my… my friend since freshman year of university. I have never confessed my feelings to her, despite trying many, many times. Today, we’re going to trouble-shoot and hopefully solve this problem, while examining a shy person’s abilities to socialise and freely have a love life.”  Namjoon ignores the small voice in his head that mentions how a successful Philosophy professor who speaks in front of hundreds of students every day such as himself should be able to say ‘I like you’ to the girl he’s had a painfully obvious crush on for the past two years. 

“Step ONE:” Namjoon yells, writing a big ‘1’ on the chalkboard. “Do not start off a confession by mentioning a Confucius quote if your crush is not in the philosophy or ethics community! They will not understand no matter how obvious it is!” On the chalkboard, he draws an old man with droopy eyebrows and huge beard- Confucius. Then he draws a huge circle around it and crosses it out with a line using so much force he almost breaks the piece of chalk in his hand. 

“In fact, just don’t mention anything about philosophers! And don’t try to confess to them through a math problem, they will not understand!” Namjoon winces. He learned that one the hard way. (He asked you to isolate ‘1’ in ⅓ < 3, which is a seventh-grade level inequality. You had pushed him away and yelled at him for making you do math. The answer to the inequality equation would have been 1 < 3u.) ((1 < 3u = I <3 you. He thought it was pretty obvious.)) 

He draws a subtraction and addition sign and draws another circle, crossing through it. 

“Step TWO!” Namjoon shouts, cringing at the horrible scratchy noise the chalk makes against the board. “If you do get the chance to confess to them and manage to get through without substantially embarrassing yourself, DO NOT, I repeat, DO NOT laugh and agree if they ask if you are joking! They will! Laugh along with you! While you try! To hide your pain!” 

“I cannot emphasise this enough!” Namjoon is basically screaming by now. He hopes nobody from campus comes in to complain. The picture of you on the board with the symbols that he’s drawn along with the big ‘FLIRTING AND DATING 101’ written on the top of the board could lead to some severe misunderstandings. “Do not laugh if that ever happens again- I mean, if it ever happens to you! It’s more likely than you would think if you are in love with a dumbass! It will happen! Misinterpretations and concerns will happen! Learn from them!” Namjoon writes a huge ‘laughing to hide the pain = bad ❌’ onto the board. 

“Does anybody have any questions?” More crickets. 

“Okay then, moving on!” Namjoon writes a ‘3’ below the notes for step 2. “Step THREE: Confessing via call, facetime, or handwritten letter would be optimal for the average introvert. I suggest a handwritten letter would be best for this kind of confession. Still not ideal, but it gets the job done. Can someone tell me why a handwritten letter would be better than a call, facetime, or anything on the internet?” Without waiting for his non-existent introvert class to respond, he snaps his fingers, a satisfied look on his face. “That’s right! Facetiming or hearing your crush’s voice would be too nerve wracking and inevitably, you’ll mess up and say something like ‘Did you know that Barbie’s real name is Barbara Millicent Roberts’ instead of ‘I’ve liked you for two years’...  I do not speak from experience.” 

Awkwardly, he clears his throat again, averting his eyes from literally nobody. “Texting would not be good! Texting is considered insensitive and is not a good way to confess your feelings. If the idea of a face to face confession is too intimidating or not ideal in your introverted situation, the aforementioned options would be your best choices. I strongly advise you to stick to those three. In order of a likelihood for a successful confession, it goes: Letter, facetime, then call.” He writes ‘letter > facetime > call > speaking in real life (?)’ on the board.

“hoWEVER,” He says, pointing at the large ‘3’ he wrote with Bertha. “If you do end up choosing to write a handwritten letter- write this down, this is an important note- do NOT forget to sign your name! Your crush will end up throwing it away thinking it’s a random admirer or a prank. MAKE SURE TO WRITE THIS DOWN!” On the board, he writes down ‘My name → Kim Namjoon.’ He nods thoughtfully. “Yes,” He says. “It’s important to write your name.” He mutters it over and over, staring glazed at the words written on the board. 

Close to bursting into tears, he grabs a hold of his hair and cradles his head in his hands. “Why didn’t you write your fucking name, Namjoon?” He frustratingly mutters to himself. Sighing, he puts his hands on his waist, marvelling at what he’d written so far. The peaceful silence doesn’t last for very long. 

