#I've no doubt that Figure probably knows what it's like to get sick

[sxilor-1010]

Had two violent coughing fits and now sore muscles due to a really bad sinus infection so I made myself a little Figure doodle to feel better. ❤️

[a-b-riddle]

Part 9 (unrevised version). Since I've gotten 6 messages and a good bit of asks requesting to view it. Here it is, not in its final form.

You had hoped Monday would have treated you better than the past two days, but walking up to your shop in the pouring rain to already see a body standing outside waiting wasn't a good sign.

Customers who waited outside your shop always made you feel uncomfortable. But when you finally got close enough, you took in the person before you.

"We don't open for another hour." Your voice flat as you fished for your keys.

"I'll wait." Was Kyle's reply.

"Then you'll have to do it outside." You said, the key sliding into the lock. He didn't argue as you shut the door behind you. Didn't even bother knocking when, after thirty minutes, you looked in the window to see that the wind was causing the rain to blow sideways.

You relented. Letting him in thirty minutes earlier. It was a small mercy, even if he was soaked to the bone. You almost felt bad when his chattering teeth were the only thing you could hear.

Almost.

"I take it John told you about our little talk yesterday." You said, going about your business. Engaging in the conversation as if you were talking about the shitty weather that had tried to drown him.

"He did." He gave a sniffle. Running a hand over his beautiful, wet face. Droplets still staking their claim on his skin. "H-he alssso t-t-told us we were on our own in begging for our own f-forgiveness. Ra-ra- rightly s-s-s-so."

You huffed. Guilt beginning to eat at you before you turned, disappearing to the back of the store and coming back with a shirt and a blanket. "You left the shirt here."

He had no shame and wasted no time in taking off his jacket and soaked shirt. His chiseled body exposed to you. It was almost instinct to reach out and touch the soft skin. You luckily possessed some form of self restraint.

"So are you here to promise to make amends as well?" You crossed your arms. You meant it as a sign that you were wanting to create distance, but honestly you didn't trust yourself. It was second nature. Kyle and Johnny were tied when it came to having to always touch you.

Probably why his ghosting sucked so bad.

"I'd like to take you out." You couldn't help the laugh that escaped you. It wasn't until Kyle's face fell that you realized, "Oh, you're actually serious."

He opened his mouth, ready to no doubt give you the same exact promises of doing better that John had given you the day before. Fortunately for Kyle, you didn't have the time to entertain a conversation.

"Fine." You immediately relented. No argument. "That Indian place where I asked you to go four months ago. Seven. If you manage to figure out which place, then I'll be meeting you there. Otherwise you'll be eating alone."

Kyle stood still. Unprepared for the fact that you had... agreed. You actually agreed to let him take you out.

"I can pick you up."

"Not sure what time I'll be getting off today. Might go home first. Might just go straight there." You started opening tasks again. "I have to finish setting up. Seven sharp.

"Seven sharp." He repeated, his smile lighting up the room.

It made you feel sick.

It was 6:45 when your phone started ringing. It was Kyle. Confirming that he was at the restaurant you were supposed to go.

7:00. He had gotten the two of you a table. He'll go ahead and order you a drink. They had mango lassi, but wasn't sure if you wanted to stick to just water.

7:15 He tries calling you. When it goes to voicemail, a follow up text is sent asking if you're okay.

At 7:20, while sitting on the couch you text back. Sorry. Something came up. We'll reschedule, I promise.

If you knew giving them a taste of their own medicine felt so good, you would have done it ages ago. You felt no since of shame in sending it. You hated being petty, but you wanted them to know what it felt like.

John had a lot more of verbal outbursts coming his way and if Johnny was hoping for a chance, he would be lucky if you had sex with him again before marriage.

Ten minutes later, on the dot, there was a knocking on your door. Your food had arrived. Blindly, you opened the door. Only instead of the take out you had delivered, Kyle stood there. Yet again soaked to the bone and this time out of breath.

"How did you know I was here?" Was the first thing that had come into your mind. If anything, he would have went by the shop first, but no. He came here. You weren't the type to deviate from a schedule, but christ. Simon at your date and then the club. John at the shop on your day off. Now this. "I swear to fucking god this fucking stalking-"

"Easy now, Love. No one's stalking you." Bullshit.

Absolute bullshit. They were military. Really important and special connections type of military, but this was bullshit. They were keeping tabs on you somehow.

"I know for a fucking fact that place is only ten minutes away. So you didn't have time to check out my store-- where I should be-- before coming here. So I'm going to ask you again, how did you know I was here?"

"Okay," he shrugged. "Stalking. We're stalking you." Kyle was lying. We he nodded like a bobblehead, you knew whatever was coming out of his mouth was bullshit. The first time you confirmed it was after Johnny had volunteered to make haggis. Kyle told him it was good, no doubt hoping to spare his feelings.

"Kyle." You warned, eyes narrowed and teeth clenched. He paused as if trying to form another lie, but coming up short. Sighing in defeat, he confessed.

"Blocking us didn't stop you from sharing your location." In that moment, you could have strangled him. They had been still using your location. Something you had given them as a way to find you if you ever needed help. Now those assholes were using it for their own benefit.

"Son of a-" you shut your mouth. "I can't do this with you right now, okay?" You didn't confess that your publisher had asked for a last minute zoom call in the middle of your busiest work hour to see how you felt about doing a few meet and greets, all expenses paid.

Good news, but still... overwhelming. You still felt like an imposter. That you didn't deserve the hype you were getting. Your story wasn't that good. Your characters didn't hold much depth.

"Everything okay?" You didn't want to tell him. Didn't want to give him the chance to offer the reassurance you desperately needed for something he had no idea about.

"Why?" You asked, changing the subject. "I just want to know why? With John I get that the job gets stressful and needing someone to take-"

"No," he finished. "That's not an excuse. It's a reason. Not an excuse." His jaw clenched. "There is no excuse for how any of us treated you."

"Then what was your reason?" you asked. "I'm finding it very hard that someone who quite actively avoided me suddenly wants to get back together."

"I slacked off?" He shrugged. "I figured there were four of us and if I wasn't able to be there, it wouldn't make a difference."

"If you're just going to lie, Kyle, there is no point in continuing this conversation." You go to close the door only for his hand to stop you.

He stands there, looking at the ground. Even from the this angle you can see him take his bottom lip between his teeth.

He's nervous.

You step back. Giving him the option of coming in and saying it is whatever it is he needs to stay. He may be an ass like the rest of them, but this isn't exactly a conversation you want to have in the hallway for your nosey neighbors to hear.

He takes the silent invitation. Walking in and not speaking until you click the door shut. "You want the truth?" His voice is soft, but there is something else behind it. Anger?

"No," you say sardonically. "Please. Lie to me." He sighed, but didn't say anything. You were exhausted. The past few days had been a back-to-back rollercoaster of emotions. You were drained. You didn't have it in you for this right now. "Kyle-"

"I thought you only kept asking because you felt bad for me." He said the words so quickly, it took you a moment to process them. He thought.... you felt bad for him? "Like you were still trying to include me even if you didn't want to."

"Why?" Was the only thing you could come up with. You didn't have the energy to try to come up with your own reasoning for his admission.

"Don't think I don't know how I am compared to the them." He scoffed. You always knew the hierarchy of their work, even if you didn't know all the details. John was at the top. Captain and head bitch in charge. Simon was the lieutenant with Johnny and Kyle as Sergeants. Kyle was the youngest of the group by two years, but still. What was there to compare?

"So you're not a Captain or Lieutenant?" you shrug. "Johnny is the same rank as you. And you are the youngest and I'm sure with time you'll get to a position-"

"Black!" He said. "I'm black. I am the only fucking black guy not only in this relationship. I'm the only black guy in the 141, in the unit."

When it came to Kyle, black was the last thing you thought of. You thought of his soft brown eyes or house his hands felt so smooth against your body. How his smile could light up the room and how beautiful, how head-turning gorgeous he was. "I'm just an after thought in everything else regarding the 141, why would you be any different?"

"Ky," you were going to be sick. Was this how he really felt? With you? With the others? With work? "You know I don't feel that way, right?"

"Do you remember that time we went out? That french place?" How could you forget. The maître d' had asked Kyle to put a card on a tab before the two of you were even seated. At first you thought it was preposterous. Why would you make patrons at a fine dining restaurant do that? This wasn't a pub for Christ sakes. Kyle told you not to worry about it and handed over a card.

The two of you never went back.

"Oh my god." It dawned on you. "When they asked for your card..."

"I..." he sucked in a breath. Trying to keep his composure. "It was fucking humiliating. I was a man dressed to the fucking nines with a gorgeous girl on my arm and before I even got the chance to blow my money, I was treated like I couldn't afford it. It wasn't because of what I was wearing or who I was with. It was because of me. Of who I was. Who I am."

"Kyle," words escaped you. Nothing in that moment to reassure him that it never dawned on you. That it stupidly never dawned on you how there were times that people did look at him different. You wanted to tell him that it didn't matter. That you were just as important and lovable and respectable as the others. That you loved him just as much. Words failed you. All you could say say was, "I'm so sorry."

He swallowed, before taking in harsh breath through his nose. "It's not an excuse. I got wrapped up in my own stupid fucking head about how other people looked at me, I forgot it only mattered how you did."

"And you did." You said, aching to reach out. To touch him. Offer some comfort. Hating that he ever felt like he wasn't enough. Knowing the feeling all too well. Even if he was the one to make you feel it. "You did matter to me."

"I know." He said. You were thankful he said it clearly. Not shrugging his shoulders or nodding his head as he spoke. "I'll do anything to matter to you again." He took your hands in his, even though they had ached to hold you closer. But he knew not to test his luck. "If you want to press restart and let's take it back to the very beginning, I'll do that. I will court you and woo you and make you fall in love with me all over again because I will never fall out with you. I can't."

You weren't prepared for this. You had prepared to leave Kyle waiting in a restaurant alone. Now your heart ached in your chest at the idea of letting him ever think he wasn't enough because of the color of his skin.

"It doesn't have to be now or tomorrow or next week or next fucking month." He squeezed your hands the same way had John had. With the exact same intensity and promise. "Just let me try again. I won't let you down this time. I'll put in the work."

"I don't want you to feel like you have to work to make this relationship work, Kyle." You protest, wanting to pull your hands away. Free from the spell his touch had seem to be putting you under.

He smiled. Not enough to show off his teeth, but enough where have of his face lifted up. "It's not the type of work with long hours and a shit commute. Loving you is the same kind of work an artist puts into making a masterpiece. Pouring everything into it and getting something beautiful in return."

Before you could comprehend it, your face was wet. "Kyle." Your lips quivered, a sob threatening to come out. "I never felt like I needed to spend time with you, Ky." You sniffled. "I fucking wanted to. I missed you." You were so close. You needed to reel it in. Get it together.

"I just didn't understand how you could." His confession broke any restraint you had. Your hand flew to your mouth, trying to subdue your cries. When Kyle pulled you to his chest, his arms wrapping around you, you allowed yourself to crumble.

Not even for yourself, but for him.

For the kind heart you now knew broke with every sideways glance from passer-byes. For the hateful and prejudice world you lived in and for how they could overlook such a wonderful man just because of something as basic as the color of his skin.

You weren't sure how long you stood crying. You weren't certain if the knock on the door behind him actually happened or something your mind had conjured to try and pull you from your fit.

Eventually you did pull away from him. Your face covered in snot and tears. Seeing that you still were in need of it, Kyle pulled you back to him, only this time your face wasn't buried into his shirt.

You stood there. His arms wrapped around your back while yours found their home around his waist.

"I used to love when you would come back to my place directly from base as soon as you got back from a deployment." You said, breaking the silence. "I would be waiting like a kid on Christmas waiting to see what trinket made you think of me. You made me feel like even though we were so far away, you still thought about me."

"Always." He said, before his lips pressed against the top of your head. "Not a day I didn't miss being here with you."

The two of you eventually settled down on the couch. Both on opposite ends with a hot cup of tea in your hands and the array of take out containers half empty. You had planned for a night of eating your feelings so there was luckily enough food for two.

"I don't want to say no." You admitted. "But I need time. Before I even think about saying yes to all of this again."

"Not all of this," he reminded. "Just me. I'm doing my part in groveling, let the others figure it out. Or at least that's just what Price told us. Although you would be doing all of us a favor if you talked to Johnny?" Your ears perked up. You hadn't seen or heard from Johnny since Friday.

"What's wrong with Johnny?" You asked.

"Lad didn't cope well with you going on your date." Not that you had fucked him and said it was a mistake.... or maybe he kept that tidbit to himsle.f

"It wasn't a-" you started.

"I know," he said. "Simon happened to be nearby." You shot him a look, letting him know you weren't buying that lie, before he continued. "But he didn't. Fuck you're lucky we were able to drag him out of your apartment before you got back and he made an even bigger fool of himself."

"What are you talking about?" You asked. "What do you mean by drag?"

"Johnny called Simon. Told him you were on a date and to bring your ass back. Although you had made it a point to fuck him and leave-- absolutely no judgement, by the way-- he was going to make it a point to never leave your bed."

"My top sheet..." You had come home to your comforters and pillows on the floor. When making up your bed, the top sheet was missing. You had just assumed you didn't put it on or maybe it was in the wash.

"Refused to put his clothes back on. Me and John couldn't risk carrying a naked, screaming Scot through the streets without making a spectical. So we rolled him up and carried him of like a rug. A very heavy, squirmy rug."

"Oh," your hand flew to your chest. "Johnny." He was the bleeding heart of the group so you weren't exactly surprised. He was also the one who blew up shit, so he was definitely one for dramatics. "So that's how Simon figured out about dinner. But the drinks-"

"Whenever Simon is home, he's your shadow. The only time we don't worry about you is when we know he's with you." That made you roll your eyes.

"You act like he's my guard dog."

"He is."

"Is not." You defended, your conversation from Saturday night coming back to you.

"You're not my body guard, Simon." You snapped.

"Not trying to be," he said. "I was never trying to be."

"He's not." you said again.

"You're right." Kyle relented, shrugging his fucking shoulders.

"You're saying that like you're just not trying to argue with me." He took a sip of your tea. "Kyle!" He sighed before looking at you as if the last thing he wanted to do was continue on the subject.