“STEP NUMBER FOUR!” It’s not like him to be so loud. It’s probably a good, balanced combination of his lack of sleep and being alone with his inner thoughts. He’s pretty sure he has an alternate personality who thinks he’s Freud. Freud occasionally throws in some pretty deep psychoanalysis prompts for him to consider when he can’t sleep. 

“If… And only if you build up the courage to ask her out in person-! Well, firstly, congratulations, we’re all very proud of you. Secondly, do it in public! You might be thinking, Professor Kim, why on earth would I want to do it in public? Getting rejected in public is so much more horrible!? Well, BELIEVE ME, UNBELIEVERS- Getting rejected in public is sO much better than getting rejected in private! Due to our tendency to not draw attention to ourselves and the way we like to shrink in public, it’s much more likely that we won’t break down in tears if we get rejected in public! Well, once you get back home, you might start breaking down, so maybe this is just a temporary solution, but it’s still better than sobbing in front of your crush when you devastatingly get rejected!” 

Knitting his brows together, Namjoon corrects himself. “Not when you get devastatingly rejected, sorry. If. If. Yes, if. If you get devastatingly rejected. Come to think of it, in a purely logical way, you have a 50/50 chance of succeeding in your confession. ‘I like you, do you like me?’ That’s a yes or no question, isn’t it? A confession is exactly the same as flipping a coin! You have a 50% chance of getting heads, 50% chance of getting tails. Either way, you get on with your life despite getting heads or tails. So… the odds are kinda in your favour!” 

“Except when you flip a coin, you wouldn’t get nervous to the point where you accidentally push the coin into a mud filled pond where the coin’s favourite shirt got ruined so then the coin proceeded to ignore you for the next two weeks, making it the most miserable two weeks of your entire life… But that probably won’t happen again.” Namjoon mutters underneath his breath.  “Coins don’t wear shirts anyways.” Somehow, that seemed to comfort him. He writes down ‘coins can’t wear shirts’ on the chalkboard. 

“Step number FIVE!” Namjoon shakes his head, taking a sip of the espresso that’s been sitting on his desk for hours. “What was step number five agai- oh right. Step number five: look your best!” Namjoon catches sight of his reflection and winces. “Okay, maybe I don’t have a great example right now.” He reaches up and runs his fingers through his hair, almost puking when he feels the amount of grease and gunk buried in his scalp. He should probably shower. And get some sleep. His eye bags do not look very attractive right now. Maybe he should get a haircut too, it’s kinda getting wild up there. In his own defence, he’s been standing in this exact pair of sweatpants and glasses for the past couple hours, so he smells a tiny bit. Don’t girls like it when guys wear grey sweatpants? Frowning, Namjoon makes a mental note to do some research later on. 

“Shower, change, put in contacts, cologne, flowers…” Namjoon starts writing a to-do list onto his small notebook. “Would she like flowers, actually? Is it misogynistic of a guy to bring flowers or is it just a cute, nice gesture? Am I overthinking this?” His phone vibrates in the middle of his feminism breakdown, and he pats his back pockets before realising his phone was across the table. He grunts as he leans over to pick it up, and thoughtlessly, he accepts the call and brings it up to his ear. “Hello?”

“Where are you?” Your voice is both a comfort and a shock to hear so early in the morning. He can already see you sighing aloud and scrunching up your nose cutely, a habit you picked up from him himself. He does it when he’s embarrassed, but you do it when you’re angry. It doesn’t really work because now whenever you get mad he just swoons and gushes over your cute nose and chubby cheeks. 

“aH- Um… What time is it?” Namjoon fumbles around, jumping up. 

“It’s like 7 in the morning? Hello, you promised to come workout with me today? Come open your door, I’ve been ringing your doorbell for forever, but I think it’s broken. I’ll call the repair guy for you later.” Namjoon lets out a nervous laugh, guiltily looking at his shoes even though he knows you can’t even see what he’s doing right now. 

“It’s already seven? Wow, time flies really fast. I’m- ” He yawns, bringing the phone away from his ear for a moment. “- really tired.” A beat passes by. How is it possible that he can hear you get angry at him from here?

“Namjoon.” Another awkward laugh rings through the lecture hall. 

“Ahahha. - Yes?” 

“Are you at work right now?” You ask, voice suddenly turning stone cold. 

“Um, well, that’s a debatable question. See, is it really, honestly my work if I love doing it? Sure, it makes me a living, but of course I don’t consider it to be my workplace, you know? Like, I get to come in and do what I love every single day, educating the next generation. It’s actually a really bad mindset because once you refer to your job as ‘work’ you don’t-”

“Namjoon.”

“Okay yes, I’m at work.” He relents, pushing his glasses up and sighing. 

“Joon, it’s seven! Like, seven in the morning! Have you been in there since you clocked in yesterday morning?” You ask worriedly. 

“Uhh, I think so?” To be honest, he’s been here for two nights already, crashing out on a beanbag and brushing his teeth in the staff bathroom when he needs to. 

“Namjoon!” He mumbles out an apology. “What the hell could you have been doing in there? You don’t even have that many classes this week!” Namjoon lets his eyes trail over to the chalkboard, then back down to his notebook. 

“Uh… it’s kinda complicated?”  

“Okay, okay, I’ll come home now, don’t worry!” He says, even before you can demand he take care of himself. Sometimes, you’re just a teensy bit overbearing. It’s a messed up miracle he managed to fall in love with you in the first place. 

“Be careful, okay? It’s flu season, too, so you really can’t be this reckless! You’re literally going to drive me into an early grave, for fuck’s sakes. You’re always fussing over how overworked I am, so how could you not take care of yourself? That’s so hippo- hypo- ugh, what’s the word?” 

“Hypocritical.” Namjoon says into the phone while packing up his things. 

“Hypocritical, yes. You better be here in ten minutes or less, Kim. Come home, take a shower and then sleep. I’m guessing you have done neither of those things since yesterday.” Namjoon doesn’t have the decency or humility to give you an honest answer, so he just stays silent. His eyes are still fixed on the chalkboard. Where was he at when your phone call interrupted? Ah, yes. Step number six: ‘I love you.’ Step number six was a piece of advice he had gotten from Min Yoongi, a music theory professor who taught just a couple minutes away from Namjoon’s office. He’s been dating Jung Hoseok, another mutual friend of Namjoon’s, for a few years now. 

“What do you mean?” Yoongi just blinked when Namjoon asked him, stared blankly at him, lips threatening to pull up into a smirk. 

“What do you mean, ‘What do you mean’?” Namjoon said, huffing. “How did you confess to Hobi?” 

“Bro,” Yoongi said, now freely laughing at Namjoon. “If you can’t confess to her, just wait until you get around to thinking about proposing. Never been more nervous in my life, swear to god.” Namjoon had never been a violent type. Up until he met Yoongi. 

“Just- tell me how you did it, would you?” Yoongi gave a rare, small smile and beckoned him closer. He leaned in, about to tell Namjoon a big secret. 

“Just say it.” He whispered into Namjoon’s ear. Namjoon rolled his eyes, pulled away and rested his head on the sofa. 

“That’s the most useless thing I’ve ever heard.” 

“No it’s not!” Yoongi also leaned back into his seat. “Just say it. ‘I love you.’ It’s nothing difficult. Just say it!” Namjoon scoffed and left, but Yoongi called something out while he was walking away. “Hey, you’re going to lose her if you don’t do anything.” Namjoon froze, but continued to walk. Yoongi watched, two seconds later, amused as Namjoon came rushing back in, sat himself down on the sofa and demanded Yoongi tell him everything he needed to know. 

Thus, his six steps were born. 

If Min Yoongi, a person who is possibly even more shy and even more introverted than Namjoon, (Which is a big feat) can ‘just say it’, he should be able to do it easily. Namjoon nods to himself, rolling his head back and cracking a neck bone. 

Taking a deep breath, he speaks into the phone. 

“Hey, I have something to tell you.” 

“It can wait,” You say. It’s so like you to ruin a love confession, Namjoon thinks, laughing. “Come home, go sleep for a couple hours, then we can talk. It’s not important, is it?” He stares at the chalkboard, letting out a satisfied exhale. 

“Nope.” He says. “Not that important. I’ll tell you later.” 

“Okay,” He hears you grunt from the other side of the phone, shuffling around. “Hey, I’m gonna hang up first, I’ll wait for you to get here. Where’s your spare key again?” 

“Underneath the compartment in the hanging plant. Yeah- the one above the front door.” He hears the familiar jingle of his keys and your adorable ‘a-ha!’ from the phone, and his smile stretches wider. 

“Ohh, okay, got it. Thanks! You don’t mind if I go in first, right?” 