"He is." He said. "Your guard dog."

"I mean he protects me, but all of you do." He shakes his head, a huff of air going out of his nose, almost amused.

"Not like Simon." He admits it almost as if he were ashamed. "I want to say something." He said it as if he were preparing you for the next words to come out of his mouth would change the course of the night. "I need to say it because it would make me less of a man and even less of a friend if I didn't. But I don't want you to hate me or yourself for it."

Why would you hate yourself for it?

"Fine." you agreed, giving him permission to continue. "I won't hold it against you."

"You were always the one to coordinate things to do. One-on-one dates. Helping John with paperwork when shit got to crazy and you were the only one the uptight asshole would let touch his files." You gave a small smile remembering how John had barked at a recruit to get the fuck out of his office before peppering you with kisses at your arrival. Giving small pecks of appreciation as he explained what he needed you to do and how to do it.

"Helping me after my shoulder injury and staying on my ass about the physical therapy."

"Well someone had to." You countered.

"This past Christmas when Johnny needed to get his sisters gifts so you made a whole day out of it going to see lights and ice skating." Johnny was the proud owner of a freshly bruised tailbone after landing flat on his ass and swearing off skating for the rest of his life. Feckin' ice.

"Okay?" You asked, not really sure where Kyle was headed for this. He had pointed out what a good girlfriend you were, had been. How you had always tried to be helpful and do whatever needed to help your boys out.

He stopped. He looked at you as if he were debating to tell you what he had warned you about. He looked down at the floor before taking his bottom lip in between his teeth.

"Fuck." He muttered.

"Spit it out, Kyle!" You whined, now clueless to what point he was trying to make by all the examples of what a good girlfriend you had been.

He looked at you with the same solemness that a friend looked at another friend before having to call them out on their shit, knowing that the pill they were about to be given would be a hard one to swallow.

"You never did that with Simon."

[mariasont]

Could you do a story where Y/N Is taken in a hostage situation and we see more of a dark hotch? like that early episode where hotch and reid are hostages in the hospital?

TOO EMOTIONAL - A.H

a/n: thank you so much for requestin <3 i hope this is what you were wanting!

masterlist

pairings: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

warnings: honestly yall i feel like this is way darker than anything i've written so far, not sure if its good or not but alas, mentions of blood, violence, unsub threatens reader with a knife and a lighter, mentions of sexual assualt (it doesnt happen just mentions of it), unsub cuts open readers shirt, hotch is a dick for a plot, hurt/comfort

wc: 1.4k

Your vision was blurred, you fought to focus as dried blood flaked from your lashes with each heavy blink. You swallowed a cough, the floor's cold concrete punishing your knees. The ties around your wrists and ankles were merciless, digging into your flesh. You tried to focus on the sounds around you—the drip-drop of water, the soft wail of distant sirens.

In the dim light, you caught glimpses of Hotch, his distinct cologne mingling with the warehouse's musty air. He was agonizingly close yet not close enough to touch. The unsub's footsteps were barely audible over the pounding of your heart. Panic fluttered in your chest, unwanted and insistent. Only three cases in, and it seemed the universe was conspiring to reroute your career choice.

Frantically, you attempted to wipe your face on your shirt, pulse roaring in your ears as the footsteps ceased before you and Hotch. The man was a ghastly figure, burns cutting from one side of his face to the other. You couldn't breathe.

"What a day to have feds come knocking." His voice was hoarse, fingers absently playing with a lighter.

"You know, they say the most intelligent criminals are the ones who don't get caught, yet here we are," Hotch said, his chin defiantly up, words sharp and calculated.

Suddenly, the unsub was right there, his disfigured face uncomfortably close, the heat from the lighter singeing your skin. His breath was a hot, sticky assault, and you fought the instinct to flinch.

"Smart men don't leave witnesses, and I intend to be very smart about this."

The foundations of your training flitted across your consciousness, the methodologies for keeping control of the situation, but they sifted through your fingers like said, rendering you paralyzed.

"Take her then. She's new, inexperienced. Probably more trouble than she's worth." Hotch's voice was cold, jarring like a slap to the face, his expression empty of emotion.

You strained to keep your face impassive, your eyes darting to Hotch, pleading for his attention. Your breaths were shallow, scarcely there. He had to be bluffing. You felt sick. The unsub shifted his weight, scrutinizing you both, edging closer to hotch, no doubt with suspicion.

The unsub laughed, a cold and calculating sound as he circled around Hotch. "You expect me to believe you'd turn on your own that quickly? I'm not a fool."

"Look at her and tell me what her worth is to me." Hotch's voice was even, almost bored. "She's a liability. Too emotional, too soft." 

His words were flung carelessly, yet they landed with precision, straight into your chest. Your teeth punished the inside of your cheek.

The remarks were like sharp barbs to your chest, instilling a hollow feeling as you attempted to convince yourself that the wetness on your lashes was anything but tears. His assessment was not unfounded. Your empathy, your sensitivity, traits deemed too tender for the harsher realities of your job, were now being used against you. Hotch had always been an exception, until now.

"Well, I could see her worth in other ways." The man's words oozed contempt, his gaze crawling over you in a way that threatened to turn your stomach. "I bet that's how she got the job in the first place, huh?"

"What do you think?" Hotch's laugh was a sinister match to the unsub's. He tilted his head in your direction. "Look at her. That's all she's been good for."

Your breath caught in your throat, your body turning as much as the ties would permit in Hotch's direction. You could almost hear your heart shattering, could feel it in Hotch's inability to face you. Was this a plan or had he truly discarded you?

You never deluded yourself into thinking you were Hotch's favorite--his reserved interactions with you made that abundantly clear. In fact, you were probably his least favorite. He had kept you at an arm's length, while seemingly forging bonds with the others that didn't seem to extend to you.

This was all within reason, given your inexperience and younger age, but the disdain lacing his words was unexpected, shredding through any pretense of professional detachment.

Hotch had never wanted you on the team, it was Rossi who had vouched for you. And now, look where that got you both.

Maybe this was all deserved.

"Then you won't mind if I try her out for myself?" The unsub's insinuation felt like a perverse validation of Hotch's doubts. 

A low hum escaped the unsub as he closed the distance, his gaze predatory. You stilled, breath caught as he produced a knife from his pocket, skimming your cheek just shy of cutting. You were scared and you were scared to show it. Desperately, you looked to Hotch, the blade now hovering precariously close to your sternum.

Hotch wouldn't look at you. You wanted to scream, to cry, to throw something, but that was all shoved to the bottom of your throat as the unsub sliced down the middle of your shirt, exposing your chest and compelling your gaze to it. Tears of humiliation prickled your eyes. How could Hotch let this happen to you?

The unsub's clammy grip clung to your waist, your lips trembling as you prepared for the worst. You closed your eyes, escaping to your house in your mind—tea brewing, fireplace going—anywhere but here.

A sudden splatter to your face jolted you back, eyes opening in alarm you saw Hotch's eyes, not the unsub's.

"You're okay, you're okay," Hotch murmurs. 

The words did little to comfort you, his hands moving blindly to release the binds at your wrist and ankles. Looking down, you see the unsub, knife through his back, blood pooling around him. Hotch's hands are on your wrists, his thumbs massaging away the sting. 

When your hand touches your face, you feel the splatter from earlier, coming back away with a smear of blood on your fingertips. 

Your voice felt like it was a prisoner inside yourself, words and sounds slipping past you like ghosts. A persistent ringing in your ears muffled all but the pungent scent of the warehouse, which clawed at your senses. 

You felt the jostle of hands, the motion of being lifted, a sensation so distant it barely registered. The world was a smear of lights and faces--the team showing up, the paramedics--until it slowly came into focus. 

You barely registered that Hotch was speaking to you, his words indistinct and muffled.

"What?" you asked, your speech slow to form and blurred at the edges.

You had a jacket over the front of you, his jacket, covering your exposed chest.

Hotch's eyes were pools of worry as he grasped at your hand. It was weird, the feeling of his hand in yours. You realized that was the first time you had felt it. 

"More water?"

You could only nod, and he promptly fetched a bottle, twisting it open and placing it in your hand. You took a small sip. 

"It's too loud," you mumbled, you were aware you weren't making sense.  You shifted to face him, your knee grazing his thigh. "Did you mean those things you said?"

"Of course I didn't mean it," Hotch replied quickly, his gaze intense. "You thought I meant that?"

Your gaze dropped to your lap, voice faltering. "I don't know... I wasn't sure, I mean, no, but I just... I don't feel very useful, and this whole mess, it's because of me and I--" 

Tears interrupted you, your hands fumbling to hide them. Hotch reached out, gently turning your face to his, thumb brushing away the tears. 

"Hey, look at me. Don't say that. This isn't your fault. Nothing I said back there was true. I needed to distract him, had to make him concentrate on you."

"I'm sorry, I don't know why I'm crying like this," you stammered between sobs. 

"You don't have to apologize. You're crying because you've been through a lot. Just breathe, take your time."

You managed a wobbly smile. "You hit the nail on the head with the too emotional part," you sniffled.

Hotch gave a small chuckle. "Your compassion, your sensitivity, it's what sets you apart as an agent--in fact, it makes you an outstanding one."

You were close now, your gaze inadvertently drawn to his lips. You could kiss him if you wanted. Not that you were in the right headspace or that it was appropriate. But you could've.

"Oh, my goodness, I'm so glad you're okay!" You were barreled into a hug, the familiar voice and blur of color of Penelope enveloping your senses.

Hotch cautioned, "Watch her head." 

With Penelope's hands around you, you found yourself looking over her shoulder, locking eyes with Hotch. His gaze held a new light, a recognition that maybe, just maybe you weren't Hotch's least favorite agent after all.

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[madschiavelique]

A Crown Of Ink : Chapter 7 - Five Of Wands

summary : you've been avoiding viktor, but as your next homework session comes around, he cannot help but be curious. oh and more tyler

content warnings : crude language (not much okay), reader is having thoughtsss

word count : 5,6k

author's note : FIRST OF ALL i was sick and on my periods writing this okay so this is much more of a transitionary chapter than anything for the shitstorm to come, SECOND OF ALL i KNOW it's another 5 of wands chapter i'm sorry i forgot that i had already used this card before THUS i will probably change the card in chapter 4 because i couldn't see any other card working for this one. but i still hope you all will like it <3 (i don't know how many times i wrote "sighed" in this chapter so BEAR WITH ME)

proofread by the lovely @yaffles-world

masterlist : here ．．discord : here ．．playlist : here

taglist : @doctorho @6selkie @yunloyal @kryscent @hypocritic-trash-baby @kapitankarate @a-lovers-card @ababanerb @lolixsstuff @forget-me-not-my-dear @smolanchovy @shugar0cone0alt @harrys--ferret-blog @suuummerrr @stillinracooncity @noxturnalmoth @dlbitch

Friday arrived for another study session between you and Viktor. The week had flown by, with one particularity: your stubborn avoidance of Viktor, and his stubborn search for you.

During classes, you always managed to find a seat as far away from his as possible. You avoided him in the corridors, ignored him when you crossed his path, and when you were in the library and you noticed him, you packed up your things as quickly as possible to leave.

Since the power cut, you'd been even more keen to avoid Viktor. Although you'd done it before, you'd simply decided you didn't want to interact with him. The last few weeks had been far too full of his presence, and you needed to get away from him both physically and mentally.

The trip to the museum, the lunch with him and Jayce, the hour of detention... Your days were far more filled with him than you would have preferred.

It had been a sudden, almost instinctive choice to get as far away from him as possible. 

There was something in the air the evening of the blackout, and even today. A kind of disturbing truth was taking up more and more space in your mind: Viktor wanted to be your friend.

In your eyes, there was always a huge worry about making friends. Your circle was small, and most of your friendships were involuntary, and you were fine with it. You didn't need many friends, you simply kept the ones you trusted. But were you ready to place your trust in Viktor?

Alas, Friday was here, and Viktor was inevitable.

You had arrived a little early at the library, dropping off your things and anticipated for your study by picking up the tomes you would need during this session. The library was already busier than it had been the previous week, with your class mimicking you and Viktor as they set to work on their history topic to avoid working on it at the last minute.

You despised the very idea of doing this assignment, as it brought you too close to your years living in Zaun, to more nightmares every night, to more Viktor. You wanted to get rid of this homework, and you knew full well that to do that you'd have to actually deal with it. 

But while he was away, you took the opportunity to take out a sheet of paper and dipped the tip of your quill in one of the pretty inks Eris had given you. You wanted to write to her. You hadn't received any correspondence from her for some time now, and you suspected that she too had other things to worry that were more important than taking the time to sit down and write a letter.

Dear Eris, you began.

The weeks are endless here, and I almost miss the times when the only thing we had to do all day was figure out what to do to avoid dying of boredom till night came. I've welcomed my new flatmate, Sky Young. She's nice - I could have had worse, I doubt I could have had better. Speaking of better…

You raised your feather above the paper for a moment, hesitating over the next part of your sentence. Viktor would be inevitable in this very letter, and the idea frustrated you. No matter what happened, his name was on your mind, always at the corner of your lips, ready to rub against your teeth and sound out like a finger pressing on a trigger before shooting.

Were you going to tell her about your concerns? Were you going to feign disinterest, pretend it was just some guy Jayce had introduced you to?

I'm getting a bit more used to tarot. You write as your sign of progress. This morning I drew the five of wands. From what I gather though, it doesn't look very positive. I should expect it, five guys hitting each other with sticks seems an unlikely interpretation of a general hug.

According to the little booklet, the five of sticks represented: Incendiary events. Protests. Angry people. Drama. Exciting conflicts.

You'd raised your eyebrows as your eyes roamed the rest of the descriptions: New ideas are born of passionate debate. Energy is scattered but if forces work together, powerful results occur. There's a need for unity. You're bothered by people who don't act as you'd hoped. Free yourself by surrendering to the present moment.

Well, that looks promising, you thought. The card was obviously pushing you towards Viktor, and that was bothering you.

You were clinging to what you had, to the past, to the only thing you knew: survival. Viktor was turning your finely constructed ecosystem upside down, as if he were treading on a sandcastle you'd spent hours building on a windy beach.

But something inside you was beginning to creep in; an idea that seemed dangerous, and which a few weeks ago would have seemed quite simply impossible to think of. 

What if you tried?

What if you tried not to be so uptight about working with him? What if, for once, you accepted the possibility that this wasn't a competition for your life?

The idea was bitter, weighing you down with anxiety. You went back to writing your letter.

I think I know what the card is leading me to, you confessed, but it is deeply unpleasant. What more can I say... I don't think this letter is going to be very long. I don't have much to tell you, and if I do, I'd rather say it to your face than on a sheet of the Glorious Academy of Piltover. You added useless curls in your writing for the title of the Academy to emphasize the ridicule of its prestigious status. You knew Eris would laugh. Did you get any new exotic payments? Here I'm drowning in copies and bolts, but your inks and herbs keep me company.

You smile for a moment, but the thought of mentioning Viktor keeps running through your mind. You looked around for a moment, as if he would miraculously appear and snatch the letter out of your hand to read it. But nothing, just the serene calm of the library - only the sound of flipped pages as students tried finding some information were keeping you compagny.

You were right about the Emperor. Of course you were. You confessed. A new pupil has arrived and, to top it all, he's beaten me in the league table. I suppose you can imagine how I felt about the situation. Every day is a tooth-and-nail battle with him. To crown it all, we've both been assigned to a collaborative project. Isn't that great? Anyway. I miss you a lot. I can't wait to hear from you. Say hi to Ekko for me.

Ekko was a childhood friend who you spent a lot of time with. It was undoubtedly through his demonstrations of repairs and your afternoons spent working on tinkering projects that your interest in science and engineering was born. 

You dipped your quill in your inkwell one last time.

P.S: The name of the Emperor is-

"How long have you been here?"

You almost spilled the inkwell on the table as your eyes rose to Viktor, standing in front of you with his satchel slung over one shoulder.

You sighed. He could at least have made his presence known by clearing his throat, not by standing still and watching you like a cat under his amber eyes. You took your letter, writing his cursed name, followed by yours before blowing on the paper to hasten the drying of the ink.

"Long enough for either of us to fall asleep in Devid's classes," you huffed as you finally folded the sheet in half and tucked it into your notebook to send it later.

He wore a small smirk, gracefully relieving himself of his satchel by pulling it off his shoulder and letting it fall gently to the floor. He sat down opposite you, taking out his things.

"Was Demacian never one of your fortes for you to sleep during his classes?" he asked about Devid, your language teacher. "I thought you'd understand with your wide panel of knowledge."

"I do understand," you corrected him as you picked up a tome to begin your work session. "I'm fluent - I don't need more of what's being said in these classes."

"Why?" he asked, placing his inkwell and notebook on the table. "Ever travelled there?"

"I never travelled outside of here and Zaun," you informed him.

He sighed, looking down at his notes. "Then you don't speak Demacian."

You frowned, raising your head. He met your gaze, waiting for your next remark.

"Why?" you questioned. "Has his royal highness, all full of Runeterrian knowledge, been on a sweet trip to the Great City?"

He arched an eyebrow, his eyes drifting over the small pile of tome to grab one.

"Any idiot knows that learning a language in classes and putting it to practice in the actual region where said language is spoken is a completely different thing."

You remained silent, trying to contain and prevent yourself from giving him the pleasure of answering. You went back to your notes, pressing the binding of your notebook to the table as you jotted down a few more bits of information you managed to find in the new tome you'd selected.

A full minute passed, after which Viktor couldn't help breaking the silence.

"Why are you ignoring me?"

You sighed. Was he a puppy in need of constant attention?

"I'm not ignoring you." You confirmed, not looking up from your notes.

"Fine," he said, searching for a way to continue the conversation, to find the keyword to unlock you. "Why are you avoiding me?"

This time he'd hit the nail on the head. Obviously he hadn't been blind to your dodges, but how could he? He was observant, always making the perfect deductions, and was smart enough to get on your nerves.

"Can we focus and work?" You tried to extricate yourself from the situation.

He sank back in his chair, staring at you for a moment. "Not until you answer my questions."

This time you won his gaze. "Too bad there's no candle for you to bargain information with."

"I can find other ways," he remarked, "Miss."

You tensed at the nickname, your lips pressing together as you leaned on the desk, resting your elbows on it.

"Oh yeah?" you replied, almost amused, "I hope these ways will be as promising as you and Jayce's attempt at cooking on a heater."

He smiled, approaching you in turn. "You seem to have forgotten that I seem to know more about you than you know about me."

"And then I thought I was supposed to be the obsessed one," your brows knit as a curious little smile tried to stretch your lips. "You're not stalking me, are you?"

Your eyes crinkled, scanning his continuously. The days were receding further and further into the night, and the sky outside was gradually turning from cyan to indigo. Under the subdued lights of the library, Viktor's eyes stood out, ever more piercingly under his long brown lashes.

"From what I have heard," he continued, as you both leant on your elbows against the table as if playing chess, "Madam Selene is truly open when it comes to questions asked by her students."

He had just put your king in danger, your lips parting in surprise for a moment before closing again, jaw clenched.

"Surely she won't mind exchanging on the pride that her legal daughter is to her?"

You inhaled heavily, chewing your cheek as his insufferable sneer spread to the corners of his lips again, raising his mole slightly.

You picked up your quill again, avoiding his gaze and letting yours return to your notebook. You dipped it in with a half-open, hesitant mouth as you considered what you were going to say, both to him and on paper.

"I'm avoiding you because I can't get to be friends with my only rival."

He seemed amused by your sentence, as if you were just a child trying to impress an adult by saying something serious and threatening with the latest big word you had learned. He rested his chin on his palm, watching you write, and for an instant you thought of the paper he'd never passed you back during detention. What was he about to say?

"Isn't there an old saying about being close to your opponents?"

"Isn't there this old thing called ‘free will’ that allows me to do whatever I want?"

He shrugged. "Your free will hasn't decided to make you leave this room so far."

You regained his eyes this time, the latter looking through you, trying to peek through the cracks in your facade for a chance to see the lights that resided there.

"Are you challenging my free will? Because I can give it some physical attributes in the scientifically accurate name of 'clenched fists'."

"I'll pass." He sneered. "I'm sure Tyler has had enough lessons on this concept."

Silence fell again. You scanned the lines of another novel where too little information about Zaun was catalogued, while Viktor had not touched his pen. You could feel him in your peripheral vision, watching you, following you relentlessly.

"Am I truly your rival?" He finally asked.

"What else would you be?"

Viktor pouted, straightening slightly. "Being your rival implies having the same goal and fighting for it. I am uncertain if that definition applies to us in this case."

Admittedly, he didn't seem to have the same devotion to his academic results as you did, which frustrated you deeply. But what about the second option he cited?

"In the Academy, we all have the same goal," you replied, watching him for a moment before returning to your notes.

There was another pause on the table, and you thought that perhaps this time he would start working. But he didn't.

"I want a truce."

You looked up, raising an eyebrow.

"...Okay," you finally say, picking up another book, "good for you."

"I mean it, Miss," he insisted. "I think you've had it wrong on me-" But you cut him off.

“What are you implying?” you asked, annoyed at beating around the bush when you seemed to be the only one working right now.

"I'm not implying," Viktor nuanced, "I am saying."

"Saying?" You shook your head, waiting for the next part.

"Yes. You know, that thing that one can do with the possession of a mouth and vocal cords? You've become an expert at it just through this conversation,” he remarked as he straightened up and grabbed his pencil, twirling it between his fingers, "as it is the most we have spoken together in a week."

"Well then, conversation doesn't seem to be such a dying art anymore now does it?" you remarked.

Viktor smiled. "You seem to like quoting me." 

You stared at him, raising your eyebrows and sighing. "I'm going to use unparalleled verbal condescension: shush." Your eyes returned to the tome you were working on. "This is a library, not a café."

"You've never spat in mine, by the way, reassure me?"

"After wasting my spit talking to you, I doubt I'd waste any more in your coffee."

He didn't say a word, but you knew he was smiling. Facing you, painfully fiddling with his pen as if this whole thing was some meagre task he could afford to procrastinate on.

You hated this attitude, the simple fact that he didn't seem to work to achieve his goals, that it was innate when you had struggled to rise so high for so long.

"I mean it," he said, straightening up, putting aside his teasing tone for a moment, "for the truce."

You looked up at him, his expression unfamiliar to you. There was something gentle in his piercing gaze, as if he saw something in you that was worth seeing. You sighed, thinking for a moment.

Would this childish quarrel last until the end of the year? Would you still consider him an enemy when you could have made a new friend? Friendships didn't come your way every day - you were well aware of that. But were you ready to put aside your stubbornness after the various humiliations he had put you through?

“What would a truce even mean?” you finally asked, somehow intent on hearing more.

His lips stretched slightly as his eyes widened. He shrugged.

“I don't know,” he admitted, ”I never thought I'd go this far with you, on this topic.”

Your shoulders slumped.

“Then think of something to say next time after we finish working on this.” You returned to your page, rereading your notes. “I'll take the subjects of Boundary Markets, Cultivairs, and Hope House Orphanage. One location for each level. You should pick three too.”

“Hope House Orphanage?” He repeated, mind finally concentrating on the exposé. “That's the only good thing that can be talked about in such a level.”

You turned a few pages of your notes, running through the lines of your research. 

“There's always Old Hungry,” you remarked, voice lower.

The Old Hungry was a gigantic mechanized clock tower that grew from the very depth of Zaun and built itself up till levels that could reach some of Piltover's buildings. It was too imposing to avoid, and too full of history to be left aside in the presentation.

“Old Hungry? This old scrap doesn't even give time anymo-”

“It's the Heart of Zaun,” you cut in. “It's unavoidable to talk about it anyway.”

“Why don't you take it if you're so adamant about it being on our work?”

You remembered its size, the dark wingspan and the wind blowing through the dusty gears of the Old Hungry. 

“I'd rather you be the one to take it.” you confirmed.

“Why?”

“Because. Don't you want to take it?”

“Do you want to get rid of it?”

You exchanged a look with him, urging him not to be picky.

“Why are you being so mysterious about all of this?” he questioned, eyebrows furrowed.

“You seem to have forgotten that you seem to know more about me than I know about you,” you repeated, annoyed.

“Shall I ask Selene?” he said ironically.

“I fear asking her this would be a limit placed both in her knowledge about this as well as your questions for her.” 

He gazed at you for a moment, clearly frustrated by the secrets, the things left unsaid. You stood up, returning the tomes you'd already read to their shelves. Viktor stood up, following you.

“Acting tough will not make it hurt any less,” he said as you climbed the steps of the ladder and he reached its base. “You know this, yes?”

You suppressed a sigh as you placed one of the tomes on the shelf, arranging it perfectly in line.

“I don't need any of your life lessons,” you remarked, placing the extra tomes. “Can you move the ladder to the left?”

“You know the magic word,” he almost crooned.

You scoffed, not intending to give it to him so easily. You leaned to the side, watching, tiptoeing to reach one of the too few tomes on Zaun in the entire library.

Viktor seemed amazed at how stubborn you could prove to be, especially about him.

“Don't tell me your leitmotif resides in what doesn't kill you makes you stronger?” he questioned as you leaned dangerously toward the books.

“My leitmotif,” you pointed out as you almost reached the binding of the tome you were after, “resides in what doesn't kill you disappoints me-”

You'd reached the book, but your sentence was cut off at the end by your sharp gasp of breath. You'd just lost your balance, your feet slipping off the ladder step as you felt the air rush beneath you and expected to slam heavily into the ground.

The sound of something falling to the floor echoed, the sensation of hands on your back and waist catching you off the ground. Your heart pounding with the shock of sudden fear, you realized what had just happened in the blink of an eye: Viktor had caught you in your fall.

You could feel his thin fingers, warm and tentative, resting on the vest of your uniform around your waist. He held you there, firmly, and you felt your back brush against his chest, his breath landing on the nape of your neck and raising the hairs on it.

You released yourself from his grip and turned to face him, suddenly backing away, heart still pounding, but unable to differentiate whether this was due to the suddenness of the fall, or something else.

He seemed just as surprised as you were, lips parted. He didn't seem to be about to make a condescending remark, a joke about your lack of balance that could be matched by his, nothing.

You leaned back against the shelf, trying to calm yourself as your muscles relaxed from the apprehension of your fall.

There was a moment of quiet, a moment when, for once, neither of you knew what to say to the other. Your eyes fell to the ground, where Viktor's cane had fallen. You swallowed on a dry throat, inhaling to try and grain back your thoughts.

You knelt down to pick it up, straightening up to hand it back to him. He studied you for a moment, his eyes fixed on yours. He brought his hand tentatively up to the handle of his cane, stretched out towards him.

“Did you mean it?” you asked in a low voice as his hand reached the pommel, his thin, long fingers a minute ago resting on your waist wrapping elegantly and slowly around his cane.

“The truce?” he questioned, his voice almost reaching the whisper, as if he feared any higher volume would burst the delicacy of this bubble you were both in.

You let go of the cane, leaning back against the bookcase again, like a prop, like your crutch.

“The other night,” you began, eyes lowered to your feet on the floor, ”you said that it seemed impossible to me that you wanted to learn more about me, out of genuine curiosity. And now, you said you wanted a truce.” You raised your head, straightening to look at him. “Did you mean it, all of this?”

You felt very small, as if you were walking and, in the middle of the nettles, had found a patch of grass where you could put your feet without stinging yourself.

He seemed touched, but this emotion seemed to give way to confusion.

“Why wouldn't I mean it?”

Why would you mean it? you wondered. You'd had enough examples of how trust was doomed to fail you. You pulled yourself upright, drawing your armour back over you, closing your heart before it went beyond the confines of your chest.

“Oh sorry,” you resumed, sarcastically. “I forgot how through your many gallantries in our discussions you have evidently shown to be the most agreeable young man in the world.”

He smiled, his cheerful attitude back in place in the blink of an eye. “I cannot deny that exchanging with someone like you brings out the more playful part of me.”

“Someone like me?” you stressed, almost offended.

“Yes,” he confirmed. “Your morals are like a legend - rumoured to exist, but no proof to back it up.”

You sighed, rolling your eyes as you started walking back to your table. “My expectations for you were low when asking this, but somehow you still failed to meet them...”

But your sentence had died on its end, as not far from your table, an unfortunately familiar, tall figure with blond curls stood.

Fuck. Tyler.

Seeing you reappear from between the shelves, he noticed you both, a cheeky grin spreading across his face as he strode towards you.

“Ah,” he smiled as he approached you, ”my tormentors.”

You sighed, standing by your table as he reached the height of your chair. “You again.”

“What?” He chuckled, feigning offense as he rested his hand on his chest. “Aren't you pleased to see me?” He arched an eyebrow. “I'm sure you've got another one of these filthy Zaunite, barbaric lessons to give me.”

“You wish you were worth the effort.” You huffed, moving closer to your chair, but he came between you and it. 

You glared at him, who seemed satisfied with your reaction. He turned to Viktor.

“Your dog's got quite the bite, Moravec.” His eyes settled on you again, watching you up and down until they returned to yours. “Where did you get one of those?”

You breathed heavily, the annoyance of his remarks demeaning you to a supposedly docile and pliable being making your blood boil.

“Turns out she has a mouth and proper aligned thoughts that you could not fathom reaching, Tyler.” Viktor pointed out, coming to sit in his respective place.

The blond watched you, not letting go of your eyes for a moment as he took a step back and took his place in your chair. “How noisy insects are this time of year.”

And he was proud, of his insolence, of his overflowing egotism, which he displayed like the most expensive and chic jacket he owned in his priceless wardrobe.

“Tyler,” you began, inhaling as you tried to calm yourself, “‘piss off.’”

“Such a soft language.” He sneered, lounging in your chair as if he'd ordered its manufacture himself. Who knows, maybe all the academy's furniture rested on his family's finances. “Do they all speak like that in Zaun?”

“Why? Wanna go visit?” You inquired, crossing your arms over your chest. “I wonder what'll get taken first, your pretty blonde locks, or your tongue.”

You played on his unfamiliarity with the city, his prejudices ingrained in his mind, unfolding a terrain of fictitious threats that could be very useful to you.

It had its effect. For a slight moment, you noticed the concern in his eyes, a very silent ‘... is that true?’ that didn't cross the boundary between his mind and lips.

“My patron came to me.” He confessed, looking away as if ignoring you. “Seems like your detention ran a bit short, didn't it?”

You heard Viktor chuckle, but didn't even turn around. “It's just like you said, Miss,” he remarked, leaning forward on the table. “Looks like he is obsessed with us."

“You're not worth a thought.” Tyler spat, obviously insulted by Viktor's remark. He turned to you, grabbing one of your pencils to play with like it was his. “Didn't know you had your own patron, though.”

“Let me guess.” You sighed, placing your weight on one of your hips as you stood. “Your little clever mind aligned two dots and thought that Zaun and Patron together was an impossible combination of words here in the Academy.”

He was amused, but obviously annoyed. You must have touched a reality in his reasoning that he didn't like you to know.

“This one was a second thought.” He admitted all the same. “The first was,” he leaned in slightly, “how the hell does a girl as irascible as you managed to pull any social strings to get yourself a patron?”

You giggled. He was trying to push your buttons. Perhaps he was simply a masochist, you considered, perhaps he had a pronounced desire for humiliation. Or perhaps he was just profoundly stupid.

“Funny, I thought the same thing about you when I met you.” You offered him a smile that possessed no warmth. “But I guess walking around with a golden spoon in your mouth and shitting in silk sheets during your childhood up until now must have its advantages. Right, Hoskel?"

Tyler frowned, hemming his lower lip in anger. His eyes shifted from yours to Viktor's. “She truly is-”

But you cut him off, placing both hands on the table and leaning towards him. “She is in front of you. And she,” your voice darkened, ”can add some new marks on your face to match the blue of your eyes.”

Tyler tensed, the seriousness in your stare convincing him for a moment that your threats weren't empty words, but promises that would come true if necessary.

He let out a nervous laugh, nodding as if you'd just given him a most satisfying demonstration. He was probably thinking, right then and there, that he was safe. That on the floor of the Academy, you wouldn't repeat the violent acts that had earned you an hour's detention.

“You, are a tough one, my friend.” He laughed. “You still have the essence of your hometown so far, you as well as he.” He turned to Viktor. “Paint stripes on a toad, it'll never make it a tiger.

Your blood ran hot, the sentence like an iron that had just burned your skin raw. You gripped his tie, pulling so hard that Tyler nearly stumbled and strangled on it as you pulled him towards your face, your face twisted with hatred. 

His eyes were filled with a new fear as you rumbled, your voice low. “Say that again, and I'll fucking kill you.”

His chest bulged and sagged rapidly as his shoulders were up to his ears in fear, stressing as your knuckles turned white under the tight grip you had on his tie.

He swallowed, staying that way until, in the blink of an eye, his gaze landed on your lips. 

The simple act brought you back to the reality of your proximity, of your two faces so close together that anyone could have considered this something intimate. You let go of his tie as if it carried an infection, as if it had suddenly become so hot that you had to let go of it at all costs. You frowned, stepping back, watching Tyler as he breathed just as heavily.

The great doors of the library opened, and the tiny silhouette of Heimerdinger poked his pink nose into the room. This was enough for you to put aside the previous event, same for Viktor and Tyler who both turned to the professor in surprise.

You eyes widened, straightening up as he strode contentedly towards the center of the room. What was Heimerdinger doing here?

It was unusual to find teachers in the library, and obviously all the students around you seemed just as confused about the situation. He trotted on, making his way to the very center of the room under the curious gazes of students.

“Young folks,” he called, “I have an announcement to make. Please gather around me, so that I don't have to see you all one by one in the immensity of this room."

The students exchanged surprised glances, approaching him. You looked at Viktor, who was frowning. He stood up. You approached Heimerdinger. When a small arc had formed around the professor, he cleared his throat.

“I would have liked to have waited until our next class to tell you,” he admitted, “but with the news just in and the weekend coming up, I thought it wiser to tell you as soon as possible.”

Everyone was hanging on his every word.

“You see, we've been communicating for some time, the Academy members and myself, with The Great Demacia University.”

Murmurs began to rise in the tiny group of students, whispers about the white region running through the air.

“And we have concluded, after many very promising exchanges, that a few classes from the Piltover Academy will have the privilege of traveling to Demacia as part of a school trip.”

Surprise filled the room. A school trip? 

"The Academy and I,” continued Heimerdinger as he walked hands behind his back, the two elements of his sentence simply inseparable, ”consider it a real cultural benefit to be able to organize such a program to link our two schools. The trip will therefore take place in a month and a half's time.”

Some of the students laughed, the joy of the news filling them. The idea of a school trip puzzled you. You'd never left Piltover or Zaun. You'd always clung on to those two towns, and upsetting that perspective was something you hadn't quite figured out yet. But it would undoubtedly be a good way of discovering new horizons, of not having to confine yourself to the same landscape of two cities you didn't like for different reasons. 

However, your thoughts paused for a moment, as you sensed that Heimerdinger hadn't finished with his announcement. 

“Yes, I know.” He chirped. “The excitement of a new journey is not a small thing in young souls. However, an event such as this deserves an organizational rearrangement.”

And that's where things got complicated.

“First of all, your duet presentations that were due in two weeks' time have now been determined by myself into an overall assignment for your year.”

The majority of students rejoiced, but your heart fell into your stomach. An assignment, spread out over the whole year, that you were to do with none other than Viktor as your sole partner in this work?

You exchanged a glance with him, the latter seeming unaffected, neither hot nor cold.

“And...” The professor resumed. “The planning of this event alone will eat up a good two weeks of this year. Consequently-” Silence fell, everyone waiting for the end of his sentence, "the exams in each subject for this semester have been brought closer together, and will therefore take place in two weeks’ time.”

Your lips parted, as if the apocalypse had just been added to your diary. 

Two weeks. You had two weeks to study everything. Two weeks to get to know everything. 

Two weeks to overtake Viktor and regain your place at the top of the ranking.

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[ahgasegotarmy116]

Deja Vu | Jeon Jungkook | One Shot

Summary: Life hadn't gone down the path you had hoped for but the one who made that choice for you isn't someone you want to see ever again. Pairing: f!reader x Jungkook, childhood friends Word Count: 3k~ a/n: I wrote this last night in one go so I figured I might as well post it...let me know if you guys would like to see this from Jungkook's pov 👀 p.s. I got lazy and hardly edited this but I hope you guys like it lol Oh and this is loosely based off of the very beginning of Deja Vu by Tomorrow x Together

My fingers ghost along the spines of the books I pass by, looking for something that might catch my eye because yes sometimes I do judge a book by it's cover.

Finding one that seems interesting enough I turn it over, reading the summary of the fifth romance novel I've picked up since I've been here but when the bell on the door jingles giving notice of a newcomer I turn to see who it is...and I really I wish I hadn't.

My palms instantly clam up leaving me nervously wiping them off on my sweater so I don't damage the book but I can't let go of it since it's my only form of shelter, hiding in plain sight from the person I hoped to never see again.

Curiosity get's the best of me though, watching as he sits down and pulls out his laptop at one of the tables in this cafe bookstore hybrid, one of my favorites places in the city that I'll probably never come to again in fear of running into him.

He pulls a camera out of his bag and takes the memory card out before putting it in his computer to upload it's contents.

I guess he did end up becoming a photographer like he always wanted.

It's strange seeing someone who was so important to you for so many years become someone you barely even recognize. But that's the thing, I do recognize him and I hate the fact that no matter how hard I try I can't help think of him often. How is he doing? What does his life look like now? Has he finally found someone to love like I have?

Seeing him makes me doubt everything though, but that's just what he does. He makes it impossible for me not to be drawn to him, wanting to talk to him, to laugh with him, to be with him.

I thought I had moved past that. Thought that this silly little childhood crush had been nothing but that, a stupid crush that I finally grew out of.

But seeing him here tells me it's everything but that.

I look from him to the book I'm hiding behind, trying to distract myself and with the amount of effort I'm putting in it actually works...for a little while.

My eyes are begging me to let them wander again, indulge in the desire to observe him even if nothing comes from it and once I decide that one more look can't hurt instead of meeting his brows furrowed in concentration I meet his eyes.

His soft chocolate brown eyes that I've willed myself not to drown in time and time again are looking back at me, a soft smile reaching his lips when he finally sees me notice him making me sick to my stomach. 

Turning as subtly as I can I walk further into the maze of shelves around me, praying his interest in me was only fleeting and that he in fact did not recognize me.

After a few minutes of hiding in the corner that not many notice as it's a rather unpopular genre I let out the breath that I had decided to hold at some point, my need to be invisible necessary to my survival but when I decide the coast is clear and walk out of my little nook I bump into the exact person I wish I had never met all those years ago.

He holds onto my forearm as he sees me stumble back, unsure of if this minor collision would result in a fall and with his help, that I hate to admit I needed in the moment, prevents that mortifying occurrence from happening.

"I'm sorry that was my fault" he says and lets go of my arm, thankfully noticing how uncomfortable I am with his touch from my body language. "No it was mine, I should've been more careful coming out from behind that corner" I admit, a common courtesy after interactions like this, neither one wanting to admit it was the other persons fault.

"Well regardless I'm sorry" he says and I nod my head, looking down at the floor to avoid giving him a chance to recognize me. "I'm glad I caught you though, a fall against a bookshelf doesn't sound the most desirable" he chuckles, hoping to diffuse the awkward air around us but there's no use in him trying. He made that decision for the both of us a long time ago...

*Seven years ago*

"Please say something" I mumble, the five feet between us feeling like we're lightyears away, the silence a twin to the vacuum that is space.

He's right there but I know I've lost him for good with this stupid decision. "I don't know what to say" he mumbles right back leaving me scoffing in disbelief. "Then make something up. Anything is better than this" I say in reference to the radio silence between us since I decided to confess to him.

I know I shouldn't have done it. I know I'm selfish for telling him after all of these years and not simply fessing up to how I felt about him long ago but I was afraid that something like this might happen, and I was right. 

I hate that when it comes to him that I'm always right.

I could let us part ways and go to college leaving things left unsaid but I stupidly hoped that we could make it work. Do long distance so we wouldn't feel the need to go on dates or even worry about getting physical if it got to that point.

In my silly little crush clouded brain I thought that he would at least give us a shot but I know it was useless.

I know he doesn't feel the same way about me but I didn't realize it was gonna be this fucking hard.

"Just say something!" I say, raising my voice at him since I need to do something to keep myself from suffocating. "What do you fucking want me to say?" he throws back, getting just as upset but he has no reason to be acting like this, not when he holds our future in the palm of his hand.

"Say you don't like me, say you're not into me like that because from this reaction alone I know you probably don't feel the same way! Anything but this..." I say, my tone harsh but softening at the end, wanting to be mad at him but he's done nothing wrong. 

Nothing except for giving me false hope that we could be something more.

"I don't know how I feel about you" he admits and I scoff. "Well when you figure it out, you know where to find me" I say and pick up my bag that I had discarded on the table I had been sat on, waiting for him to finally show up.

I had decided to do this off campus.

We're seniors and although the rumors and humiliation from his rejection wouldn't go around for long it wasn't worth it to have the off chance of an audience.

No doubt they'll still circulate since the two of us have been conjoined at the hip since childhood but keeping the actual event from prying eyes was the best I could do.

I take one last look at him but his eyes are turned down, not even able to look me and so I walk to my car as fast as I can, holding back the stupid fucking tears that I told myself I would never cry.

I've always been told that boys aren't worth my tears, but he's not just some boy...

*Back to present time*

"Right um, thanks" I say and continue to look at my shoes, noticing the small scuff marks that I had accumulated from the many trips out I had taken them on, anything to distract myself from the man in front of me.

"I uh, I noticed you reading over there," he says, waving towards the general direction he had seen me at, "thought I would come over and introduce myself" he says, not letting me go with that simple apology for the unfortunate opening to us meeting again, though he doesn't know yet that we have absolutely no need for an introduction.

"Do you hunt down and force introductions with strangers often?" I mumble, wanting to be taken as closed off and disinterested as possible. He chuckles and I fucking hate how it makes my heart flutter, the same sound I had heard time and time again, although a little deeper now but no less charming.

"No, not often, but I didn't want to miss my opportunity since you decided to run off as soon as I caught your eye" he says, pointing out my obvious efforts of escape.

"I'm Jungkook" he says after there's been a lull in the conversation, holding out his hand for me to shake and after a pregnant pause I decide to take it, offering at least a common courtesy since I'm not the asshole in this relationship, or lack there of.

"It's nice to meet you" he says and I mumble the same sentiment back, not meaning a single word of it. "Do you talk to people's shoes often?" he teases as I haven't met his eyes since that initial glance, one he found inviting where as I felt was an ignition to my fight or flight, and unfortunately for me, yet fortunately for him, I chose wrong.

"That's not what I'm doing" I say, finally facing him, the difference in height a lot bigger than I remembered, his amused smile making it even more nerve racking, my body begging me to get the hell out of here.

"Then what is it that you were doing?" he asks, a crooked smile on his face but when a couple of beats passes by without me giving him an answer he takes that time to study me and when I see his expression changes to one of recognition I know there's no use in trying to get away unscathed.

"Yn?" he asks, my name no doubt feeling foreign on his lips but the way it sound to me is heartbreaking, a sound that I had hoped I would never hear again.

I decide to just look up at him, facing my fear since the answer to his barely articulated inquiry is quiet obvious to him now.

"What has it been, five year? Six years?" he asks, his eyes lighting up and his tone a relaxed one as if this is a happy reunion, showing that my feelings had really meant nothing to him.

"Seven actually" I say and he sighs in disbelief, "Has it really been that long?" he asks, a stupid question that could’ve been solved by a couple of seconds of mental math but I just hum as a response and try to walk past him, my first efforts of escape.

"Woah woah woah, where are you going?" he asks as if he had a right to keep me here. "Home" I say and try to walk down the path that'll lead me out of this bookstore that feels a lot smaller now.

"Do you have a second? I thought we could catch up? Maybe grab a coffee or something?" he suggests, nodding towards the cafe and I sigh, trying to think of the best way to shoot him down but luckily I don't have to, at least not now.

"I've been looking everywhere for you" David, my fiancé says, placing a just barely there kiss on my cheek as a way to somewhat establish our relationship to this unknown man in front of me.

When there's been another pause with me making no efforts of introduction David decides to take the initiative. "David" he says simply, holding out his hand for Jungkook to shake and he gives his name right back, their eye contact quickly broken as Jungkook's decided to bring his eyes back to me.

"Honey who's this?" David asks in a soft tone, placing a hand on my waist in reassurance, showing me he's not upset after finding me talking to this mystery man from his perspective. 

"We used to be friends back in school" Jungkook says when I still decide to hold my tongue, making this interaction even more uncomfortable than it needs to be but I have no obligation to make this go smoothly. His admission to having lost touch cracks open up a scab on my heart that I thought had healed long ago. 

"Oh, so you guys grew up together?" David asks and Jungkook nods. "Yeah...we did" he says softly, still looking at me as I've decided to look away from him after a few exchanges between the two of them.

"Honey do you think you could pull the car around? I'm sure he has something to get back to, as do we" I say, hoping he won't mind following my request without a need to ask for clarification. "Sure love, I'll text you when I'm out front" he says, him knowing that I'd no doubt like I second to wrap things up alone while remembering that we had to park pretty far away as it's an uncharacteristically busy day today.

"Thanks" I mouth to him and he places a kiss on my temple before holding his hand out for Jungkook again. "It was nice to meet you" he says and Jungkook nods half heartedly, "Yeah, you too" and he watches his back for a second as David leaves before turning his attention back to me.

"Boyfriend?" he asks unceremoniously, "Fiancé, actually" I say and he looks down and indeed sees the beautiful ring David had gotten me.

"Wow! Um, congratulations" he says, trying his hand at a halfhearted sentiment but failing miserably. "Yeah we've been together for four years so we figured it was time" I say and he nods his head giving me a sad smile.

"Well I'm happy for you" he says softly and I scoff, "No" I say abruptly to the point he flinches. "No?" he says as if he had never uttered the word before.

"You do not get to act like a kicked puppy because you didn't think I would move on" I say and place my pointer finger on his chest and he steps back as I apply pressure.

"What do you mean? I only said I was happy for you" he says as if he hadn't put on the saddest doe eyes he has ever given me. "You know you've gotten even more transparent with age" I say and he goes to open his mouth but I'm not done with him yet.

"You waltzed over here probably thinking I was just some cute girl that you wanted to shoot your shot with but when you found out it was me you wanted to what? Get a coffee? Act like nothing ever happened? Go back to the way we were? Or did you think you actually had a shot with me after everything you put me through?" I say practically shaking from the intensity of the words that I can't stop from coming out.

No warmth, no compassion left in my tone, just pure anger and disgust and I can tell from the way he's no longer carrying himself as confidently as before, he wasn't expecting this kind of a reaction from me.

After another pause as painful as the one all those years ago I scoff again, crossing my arms over my chest, losing patience with this conversation. "You gonna say something or are you still trying to figure out how you feel about me? Or better yet did you even bother to?" I spit out and he shakes his head.

"I was scared and stupid and selfish and couldn't figure out what the hell I wanted" he says, seemingly becoming more articulate over the years, but just barely.

"Is that all you have to say to me?" I ask, his explanation subpar at best. "Y/n I was eighteen and scared of losing you. You were the most important person in my life, and in some ways you still are" he admits but I shake my head and step away from him making him take a step towards me.

"You do not get to go around acting like the victim saying things like that just to mess with my head" I seethe, appalled that he thinks he has the right to say that to me. "Y/n I didn't mean to-"

"You know what?" I say, cutting him off, "I always thought that what you did, or didn't even bother to do showed that you didn't care about my feelings, but I never thought of you as being cruel. Maybe that whole time you were just toying with my feeling just because you could. You never expected me to have the guts to finally tell you how I felt huh?"

"Y/n please that's not what happened" he says, chasing after me when I start to walk away from him. "Then what did happen huh?" I spit out, waiting for whatever sorry excuse to come out of his mouth.

"I never meant to hurt you..." he says, reaching out for my hand but I move out of the way.

I give him one last once over, looking at how heartbroken and pathetic he looks but I have no sympathy for him and from the way the last bit of hope drains from his eyes he finally realizes that there's no saving this.

He tries once more to say something but we're interrupted by the text we both knew I was begging to come in.

"Y/n..." he says and tries to see if I'll give him one last chance but I turn my back and walk towards the door, my hand resting on the handle for longer than necessary, contemplating if this was the right choice but for the sake of my future I know that it was.

"Goodbye Jungkook" I utter under my breath and pull the door open to walk out. When I turn back to close the door behind me I do myself a horrible disservice by looking through the glass and seeing an expression on his face that I'll never forget.

Loss

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[pookietv]

a secret | arthurtv

a request!! fluffy arthurtv having a crush on a singer that arthur hill knows!!

you weren't really sure how the last few months had played out: you had gone from a tiny artist doing covers and the occasional original song on your smaller youtube channel, to being thrust into a welcoming community with a viral video.

it was surreal, you thought, and you were convinced the support and exposure you had experienced couldn't get any better, you had been able to quit your job, and do what you loved.

that is, until you received an email, inviting you to be an opening act on a tour for arthur hill at his london shows. you had seen him on tiktok, heard some of his songs and seen some of his youtube videos, and he did look cool.

so it was an easy yes, you already lived in london, you wouldn't need to travel, the only thing you needed to do was get used to performing on stage.

so you began doing small shows in dive bars, mainly on friday nights filled with drunk people who paid little attention anyways, so you could mess up all you liked, so it became routine.

performing as normal, in the abnormally warm room, the lights slightly pinkish in the cramped bar, it was unusual to hear your name from the crowd, so when you heard a slight gasp and a "wait, you're right, it is y/n," your head did turn slightly, but with the large crowd talking between eachother, drinks in everyones hands in a sea of people, you couldn't make out anyone in particular.

once you had come off the make-shift stage area, placing your guitar neatly in it's case, you felt a slight tap on your shoulder, turning your head to be met by arthur, a smile on his face.

"y/n! didn't know you came here," he said happily, looking at you expectantly.

"oh! hi arthur, yeah, just trying to get used to performing more, so i do a couple shows a week, what about you, what are you up to?" you said nicely, giving him a small smile in return, looking around the room slightly.

"oh, i'm just here with some of my friends, it's kinda close to our apartments so we figured we'd come just to see what it was like," he paused, turning around to point to three boys stood near the bar, "come over, i'll introduce you, they'll no doubt be at the show so you'll probably see them there too," he nodded over to them, and you followed him, with him chatting away about how excited for the show he was.

"so this is y/n! this is george, chris, and arthur, two of us so a little confusing," arthur hill grinned a little as he pointed to each one in succession.

"it's nice to meet you all! i've seen you a little in videos," you smiled towards them, looking slightly at the other arthur, who was timidly holding a pint of beer and looking at me with a mildly awkward smile.

"its nice to meet you in person! i feel like your songs are always playing in our flat between the two arthurs, it's all they bloody queue," chris smiled, and you giggled a little.

you shrugged with a small grin, "well, i am sorry if you're a little sick of my voice then," you joked, and george shrugged it off with a casual, "no, no, it sounds good!"

"i think arthur got me into your music more than anyone else," arthur hill said nonchalantly.

"oh?" you turned my head towards the other arthur, curiously, looking at him for a moment, and observing how nicely the shade of green of his jumper looked on him, whilst arthur hill began sharing some story with george and chris.

"oh, um, yeah! watched you on youtube for a while, even when you were just, like, doing covers," he smiled broadly.

"oh, that's really cool! i feel like not a lot of people knew me when i was doing covers," you said softly, and he just shrugged a little.

"were you going to stay for a drink?" arthur asked, and it became your turn to shrug. he was quite nice to look at, and that prospect made you slightly nervous.

"i mean, i wasn't planning on it, but i suppose a drink could do me some good," you giggled, and he nodded.

"i'll get you a drink, what do you drink?" he asked, and you tilted your head a little.

"oh, no, you don't have to get me one! i can get one, honestly," you said, but he shook his head with a genial look on his face, a knowing smile on his face making his eyes crinkle slightly.

"no, no, it's fine, please let me get you one?" he said, already sauntering his way to the bar as you followed a few paces behind him.

"okay, well, um, thank you..! i drink anything really, i'll just have whatever you're having," you smiled, and he nodded, ordering two pints of beer.

once the bartender had poured the drinks, you and arthur kept chatting whilst walking back to the rest of the group, who were still in discussion, and arthur seemed to pay it no notice, still speaking to you.

"i do really love your covers, by the way... you're easily one of my favourite singers," he spoke, and a small spread of blush graced your cheeks.

"that's really sweet of you, thank you," you murmured, a little shy before taking a sip of your drink and looking up to him, "so, you do youtube as well right? what kinds of videos?"

"oh, i dabble in a little of everything, in all honesty - i mainly do commentary on like reality tv, so things like ninety day fiance, if you know that? but i do a lot with others, too, reaction content, stuff like that," he explained, and you nodded along, smiling as he spoke about it.

"that seems really cool! i always thought i would love to vlog maybe, if my life got more interesting, y'know?" you joked with a slight giggle, "i don't really do much at the moment, i mean i sing, i write songs, i read a little... not too much, pretty boring."

arthur grinned a little and shook his head, "i don't think you're boring, i think you could definitely make interesting content in that sense,"

"i mean maybe, i don't know, maybe if i ever toured or something, that would be a cool thing to vlog," you looked up for a moment, as if you were rolling the idea around your head. "anyway, i should probably go soon, even though i'd love to stay and chat longer, but i gotta catch the last tube home," you nodded to him as your glass was finally empty, giving him a small apologetic smile.

"its no worries! i suppose i'll see you next saturday, right?" he asked - the day of the concert, and you nodded.

"yeah, of course!" you beamed, and turned to arthur hill and tapped his shoulder slightly, "sorry to interrupt the conversation! i was just gonna say bye, gotta catch the last tube home, but it was lovely to meet you all, and hopefully i'll see you on saturday?" you looked between the boys with a smile, and they nodded, all saying their goodbyes, and giving them slight hugs.

as you left, guitar case on your back and giving them a wave, before opening the door, george turned to arthur and grinned, "so, how's the not so secret youtube crush?" he teased, and arthur's face went red.

"yeah, we figured we'd leave you to it, seemed like you were in the zone," arthur hill chimed in and chris laughed at arthur's eyes rolling.

"she's... just very nice, that's all!" he poorly defended himself.

when saturday had rolled around, you were nervous, without sugarcoating anything.

luckily, you had nothing to be nervous about - your opening went great, the crowd was lovely, and the second your set was over, the rush of adrenaline was palpable as you came off stage, and couldn't hold back a toothy smile, wishing arthur hill good luck before he went on.

you watched eagerly from backstage, wanting to cool down a little and not wanting to jump straight into the crowd.

"you did great," you heard from behind you, and turned to see arthur.

"oh! thank you, i'm so glad i didn't flop or anything," you joked a little, giving him a small smile.

"you looked really good too, really, y'know, pretty," he grinned, "overall, a great performance,"

your cheeks turned slightly red at that compliment, shyly nodding a little as he laughed a little at you, though it was endearingly.

"can i trust you with a secret?" he smirked a little, and you tilted your head slightly.

"and what makes you want to tell me a secret?" you giggled back.

"'cause i reckon you can keep my secret," he retorted, "i've sort of had a fanboy crush on you for a while, y'know, from watching your youtube. you're as nice off camera as you are on." he smiled a little awkwardly, turning to look at you for a moment.

your eyes widened a little, your cheeks only burning more as he grinned at you still.

"oh? well, um, y'know... you're also, quite attractive," you practically babbled out, giggling a little nervously and he nodded in return. "nice eyes, and stuff,"

he laughed a little at your awkward attempt, and you rolled your eyes at him as he grinned, `"and stuff?" he teased, and you pushed his shoulder slightly.

"oh, shut up, you,"

[strangerthingsfanworkrecs]

Artist Highlight: Jo-Harrington

This week, we're highlighting @jo-harrington! All recs this week will be for her work. @jo-harrington writes for the Stranger Things Fandom, with a special focus on xOC, and xReader fics. She's also a great beta-editor and design all the graphics for her fics! We're highlighting Jo for her incredible world building and strong OCs.

You should check out her Store Manager Verse fics for some great fluff and top-tier retail angst Jo answered some questions about her creative process and her work under the cut

Why Stranger Things?

I’ve been an avid ST Fan since the beginning. My old Store Manager and I watched the first episode in the backroom of our store while folding t-shirts and rest was history. Fic-wise, a certain Metalhead Dungeon Master brought me out of a fanfiction posting hiatus and I haven’t looked back since.

What's your favorite ship (platonic or romantic) to create for?

Platonic is always going to be the Hellfire Club boys. I love writing their adventures. Their friendship is epic and deserves to be explored and celebrated. Romantic…EddiexOC or EddiexReader. I mean, I’ve been an xOC girl since my first fandom. xReader is new for me but it’s almost an extension of xOC. I always joke that I’m allowed ONE epic borbo obsession love of my life per decade and I’ll give them one canon pairing but the rest are OCs.

What's your typical writing process like?

I have an idea, I write it down, I get sick of working on a chapter, I don’t edit, I post. (Which is funny because when I beta, I am a lot more detailed. But for my own work I just need it out of my head.) It might not be the best. It could probably read better or have less typos or mistakes. But it’s always from the heart.

How do you come up with your OCs?

I sit there for a long time and figure out how I can put a part of myself into a story. Oops was I not supposed to say that? Sometimes you think of a character that you just can’t help but want to write. But even if they aren’t a manifestation of your physical self or your personality, they almost always end up being an extension of you in some ways, or something you aspire to be. You also need to add some attributes you hate into them, so that they’re not too perfect and you can throttle them around and make them suffer and not feel too bad/let it become a self hatred thing.

What has been your favorite project so far? Why?

Store Manager Verse. (EMxReader) Retail is who I am and who I’ve always been. I had a mall romance irl that went south. So it was a way to rewrite my past with my comfort character…and also give said comfort character a happy ending as well.

What has been your hardest project so far? Why?

As Above, So Below. (EMxOC) It is a passion project, it is a beast, every chapter takes an emotional toll on me and it takes a month—if not more—to recover. But it has been the single most fulfilling project that I’ve worked on in the 20 years I’ve been writing fanfiction. I've been working on it for about 2 years now. 3 more chapters til the end…I’m gonna be very sad when it’s over.

Have you ever had a creative block? How did you get over it?

My brain is just a beehive that I shake every now and again to get the bees angry. Honestly, the bigger block I get into is self-doubt. I have no problem finding the words, it’s the courage to put them to paper I struggle with at times.

Is there a big source of inspiration for you? Books? Art? Games?

Yes all of the above. But in all seriousness, life experience is the best inspiration. There’s only so much research you can do. Truly for me, the canon characters are the source of inspiration. Then I take from things I’ve done, things I’ve read, places I’ve been in order to take an idea to a fully formed plot.

Is there an upcoming project you're particularly excited about?

Eddie Munson Big Bang. I know you’re gonna hear that a lot. I love creating really ambitious AUs and I think this one is really testing my abilities as a writer. It's a crossover fic, in a way, but with a lot of original plot folded in. I hope I do both fandoms/universes justice.

Is there anything we didn't ask that you'd like to add?

I’m from the Midwest, so thank you for listening to all of my long-winded answers. Haha.

[ghirahimbo]

Okay, so I am probably going to get hate for this, but I voted for Trump, and I am shocked at how upset people are about his re-election. As a Republican, we have constant allegations of being racist, homophobic, xenophobic, fascists, against women (the list goes on and on). We have been silenced and abused for over a decade, and yes it hurts. I am genuinely curious how Trump is any of those things listed above, despite there being no evidence shown through his actions, besides clips spread by the left-wing media taken out of context or a joke being blown way out of proportion. (Building a wall to keep millions of people from pouring into our country illegally without any screening not counting as racist). It's clear his personality isn't for everyone. His rhetoric is masculine, he obviously is not sensitive, politically correct, or polished, but despite this, millions of other people from all walks of life support him, including MILLIONS of people from so called marginalized groups. I highly doubt that over half of the people in this country are filled with hatred and violence. If anything, I have felt physically unsafe as a conservative around far leftists. (For example, once at a music camp I heard people say that they would volunteer to shoot conservatives into a ditch like the Naz*s did to the Jews, and everyone was like "YASSS QUEEN.") They thought it was hilarious, but I was terrified. Another thing that I noticed was the only concrete thing Harris really talked about in her campaign was abortion. I think it should be available for incest and rape, (there is also so much you can do before it gets to that point too, unless you're a helpless child, like go to the hospital for plan B) but I find it sick how that was basically the only thing focused on in the Harris campaign. I highly doubt that anything will change as far as "women's rights" since it's up to the states now to decide their abortion laws. It's obvious that many people certainly felt scared during his first term, and I am not denying that racism sexism etc. does exist, but to me, it's evident that the scale of the fear had completely been blown out of proportion. There were no wars, no boys in girls' sports, transgendersism being preached to underaged kids in school, and the prices for everything were better during Trump's first term to name a few things. I certainly felt happier and safer. I was scared of my brother being send overseas for WW3 if Harris was elected, so I am very relived. I don't know your personal beliefs, but why do you think so many people are hysterical about his re-election? I really admire you and your work, so I say this in all respect.

For context, I received this ask a few days after the election, and worked on my response off and on over the next few weeks before dropping it altogether because rehashing it all was putting me in such a bad mood, and then honestly… I forgot about it. Having rediscovered this in my ask box, I figured I might as well post what I’d already written since I really did put some time into it, and then try to wrap it up with some sort of ending. It’s long. Here goes:

Hi! You seem to be reaching out in good faith, so I’ll do my best to respond in kind. There's a problem in this country where people seem to be experiencing two very different versions of reality, and I've been grappling this week with the question of how to break through the cycle of outrage and fear that so many of us are trapped in. Maybe this can be a start to that. 

I can also speak to you from the perspective of someone who grew up conservative and shifted drastically leftward throughout my 20s, and who remembers struggling early on with some of the same things you're struggling with. Particularly, I remember grappling with the accusations that people like me were racist/homophobic/etc. because I didn't feel any such way.

With that being said:

When you speak of feeling unsafe, this is due to beliefs that you hold—and beliefs, while an important factor in determining who somebody is, are subject to change over time on both the small and large scale. If your social or political beliefs eventually shift, you will no longer feel threatened in quite the same way. When marginalized communities describe feeling unsafe, this is due to something intrinsic to their nature, whether that's gender or sexual orientation or the color of their skin. There is no way for them to alter themselves in a way that will make them “acceptable” to those who already hate them for who they are.

This is not to argue in favor of belief-based discrimination or to excuse the kids in music camp—young people exist on both sides of the political spectrum and they’re gonna say shit, and I heard the same or worse from people in my grounds crew in college targeted towards a more liberal population—but it's important to recognize that not all beliefs are created equal. Some are straight up incorrect (flat earth theory), some come as a result of undue influence (cults), and some beliefs are flat out dangerous (white supremacy). Where one person's beliefs interfere with another person's rights is the point where most people start to take issue—and all of that is to say that the beliefs of Donald Trump and his party trample on the rights of marginalized groups and others, and whether you personally align with every one of those beliefs simply doesn’t matter. Whether you personally think of yourself as racist, xenophobic, or anything else, by supporting Trump’s presidency, you signal your acceptance of everything that comes along with it, and those who feel threatened by that support won't care whether your acceptance comes out of ignorance or malice. You're going to face, and have already experienced, a lot of animosity due to your support of those harmful beliefs.

Of course, this is the point where we’re going to have to backtrack because you've already mentioned not understanding how Trump is anything negative other than rough around the edges. As bewildering as that statement is when held up against my own experience, you're not the only person I've seen saying something similar—but then, our country's perception gap (how people from each political party view each other) and the effect of echo chambers and algorithms on the information we're exposed to are both well-studied phenomena at this point. You also stated that Trump's first term as president was fairly positive from your perspective—no wars, a stronger pre-Covid economy, and a general feeling of safety. These two points seem related to me, and I’ll address them together.

I guess first of all, whatever information you've been exposed to thus far, I do want to assure you that Trump has clearly demonstrated the content of his character beyond the need for embellishment or anything pieced together out of context. In fact, the old classic “grab ‘em by the pussy” is made much worse by its context: “I better use some Tic Tacs just in case I start kissing her. You know, I’m automatically attracted to beautiful — I just start kissing them. It’s like a magnet. Just kiss. I don’t even wait. And when you’re a star, they let you do it. You can do anything. Grab ’em by the pussy. You can do anything.”

I just… simply don't have the energy to pull up all the receipts on Donald Trump of all people, but if you're inclined to do some research, look into all the contractors Trump stiffed in previous construction deals, causing bankruptcies and destroying small businesses in the process. Read up on the scam that was Trump University and the predatory tactics used to sell expensive “courses” specifically to vulnerable people. Consider whose best interest Donald Trump has ever and will ever look out for. All of this was well known (I think?) during the 2016 election, but not enough to keep Trump out of office, which is maybe why it's simultaneously treated as common knowledge and never brought up anymore.

Leading into Trump’s first term, I think it’s fair to assume that neither you nor I are in a demographic that was most obviously affected by the worst of Trump’s acts as president, but I do still remember the Muslim Ban: straightforwardly xenophobic, promised first on the campaign trail and then later put into effect during his presidency despite findings from the Department of Homeland Security itself that people from the seven nations affected by the travel ban posed no increased terrorist risk. It sure did fan the flames of hate among those who were already afraid of our Muslim population, though—and consider that according to an FBI report, hate crimes rose by 20% during Donald Trump’s term as president. Consider the wave of racially motivated harassment and texts spurred by the most recent election and realize that whatever Trump’s own views may be, he has always emboldened and empowered the worst of us. I don't care if Trump is personally racist when his policies and rhetoric directly affect minorities. I don't care if he's homophobic when the politicians he places into power alongside him specifically and explicitly want to dismantle hard-won rights for LGBTQ people.

I remember the nuclear pissing match Donald Trump got into with Kim Jong Un on Twitter, and the fear of World War III that lingered for weeks after—a fear famously memorialized in John Mulaney's “Horse in a Hospital” bit which, if you watch it, might explain exactly how that first Trump presidency felt for many Americans. Did that not seep through to the right wing media? 

More than anything else, I remember the “zero-tolerance” anti-immigration practice that came in the form of the child separation policy—and yes, I remember the wall. The wall that Mexico was going to pay for, though of course only US funds were ever used for its construction. The wall that research from the Department of Defense determined would not prevent a substantial portion of immigration—but it sure did make a handy mobilizing symbol, didn’t it?

The lies. There's just something different about the way Donald Trump lies—something that makes you feel a little crazy. Most of them are just so easily disproven that you wonder how he could possibly get away with it… but then he doubles down, and his rabid fan base believes him without question, and the far right media treats it as fact, and suddenly you have to treat his most ridiculous statements seriously because they have serious, real-world consequences (I think I’ve seen this described recently as “sanewashing”). Donald Trump says with no basis in fact or reality that Haitian immigrants are eating your dogs and cats, and a woman in Springfield calls the cops on her Haitian neighbor because her cat has gone missing.

And then poke around a bit. Look up some facts. Research. You've asked me to help explain why so many people are scared of Trump’s re-election, and I've already put literal hours into this response because I'm hoping it might do an ounce of good and I don't know what else to do… 

In fact, do me a favor: go to the Wikipedia article titled “False or misleading statements by Donald Trump”, really internalize this warning:

…And this is where I lost steam when I was initially writing this response because honestly, there’s an essay that could be written to refute every point you’ve made, and I just can’t do that. Political analysts across the country have tried to take apart and analyze voting demographics and campaign strategies and just about everything else related to the election, to varying levels of success—so I’m just gonna wrap this up with the strong suggestion that you can’t see the racism/xenophobia because it’s coming from inside the house, and a plea to you to recognize why you are being led to fear the “other.” 

Transphobia, for example, is not only written between the lines of your ask but soaking it all the way through. I saw enough political ads leading up to the election to know that “transgender panic” was one of THE issues pushed forward by right wing media (right alongside immigration), and if you’re pretty young, which I think you are, then you might not realize how much of a recent development this is culturally? Not transphobia in general—not at all—but the panic part. When I was roughly as old as I suspect you are, it was gay panic, and “think of the children,” and the reaction against Proposition 8 and “I don’t care if they’re together, but why do they have to call it marriage?” And before that it was the satanic panic, and woven all through our country’s history is anti-immigration rhetoric against various groups and ethnicities, because demonizing the “other” keeps your focus off the people who are actually, tangibly making your life worse through the corruption and policies they enact that you don’t notice because they’re pointing the finger elsewhere. It's an old song. And I just scrolled up to look at your ask again, saw that you’d written that “it's evident that the scale of the fear has completely been blown out of proportion,” and burst out laughing because that’s what it is! 

And like, I could link you to some sources that I think do a good job of debunking everything that the “trans panic” is built on (there’s an episode of the podcast Maintenance Phase that has some of the best gathered research I’ve found so far), but you probably wouldn’t find it particularly palatable—and that’s part of the problem, isn’t it? 

Anyway, I don’t think I can stomach reading all this through again right now, but I do wish you luck and a happy new year. I hope this response did any good at all, and I hope my fears for the upcoming presidency prove to be overblown. Can’t say I’m feeling too optimistic, though.

Peace ✌️

[teadragondreams]

Thoughts on Nicole Maine's Secret Six (Organized [kinda])

Now that I've done some preliminary information gathering from stalking the appropriate tags and wiki articles, here are my thoughts on each member of the new Secret Six lineup! Keep in mind that I barely read the greater DC comics whatsoever.

Jay Nakamura (Gossamer)

Positive Asian representation in the Secret Six!? FUCKING FINALLY--Mostly with him and the other new members I'm anticipating some sort of soap opera style drama happening alongside the main plot-- and that isn't a detriment, it would be an active bonus.

Jon Kent

From what I've seen, much in the style of Dick Grayson temporarily taking on the Batman mantle, Jon *was* Superman for a while. Does he have a hero name specific to him or is he Superboy again? How many Superboys are there actually? (From what I've seen it seems to be just as complicated at the Batfamily-- but GOD am I SICK of the batfamily--) Anyway. I doubt they're going to have any continuity with the 2011 timeline but just imagining the interactions he could have with Black Alice or Catman if so--"Hey weren't you guys teammates with that guy that shattered my Dad's bones?!"

Dreamer (Nia Nal)

Read a part of that scene she has with Waller (I believe it was from Dream Team but not sure on that), but the fact that she actively scrambled Waller's memories and now this new series is in the aftermath of that ? Whoo boy is going to be fun! Especially becausefrom what I've gathered--Nicole Maines *is* Nia Nal, and probably has a clear direction with where she wants to take the character, right?

Black Alice (Lori Zechlin)

I love Lori! She's always been one of my favorites, especially because she is always accidently pushing the found family agenda with other members of the six. I know she'd made a few appearances around in other series like Suicide Squad and Night Force, and that's where her newer design comes from. But there are so many directions her characterization might go in this series that I'm just praying she doesn't get shoehorned into 'annoying kid member of team' because she's so much more than that! More of that "I feel tremendous guilt about possibly giving my dad cancer and purposely joined a team of mercenaries".

Catman (Thomas Blake)

Gotta love the Tomcat. I love how his design skews him back into "batman impersonator" but gets rid of that stupid hole in his cowl for a bang they gave him in DC Pride. I liked that story with him and Ghostmaker but I couldn't get over that stupid bang!! Addtionaly because he has so much internal conflict about what the hell he wants to do with his career as a mercenary/anti-hero/vigilante. His underlying attempts to be *good* to be *better* makes me glad to follow what he does. But honestly, I'd be even more glad if he was more of a supporting role in this mini-series, because his presence as a father/older brother figure (mainly seen in the 2011 run) are just incredible. Also I hope they don't make him the butt of too many eg(g)regious jokes.

Deadshot (Floyd Lawton)

Twenty bucks says they'll be at least 3 panels with him and Thomas in the hit or kiss zone. Wouldn't have it any other way.

Honorable mention section for that one issue cover that shows some of the previous members of the Six.

Bane

HOLY SHIT IT'S BANE!!! I literally almost cried in joy when that one Christmas special issue came out at the very moment I was like "I need to calm down with my Secret Six obsession it's not like there's ever going to be any new official material with them" and now boom. making this post. Super excited to see the big guy on a team again.

Scandal & Knockout

RETURN OF THE POLYCULE??? Not much to say here, I'll lament Scandal once again not being on the team proper, but I guess they've ditched that "all eight of us in this commercial are apart of the Secret Six" idea and are keeping the team to actually Six.

Jeanette

So happy to have you back queen, wish it was you on the front lines instead of your crusty little bf but understandable. I hope it's brought up again that she's like a majorly successful entrepreneur because it's so funny that she chooses to associate with these weirdos.

Chesire

I hugely disliked how Cheshire was treated in the OG Villains United Run. I'm fine with her being an antagonist, Jade could be a great antagonist!-- but I sincerely hope they avoid the stereotypes used to previously characterize her.

Ragdoll

I love this little freak! I am one of the (2.5)frequenters of the peter merkel jr tag. As long as A) the stupid little clown ruff remains and B) they let her be as much of a weirdo as possible, I will probably not have *too* many complaints.

Mad Hatter

peter merkel jr for the second time in your life you have the opportunity to do the funniest thing ever.

[whirlwindimagines]

Hello! You're seriously one of the best writers for Trigun I've read! I'm super excited for future works!!! Would you be willing to write some angst? How about something like Knives continously pushing the reader away until the reader does truly disappear. You can decide how they disappear! But something introspective with Knives would be nice!

Anything for my number one fan 💙❄️💙❄️💙 CLOWN 🤡 I can’t believe you want to be down bad for Knives!!!!! Ignoring the fact I am too 🤡 I also can’t believe you read all my works get outta here 😭😭😭 song title is from Labour 😘 Also enjoy, I wasn’t sure where to go with this so open-ended it is! 

‘If our love died, would that be the worst thing?’

Millions Knives x Reader

You need to be the bigger person and let it go, you think to yourself as you know you're not going to let it go. Fighting with Knives wasn’t anything new, honestly, it’s been increasing lately. It’s more oh how the arguments went, he was dismissive at best and a childish asshole at worst and you were sick of it.

Not being able to sleep was also making these worse, you don’t even remember the last time you for a full night's rest. Knives coming in at any and all odd hours to wake up to work to continue with his plans. You knew it was important to him, it should be important to you too, but not at 3 am. You wish you go back to the early days when you were blinded by your love and commitment to knives.

You might have been a naive fool back then, but you were happy at least. And now you were starting to have doubts the closer and closer Knives got to his goals you were wavering and you don’t know what to do if Knives figured you out.

Being afraid of Knives was new to, fuck you didn’t know what to do. You were torn, because as fucked up as it all was you still loved him. How pathetic, your door opens with a slam and it startles you more than it should. Sitting up your eyes meet Knives pale blue ones, his eyes always seemed to glow in the dark.

“Come here.” His tone doesn’t leave room for arguments, but you feel like pushing it, him this thing you have. “I need to sleep, just because you don’t doesn’t mean I’ll magically be capable without it” you lay back down with a huff, heart racing as his footsteps approaches the side of the bed. 

He reaches for you grabbing you by the wrist and pulling you up, and it brings you to tears at how gentle his grip is even though his eyes are furious. “I wasn’t asking, I am not impressed by your latest tantrums.” 

You scoff you try to pull your arm back, but he tightens his grip, it’s not painful but you don’t know what will happen if you keep pushing. You know Knives was prone to violence, but he has never struck you. He probably wanted to, but Knives was complicated some days he couldn’t stand touching you the human you. And then some days he couldn’t leave you alone demanding your attention.

“My tantrums?” You hiss, you step into his face getting chest to chest with him, “if anyone been throwing a tantrum lately it’s you, I don’t want to fight with you Knives I’m tired. Why don’t you stay?” The more you talk the more the fight drains out of you. 

He drops your wrist, “if you won’t be of use then I have no reason for you.” He says it coldly and it hurts more than it should, “fine.” You reply, stepping back and sitting on the bed. “Goodnight, Knives.” He doesn’t reply as he turns and leaves, leaving you to yourself. 

Getting back under the covers, you force yourself not to cry. You’d deal with this in the morning, forcing yourself to sleep.

Morning comes quickly, you lay there for a while pondering what you should do next. You have no desire in talking to Knives, so you figure you’ll just work the day away. Knives will find you when he wants you, frowning at the thought. What were you a loyal dog waiting for their master's return?  

With that thought you force yourself from the bed and out of the room, leaving your mind perfectly blank as you continue throughout the day. Every once in a while, the memory of last night will play in your mind but you push it aside. You don’t see knives today, or the next, or even the next. 

He must be ignoring you, hating to admit you missed him. Fine if he didn’t want to talk to you, then you would seek him out instead. Marching through the halls with a purpose, you know exactly where he’ll be, already hearing the keys of a piano. He is still playing when you enter the large room, moving forward to stand beside him. 

Waiting for him to finish you speak, “I’ve always loved listening to you play, it’s been a while huh?” He doesn’t reply, and you frown reaching out a hand towards him you call out his name, and he turns quickly gripping your wrist.

“Why are you here.” So that’s how he wants to be, you sigh, “I just wanted to check up on you, we haven’t spoken– “ 

His grip tightens, and your breath hitches as he does his grip near painful, he stands narrowing his eyes at you, “whatever pathetic human emotions you are trying to convey don’t. You have become nothing but an obstacle to my endeavors.” 

You can only stare wide eyes, there is something different this time about the way he speaks to you, and your blood runs hot with anger. So, after everything, this is what Knives has come to? “Seriously? An obstacle? Is that all I am to you? After everything! All I’ve done for you it just means nothing.” 

Knives shoves you back harshly, and you stumble falling back and catching yourself on your elbows, he looks down at you as he speaks, “You are nothing to me, a means to an end.” You hate that the tears come, you hate that he’s breaking your heart and he doesn’t even care. Quickly getting to your feet the argument catches in your throat.

Fine 

You were done, this was the breaking point you needed out if that meant by his hand or yours. They would never let you escape, no not with you knew you needed to be clever, the weak and pathetic human Knives thought you were. Those who deserted the cause were met with death, you knew that yet you were not afraid.

“I’m sorry that you feel that way, I won’t bother you again.” You can’t meet his gaze; Knives doesn’t say anything just scoffs turning his back to you. As if on autopilot you reach out a hand to him, but bring it back grasping your shirt over your heart instead. 

You leave and do not look back. 

Time is not something that Knives bothers keeping track of, day and night does not matter to him. And yet he knows the passing of time has been slow without you by his side. You’ll come crawling back, it was in your human nature to not leave well enough alone.

Knives presses the keys of the piano, not playing a tune but little melodies. His mind keeps drifting to you, he knew you liked to watch him play, in a moment of weakness he had asked if you wanted to to learn how to play.

And he hates the way your eyes lit up at his words, he hated more how you made him feel in that moment, but what he hated the most is the feeling of missing you. You who was just a human, nothing but a spark in his life that would sizzle out to nothing, and he would continue on as if nothing happened. 

Slamming his hands on the piano keys he stands; he turns heading towards your room. He doesn’t need you, he doesn’t. Knives just wants to… well he doesn’t know what he wants and that frustrates him to no end. 

Opening the door with our knocking, his pale eyes dart around the room you’re not here. Walking toward the bed he placed a hand on the sheets, they are cold you haven’t been here for a while. How strange considering your constant complaints about needing sleep. 

He leaves to continue his search but isn’t able to find a trace of you. He’s not concerned, he isn’t. But he’s searched the whole damn place and nothing like you’ve ever even existed. And for some reason that scares him, more than he wants to admit. 

Then he hears the rumors, you fled in the night and didn’t look back. How you probably didn’t get far, no deserter does. The first emotion was anger, at you for leaving, for betraying him. It was the emotion he held on to the longest, then he needed to act. You haven’t been found yet, and when you were he didn’t want you killed. No, he needed you back here so he could deal with you himself.

That’s what he kept telling himself at least, the more nothing came of the search the more desperate he felt for you, now you really have turned into a distraction. He can’t afford to spend his time looking for you, he knows he has more important things to be doing. 

Knives forces himself to focus on his goals, pushing you to the back of his mind and this works for a while. But when he’s alone, or can’t seem to concentrate his mind always drifts to you and he hates you for it because after everything deep down he knows he feels something for you. 

This is bad and he knows it, he has to let it go so he will for now.

a/n: @hermitagecats Love you! <3

[whitepine-estate]

I have a refined vampire theory to share! (a lot of this is repeat but there will be brackets for new evidence)

Before the events of the series, Ivory is born to a vampire mother and a human father (or vice versa doesn’t really matter) making her a dhampir. She’s born neurodivergent, probably a form of autism. Her tail is from being a dhampir. At some point she runs away for unknown reasons and is found by MinuteTech.

Also before the series starts, Div_y comes into contact with a vampire, becoming its’ thrall [I initially thought he might be a vampire himself because he isn't seen eating anything during episodes one or two, but since we see him in the sun he's more likely to be a thrall. The reason I've zeroed in on Div_y specifically is both that he's been sus in ep 2 and that on NameMC his profile is unavailable, possibly because it contains spoilers?]. The vampire has him get a job with the Hemlocks for their own purposes. The vampire, after using Div_y to scout out the house, starts feeding off of and kills Mrs. Hemlock. Since Mrs. Hemlock died from a vampire’s bite, she also rises and begins feeding off her oldest son, Pyroscythe [there's obviously all the TB symptoms I showed in the first draft, but the scene where Ivory's drawing a bath also stood out because of how uncomfortable he seems. Its common folkloric belief that vampires dislike running water. I'll admit its shaky ground but its more supplemental to everything else]. The vampire possibly loosens their grip on Div_y after this point allowing them more freedom.

During the series:

Ivory is recruited by MinuteTech and starts working for the Hemlocks. She feels a connection to the woods, possibly sensing the vampiric activity within. Pyroscythe has only gotten worse, the vampirism has progressed so far that he’s having nightmares and is violently ill. He thinks the disease is TB but doesn’t want anyone to know, not even Mysti; it is unclear if she or anyone else may have figured it out (the TB not the vampirism). It is unclear if Div_y is still spying on the Hemlocks; it's certainly possible, but if he is he definitely has more freedom.

A vampire, either the one connected to Ivory or Mrs. Hemlock, brutally kills Mysti for an unknown reason . Possibly mistaking them for Ivory [from a distance or from behind they look very similar][Mysti's time of death seems to be narrowed down to when she was discovered, and honestly I doubt someone could kill her that quickly]. This leads to the interrogation and Detective Bormethius becoming suspicious of everyone in the house. Jury’s still out on whether or not he knows what he’s doing. 

There is a possibility that Mrs. Hemlock is also feeding on Zombie [the Hemlock kids don't seem to see him very often at least not at dinner based on the first ep, maybe its cause he's sick like Pyro], and/or that Zombie is partially aware of the vampires. I doubt he’s fully aware however as he likely wouldn’t let his children into the woods to hunt if he was aware of the vampires. Or maybe he would, he seems like kinda a dick. 

I have more evidence, I'm just unsure of how to work it into this theory cause its worded very watsonian and the other reasons are doyalist. For example I already mentioned that the camera seems to be stalking everyone in Whitepine with the way its always positioned in a corner. However, I also noticed that the camera does seem to follow or show the perspective of 2 characters, Pyroscythe, and Ivory, the two characters I suspect have something to do with the vampires. Assuming I'm right about the camera thing, the camera showing the perspective of the two characters most associated with the vampires makes sense. They're not being framed as prey like the others, because they're not prey, they're predators.

I also have suspicions on what being "outed" means although I'm not 100% sure about them or how they tie in, so I'll keep that in the doc for now

as always sorry for yapping, hope you enjoy! -🌊 anon

Posting this for other people to enjoy, I’ll try and add my thoughts on because this is lovely when I’m not in school (if I remember)!!

[jules-writes-stories]

Thank you so so much for tagging me @zenkindoflove (I think you tagged me lol, I can't remember now) and @fieldofdaisiies

1. How many works do you have on AO3? I'm a baby fan fic writer, so only 5! (but I have 3 more WIP on the way...)

2. What’s your total AO3 word count? <- BABY. How do I figure this out? I mean, other than mathing?

3. What fandoms do you write for? ACOTAR

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Just Enough Light to Cast Shadows | Azris

Held Close, Like a Secret | Azris

Into the Night | Azris

Heart of Gold | Elucien

Valkyrie | Emerie

5. Do you respond to comments? Always! I love engaging with readers.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Angst is necessary to any longer fic, but I rarely play for keeps, at least where my OTPs are concerned. The saddest fic I've written is probably my Eris Week fic "Monster" which isn't posted yet. But even that ends on a hopeful note (I think?).

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? I'm pretty proud of my ending of Into the Night, my Azris retelling of Hades x Persephone.

8. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? I do, but only included in a larger work. I've written Azris, OCs, and Elucien... and maybe a little LoA/Helion that might be coming in future JEL chapters (spoiler lol).

9. Do you write crossovers? Not yet

10. Have you ever had a fic translated? Nope

11. Have you ever co-written a fic before? Not yet, but sounds fun

12. What is your all-time favorite ship? Azris! I have a soft spot for elucien, and Helion/LoA. Oh! And Thesan and his Peregryn. I want to write them so badly! I didn't follow directions for this question. Sorry. Azris is my OTP.

13. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? This summer I started writing Amarantha's origin story, and I really want to finish it, but I keep getting sidetracked. Stories gnaw away at me until I get them out though, so I generally finish what I start. It's a sickness.

14. What are your writing strengths? I don't know? I've been told I write dialogue well. Sometimes I will act out character interactions because that's totally normal. I like descriptions too. Not sure I'm good at it, but I love a metaphor lol.

15. What are your writing weaknesses?  My comfort zone is with short fiction and poetry, so I worry about timing/not having a good enough plot/arc for longer fics.

16. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? It is fun, but hard. I speak several languages (poorly) so I try to sprinkle words in that I know.

17. First fandom you wrote for? I'm a trembling new born FF writer, so, ACOTAR. But long time reader. My first fan fic was maybe Harry Potter? (Surprise! A little Drarry grew up to be an Azris, lol)

18. Favorite fic you’ve written? Just Enough Light to Cast Shadows is the love of my life, but I'm really proud of my Eris Week fic Monster, which I'm posting for Day 3!

No pressure tags (and sorry if you've already been tagged): @the-darkestminds @c-starstuff-man0 @unanswered-stars @mistandmemories @chunkypossum

[yakuzacanons]

Hope you’re well and that I’m not bothering you, is it okay if I request a sort of headcanony thing about Zhao where his S/O is Majima’s (adoptive?) daughter? Like if Majima was kinda overprotective, how’d he react when he finds out? Idk if this is weird or not thank you <3

SKSKSK this is so funny to me??? I've never done anything like this before so hopefully it's up to snuff n all that. Headcanons below. Last one for today, big sick rn.

First of all, Zhao just didn't know. Had he known, he would've been like "Listen, I'm pretty sure I got into a fistfight with your dad". In his defense, she wouldn't be surprised hearing that. Majima kind of gets into fights with LOTS of people.

Zhao isn't exactly scared of Majima but once he finds out his girlfriend's dad is Majima, he's like "...Okay, what now?" I mean, of course he knows he'll meet the guy eventually but what the heck are they going to say to each other?

On the flip side, Majima always knew his daughter would at some point grow up and probably eventually find a partner and even get married one day. He doesn't have a fatherly instinct in the same way that Kiryu does with Haruka but he does have that same protectiveness.

Majima would never demand that his daughter do or not do something, but he's seen her get heartbroken a couple of times before and it was only at the behest of his daughter that those guys weren't walking around missing an eye themselves right now. Of course, his daughter hasn't told Zhao about that yet...

In the end, they decide to invite Majima over for dinner at Zhao's place. They figured since Zhao's such a great cook and Majima is easily pliable with food, it's the best scenario. Plus, it's a private setting so they don't have to worry about being in public with Majima because... well, he's HIM.

Majima jokingly complains the whole way there, saying things like "Whaddya mean this guy's gonna cook dinner? If he's tryna impress me, it ain't gonna work!" Secretly, he's thinking it must be pretty serious if he's about to meet his daughter's boyfriend at the guy's house. And he's going to cook food too? He must be serious about his daughter then too...

Zhao doesn't come out to greet them as he's busy holding a giant ass wok in the kitchen. From the smell, Majima seems temporarily pleased but he's a little snippy about the fact Zhao didn't even come out to say hi. His daughter also goes to the kitchen to help Zhao plate the food. Meanwhile, Majima sits down grumbling to himself about manners and how the dinner better be damn good.

Once Zhao finally steps out of the kitchen and the two make eye contact, Majima literally just lets out a loud "ACK" and recognizes him immediately. Zhao just kind of waves hello casually. Majima just kind of sits there shocked for a little bit while his daughter fills up a plate for him and Zhao pours them all some tea.

Majima finally snaps out of it and starts making all kinds of noise about how come no one told him when his daughter said she was dating a guy named Zhao that it just so happened to be the same Zhao that he got into a fight with before the Omi dissolved. His daughter hands him his plate and in his noisy panic, he quickly snatches the plate out of her hands and haphazardly shovels some food into his mouth, still talking and yammering away.

He instantly realizes it was a mistake to doubt Zhao's cooking because the food immediately makes him shut up. His frenzy is placated with each bite and eventually he just kind of looks at Zhao and nods. In hindsight, despite having gotten into a fight with Zhao at one point, the guy always seemed pretty chill. Plus, he did help with dissolving the Omi... also, his clothes are kind of cool?

All in all, the night ends up going pretty well. Majima enjoys the food but to his surprise, and kind of to his daughter's surprise too, he enjoys the conversations with Zhao more. Seeing how genuinely happy his daughter was all the proof he needed though: this guy might be the real deal. Provided he doesn't get into a fist fight with him ever again.

[misc-obeyme]

In fact, there are so many things that could happen to Simeon now that he's become human. His immune system, for example, is probably not as good as an angel's, and there are probably a lot of human diseases he's never caught. He'll probably spend the first few months getting sick and catching every virus around.He'll probably end up with weaker bones too and he'll inevitably end up hurting himself more easily, after all, I've already sprained my ankle because I slipped on wet ground. 1/3 -^^

Ahh, it's so true, there's a ton of potential!

I hadn't considered the state of his immune system, but it could definitely be compromised as a new human. I would like to think he'd have some resistance but really where would he have gotten anything like that? Can you imagine MC taking care of Simeon after he's caught something like the chicken pox? Oh man or the flu?? MC just doting on him and him being like what no I'm fine this is nothing but then it totally wipes him out lol. Poor guy.

And yeah he better be careful with those human bones. I tripped in a parking lot once and sprained my ankle, so it's not difficult to do.

I also think MC is a special circumstance. They've had all the brothers protecting them from the very beginning.

But if we consider that Simeon has been human since the start of OG season three, he was spending all that time in the human world trying to figure all this stuff out. And he had Luke, but Luke didn't even know about it, right? Now I can't remember for sure, but I don't think he did. I mean if Simeon can't even tell MC the truth I doubt he could tell Luke.

I like to think that Solomon was keeping an eye on him during that time. Certainly there isn't as much he would need to worry about in the human world as compared to the Devildom. And we saw in season four how both Solomon and Lucifer went out of their way to protect Simeon.

I like to think that Simeon wouldn't be dumb and would try to keep himself out of danger, but he also can't just quarantine himself forever or anything. He doesn't have a bunch of demons to protect him and he's also not technically a part of the exchange program anymore. I think both of those things matter in the case of MC's safety. Simeon also isn't a sorcerer, which MC is. So really he's at a huge disadvantage compared to MC, I think.

Personally I really love the idea of Simeon coming to terms with his new reality only because MC is there to help him through it. Solomon can help, too. Who better to help Simeon understand how to be a human than two humans who love him??

[danganronpasurvivoraskblog]

Birds of a Foreign Land Must Fly.

...

*Shuichi, hiding out in Branch 2's Head Office, curls up into a ball and rests against the wall, burying his head in his arms and contemplating everything that happened...

Dammit...why...just...Why...?

'Cause life sucks buddy boy. Especially for omniversal immigrants like us.

GAH!?

*He almost falls over as a voice sounds out from near his desk.

K-Kokichi!? When and how did you get in here?

Well, considering you were devoting your eyes and ears to sobbing and crying, I doubt even your detective instincts could have noticed me when I just walked through the door.

...Are you here to cheer me up...?

Hah! Who do you take me for? That is NOT my thing!

Hehe...I guess not...

But even still. I'm DEFINITELY super curious. Whatcha crying about?

We won! Zetsubou are gone, Shirogane's toast, and the world gets to live on another day! So why the soppy face?

The way you ask that implies to me you know EXACTLY why I'm crying. Don't toy with me; now is not the time for your sick ideas of jokes...!

Yeah...Yeah, I figured...I heard about what happened.

*Kokichi runs his fingers across the desk.

Rantaro is permanently dead with no hope of being resurrected...Himiko is stuck as a mechanical-humanoid puppet and has to live out the rest of her life like that...and Tenko's such self-loathing moron that she ran away with her hair twirls between her legs...

That is three additional piles of shitness on top of everything else that you don't deserve to be burdened with.

It's nothing I can't handle...or at least...nothing I can't handle if I sit on it for a bit...

Aw, poor Shuichi...He's doing a ME!

Wh-What? Doing a...What?

What I always do to stay upbeat, positive, and strong in the face of adversity:

Lie to myself and say that everything is gonna be okay, even though I know it's not.

I told you I don't want to hear it! Rrgh!

Okay, I'll shut up now! Promise!

...*sigh*

Kokichi...This is probably a really stupid question that you're gonna get mad at me for, but I have to ask...

Do you think...mngh...Do you think it would have been better for everyone if we'd returned to the universe we came from?

...Why are you asking this...?

Lately, I've had a lot of thoughts on my mind, but throughout all of them, just one as been really prevalent. And that's the thought that no matter what I do, or how much I think I've done, our existence in this world only makes things worse...

This world was perfectly safe and peaceful until WE showed up...! The Future Foundation had everything covered, but the moment we arrived here...The moment Uchui dragged us into this world and out of our own...THAT'S when things started to go wrong.

So...I've been stuck thinking lately that maybe I'm the problem. That our arrival here was some kind of mistake, and now...now I've just let Shirogane go free! I know as much as Uchui wants to believe it that she's gone for good, but I KNOW she's not dead!

She's still out there, and she's going to hurt so many more people! And because I didn't kill her when I had the chance-!

[acre-of-wheat]

Tagged by @spybrarian! Thaaaank you!

1. How many works do you have on Ao3? 

I have 26

2. What’s your total Ao3 word count? 

338,736

3. What fandoms do you write for?

I used to write Clexa, but now I just write Tanthamore

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Network Connectivity Issues (ahead by a lot)

A story I'm deeply in love with writing, due to its closeness to my heart and because of the novel way it's written-- which is live on a discord server whenever the mood strikes. Fanfic is typically serialized work, but this feels like...even closer to that immediacy, and it can be quite electric.

The Pieces

A collaborative collection of one shots in the Kinkverse universe (talked about below)

The Bite

Canon compliant fic about longing and how it can come out in your teeth.

The Stones

Essentially a sick fic with some fun world building

The Test

Long distance edging and denial. The fantasies were some of my favorite things to write.

5. Do you respond to comments?

I try to! Sometimes it takes me awhile!

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? 

Out of finished fics I suppose it would be The Beloved Prey, though I do have a handful of things I've written to continue that.

Unfinished it would be the unpublished sequel to My Own Echo.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? 

I think maybe The Stones. Magic holding and accepting Jade because of Kit's love for her feels pretty happy.

Oh! And Network Connection Secure. The Cam girls having a proposal moment that's distinctly them? Very sweet and I wrote it for Christmas.

8. Do you get hate on fics? 

Not on these ones!

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? 

Yes, yes I do. The majority of my work contains it. I think the weirdest I've written (so far) is probably Spare the Rod.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I'm not really big on crossovers, so this isn't something I've done. I'll go hard on an AU though.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Nah.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? 

Nope! Translation is an art in itself-- I think I'd find the idea of someone doing that a little daunting?

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? 

Kinda! @swashbucklery, @spybrarian, @commanderbuffy and I have all written pieces in what we call the Kinkverse. It was a brain child of mine that started with The Lesson, but has since become a collaborative writing world. It's been one of the most lovely experiences of my creative life. J has also written some supplemental material for NCI that I adore. @barmaid-anon and I brainstorm deranged plot ideas constantly, and she is my best/worst little gay graphic critic.

14. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

I'm going to need to say Tanthamore.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? 

I'm not going to speak this into existence. I'll say that there are a few fics that I have agonized over for a very, very, very, very, very long time.

16. What are your writing strengths? 

I think I get to the point pretty well. I keep action and development moving. I think I do some good figurative language. I trust my instincts on where a story needs to go next.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

The Agonies. The connective tissue between important scenes. Not knowing what to have characters do when they're on their own. Run on sentences. Too many WIPs and not enough commitment.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? 

I haven't ever found it necessary? I guess I feel about it the way I feel about captions for another language. You know when captions will say "speaks in a foreign language?" Bane of my existence. Either translate it or get out of here.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Pretty Little Liars. I was a big Paily fan for awhile there. Those live back on fanfiction.net

20. Favourite fic you’ve written? 

The Past feels really good to write because it pulls together all these threads in my brain for the Kinkverse girls, and it feels very unifying for that vision. It's satisfying connecting the dots.

As for who to tag on this: @barmaid-anon, @commanderbuffy, @swashbucklery, @multiplefandommess, @vetiverriver, @onlyshestandsthere, @claymoressword, @kittanthaloselorashield