“Nah.” 

“Okay, bye!” Before he says it back, you hang up, and he’s left with an annoying beeping sound that repeats in his ear. He misses you, Namjoon muses to himself. He hasn’t seen you for much too long. Happily, he skips to the back of the lecture hall. (which he then immediately regrets when he finds out his legs don’t work properly after staying in the exact same position for hours without end.) He doesn’t even mind that you’ll see him in this horrendous state if he gets to see you fuss over him again. Your soft side coming out is like spotting a rare bonsai tree on sale in a run-down store- extremely special and only happens once in a while. 

Okay, that analogy was really bad, he just really wanted to mention his bonsai trees.

He spares one last glance to the filled chalkboard. With good luck, nobody will walk in and see that mess all over the board. He’d probably get fired. 

“I love you.” He says to himself. Maybe Yoongi was right. It does sound pretty easy. Namjoon walks out of the lecture hall, switching off the lights and running off to see you. 

Kim Namjoon’s Six Steps Towards Confessing Your Love: Introvert Edition

Do not refer to anything academic or clever in your confession. 

Do not laugh when they ask if you are joking once you confess. 

Letter > facetime > call

Confess in public. 

Look your best!

Just say it. 

⚖  wanna talk to professor!joon? or add yourself to the taglist?

[saanphoenix]

One of the things I want to touch on in my fic is the "SOLDIER Type S" folks passively picking up memories from others.

It's in the same vein as Kadaj, in the novel, casually reading minds, willingly, but also getting punched in the face and being completely overwhelmed by the thoughts and emotions that accompanied said punch, UNWILLINGLY.

But, y'know, Kadaj wasn't born human, he was made human-ish straight from the Lifestream and Sephiroth thinking really, really hard about it. Thus, naturally, his ability is FAR GREATER than someone who started human and was genetically altered to be not-quite-that. ...Or someone who died and is swimming in planet blood.

The heavily watered-down version, I think, would manifest as... Well, a brief little bloop of a memory. Like, one second someone is talking about something and you accidentally just slorp what they are envisioning in their head, their memory of an event, and Know It as if you had experienced it yourself. "Isn't that what Cloud did with Zack--?" Yes.

Except, spoiler alert, Zack doesn't die in my fic. Because there is another human being present who can help murder an entire army. Which means that Cloud doesn't suffer the same trauma as in OG, which means he doesn't repackage what he slorped from Zack as his own memories. He just...has them. He doesn't see himself in Zack's shoes, he sees Zack in Zack shoes, but he still knows shit he shouldn't. Like what Sephiroth said to Zack in the basement. And whenever he mentions something that Zack knows but Cloud shouldn't know, for the most part, Zack, as anyone with ADHD/memory issues might be familiar with, has a moment of confusion but writes it off as, "Well, I musta just mentioned it while we were traveling across the globe all them months." Le shrug.

But remember that other human being I mentioned? Yeah, that'd be Saan. One of them other Type-S SOLDIERs. And she's not from Gaia. So, when Cloud chimes in with some tidbit of info that literally only someone from Earth would know, she's like, "Hwat in the fuck?" Because she's kept it very close to her breast that she's an alien, for obvious reasons, thus she would not be candidly talking about whatever the fuck Cloud just remembered. And it's not like he was there! ????

But also, she does the same shit. Cloud be like, "I killed Sephiroth," and Saan be like, "Yeah, but you stabbed him in the back when he wasn't looking. I don't think that really counts for anything," and Cloud's like, "How in the fuck do you know that?" Because, let's face it, Cloud is sharp af with some things. He picked up on Aerith knowing he was a merc even though he hadn't told her that IMMEDIATELY in Remake. He might be remembering more than he should, but he definitely hasn't forgotten that he did not tell her about damn near chopping Sephiroth in half from behind.

And unlike Cloud, who just sorta shrugs off what he knows, mostly because people keep making excuses for him, Saan is like, "...... How DO I know that?" Because she knows--SHE KNOWS--that she was still on the mountain at that point. She was still bookin' it to that reactor when shit went down. So how the hell can she vividly recall Sephiroth standing in front of that pod? The sound of the Buster Sword going through flesh? Glass cracking? ?????

There are more subtle instances, where it's not as obvious that they're essentially mind-reading each other, but there ARE moments where one out of this trio says something that has the other two like: