#and drop the passive aggressive comments guys that's not necessary

[calbeloved]

Spiderbit week!! prompt for "blood" and also very inspired by the supernatural au that WSD thought of!! I've never written these guys before so apologies if i got their personalities very wrong shshshsh @anonymous-dentist

Neither of them speak, though Roier has his eyebrows furrowed and he pauses from time to time, like he's about to say something.

Maybe it's because Pepito is already asleep, Cellbit muses to himself, only half aware of what's happening. Roier pours the bottle of… alcohol, maybe? right onto his wound, and it immediately foams, a now pink-red liquid dripping down his chest. It falls on the floor in drops. Cellbit somehow can't bring himself to care or comment, even with the knowledge that Roier hates mopping his floors. He seems awfully passive-aggressive tonight.

…It should hurt more, he thinks. It should sting and make him hiss, he should be holding in a scream. It should hurt. It doesn't. Cellbit doesn't feel anything, just… numbness.

(It hurt her. Why- why did he allow that to happen? She got hurt and it's all his fault and he doesn't feel anything and he's the one that should be feeling it.)

“I'm sorry,” he says, a barely hearable whisper. He doesn't know who he's saying that to, in the end. “I… I didn't mean to bother you.” I didn't mean to wake you up. I didn't mean to make you take care of me. I didn't mean to make myself attached. I didn't mean to. I didn't.

Roier only tsks, rolling his eyes. He picks up some gauze and presses it right beneath the wound to soak up the falling blood. He does it rougher than necessary. Harder than he normally does. “You're not bothering me, asshole, just making me-” He pauses, throwing the gauze into the sink and looking away for a moment. “Worried. And mad. Mostly mad.”

Cellbit would normally snort in response, but he doesn't now. He can't quite bring himself to. Instead, he stares at Roier’s fingers. They tap on the sink anxiously, leaving bloody fingerprints that turn into small puddles mere seconds later. He doesn't seem to notice it, so Cellbit doesn't comment.

“You make me mad,” Roier concludes. “Because you are an idiot and keep throwing yourself into situations you can't… bring yourself out of.”

He takes another gauze and a needle into the other hand, returning his gaze to Cellbit. His chin is pointed up, but his eyes- They pierce him, and the black smudged eyeliner only makes it more unsettling. Well. It would, if Cellbit cared about that. He doesn't. But- the eyeliner was smudged already when he first knocked on the door. There had been no time to ask, if Cellbit even would want to.

(He had been crying. Why? Cellbit wants to know, but Roier is everything he doesn't understand. There's just something he's missing, as always.)

“And you make me worried.” Roier murmurs, voice low yet almost like a growl. His hands tighten on the objects he's holding, knuckles turning white. “You make me worried. And you might die and you're a stupid idiot and I hate you for that.” His voice cracks.

There's a pause.

“Yeah.” Cellbit responds. He knows Roier doesn't like apologies. “I know.”

“You could have died. Tonight.” His voice is shaky, and his eyes shine. He's beautiful. He's about to cry. “God, you're so stupid.”

Cellbit swallows and feels his throat close up. He reaches forward, placing a gentle hand on Roier’s cheek. It's covered in blood. Cellbit thinks he feels sick, but Roier either doesn't notice or doesnt care. He has to… Gods. He can't see Roier cry. That'd just break him, he thinks. He can't deal with that now.

“I'm…” No, he can't say that. Not to Roier. “It won't happen again. We just- we had a fight and I… I fucked up. It won't happen again.”

Roier nods without a word. He swallows and moves away from the touch, his expression changing into something more controlled.

His hand comes up close to the wound, needle itching close before it stops. “Want anything to bite on?”

Roier knows a lot of things, both small and big, about Cellbit. Information that a lot of people would like to get their hands on. But he doesn't know everything. He doesn't know how it was for Cellbit back then. He doesn't know and he doesn't ask. Maybe that's why Cellbit keeps coming back.

“No.”

Roier hums and doesn't ask and there's that.

“You had a fight, you said.” Roier eventually says when they're near the end of stitching. Cellbit doesn't really know what the fuzzy-numbness he feels every time… something like this happens is, but by this point, it's gone. “Is Bagi- How's she holding up, then?”

Cellbit thinks back to his sister, eyes furious and a snarl on her face. He thinks back to how she screamed, how much blood she lost. He should have helped her, but-

He grits his teeth, fingers pressing hard into his own leg.

That damned demon barged in like-

God, he can't think about this. He doesn't want to.

Tina took her away with a cold gaze and a snarl of “Leave” and there was nothing he could have done. He tried, before. It always ended the same. And he was bleeding out, he was hurt- (It shouldn't have mattered, it shouldn't have made a difference, she was hurt worse, he should have tried harder-)

So. He can't even be sure. Tina took care of her, surely. (But in what way?) She wouldn't allow Bagi to die, they both know that.

“She's fine.” Cellbit says, realizing he was silent for too long. He uncurls his fingers and tries to breathe. “Staying at the motel tonight. We, um. Decided to stay away from each other for a little while.”

That's not true. They haven't decided anything, but he knows how Tina is.

“Ah.” Roier breathes out. He probably knows he's being lied to, but that's their thing. They don't ask questions. Cellbit cringes anyway. “So you're… you'll be staying?”

Roier’s hand on his chest - the one that's not stitching the wound, that is - flexes, fingers starting to drum. Anxious.

There's a pause.

I didn't mean to get myself attached. I didn't mean to get you attached, either.

“If… if you'll have me,” he murmurs, quiet and only a bit uncertain.

(Gods, he can practically hear Bagi taunting him right now. When did his face get so hot? This is- embarrassing, he can't belive in himself.)

Instead of calling Cellbit out, Roier bites his lip, eyes darting down. There's- something that maybe could be called a grin, if only he could see Roier's face better. They don't speak, but then-

“Of course, man.” Roier smiles eventually, looking up at him. There's something in his eyes that hasn't been there before.

“Of course,” Cellbit repeats, a small smile appearing on his face as well, despite everything.

They fall into comfortable silence after that, but it's… different from before. The tension is mostly gone and… Roier seems almost satisfied. Or something similar, anyhow. Because despite how good he is at reading people, Roier is… like an enigma he can never quite understand. There's just something about him, something Cellbit isn't getting.

(Maybe that's why he keeps coming back.)

Roier finishes the stitches and after pouring some more of that disinfectant, starts bandaging the injury. It's only then that Cellbit realises he's been staring at Roier the entire time. But- it's weird. It doesn't feel like he's going to throw up from stress because he had to keep watching, just to make sure Roier wouldn't hurt him. No. Roier would never do that. It's more like…

(“What is up with you today?” Bagi asks, eyes squinted. Her laptop has its screen turned off already, research long forgotten. She's been staring at him suspiciously for the last 10 minutes. “Why do you look like that?”

“What?” He rolls his eyes, giving her an unamused look. He looks fine, he knows this, because he checked himself before they left the motel. He's meeting up with Roier today, so obviously- Pause. That sounds… He's meeting up with an important and respected informat today, so obviously he has to look at least a bit put together. There's nothing unusual about that. “You're being weird, stop staring at me and do your research.”

Bagi clearly isn't convinced, creeping her face closer. Cellbit keeps up the gaze and- there it is, she sighs in disappointment, eyes darting down to his meal instead. But she doesn't steal the plate away, like he expected her to.

There's a pause. Ever so slowly, she raises her head and on her shocked face begins to grow a grin.

…uh oh. What is she-

“Are you wearing fucking perfume?”

He stops chewing. Meets her gaze. Tries to ignore the absolute horror growing as he realises his face is getting hot. He's blushing. What-

“...no,” he tries, but his voice comes out practically like a squeak. He curses himself for it.

“You are! Oh my Gods, are you serious?” Bagi cackles, suddenly gleeful. “Why are you-”

He watches the realisation paint on her face. Her mouth opens, but no words come out of it.

“...You're wearing perfume.” She says slowly, a smirk beginning to make itself known again. “For the meeting with that guy today?”

Cellbit silently starts chewing again, looking away. He takes a sip of his lemonade (which was supposed to be a coffee, but of course, he can't have anything nice in life) and sighs. “Let's- let's just eat and leave. We are-” He shoots her a look, which at least makes her look a bit bashful. “-not talking about this.”

Bagi leans back in her seat, eyes squinted once again. Considering. Was he too harsh on this? There's a growing ache in his stomach, because- Gods, he doesn't want to fuck up with her again. How can he- how can he fix this?

“Okay, maybe I am wearing perfume for the hot guy, but- Hey, no, listen to-! That's just good manners! There's nothing weird about that!”

“Oh my Gods, I have to tell Felps. Does Felps know? Doesn't matter, I'll tell him anyway.” Bagi grins, not bothered at all that she was interrupting him. She looks very eager to eat quickly and get out of here, suddenly.

He sips on his lemonade instead, jaw tensing and untensing. Ugh. Gods.

“You so have a crush, that is crazy.” She continues, eyes wide. “I can't believe this, what?”

She laughs again and doesn't stop, even when Cellbit gives her his remaining fries and salad.

A crush. How stupid is that?)

It's more like adoration. He's enjoying watching Roier work. Gods. Gods, that is- He is not dealing with that tonight.

Roier grins at him, obvious to his thoughts. “All done! Come on.”

On shaky legs, Cellbit stands up to follow Roier out of the door. When Roier's back is turned, he reaches his hand out to touch the bandage gently, looking down at it. It's… good. Suspiciously good, even, he'd say. But. This is Roier. He's like that, Cellbit found. Full of surprises.

The house is dark. Obviously, because it's night and Pepito and Jaiden are sleeping-

“Oh.” Cellbit murmurs, a small wince on his face. “I hope I didn't wake Jaiden up.” He likes Jaiden. It just wouldn't do to make her angry, and he knows she likes her sleep.

Roier full on stops in the middle of his tracks. His shoulders come up, but his back is to Cellbit, he can't see his expression, can't understand-

“Jaiden's gone.”

…what?

Cellbit pauses as well, but for a different reason. Oh. He isn't… He isn't good at dealing with this. Oh Gods.

But then Roier suddenly turns around, a smile on his face. It doesn't look quite right. “Er, I mean-! Not like that!” He laughs and it sounds just like the one that Cellbit hears a lot while interrogating people. But never before from Roier. He's anxious. Why? Covering something up, surely, but…

“Huh.” He just says, smartly.

“Erm. Yeah! You know, just- For a little while! We're just taking a break from each other, you know?” Roier stutters awkwardly, that smile still wide on his face. It brightens suddenly. “You know, like you and Bagi! A… bit. But we didn't fight or anything, just-!” There's another pause, but this time Roier is watching his expression closely. His face sours slightly at whatever he finds. “...you know.”

Cellbit has no idea, despite how many ‘you-know's Roier just uttered. “Um. Yeah.”

“Yeah,” Roier nods, seemingly relieved. He stands still for a moment longer before reaching out to flick off the bathroom light, making the hallway fall into complete darkness. (Are there no windows here? No, that doesn't seem right. He's sure there were some the last time he was here.)

“Um. Anyway, now that you're here-” Roier grasps his hand tightly and begins leading him deeper into the house. “You know how you're like, an even bigger nerd than me?”

“I'm not a-”

“So, I was thinking- You could even help me with Pepito a bit! You know, he's such a little geek, I don't know who he got it from…” Roier doesn't even stop talking as they get to a hallway with many doors. Bedrooms, Cellbit thinks. He doesn't lower his voice either. Cellbit winces in sympathy for the kid. He hopes they haven't woken him up. “He just reads and reads! Ugh, I swear, I need to start taking more of those books away, his eyesight is already so bad!”

Bad eyesight doesn't come from just reading, Cellbit wants to interrupt. He wants to say a lot of things, actually. But… It is Roier's house. He's a guest. If Roier is so eager to change the subject and then rant about his child, then who's Cellbit to stop him, really?

The door to the- bedroom, it's a bedroom, is opened and Roier pulls him inside, closing it right behind them.

“And, he's still a little stupid, but I'm sure you-” Roier suddenly stops talking, yet again. He looks into Cellbit’s eyes, an alarmed look on his face. “You… like kids, right? I mean, you must like kids, but even if you didn't- You'd… you'd like Pepito! Because, I mean-”

“Um. I guess I do?” Cellbit interrupts, only because Roier looks like he's about to kneel over from over explaining himself.

A beat.

“Cool! I mean, no, that's good… Yes, I'm just…” He laughs and pulls away from Cellbit, walking deeper into the room alone. He stops in the middle of it, eyes locked on the bed. A large one. “...I'm- I'm sorry, I must be acting like a terrible host right now. Oh. I'm just…”

He makes some vague motions with his hands and smiles.

Cellbit winces internally. It's… just a bit awkward.

“No, it's… it's fine. Seriously, you're good. You're… good.” Oh Gods. What does he say to that? “I'm, um. Just. Thank you for taking care of me. That's already enough. You don't need to explain yourself, seriously. It's… fine.”

Roier stares at him. Stares some more. His hand comes up to his chest, almost as if he was… scratching at something underneath his shirt. But it's dark and Cellbit isn't really sure what expression he has and-

“Oh.” Roier breathes out. There's something. Something he's missing, again. “Ah… Alright.”

He's… muttering something to himself, Cellbit’s pretty sure. But… Then Roier clears his throat and puts his hand down, tense. Almost like he didn't realise it moved. He looks at the closet and back at Cellbit, in thought.

“You'll be fine in your clothes for tonight, right?”

“Um, yeah.” He's only in his pants anyway. His shirt was way too soaked with blood (hers, but by his fault) and even if it wasn't, Roier already took care of it. As in… shredding it with his hands. He's probably not getting that back. “We can work something out tomorrow. It's okay.”

Roier nods and sits down on the bed.

Cellbit stares. He is… pretty sure Jaiden has her own room. And Roier mentioned she's gone, so why… why is he here?

And he immediately curses himself for thinking like that. Maybe Jaiden isn't comfortable with people sleeping in her room, especially when she doesn't know about it. Roier would surely know that.

So he walks closer to the bed and lays down, slowly.

The bed is big. Big enough for- three people maybe, if he had to guess. So it isn't like it's awkward, but…

He doesn't really know what to do. Sharing a bed isn't something he does, it's just not. It'd be different if they were sharing heat while in the wild or something like that, but- That's not the case.

He feels Roier lay down next to him. When he looks at him out of the corner of the eye, he's smiling. A hand on his face, gently touching his own cheek. Inspecting. And then he turns on his side, towards Cellbit. Who very pointedly tries to pretend he wasn't staring.

He swallows.

“Goodnight.” Cellbit mutters quietly and turns as well, laying on his stomach. His hand automatically goes to rest under the pillow, reaching for a knife or a gun. It finds neither.

…Fuck, he left his weapons in his backpack. Which is in the entrance of the house.

“Goodnight,” Roier whispers back, a smile audible in his voice.

No, he can't go for it now. What would Roier think? And besides… he has a kid. Surely, this place is warded against everything, to hell and back. It's fine. And just for one night.

It's fine.

(Later, when Cellbit will wake up, he'll realize he forgot many things. Like his nightly prayer to Felps and cleaning his knife. Writing down in his notebook what exactly happened on the hunt. Cursing Tina in his thoughts.

But with the chaos of Pepito waking them both up early and immediately wanting to play, what he won't remember is that Roier never washed his face after Cellbit touched it with his bloody hands. He won't notice it either.

Maybe that's for the best.)

[grahamstoney]

My Life So Far by Jane Fonda

New Post has been published on https://grahamstoney.com/self-esteem/my-life-so-far-by-jane-fonda

My Life So Far by Jane Fonda

I am a generation too late to really know much about Jane Fonda, and started reading her autobiography when a friend recommended it. There is lots of name dropping; clearly Ms Fonda was well-connected in her prime, but I don’t recognise most of the names since they were just before my time. Nevertheless, it’s a compelling story.

I was fascinated to read how such a successful woman could be haunted all her life by feelings of inadequacy and insecurity. Despite her feminist leaning and her courage (or was it foolishness?), there’s a strong theme that without the support and approval of men, she felt worthless.

I found her description of the U.S. involvement in the Vietnamese war a disturbing indictment on the power wielded by the American military and the way in which the U.S. President of the time used it to play out his power games in a foreign country about which he had no understanding. The parallel between Vietnam and the current Iraq war became more startling to me the more I learned about what had gone on in Vietnam. I grew up with the belief that the U.S. were unquestionably the “Good Guys”. After all, they were instrumental in saving Australia from being invaded by Japan in World War II. To realise that they had been batting for the wrong team in Vietnam, and now Iraq, I found truly disturbing.

The other theme that struck a chord with me, whether Fonda intended to or not, was that naivety and courage sometimes go hand-in-hand. It was clear that some of her actions, such as her visit to Vietnam to highlight the U.S. bombing of dikes in the river delta, was amazingly naive. She put herself in considerable danger, and was at times manipulated by her hosts. Yet it was also enormously powerful. It reminded me of times in my life where I have thought “I’m really being very naive here”, yet gone ahead anyway because I thought there was a more important cause than just avoiding my own foolishness. And these have been some of the most invigorating times for me.

I found some of Fonda’s off-hand comments about perceived differences between the experience of women and men rather polarizing. She appears to believe that men are largely immune from the sort of self-esteem and sexuality issues that she sees so many women suffering from; if only this were the case. In fact, men suffer from these things too; but it shows in different ways. Hers manifested in an eating disorder and deep-seated need to please men. Nixon had a deep-seated need to create an enemy in his mind out of a peace-loving people on the other side of the planet so he could try to wipe them out. These are both manifestations of the same thing: poor self-esteem. They just came out in different ways. One inwardly destructive, the other outwardly. But even this isn’t necessarily a gender-based difference.

Fonda make the compelling point that aggression and war are generally seen as masculine and active, while peace is seen as feminine and passive. The U.S. Presidents who initiated and supported unwinable wars in Vietnam and Iraq were doing so because they had a point to prove: that they would be strong in the face of a perceived threat. Big boys playing with toys to prove who was the bigger man. The lies and deceit necessary to maintain the charade belied what was really going on. Fonda gives a fascinating account of a meeting she initiated with a group of disgruntled ex-Vietnam vets who were angry at her anti-war activism. They still harboured terrible grief about the war, but felt it unpatriotic to be angry at the government despite the lies it had told; so they aimed their anger at anti-war activists like her instead. She diffused the situation by getting them to talk about what was really going on for them. Vilifying anti-war activists like Fonda was just part of the governments’ efforts to sustain the war so that the men in power could prove how manly they were, and the veterans were just some of the victims. You would think the people in power would have learned something; except for the obvious parallels with the current war in Iraq, which those in power are oblivious to. Fonda points out that at the same time the U.S. Were sending troops into Iraq, their government was also slashing benefits for returned servicemen, and that at the time of the Vietnam war, anti-war activists were actually more supportive of returned servicemen than were pro-war activists. Reading the press you would have got the opposite viewpoint.

I don’t know if Fonda used a ghost writer; the story gives the impression that she wrote it herself, and that some of the pieces of the puzzle of her life didn’t fit together until she spoke to other people about issues during the writing process. I was surprised to find that her book held my attention through all 600 pages. I rarely make it through books that thick, and had no particular interest in Jane Fonda at the outset but nevertheless found her biography quite interesting.

[evilkitten3]

multiple people have been complaining about my takes on luz's mom... like ok first of all i never disliked her, not once. believe me, when i don't like a character, i'll say so.

but to get to the point, camila's role in the story is complicated. and you aren't supposed to automatically know exactly what she's thinking. the show opens with the concept of "local middle school weird girl is being sent to bore-ification camp by her mom who wants her to be less weird". that's a scenario that a lot of neurodivergent people can relate to, yours truly included.

a lot of the time irl talks about autism focus on how difficult it can be for the parents, to the point where for a lot of us it's exhausting just to hear someone bring it up. bc we know it's tough on the parents, but it's tough on us too. but in camila's case, it's handled really well. whether luz is autistic or adhd or both or neither, we're not shown a mom who hates her daughter for being true to herself, we're shown one who's concerned about her child's future and just wants what's best for her. you never get the impression that there's anything but love between them. and this show doesn't exactly skimp on the mommy issues.

that said, the story follows luz. so when she's being sent off to camp, you see how upset she is by it, how she feels that who she is is being rejected. as an adult, it's easy for me to understand where camila is coming from. but when i was 14? no way in hell.

luz's mom is probably one of the best fictional moms i've seen in a long time, kids' show or otherwise. her relationship with luz is a lot like mine with my own mom (except unlike luz i do not speak spanish fluently, and my spanish is limited to what little bits my mom drops in here and there). my mom has also sent me off to places for my own good (not sure how many of y'all were here when i got shipped off to wilderness therapy, but... that was A Time), has also had difficulties with accepting me for who i am, and sometimes needs to take a step back and let me explain where i'm coming from.

camila is a flawed person and an imperfect mother. this is actually extremely normal. she has made mistakes and bad decisions. this is also normal. acknowledgement of this, be it in meta or jokes i make while watching the show, is not an attempt to demonize her, to give off the impression that i personally dislike her, or even to imply that she's a bad mom. i have, and this is true, been making jokes about all of the characters this entire time.

but all that aside, for the majority of s1 and a good chunk of s2, we don't see camila. she's spent most of her time as a character so far as more of an idea, as a goal for luz to reach - getting back home to her mom. to be clear, before she pops back up in s2e10, all we've seen from her is her sending her kid off to sad camp and her not realizing that there's a fake luz (which i'd say is justified bc like. why the fuck would she have any reason to think the girl who looked and sounded exactly like her daughter was anyone other than her daughter???). that isn't really a lot to go on.

tldr: i am watching this show for the first time after avoiding as many spoilers as i could. i do not have prior knowledge of these characters. let me consume the story at my own pace and stop expecting me to know things that haven't happened for me yet.

[mistresstaru]

Soul Call Chapter 5

Soul Call

I really don't have any good ideas for this fic, guys. I'm running dry. I kind of know what to do for the very end, but how to get there, I got nothing. Well, I have something, but it's too much like my other fic, Exotic. Please, if anyone has any ideas, comment below. I'll absolutely credit you.

 :::

 Months go by, and things are going very well for the rebels of Zaun, thanks to a certain demon. Zolana has helped Silco steal, torture, and kill, as well as getting useful information with… whatever was necessary, all the while growing more fond of her every time she’d drop in, and even when she wasn’t there. But she’s here, now, summoned by his thoughts of her. “You asked to see me, Father?” She comes sauntering over to his desk.

 “Yes.” He reaches under his desk and pulls out a white box. “I know you can’t bring things from here to your home, but… I saw these at a market in Piltover.” He hands her the box. “For your hard work.”

“…” She is floored, and doesn’t take the box at first. “I… thank you. It’s been so long since I’ve been given a gift.” She takes it modestly, opening it, and gasping in excitement. It was a brand new pair of black pointe shoes, and it came with lace and silicone toe pads. “Oh, Silco, these are perfect!” She is so happy she almost started crying.

 “I’m glad you like them.” He smiles.

 “Oh, and look at these fancy silicone pads!” She squeezes them between her fingers. “Back in my day, we used chalk, bandages, and tissues!”

 “The merchant insisted I buy them, as well.” He says. “Though I’m not sure why the laces aren’t attached.”

 “Each dancer needs to sew them on differently, depending how you need your ankle supported.” She sits in a chair, pulling out one shoe and one lace. “Do you have a sewing kit, and a towel?”

 “Yes…” He goes to one of the cabinets and finds the kit, then rummages around for a hand towel. While he’s doing that, though, he hears a loud pop, turning around suddenly.

 “Sorry, I didn’t think it’d be that loud.” She whispers, holding up the shoe. “You really have to break these puppies in. It’s brutal work.”

 “Is it?” He hands her the sewing kit and towel.

 “I just popped this part, here.” She draws a line under where the ball of the foot would be. “Now, I’ll crack this part.” A line a little before the heel. She bends it back and forth. “You can’t crack the arch, that’s where a lot of the support is. Then, you have to crush the pointe part. It’s called the box.” She puts the shoe on the ground, and puts the towel over it. Then, she stomps on it with the ball of her foot, and he hears more cracking.

 “Jesus.” He’s surprised by all this. “You weren’t kidding.”

 “Huh, you think war is hard? Please. This is nuts, and not just the shoes…” She starts sewing the laces to the heels. “But the entire culture of ballet, the dancing, the strive for perfection, the directors, your peers… you know, I started ballet when it was relatively new, but still, the competitiveness was strong. I was heavily bullied.”

 “You? Why?”

 “They’d call me fat, or the equivalent of ‘thunder-thighs’.”

 “What? But you’re not…”

 “I know.” Zolana nods. “But the typical ballerina’s body is an average height with a slim, square figure, no boobs, no butt, skinny legs. Me, I’m a giant with giant tits, ass, and thighs.”

 “So they were just jealous?” He smirks.

 “Exactly.” She says, finishing up the first shoe and moving on to the second. “That’s why I didn’t let it bother me. But man, the things those girls would do just to be the prima: passive-aggressive bullying, ruining other dancer’s shoes and outfits, sleeping with the directors and choreographers… I was just happy to be dancing, and letting my talent speak for itself, which it did, most of the time.”

 “Were you ever the prima ballerina?”

 “No.” She shakes her head. “My body was never an issue for the choreographer, but my height was. It was hard enough to find a man brave enough to dance ballet, so to find one over 5’10” was a challenge. Most ballet shows are romantic in nature, so you needed a danseur and a ballerina to perform a pas de deux, a duet. But, it’s fine, like I said. I didn’t want those roles anyway. I got to be the villain a lot, and one time, I had to stand in for a male dancer who pulled a muscle!”

 “You were in drag?” Silco is amused.

 “Yeah! I taped my breasts back and put a cup on, a big one.” She says, and he snickers.

 “You’re a very interesting woman, Zolana.”

 “You think?” She’s modest again, smiling at him. She finishes sewing up the second shoe.

 “Are you finished?”

 “Not yet.” She stands up. “Let’s go outside.” She heads out the door and he follows. Out the graveyard-side door, she sits on the asphalt. “I’m going to be loud again.” She warns, before taking a shoe in each hand and banging the toe part on the ground violently. “This is to actually dull the noise of the box hitting the floor whenever we jump!” She shouts. Finally, she rubs the bottoms on the rough cement, grinding them in. “And this is to prevent slipping. Can I have your lighter for a second?”

 “Can’t you use your fire breath?” He gets out his lighter anyway, tossing it to her.

 “I’m pretty sure my fire would destroy them.” She catches it.

 “Isn’t that what you’re doing, anyway?” He huffs.

 “When you get new shoes, you gotta make them old.” She uses the fire on the ends of the laces, and the little ties at the top of the shoes. “This is to prevent fraying.” She gives the lighter back to him. “Now, they are finally done. Do you have somewhere I can dance, Father?”

 “Yes, there’s a recreation center on the other end.” Silco shows her to it. It’s a small gymnasium with the tiniest stage, a chair rack for meetings, sports equipment, and a record player. She smiles, nodding to him in approval before transforming into her human form with a black ballerina outfit, tutu and all. “Lovely.” He says as she puts on her new shoes.

 “Let’s put on some music.” She walks to the record player, finding a classical piece and popping it under the needle. “And now, for one night only, the lovely – and severely out of practice – Zolana, will perform a pas seul, untitled.” She announces herself, standing in fourth position as a starting pose. She starts her dance, light and small on her toes at first, then the moves becoming more fluid, bigger, and putting emotion into it, feeling the music move her body for her. Arabesques, jumps, and perfect positions, legs straight, arms soft. He’s never seen anyone dance like her, with such passion for the art. Then again, it’s not like he frequents the theatre, the only dancers he comes across are the ones from Sevika’s bar. But they just dance because they need money. But not her. She needs to dance, just because. She spins and spins, not at all getting dizzy or off-balance. Finally, she does a finishing pose, the music stopping. He claps for her, and she curtsies.

 “Wonderful.” He says simply. “You must have been lying about being out of practice.”

 “I guess it’s just… ingrained in me.” She smiles. “In Hell, nobody wants to see that. They just want the erotica, which I’m more than happy to perform, it’s just…”

 “Ballet is your first love.” He says.

 “Yes.” She smiles at him. “Do you have anything you’re passionate about, Father, other than the freedom of your people?”

 “No… not like you have.” He steps closer.

 “That’s quite a shame.” She says, magically changing her outfit to something more casual. “We should find you one. You know, you have a dancer’s body.”

 “Don’t even think about it.”

 “But you could be my partner and everything, since you’re a few inches taller.” She jokes, and he smirks. They realize that they are very close, bodies almost touching. She gazes up at him, but doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, and barely breathes. He touches her cheek with two fingers, so delicately. She sighs, eyes fluttering closed, feeling electricity from just a simple touch.

 “Do you feel that, too?” He whispers, also feeling the electricity.

 “Y-Yes…” She stutters, opening her eyes again, finding his boring into hers.

 “What is it?”

 “I… don’t know.” She answers honestly. “It’s just… us.” His fingers put her hair behind her ear and he cups the back of her head, pulling her closer…

 BOOM

 “What the Hell?” Zolana hears an explosion.

 “Oh, dear.” Silco sighs, snickering.

 “So home invasion is funny to you?” She asks.

 “It’s not an invasion.” He smirks. “It was Jinx. It came from the basement.”

 “Oh.” She snickers, too. “I guess the supplies came in.”

 “Yes.” He says. “But I do need to…”

 “Yeah.” She smiles understandingly, pushing away from him and taking off the shoes. “I wish I could take them home with me.” She hands them to him. As he takes them, Mylo comes bursting through the double doors.

 “Father! There you are. Jinx blew up the basement again…” Mylo’s eyes peel over to where Zolana stood, blushing. “Hi, Zolana.”

 “Hi, Mylo.” She waves, knowing the boy had a little crush on her.

 “Let’s go to the basement, boy.” Silco shoos him off, and he obeys. “Have a pleasant evening, Zolana.”

 “You too.” She waves to him, too, more flirtatiously, before disappearing.

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

A Miraculous TikTok Account

Part 8

First

Previous

Next

Chloe really didn’t know how they’d lost Carapace.

They’d talked about borders for a while and he’d been perfectly fine keeping out of the conversation, and then they’d gotten distracted by Ladybug and Rena saying that fairy lights weren’t necessary, and then he was gone.

… maybe they’d lost Carapace when they were debating exactly how important fairy lights are to the aesthetic. Who knows.

Still, it had been a bit weird when she had casually turned around and not seen the turtle following along behind them.

Had they left him behind? He walked kind of slow, it was entirely plausible… or had he wandered off on his own free will?

One of those was a problem. The other was not.

Chloe pulled out her phone and pulled up the hero group chat.

Queenie: Hey, Carapace, where’d you go?

She doubted she’d get an answer. No one under forty ever has their ringer on --.

Chat’s phone dinged and Chloe rolled her eyes. Someone needed to revoke Chat’s Teen Card.

Chat’s eyes flicked over his phone and then a frown graced his face. He looked around.

“Oh. You’re right. He’s gone…”

Ladybug blinked and looked up. “Should we try and find him?”

“I mean… he is an adult…?” Said Rena slowly, though she didn’t seem all that sure what to do either. The two self-appointed responsible ones started debating quietly.

(Chat used this chance to drop some fairy lights into the cart and hide them under some things. Good for him.)

None of them were all that concerned, of course. Carapace was just as capable a hero as the rest of them, and what kind of trouble could he really get into at Home Depot?

Still, they eventually split up to look for him. After all, they were ready to check out. They’d get whatever Carapace had found, pay, and leave. Simple as that.

Except things never were simple for them.

Chloe frowned as she came upon Carapace and… someone. She was a lot older than him. She hoped he wasn’t trying to chat the lady up.

She pulled out her phone to alert the others.

Queenie: Found him by the paper stuff still.

She leaned back against the nearest wall and started scrolling through her phone absently. It was fine that he was talking to someone, Chloe could wait until he was done…

Wait, no, something was wrong. She lowered her phone a little to look at them.

They were talking in relatively pleasant tones, but there was a tenseness in both of their shoulders that gave Chloe pause.

“A kid like you shouldn’t be left alone…”

A kid like him?

Her eyes narrowed.

“I can handle myself, thank you. I’m Carapace.”

She scoffed lightly. Really? Was he really pulling the Carapace card? Lame. Only she could pull stuff like that.

“And I’m Ladybug,” responded the lady, apparently just as unimpressed about the attempt as Chloe was…

But Chloe couldn’t help but be uncomfortable about the interaction. Something was deeply wrong, she just didn’t quite know what.

“Okay, ma’am, help would be nice, I guess…” Carapace caved.

She frowned a little at that. Honestly, how was he a hero? So meek and quiet, sometimes she found it odd that he would even face the akumas.

But, hey, if he wasn’t going to stand up for himself then she’d be glad to do it for him. He was the only tolerable one in the house and she wasn’t just going to let people walk all over him.

She pulled her mask off (hers was really only for aesthetic purposes, to make them look like a matching set, anyways) and set it in her bag and fluffed her hair a little. There. Now she should look like she usually did on TV.

She marched over, pulling an annoyed frown to her face (this wasn’t hard). “Hey, idiot, I looked everywhere for you.”

The lady’s eyes went wide as they landed on the mayor’s daughter and the only out hero of Paris.

“You’re actually… I’m so sorry, sir, I didn’t know!”

Carapace’s forced smile dropped into a more sincere, almost apologetic smile. “It’s okay, ma’am. I wouldn’t have believed me, either.”

Chloe, however, didn’t soften in the slightest. “Oh, so now that you know he’s Carapace you’re sorry?”

“Chloe, it’s fine.”

“Is it? What were you going to do if he wasn’t Carapace?”

The woman looked uncomfortable as she mumbled another apology.

Chloe was about to go off on her some more, but a hand on her arm made her stop.

She turned to look and saw that all the other miraculous holders were there, too, and they looked to be bracing themselves for a fight. (Ladybug had even transformed, though it was hard to tell the difference.)

She squeezed her eyes shut. She hated everything that was going on in that moment, but she hated the idea of being the first to get akumatized since moving in even more.

So, she pulled herself together. Once she was sure that her emotions had dulled to a low enough hum that Hawkmoth wouldn’t detect it, she sent the woman a cold look.

“I hope you have a safe weekend, mademoiselle.” She settled for mild passive-aggression. Paris was full of that at this point. She was sure the woman caught on.

She whipped around and pulled Carapace away by the sleeve of his hoodie.

“You really shouldn’t let that kind of stuff slide.”

“It’s fine,” he said calmly. “I’m used to it.”

“That’s even worse!”

He rolled his eyes a little and waved to Rena and Ladybug as they got closer. “Hey, guys, it’s time for my favorite game! Do you think she was racist, classist, or just wary of teens?”

Rena laughed a little. “Did you SEE her? Definitely racist.”

“Well, if she was a classist she’d have to think you were pretty low. She’s working at Home Depot,” said Ladybug after a second’s thought. “Could still be a teen thing, though.”

“No way! She singled him out.”

“That makes sense.” Carapace gave Chloe a shrug. “See? It’s normal.”

Chloe was steadily getting more and more horrified. Why were they so… casual about it all? Carapace was joking? Rena was laughing? Even Ladybug seemed a little amused? Even if it actually was normal for them, it definitely shouldn’t be…

Her eyes met Chat’s and she was glad to find that he also seemed to think what was going on was absolutely insane.

But could they really say anything about how they were dealing with it? They weren’t exactly in a marginalized group.

No. Probably not.

“Why’d you run off, anyways?” Said Rena.

Whether the change in subject was intentional or just her natural need to know everything, Carapace seemed happy to indulge her. He held up some purple butterfly cut-outs. “We can use this for the board.”

“Oh. That would be cute,” said Chat slowly.

Ladybug had gone a little red behind her mask, and if anyone else noticed they didn’t feel the need to comment.

“Ready to go?” Said Rena.

Ladybug sifted through the things a little to make sure they had everything they’d need, much to Chat and Chloe’s dismay. When her eyes landed on the fairy lights she blinked a little…

And then she pressed her lips together and continued searching.

Chloe and Chat beamed.

“I think we have everything. Let’s get out of this place.”

~~~

Taglist

@nathleigh @mialuvscats @sassakitty @th1s-1s-my-aesthet1c @blueslushgueen @woe-is-me0

[samthemarvelfan]

Bloom for Me: One Shot

Summary: Bucky Barnes is number one on the list of people who piss you off. Good ole Cap doesn’t seem to care, and you’re sent on a mission at the behest of Dr. Banner. The tension is so thick, you could cut it with a knife. ...but what kind of tension is it, exactly?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC

Warnings: SMUT...with plot! Angst, and a lil dash of fluff. 18+ ONLY

A/N: SEX POLLEN FIC. I DID IT YALL. I finished a story I’ve held hostage for 3 months lol In honor of Seb’s bday...enjoy! <3

“I cannot express to you how much I’m not going to do this.” You gripe, arms crossed as you glare across the conference room at Steve.

“Ella, please—it’s less than a day. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.” He scolded.

You scoffed, “I’m actually making it quite easy. Send someone else, Steve. I’m not doing it.” You stand from you seat, with all intents being to walk out the door, when you hear a chuckle.

“Told ya, Pal. That’s a $20, fair and square.” He said.

He being James Buchanan Barnes; also known as Bucky.

Also known as a pain in the fucking ass.

You stop abruptly, spinning on your heel to face them. “What was that, Barnes?” You seethe.

“It’s nothing, Ella.” Steve said to you, before turning a glare to his friend. “Drop it, Buck...” He warned.

Bucky walked over to where Steve was standing, putting both hands on his shoulders as he passed by.

“Oh, come on now, Steve. I told you she’d whine about it—that was less than 40 seconds right? I’ll take my $20.” He joked with his friend.

You stomped toward Bucky. “What the hell are you talking about?”

He laughed again. That smug, sarcastic, arrogant laugh. “Me and my pal over here like to place bets on just how much whining we’ll have to hear from you; I do anyway. This time it was ‘Let’s see how long it takes Ella to start acting like a fucking toddler.’”

Your heart hurt a bit at his words. You expect this kinda shit from him, but Steve? Does he feel that way about you, too?

“Ella he doesn’t—“

Steve tried to speak, but Bucky cut him off. “I mean anytime—anytime you’re paired of with me for a mission, you’re always tryna get out of it. You’re like a kid bargaining to not eat their vegetables.”

He stood in front of you now, towering your small frame. “Being friends isn’t a fucking job requirement. Stop acting like a spoiled brat, do the work and get out. Ain’t that right, Steve?”

You and Bucky—believe it or not, were kinda friends at one point.

He’d been one of the only people to properly welcome you to the team, and for a few weeks you were starting to get to know each other well.

Until you had your first solo mission with him. Bucky hadn’t communicated his location, despite your attempt to find him for more than 20 minutes. You needed to blow the building before the targets escaped.

Unfortunately, you forgot to clear your surroundings and you ended up held hostage by a HYDRA agent. Until Bucky burst through the room like a maniac, saving you and the mission.

Since then, he’d been distant, even cold toward you. When you did see him, the two of you couldn’t get along. Passive aggressive comments, name calling, even down right fighting during training sessions were the norm now with Bucky.

You watched the two men. Steve, who’s head was hung low with embarrassment, and Bucky, who’s smug grin you wanted to wipe against the concrete.

“Fuck this. Fuck you both.” You strained. You wanted to cry, but you wouldn’t. Not yet. Not in front of him.

As you make your way out the door, you hear Bucky call out sarcastically, “What? Was it something I said?”

“Why do you do that to her?” Steve asked him.

Bucky felt the shit-eating grin dissolving from his face. “Do what.” It was a statement, and definitely not a question.

Steve scoffed, “You know damn well what I mean, Buck. She didn’t do anything to provoke that.”

Bucky swallowed hard, avoiding his friends gaze. “She’s a fucking brat, Steve.”

Steve shook his head in disbelief, “Do you hear yourself? Would you wanna work with you?” He asked.

Bucky pushed himself from the table, “Look it’s not my fault she almost got herself killed the first time she was put in the field. So she’s got a complex about it, big whoop.”

Bucky didn’t stay to hear Steve’s lecture. Truth be told, he couldn’t stomach it.

He knows how he treats you is disgusting. The bravado he has to put on around the team makes him sick to his stomach, but it’s necessary.

When he saw your life was in danger that day, he fucking panicked. Why did he panic?

He doesn’t know. But the thought of you getting hurt...or worse, made his skin crawl. Bucky wasn’t use to feeling so attached to someone so quickly, and he hated it.

Your safety was always in the front of his mind. Wondering if you were being followed or watched or tortured or—

Stop it, Buck. Stop it. She isn’t yours to worry about. He scolded himself.

Pushing you away was the easiest part. Making you hate him was second nature, but hurting you? Making you think he hated you?

It fucking sucked.

He walked back to his room. Every intention of showering and sulking until he fell asleep, when he heard your voice through the walls.

He stood a few feet from your door, hearing everything. Stupid super soldier perks.

You were crying.

You were crying because of him.

“Fuck.” Bucky seethed through his teeth.

He doesn’t know how or when it happened, but soon he was knocking on your door.

A moment later, it swung open. You stood there, eyes red and puffy. Cheeks wet with tears, and lips swollen.

Probably from biting them like she does when she’s trying not to cry. He thought to himself.

“Come to abuse me some more?” You ask with a pain in your voice he’s never heard before.

It snatched the wind from his lungs. How long had he been making you feel this way?

“Ella, I’m—“

“Save it. I don’t want your fake apologies. Get this straight, I’m not weak.” You growl.

Bucky wonders if your trying to convince him, or yourself.

“I’ll do this mission with you. I’m not going to let you turn this team against me, but after this? We’re done. I don’t wanna hear from you ever again. I’m going to request a transfer to work at the Tower instead.”

The Tower. Manhattan. 3 hours away.

Not with me. Bucky thought.

He couldn’t speak, couldn’t think. He didn’t want you to go, not like this. Not because of him.

“Nothing to say?” You quipped. “Thought so. Goodbye, James.” You said, and slammed the door in his face.

Bucky stepped forward, leaning his forehead against the door.

How did this get so out of hand? How did it get to the point where you’d be so desperate to be rid of his ridicule that you’d leave your home?

Bucky wasn’t sure, but he was going to fix it.

Whatever it takes.

“Make sure to keep the rebreathers on at all times.” Bruce said, closing the hologram of the building.

You nod, “So what exactly is it that makes it so toxic?”

Bruce laughed, “Toxic is a strong word—potent...that’s more fitting.”

You peering at the case file; Votum Floreant.

“Got it, anything else we should know?” You ask, eager to get the mission over with.

Bruce shook his head at you and Bucky. “Don’t thinks so. Just seal it in the case the moment you get it, and keep those rebreathers on while you’re in the jet with it. I’ll take care of it when you guys get back. It doesn’t affect me the way it would you two.”

Bucky looked confused, “If that’s the case, why the hell are we going?”

He chucked, “Its a stealth op. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but being subtle isn’t exactly my forte.”

You smiled, nudging him.

“I’ll keep coms open.” You say, exiting and heading to the flight deck on the roof.

Bucky hadn’t said two words to you since the briefing.

Good. You think.

But also, out of character.

Maybe he’d finally taken the hint that you were done being treated the way he treats you. Maybe he’d been relieved to hear you were requesting your transfer.

Maybe he really did hate you.

The thought tore at your heart in more ways than one. Before the whole mess of your first mission happened, you thought the both of you were on the same page.

The flirty looks during briefings, the waiting until it was just the two of you to have dinner or walk the grounds. The movie nights where he’d pick ones he knew only the two of you would like.

It must have just been one sided. No one feels the way you feel—felt, about him and just turns it off.

As the jet whirred into flight, you took a seat next to Bucky at the controls.

“Are you going to say anything? Or are we going to mime this whole mission.” You ask without looking at him.

He doesn’t say anything, or even look at you for that matter.

You scoff subtly, “I don’t know why I bother. I guess I’m just a glutton for punishment.”

Kicking up one leg, you keep it crooked up-right next to you, using it as a block between you and Bucky.

You’d finally landed after a painfully quiet 2 hour flight. You were securing your clips to your holster when you felt him behind you.

“I didn’t mean to make you cry.” Bucky said suddenly.

It was almost impossible to look at him without sarcasm. “Really? What exactly did you think was going to happen? A person can only take so much, James.”

You move to walk away, but he grips you shoulder gently, turning you to face him.

“I...I didn’t like seeing you like that.” He practically whispered.

You paused before hitting the button to let the ramp down. You wanted to say something snide, but you didn’t dare give him your energy.

“Let’s go. I wanna get this over with.” You mumble, finally hitting the button.

“Payload secured. Extracting now.” Bucky spoke into the coms.

With your gloves on, and rebreather secured to your face, you open the case Bruce had given you.

“Here, put it in.” You instructed.

This...plant? No. Flower, definitely a flower, was gorgeous. Bright red and purple ombré petals with a speckled green and yellow stem. The green leaves reaching off the stem faded to a black tip. It was stunning.

Bucky reached for the pot, that’s when you noticed the plant changing.

“Whoa, whoa. Did you see that?” You ask him.

The stem looked like it was pulsing. Golden buds began blooming within the petals.

“I don’t like this. I’m calling Bruce.” You said.

You tap your ear piece. “Dr. Banner, we’ve got some strange activity. The plant is...growing? It’s morphing and producing—“

“Get it in that case now!” He shouts, “It’s sensitive you temperature. The closer you get, the more it detects your body heat. If you’re not careful, it’ll pollinate.”

“Els...” Bucky called.

The flower was almost glowing. It’s was hypnotic, drawing you to it...the both of you.

“It’s...it’s beautiful.” You say mindlessly.

“Sergeant Barnes? Do you copy?” You hear Bruce say through the coms.

He doesn’t respond and neither do you.

“It smells like you. Like...summer rain, and strawberry shortcake.” Bucky says, walking closer to the flower.

The buds are growing. They look as though they’re about to burst.

He shakes his head, breaking the trance. “Shit.” Bucky grumbles putting the pot in the case, and slamming it shut.

You’re both breathing heavily. When did you get this close to each other? You’re close enough to see the beads of sweat on Bucky’s hairline.

“S-Sorry.” You whisper, looking down.

He tilts you chin up to look at him, “Don’t be.” He whispers in reply.

The realization of your closeness to him set in again, cause you to jump back suddenly.

“I’m gonna go...watch the controls.” You mumble.

When you sit in the seat, you finally feel it. Your elevated heart rate, the slick in your skin, and the undeniable ache between your thighs.

“What the hell?” You mutter to yourself.

“I’m glad you made it home in one piece.” Dr. Banner says as you approach the door to the compound.

Behind you, Bucky wheeled the cart with the case on top of it.

“It was definitely something. What does that thing do exactly? The packet on it was pretty vague.” You ask.

Bruce hesitated, “It’s just...it’s a...it’s hard to explain.”

You quickly whip off your rebreather, enjoying the fresh air. “Try me.”

“Look out!” Bucky shouts from behind you.

In a flash you see Bruce’s face go into pure panic. No one was quick enough. The case tumbles to the ground, smashing open and exposing the plant.

Both you and Bucky rush for it. In an instants the plant glows again, pulsing quicker then before.

“Ella, no!” Bruce shouts.

You hadn’t noticed, but Bucky’s mask was off too. Neither of you looked at anything but the flower. “It’s beautiful.” You said mindlessly.

Suddenly there was a burst from the middle of it. Golden flecks of pollen floated through the air like glitter.

“Whoa.” Bucky said breathlessly.

Looking to him, he was bathed in an ethereal haze. A visible aura and smell drawing you to him, you couldn’t have looked away if you tried.

And you didn’t care.

Bucky’s eyes suddenly locked with yours, and you knew he felt it too.

You moved towards each other, before you felt yourself getting yanked back.

“Tony, get him into quarantine now!” Bruce shouted as he tugged you with him.

“No! Stop it! Bucky!” You shouted. A conscious part of your mind was being dulled; why did you need to be near Bucky so badly?

“Stark, I’m warning you! Ella! Ella!” Bucky shouted as he was picked up by Tony, wearing his Iron Man suit for safety.

You were pulled in separate directions, and brought into the compound.

2 hours. 37 minutes. 46 seconds.

That’s how long it’d been since you’d seen Bucky.

You were currently on you bed, aching with a cold sweat. Your body was screaming at you, telling you to get out and go find him.

“What’s happening to me...” you groan into the space above you.

Between your thighs was throbbing, the heat emerging from your core was unrelenting. Your nipples were so hard, they felt like they could cut glass, and a glisten of lust on your skin couldn’t be ignored anymore.

Your own fingers did nothing to alleviate the ache. Attempting to pleasure yourself was in vain, because it wasn’t just any touch you needed. You felt like you would die—surely, you would die without his touch.

You needed Bucky, and you needed him now.

Stood from your bed, and practically running to the door, you relish in the friction it caused between your legs.

Pulling and twisting the knob in every direction does nothing. Of course it doesn’t...of course they’d locked you in here.

“FRIDAY?” You practically begged.

“Yes, Miss Monroe?” The AI replied instantly.

You cleared your throat, and pressed your sweat stained forehead agains the cool wood. “Please open my door.”

“I’ve been instructed not to let you out unless it was an emergency.”

“It is,” You say quickly. “it’s an emergency.”

She didn’t respond, the door simply clicked open. You yanked it back and revealed a sweat soaked Bucky on the other side; with bloodshot eyes, and his pupils blown out.

You’re sure your breathing mirrored his. Heavy and lengthy breathes passed your lips, chests heaving in time with one another.

Neither of you spoke as he took daunting steps forward, pushing you back into your bedroom.

In a flash, the door is slammed shut, and his hands find your hips. “Need you. Have to have you.” He groaned into the crook of your neck. “Had to smell you, touch you.”

Bucky hoists you up against the wall, and you’re seated perfectly on his thigh. “Please tell you want this—need this as badly as I do.”

The friction of his sweatpants clad thigh against your core makes you moan. “Yes, yes. Bucky...James, please.”

His lips are on yours before you can think.

Tongues take purchase of one another—it’s sloppy and rushed, and you don’t care.

You grind your heat onto his thigh, surely leaving wet patches—you’re dripping after all.

“That’s is sugar, get yourself off.” He practically growled.

“Bucky.” You moan. “More. Give me more.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. Your back hits you’re bed with a muted thud, and he in you again, stripping you of your bottoms. You help him, and tear your shirt from your body.

Bucky grips your ankle, and makes eye contact as he starts peppering kissed up your leg. Soft, wet kissed that felt like fire against your skin.

He suddenly hooks your legs with his arms and waits, looking at you for permission. “Can I taste you?”

You nod, swallowing thickly. Soon, Bucky’s tongue is lapping at your clit, sucking and soothing the swollen bud, eating you like it was the man’s last meal.

“James, oh my...don’t stop.” You moan, raking your fingers through his hair.

Bucky hold your hips down, and your orgasm hits you like a truck. Cumming all over his face, but he doesn’t stop, he works you through it until your shaking.

“You taste like heaven, but now I need to be inside you.” He kissed you again, and you taste your juices on his stubble.

With new confidence, you push him back on the bed, and climb on top, lining him up with your entrance. In a smooth stroke, his entire length is in you. You gasp at the stretch, not expecting it.

“Look at you, sugar. Taking my cock so well, that’s it baby,” he croons as you start to ride him. “Take every inch, all for you, doll.”

You grind onto his cock, finding the perfect angle to meet your most sensitive spot.

“Oh, James.” You moan, throwing your head back.

“So tight, perfect. Mine, all mine.” He grunts, sitting up to kiss your chest. He swirls his tongue around each nipple, driving you mad.

You feel that rubber band stretching in your core, and Bucky feels it too.

He picks up his pace, thrusting up into you harder and faster until your seeing stars. Bucky repeats your name like a prayer on his lips until he stills, spilling his warmth inside of you, biting down on your chest as he came.

With the last scrap of energy you had, you roll off of him. Neither of you speak for a few minutes, you simply let your breathing return to normal.

“So that’s what that plant does.” Bucky says jokingly.

You throw your hands over your eyes, “I can’t believe we just did that.”

The mattress dips as you feel Bucky turn to face you. “Don’t get all shy on me now, Els.”

You move your hands, but refuse to look at him. Vulnerable is the last thing you want to be in front of Bucky Barnes.

Bucky’s hand finds your cheek, “Hey, I’m serious, talk to me.”

The sigh that you release is one of nerve and exhaustion. “What’s there to talk about? How I was just fucked into oblivion by a guy that hates my guts? That the only reason we’re in this bed together is because of some toxic plant that messed with our brains? There you go, there’s your talk.”

“I don’t hate you.” He says on the heels of your speech.

You laugh, full on chuckle. “Okay, Barnes. I get it, hates a strong word and all that, but you definitely don’t like me.”

Bucky swung his legs over the side of the bed, “You’re right, I don’t like you. I’m pretty sure I fucking love you.”

He says it as causally and easily as anything. In fact, it comes out with such ease, you’re almost inclined to believe him.

“Right, that’s why you ignore me while we’re at the compound, or make pick on me for fun, and follow me around like a rookie in every mission we’re forced to do together.”

He stands and pulls up his shorts. “I follow you because the thought of you getting killed makes me sick to my fucking stomach. I call out mistakes because I want you to be aware of everything so that I don’t have to kill people for hurting you.”

You prop yourself up on the bed, and shield your exposed body with a sheet. Buckys hands wash over his face before landing on his hips.

“I avoid you while we’re here because if I didn’t, I’d want to spend ever second of every day with you. You’re all I fucking think about, and frankly, it’s driving me crazy.”

You smirk at his humor, he always could make you laugh.

“So what do we do now?” You ask, sitting up on your knees, and allowing the sheet to fall.

Bucky’s eyes roam your figure, and he swallows hard. “I’d like to erase all the hateful things I’ve ever said to you, but I can’t. I can only ask to get a new start, sugar. A chance—give me one chance.”

His hand find your hips, and you feel the goosebumps prickle your skin. “After all, I am the guy that just fucked you into oblivion, right?

You smirk, leaning forward to place a chaste kiss on his lips. His hand cups your cheek as you pull away.

“Can we watch those old movies like we used to? Just you and me?” You mumble, looking down.

Bucky laughs, and pulls you into his warm chest, kissing the crown of your head. “You got it, honey. Just you and me.”

taglist:  @iheartsebastianstan @jjlizz @stuckysbabe @sk493494 @lefoutoir @nickangel13 @marvelismysafezone @lilulo-12 @warmvanillafeels @star-spangled-beard-burn @ravenesque @pinknerdpanda @wintersoldierissucharide @snapcapquartet @ellen-reincarnated1967 @unlistedpond @my-drowning-in-time @supernaturalwintersoldier @kimvmarvel @roseboho @winterboobear11 @choicesloversstuff @disaffectedbarnes @igothroughphasesalot @supernaturalwintersoldier​ @miss-assembled (strikethrough means the tag didn’t work! I’m sorry!)

[touchmycoat]

OP!Anon for Leverage!HX/LQG: *SCREAM* oh I adore how you wrote this - HX is so good at reading everyone and understanding how to motivate/manipulate them, except for lqg. I love how angry he got at the idea of lqg seeing him in the same light as swd, and also how lqg's just like, yep, swd's gotta die when he heard the full story. I love the idea of HC coming in like the king he is and laying down the law about XL. ahhhhhhh!!!! just imagining hx and lqg getting close after lots of shenanigans!

teamwork baby

"Xue Yang must die" is literally one of my favorite WWX quotes of all time LMFAO time to pay homage

so you know how in book 3, during the Black Water arc, HX is there trying to push his whole scheme forward? It's well-timed, well-thought-out, but the only fucking spanner that keeps jumping back into his work is XL-and-therefore-HC? Yeah I imagine working with grifter!HC is pretty much like that. He's always late or never shows up at all to briefings, or he shows up to the very end to hear the conclusion and goes "Nope, that's fucking stupid, change it." SQQ's like "Why??" and HC's like "oh, lil boy can't figure it out?"

and whenever they have an actual plan going, HC sometimes just shows up and starts doing his own thing in the middle and forces HX to keep up. This is often motivated by one of XL's jobs, and XL would ask if HC knows a little piece of intel, and HC would be like "oh you know what, I actually have a hostage right here to ask about that, one moment please :)" and utterly prioritize XL's thing. HX has to change the job on the fly so many times, and it's so fucking annoying, but it's not like HC leaves him at a dead end, so he always does find a way out.

(this got fucking long, but HX/LQG under the cut)

Bingliushen are also annoyed as fuck, but while they're godtier at their own things, none of them are mastermind-level (yet—Binghe's gonna get there, isn't he), so they just have to put their faith in HX and keep chugging forward. This is how the foundation builds, y'know? HX insists to both others and himself that he's being honest and faithful to his team because that's just the best way to handle them, not 'cause he's actually a team player and not 'cause he cares for anybody at all. And LQG's a simple guy—you save my life, I'll save yours. You act in good faith, I'll be loyal in turn.

It starts with something small. HX's suffered tremendous loss, and has been on his own for a very, very long time. He's used to taking care of himself, but we all know LQG's love language is "here, you dropped this. I've been quietly paying attention to everything you like and do, no big deal." So maybe it happens on a mission. HC has three marks to dupe in succession, and they're playing a nasty Big Pharma group, so it's hitting close to home for HX. At the last minute though, HC says over the comm, "the CEO & CFO made me. Must've recognized me from speaking to the secretary earlier. He Xuan."

"Can you still do the COO?"

"I'm not about to waste this outfit, am I."

and HX has to hop in and do 2/3rds of the grifting himself, which is fine, he's completely capable of this, he's a goddamn prodigy at hiding his murderous tendencies. but out of nowhere LQG is on the line, "Shen Qingqiu, you said you can hack the finances, right?"

"Yes, but nothing else."

"Then He Xuan doesn't have to talk to the CFO. Give me 2 minutes, I'll knock him out."

and HX doesn't stop him because sure, why not? It was more efficient for HC to do three of them at once, but now that it was HX doing it (and HX still has his own part to play), it would save them more effort if LQG goes for the blunt force solution. But it rubs HX the wrong way—what the fuck? Yeah, HX may not like grifting as much as HC, the stupid drama queen, but hasn't he proven himself every bit as capable of it? Why did LQG think it necessary to, what, bail him out?

So that night, after debrief, HX pulls LQG aside to give him a piece of his mind. "Don't ever try to override my judgment again." "What are you talking about?" "I made a call, I did not need your 'help' on the grift." "That wasn't help." "Then what was it." "You hate talking to guys like that!" "???" "You didn't need to talk to him, and I was right there. It was the obvious thing to do."

and HX still doesn't get it, not until the next day, when SQQ and HX are quietly setting up for the morning, and SQQ says out of the blue, "that's just how he cares. Liu Qingge, I mean. It's never an ego thing once he's your friend."

"I don't need friends," is HX's automatic response.

"No," SQQ snorts in agreement. "You need revenge. That's fine. Then I'm sure he'll get over it."

Which—okay—no? Bastard. That's just a passive aggressive attempt at a guilt trip, and it's not going to work. HX has already made it abundantly clear from the get-go that this was simply a job, he was the pointman, once they were done everybody will go on their way. It's not his fault SQQ dragged in a hitman with the loyalty instincts of a german shepherd, and it's certainly none of his business whether LQG treats him as friend or a colleague.

LQG will just have to be disappointed.

BUT OF COURSE WHAT GOES ON TO HAPPEN IS THAT HX sees more and more of the things LQG does, the ways LQG manages to be thoughtful. The way LQG handles visitors during HX’s mealtimes despite how much LQG hates talking to randos, bc HX has bad food days and can’t really stand eating with others. The time they had some time to kill undercover in a consultant’s office, and HX passed the time by pointing out all the things wrong with the office’s mini-aquarium set-up, so when SQQ brought up something inane about decorating their headquarters, LQG made HX draw up specs for a saltwater tank of their own. HX and everybody else kept insisting it was a waste of time, but LQG still went ahead and got it made anyways, and now it’s HX’s favorite thing in the entire HQ.

But HX wasn’t about to owe anybody anything. If LQG insists on this game, then fine, HX was going to play to win. He requisitions new toys (read: weapons) for LQG, he builds heists around the sole purpose of giving LQG a room of satisfying bad guys to beat up, he goes to the gym and spars with LQG, he even tries to give LQG’s weirdly famous younger sister’s novel a read—which was a lot. Ahem. But LQG loves his younger sister, so surely this would be the ultimate “hah! I’ve given you more than you’ve given me! I win! move.

...turns out LQG’s never read the damn thing, and just takes everything HX gives him in total stride. “We still on for tomorrow?” “...Yes.” “Cool. See you.” And HX’s over here totally overthinking EVERYTHING while LQG’s just chilling, super matter-of-fact.

Fuck, were they friends???

HX rage-panics, because he does. not. need. friends. And it has nothing to do with how everyone he’s ever loved dies, it has nothing to do with the careful balance of vengeful fury and self-hatred inside him that’s about to tip over any day now, once they take down SWD. It has nothing to do with HX being too traumatized and grief-stricken to imagine moving on from revenge, to ever imagine being simply content again.

His eating habits get worse. One day he snaps at LQG for pining so much after SQQ. “You already know he’s never going to return your feelings. It’s embarrassing to watch you insist on giving so much when he’s not going to give anything back.”

“Shut up,” LQG snaps, “it’s not about getting anything back.”

But that makes it worse. Of course HX wasn’t actually talking about SQQ, though sure, that’s annoying too. LBh obviously knows, so why can’t they take their infernal flirting somewhere private, instead of flaunting it in front of LQG all the time?? But the fault’s with LQG too, what with all the giving. He should find someone more worthy of his affections and stop wasting his time here.

HX cuts everything he and LQG has built up in one fell swoop—completely gives him the cold shoulder. Only ever talks about work, no more dry quips, no more infodumps on niche hobbies. HX wishes he could destroy the tank at HQ, but that would be way too confrontational at this stage.

Until one mission, when LQG knows HX is not in a good place, and keeps trying to argue HX out of doing something excessively risky. HX rounds on him and says, “you’re just a hired gun, so shut up and shoot where I'm pointing, or you can pack your things and get out.”

LQG goes red, then white, and storms away.

“Nice sucker punch,” HC comments idly where he’s lounging on the side. Who knows when the fuck he showed up. “Right where it hurts.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t tell me you don’t know. His five-year stint with the Sha City Demons?”

Of course HX knows about that. He’s looked thoroughly into everybody’s backgrounds. But what does that have to do with this?

“Gege is the best at this, after all. See you and I, we stopped asking questions once we knew the name, because we don’t think people are ever as pure and good as they pretend to be. But you know what Dianxia said, after I mentioned Liu Qingge’s old gig to him? ‘Five years, hm? I wonder what they had on him. In my experience, men like Liu Qingge don’t work for crews like the Sha Demons. And in order to sink their claws deeper into men like him, the Demons always make them do the worst jobs.’ Just a hired gun indeed.”

That’s right. LQG gets a Moreau backstory of his own. HX feels his heart sink to the pit of his stomach.

“Fuck.”

“I don’t know why you’re so stressed out about it. He is just a hired gun—”

“You know why. Fuck.”

“So get out of my face and do something about it already. You know where he’s gone, I know you’ve put trackers on your entire team.”

“...”

“You didn’t? No, you didn’t put one on him? My god, you do care.”

While HC’s busy sounding disgusted, HX is reeling. He just sent the best hitman in the field packing, and was an absolute dick about it. He was not a kind man, but he also wasn’t a cruel one. He believes in fairness, and everything he said simply had not been fair. It had all been his own guilt and issues talking; if he really didn’t give a damn, then he wouldn’t have...done all this.

“How much are you willing to pay?” HC says, swiping at his phone.

“What?”

“Because I don’t trust any of you, and did put a tracking device on Liu Qingge.” He sure has—HC is waving the loading tracking app in HX’s face. “So I’m asking, how much are you willing to pay?”

...And that’s the reason why HX owes HC so much damn money.

[lady-divine-writes]

ACITW AU one-shot “A Perfect Tree” (Rated PG13)

Summary: Kurt and Sebastian are decorating their first Christmas tree together, but with Sebastian dead set on everything being perfect, it’s not as much fun as Kurt thought it would be.

Read on AO3.

Kurt never realized what a stressful business decorating for Christmas could turn into.

When he lived at home with his father, Christmas decorations were a simple matter of a few strings of garland hung over the fireplace, some lights on the windows (Kurt demanded twinkle lights, and as he got older they seemed nearly impossible to find), and the tree. As the piece de resistance of their holiday decorations, the tree had to be perfect, of course. He and his dad spent entire Saturdays trolling the Christmas tree lots of Lima until they located the perfect Douglas fir (as Douglas fir was the Christmas tree of choice for the Hummel family).

Once the tree was up, then the real decorating began. Kurt usually monopolized that task, as every ornament had a specific location on the tree and Kurt had mapped them all out in his head. His dad was typically in charge of putting up the lights and garland.

And together they put the star on top.

Afterward, father and son would sit on the sofa with glasses of soy nog in hand and relish in the glory that was their spectacular holiday tree.

With those warm and fuzzy holiday memories swimming in his mind, Kurt thought that decorating with Sebastian for their first official Christmas together would be a heartwarming and nostalgic endeavor, but decorating with Sebastian has turned into more of a military affair.

The first thing Sebastian did (at nearly six in the morning) was to lay out all the decorations – ornaments, garland, lights, etc. – out in the living room. Kurt had cooed when he saw all the brilliant ornaments, and made the phenomenal mistake of picking one up to examine it. With a stern glare, lips fixed into a tight line, Sebastian snatched it out of Kurt’s hands and put it back in its place.

Apparently, there is a certain order to things, and precision is key.

Kurt can definitely appreciate precision and order, especially when it comes to decorating, but Sebastian takes it to manic levels.

Searching Christmas tree lots in New York City is vastly more difficult than it is in Lima. Hours and hours of walking, checking, rechecking, walking some more, and then going back to the very first place they had started rewarded them with the most glorious eight-foot noble fir (and Kurt has to admit it’s magnificent, even if it isn’t a Douglas fir).

They bring it home, lug it up to the penthouse, and stick it into its stand, all according to plan, but this is where they hit a wall. No matter how Sebastian moves the tree, no matter what angle he appraises its position in the room, he seems to believe that it’s crooked.

“Sebastian, it’s fine,” Kurt assures him numerous times – so many times that he considers recording the sentiment on his phone and replaying it at odd intervals.

“That’s because you’re sitting down,” Sebastian retorts. “If you were standing up, you would see that the tree is crooked.”

“Well, we’ll just make everyone stay seated the entire time they’re here.”

For this bit of teasing, Kurt receives a disgusted face, and afterward, nothing else is said.

Kurt lets Sebastian’s progressively sour mood slide. Granted, being their first Christmas as intendeds, it is the first time that they will be hosting the holiday festivities for the family – approaching nuptials having tossed them into the rotation - and Sebastian is surprisingly nervous about making a good impression. Kurt understands this, but it’s nearing midnight, and Kurt can see through the numerous picture windows of the penthouse that a new falling snow is covering the city, washing away the dirt and turning everything it touches into a soft winter white.

New York during Christmas is a magical thing to behold, and there are things that Kurt is eager to do with his fiancé other than watch him readjust the tree six hundred times. Kurt lets out a long, overly dramatic sigh when Sebastian moves the tree a half an inch to the right and steps back to check and see if it’s still crooked. Sebastian tilts his head left and right, then nods, and for a second, Kurt is fooled into thinking that Sebastian might be done, but he shakes his head and walks up to the tree again, reaching around the thing to move it one more time.

“You know, you’re kind of anal about this,” Kurt says with another long sigh in his passive-aggressive attempt to get Sebastian to call it quits.

“I’m kind of anal about a lot of things,” Sebastian says, looking at Kurt over his shoulder and giving him a wink, though at this point, it doesn’t seem all too promising, regardless of its suggestive intent.

“Not in the last twenty-four hours,” Kurt mumbles, standing from the sofa and stretching, lifting his arms over his head to straighten his sore, compressed spine.

“Look,” Sebastian says with a frustrated huff, stepping back again from the tree and looking the evergreen up and down. “Make fun of me if you want. I know you think I’m being stupid…”

“I don’t think you’re being stupid…” Kurt cuts in.

“But,” Sebastian continues, “every year my mom and dad’s house is perfect.”

“Yeah, but with you guys gone, they hire someone to get it that way,” Kurt points out.

“Still, it’s perfect,” Sebastian insists, walking around the tree and turning it slightly. “And Liv’s house…Jesus fucking Christ, how many times did we hear the story of how she decorated the house with all her fucking kids attached to her?”

“I’d still like to see the video on that one,” Kurt chuckles through a yawn. “At least you’re not going to have to worry about Julian and Cooper. They’re going to be soaked in egg nog and wrapped around each other the way they were last Christmas. They won’t even know that we have a tree.”

“I would just like our tree to be as close to perfect as possible,” Sebastian finishes in such an off-handed, distant sort of way that makes Kurt wonder if Sebastian meant to comment out loud. Kurt watches Sebastian fuss, his eyes clouded over, his lower lip trapped between his teeth in that way Sebastian gets when he’s not saying everything that’s on his mind.

And our tree? That’s the first time those words have passed through Sebastian’s lips. All day he’s referred to it as the tree. Suddenly, it’s our tree? Kurt furrows his brow and stores that snippet away in his brain for safe keeping. He doesn’t want to overthink what could possibly be a simple slip of the tongue, but then again, he’s never seen Sebastian act this way, especially considering his wonderful, close-knit family.

Kurt finds it hard to believe that any of them, even Liv, will care if the tree leans a quarter of a centimeter to the left or not.

“You know, Liv’s still kind of miffed that you wouldn’t agree to a Christmas wedding,” Sebastian says suddenly, as if he had sensed his sister’s name pop up in Kurt’s thoughts.

“Boo-hoo,” Kurt says. “I’m not about to share one of the most important days of my life with the world’s largest materialistic holiday of the year.”

Sebastian stops fidgeting with the tree to look down and laugh.

“I’ll pay you $1,000 to say that to her face,” Sebastian offers, laughing louder, picturing in his head the way that conversation between his high-strung sister and his high-maintenance fiancé might turn out.

“What?” Kurt exclaims with a nervous laugh. “Do you think I’m insane? I happen to value my testicles, thank you very much. I thought you did, too.”

“Your testicles, watching you cat fight with Liv…” Sebastian puts his hands out, pantomiming weighing the pros and cons in his cupped hands. “Meh, it’s too close to call.”

Kurt yawns again, his eyes squeezing shut, tears rolling down his cheeks as his body tries to wring out its exhaustion.

“Well, I’m going to take my de-valued testicles and call it a night.”

“But, babe…” Sebastian whines, tilting the tree again, “I swear, I’ve almost got it.”

“Okay,” Kurt says, “but it’s late.”

“Once I get this fucker straight, we’ll be all set to decorate it,” Sebastian argues, a bit more vehemently than Kurt would have thought necessary. Kurt frowns. This whole day has been an adventure in unearthing a piece of Sebastian Smythe that Kurt has never seen, and that’s saying something considering how long they’ve been together.

“You said that hours ago!” Kurt groans.

Sebastian drops his arms, looking oddly defeated.

“Look, if you don’t want to wait, then…fucking…go to bed, okay?” Sebastian grumbles, running a hand through his mussed up hair.

This isn’t the way Kurt wanted this night to end, but Sebastian’s irrational anger towards him is completely unwarranted, and he has no intention of being Sebastian’s punching bag.

“Fine,” Kurt says, turning from Sebastian, his tree, and this whole decorating fiasco, to storm away. He stops a few steps, hoping that Sebastian will calm down and ask him to stay. After all, it’s a stupid thing to argue over a Christmas tree, no matter what the reason. What Sebastian needs to do is realize that everything is going to turn out alright whether the tree is perfect or not. Sebastian got the luck of the draw as far as families went; he should know that by now. But Sebastian isn’t listening to him, and he’s not going to listen until he gets this out of his system.

That’s something Kurt can’t help him with, and Sebastian apparently isn’t going to ask him to.

Kurt leaves Sebastian to wrestle with the tree alone and goes begrudgingly to bed.

***

“Kurt?” Locked in the unpleasant darkness of sleep, Kurt feels his arm jerk. “Kurt? Wake up.”

Kurt doesn’t remember falling asleep. As far as he’s concerned, he laid his head on his cold pillow, wrapped the blanket around him, and blinked. Now, it’s dark and someone has his arm, trying to tug him back to consciousness.

“What?” Kurt mumbles, heavy lips refusing to form words.

“Kurt, wake up,” Sebastian says, tugging harder until he nearly lifts Kurt off the mattress. “I need to show you something.”

“Now?” Kurt responds, working to open his eyes so he can give Sebastian an appropriate glare, but the most he can manage is a kind of cartoonish glower, eyebrows rising too far up his forehead in a sad attempt at lifting his eyelids.

“Yes, now,” Sebastian says, grabbing Kurt by the shoulders and shaking him awake.

“Wh---what, no, stop…Sebastian!” Kurt yells, pushing his fiancé away.

“Good, you’re up,” Sebastian says, standing from the bed and pulling Kurt up with him. “There’s something I want you to see.”

“You know, if we were actually married right now, I’d be considering a divorce,” Kurt mutters, pinching Sebastian’s hands to remove them from his shoulders.

“And that’s why I love you,” Sebastian mocks, keeping his hands clamped to Kurt’s shoulders, heedless of the pain.

Sebastian maneuvers a drowsy Kurt into the living room and stands him before the tree. Kurt sighs when he sees it – this beautiful bane of his existence. Kurt rubs his eyes, fighting for clarity, realizing that if Sebastian woke him up to see the tree, something about it must be different.

“Okay,” Kurt says in an exhale of breath, looking the tree over, searching for the change.

The tree stands straight and tall (thought it doesn’t look much different in posture than it did hours before, but Kurt isn’t about to make it an issue.) Every branch is covered with sparkling LED lights in rich shades of blue, red, green, and purple, which fade here and there randomly to give it the effect of stars in the night sky. There is no star on top just yet (because they had promised to do that together). But aside from the lights, the tree is bare…bare except for one ornament, hanging alone, front and center – a spot Kurt always considered a place of honor.

Kurt takes a step forward, looking at the ornament carefully, biting his lower lip when he sees it so that he doesn’t giggle and embarrass himself.

Dangling from a sterling silver hanger on a prominent branch is an ornament of a cherry red Mustang – the same make and model as Sebastian’s Mustang.

“Where…where did you get that?” Kurt asks in awe, walking up to the expertly crafted keepsake. The ornament is rendered so well, is so precisely detailed, that Kurt can almost imagine it starting up and driving away.

“It actually wasn’t that hard,” Sebastian says, acting nonchalant though he feels like dancing. He’s trying hard not to play into old habits and dismiss the gesture. He likes the way Kurt’s face lights up at his surprise. “The hard part was making sure the tree was perfect so that I could put the frickin’ thing on.”

Kurt’s breath hitches and he nearly swallows his tongue.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait,” he says, turning in Sebastian’s arms and fixing him with a proper glare, “you went all Captain A. R. trying to get the tree perfect…for me?”

Sebastian looks into Kurt’s eyes and shrugs, a sly smile sneaking up one corner of his mouth.

“Maybe I didn’t want the tree to be perfect for everyone else,” Sebastian admits, leaning down and kissing Kurt at the junction of his neck and his shoulder. “Maybe I wanted it perfect for you.”

“Is that…is that true?” Kurt asks, taking Sebastian in his arms.

“I wish I could say it wasn’t,” Sebastian says, wearing the nostalgic grin that melts the passing years from his face, “but yeah. It’s kind of true. I mean, Liv’ll make fun of me no matter what, and Julian can suck it…”

“Which he probably will,” Kurt says.

“Yeah,” Sebastian chuckles, “he probably has.” He lets his last few chuckles die before he continues. “And I love my mom and dad, but the only person I care about impressing is you.”

“Oh, Sebastian,” Kurt says, putting a hand to Sebastian’s cheek, “that is the sappiest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Sebastian’s grin grows to epic proportions.

“Did it work?” he asks, running a hand up Kurt’s back and massaging the nape of his neck. “Do you forgive me?”

“Oh, yeah,” Kurt says, resting their foreheads together, kissing his fiancé gently. “It definitely worked. I’m still here, aren’t I?”

“Yeah,” Sebastian says, whispering the next words into Kurt’s mouth between kisses, “so you keep telling me.”

[anaisfinallywrites]

Day 1 - February 8th “Cupid”

"We should probably put them in a room together to sort their shit out," Scott said thoughtfully.

The whole room was so quiet you can hear a pin drop. Scott looked up to see everyone was looking at him.

"I can't believe you're mentioning this now after all this time. They haven't exactly been subtle since from the very start." Lydia looks decidedly unimpressed with Scott's observation.

"We didn't get along from the beginning, okay? There was a lot of bad blood with him and me, him being passive-aggressively helping while I'm stubborn as hell to not listen to his advice. I'm slow on the uptake, not dumb." Scott retorted defensively.

"Isn't that the reason why we're having this very secret meeting that neither the two of them are present for?" Allison spoke up, trying to defuse the tension. "You can try all you want, princess but Derek is an immovable wall when it comes to Stiles." Erica chirped with way more mischief in her eyes than was necessary.

Boyd sighed a long-suffering sigh. "You can't blame the guy, okay? We all know his track record with relationships."

"We know," everybody chimed in perfect unison.

"Um," a hand was raised tentatively from the tallest guy in the room. "Are we seriously trying to act as Cupid for Derek and Stiles?”

All eyes honed in on the golden-haired cherub looking, boy. "Yes, we are." The answer was unanimously bland.

"What are you going to do? Love potion?" Kira asked sceptically.

"Nope," Scott said with a grimace on his face. "Jennifer Blake. He'll just kill us when he gets his head screwed on straight."

Lydia knocked on the table with her knuckles. "We can't be subtle with the two of them. We need a steamroller to make them see it. Any romantic movie ideas?"

The silence was telling.

"Ugh."

↬

"What are you doing here, Braeden?" Derek greeted the woman carrying a duffel bag in front of his door.

"I thought you said I could save money and stay at your loft whenever," she replied with wide innocent eyes.

He sighed deeply and stepped aside to let her in. "I'm not playing whatever game you're playing."

"Good to know that you know there's a problem." She walked in like she owned the place, dropping her duffel bag at the side of the sofa and sat down gently. "Valentine's Day is like two weeks away."

"Will you be my Valentine's?" He asked sarcastically.

"I'm going to ask Laura," she said, entirely too gleeful.

Derek made a disgusted face as he closed the door.

"So, you still haven't resolved your problem," Braeden stated with exasperation.

"Do you remember that time I nearly sucked out his heart because I don't have one? Well, I do. Vividly so," Derek said darkly, still standing at the door.

"He doesn't blame you. You do know that, right?" She looked at him pointedly. His face darkened considerably. "I blame myself even if he doesn't."

"At least you acknowledge there's something between you two. What with your passive-aggressive baking and Peter's grouchy remarks about his idiot of a nephew." Braeden leaned back on the sofa and surveyed her surroundings like she didn't just make the most profound observation about Derek Hale, Grump Extraordinaire.

Well, it wasn't profound observation. Try as hard as he might, Derek can't completely mask his longing stares and outright staring when it comes to one Stiles Stilinski. And everybody knows except the said object of affection, which is ironic considering the boy was supposed to be as sharp as a bloodhound with a scent and he views information and secrets like the only thing that would sustain him.

"Any plans to ask him out?" Braeden riffled through her duffel.

Derek harrumphed as he made his way to the kitchen. Not that he could hide all that much, open floor plan and everything. 

"I'm thinking about something," he admitted hesitantly.

Braeden made a whooping sound right where she sat.

And Derek proceeds to regret every life decision he made so far.

↬

"You're not supposed to mope about my brother at the freaking kitchen he works in," Laura grouched as Stiles beat aggressively at the batter that's probably unusable by now.

"Who says I'm moping about your brother?" Stiles retorted half-heartedly and stopped beating the abused batter.

"Aliens from outer space would have been privy to your most private thoughts about my brother." She didn't look up from balancing the checkbook.

Stiles snorts. "Ugh, how do I get over this stupid crush? It's worse than before compared to Lydia..." he pouted morosely into the batter.

"You two are entirely hopeless when it comes to anything regarding feelings," Laura commented not unkindly.

"You're - How are you and Braeden?" Stiles changed tack mid-sentence.

"We're good. Better than good, even. I, for a fact, know that she's planning a grand gesture in the very distant future. You, on the other hand," she taps her pen on her bottom lip in thought. "Well, you'll grow old and die alone as long as you don't man up and make a move."

"Well, I'm kinda waiting for your thick-headed brother to make a move actually. The ball is in his court this time around, anyway." Stiles muttered unhappily. Laura made an over the top shocking gasping noise. "Why didn't I know about this? How could I not even have heard a peep of this?!"

"We are very private people," he said seriously. And really, he's not even joking.

↬

And so, the mad dash begins. The pack are conceiving plans to help their assumed oblivious friends while Derek and Stiles are respectively trying to work up the courage or work out a plan to... take the next step. So to speak. 

As one would expect, it leads to some... well, disastrous results.

↬

The bakery is in full rush hour at eleven o'clock in the morning, almost lunchtime for everyone but still early enough to buy brunch to curb the hunger. 

Derek is always working at the bakery, and so is Laura. The only person who doesn't help out is Peter, not that he couldn't cook or bake to save his life but more to the fact that no one wants to put up with the constant "chatter" that comes out of his mouth. The rest of the pack, which consists of Scott, Kira, Boyd, Isaac, Erica, Lydia, Danny, Jackson and Stiles, they work part-time or full-time at the bakery. Laura says it's good bonding time, but really, who was she trying to kid?

Lydia and Scott were trying their best to concoct a plan that would put the two (not so) stubborn idiots in a situation to make them talk to each other, whereas Derek has been trying to work up the courage to go up to Stiles and just be... blunt, he's never been anything but passive-aggressively straightforward, anyhow. Stiles, on the other hand, is trying to make himself available time-wise. So far, every single time Lydia and or Scott manages to corner them, aka giving them space or a controlled environment, Derek is very tempted to take the obvious help. But the rest of the pack is observing with shit-eating grins on their face and so he thought better of it. Laura was resolutely staying out of this gay chicken shit, as she so eloquently puts it, but secretly she's having popcorn with Braeden to see what happens next.

So much for a helpful big sister.

Stiles couldn't take it anymore. He sighed long and loud, stared determinedly at Derek's turned back and just strode towards him. 

The pack held their collective gasps as much as they could during the rush hour, simultaneously helping the customers and stealing glances at their quarry.

"Derek," Stiles said his name quietly. He didn't need to say it out loud because of two reasons. One, Derek had always focused on him whenever he's around, be it his heartbeat or his breathing, Derek is attuned to it. (Stiles would say the hyper fixation is super creepy if he wasn't so gone on the grumpy asshole of a wolf.) Two, he knows he's special to Derek. Stiles doesn't know what it is that makes him special yet, but he will soon enough.

Derek didn't turn around to look at him, still busy with packing the baked goods (?) but his body swayed in his direction for a split second with his head tilted. He's listening even if he pretends he doesn't care.

"Uh, so. Valentine's a few days away. Are we making headway or are we still dancing around it like it's a pit of vipers?" Stiles muttered, careful to make his words audible only to the intended recipient. Luck is, however, on his side because the rest of the wolves in the bakery are still newborn bitten wolves, even if it's been a few months since. Lack of desire for training does wonders for Stiles being sneaky.

Derek finally turned around to face him, eyebrows and lips scrunched in a way that Stiles has long since interpreted as the exasperated 'What the hell are you going on about?' look. He couldn't backpedal fast enough to save his tattered dignity. "I mean, okay then. We'll be friends forever then. There's nothing bad about it. Having you as a friend is better than not having you at all, so if we can just forget this ever happened-"

"Stiles." 

"Uh, yeah?" Stiles asked hesitantly.

"Can we meet in the preserve and continue this conversation? There are too many ears here." Derek pointedly did not look at any of the wolves that surround the bakery.

Stiles took a deep breath. "Uh yeah, sure. No problem."

"You better be there instead of letting your brain run wild with an idea that's most likely untrue," Derek pointed his patented glare at Stiles. "I will hunt you down." Stiles shivered at the threat. Nobody should make a threat sound sexy. Like, seriously. On the other hand, he can concede that he does have a tendency to let his insecurities and doubts get the better of him but, have you seen Lydia Martin and Derek Hale? Anybody's self-esteem would plunge down an abyss and Stiles has been here before, once burnt and twice shy and all that shit. Rejection hurts no matter the better outcome that you got out of it. Lydia Martin as the best friend and sister he never had but wished he did is awesome but Derek is different. Derek is so different that he's probably not on the same planet, in Stiles's honest opinion. 

Derek is still looking at him, the glare softened a little, eyebrows raised up saying 'Are we clear?'.

"Crystal." Stiles nodded like his head was a bobblehead. "I will be there and I assure you that you won't need to hunt me down to get to the bottom of this." His voice cracked embarrassingly at the word.

Derek smirked like a cat with cream.

"Shut up, asshole." Stiles gave his own glare as he turned around to make his way out of the bakery. He ignored the questioning looks from the pack.

Stiles hurried home. He has a possible date to get to. Or just plain ole revelation. Derek is taking a break at one in the afternoon. Stiles only has so much time to ponder how this will end because he's about to get his long-awaited resolution. A few months late, but better late than never.

[camp-half-mess]

Anything For You

((I wrote a little fanfic about TKC Thoth and Manon (OC) that took place before our RP! ~Mod Sav))

Anything For You

TW: Alcohol, sexual harassment

Manon swore she’d never love anybody ever again. Not after what had happened to her family. They made her happy, they made her feel loved, then BAM! Gone. Dead, reduced to piles of ashes.

Manon swore she’d never let herself feel that heartbreak again. Those awful nights full of tears, where she’d cry herself to sleep and wish that their murders had been some sort of twisted prank, that they’d suddenly appear and be like, “Just kidding, we’re alive!”

Of course, that never happened. The dead tend to stay dead. But the hope Manon felt, the painful hope that a miracle would happen, destroyed her emotionally, so she swore she’d never love anyone like that again.

Until him.

Oh, that bastard.

Manon had had crushes before. The boy on the playground who Manon thought was cute when she was eight. The handsome magician who Manon followed around the First Nome when she was twelve, hoping he’d notice her and talk to her. A baseball player at her high school.

But never had she fallen in love as an adult. Never had she fallen in love with an ancient god.

Yes, Manon was in love with Thoth, the Egyptian god of knowledge. Seven billion people on the planet, and she had to fall in love with him of all people.

Manon knew she didn’t have a chance with him, as much as she tried to deny it. Thoth could probably get any woman or man he wanted. Why on earth would he choose Manon, his twenty-one-year-old assistant/bodyguard?

Thoth was very much capable of protecting himself. Manon really didn’t understand why he needed someone who basically served as his bodyguard. But the group she was a part of thought it necessary. Probably because she had more information about the cult than him, which was ironic considering Thoth was a god of knowledge. But whatever. Manon didn’t mind her job.

She didn’t mean to fall in love with him, of course. It just...happened. And if Manon could have predicted before she came to Memphis that she’d fall for him, she would have been shocked.

He seemed so cold at first. Like a slightly more emotional Vulcan with attention span issues. But then as Manon got to know him more, he let what Manon guessed was his real self show. And she fell in love with him.

In return, she started to trust him more. In fact, she trusted him more than she has trusted anyone in a long time. Manon told him embarrassing things about herself, like the time she managed to fall headfirst into a fountain because she was too busy reading, and the time she cried because she saw a really cute dog. Things she never imagined she’d tell anyone, especially not a millennia-old god.

Thankfully, Thoth didn’t make her feel any more embarrassed about those things. He’d simply give her a small smile, a smile that made Manon melt every time she saw it, and make a comment about how something similar happened to him. An ancient guy like him had hours of embarrassing moments to talk about.

And contrary to popular belief, Thoth had a sense of humor. His sense of humor was subtle but refined, his jokes coming in the form of off-hand, often passive-aggressive remarks and puns. The worst puns, which would always make Manon laugh, especially with his stoic delivery of them, the only hint of his mischief a smirk.

Of course, Thoth wasn’t without his flaws. Manon had seen his bad side in addition to his good side. In fact, she noticed that everyone had mostly seen his bad side, his stubbornness, emotionlessness, and his occasional arrogance, hence his not-so-good reputation among the gods and others who have met him. Despite his flaws, Manon still loved him for him. They were part of him, after all, and she knew she definitely wasn’t without flaws.

For the most part, though, Thoth was kind and caring. A real gentleman, in Manon’s opinion, although she might be biased. For the several months she had spent with him, he’d offered her nothing but kindness and hospitality and expected nothing in return but her companionship and occasional help. Sometimes, Thoth would ask Manon to be a test subject for odd spell combinations he wanted to try. Nothing that could potentially kill her, though, according to Thoth.

One time, Thoth asked her to be a test subject for a potential strength spell combination. Manon agreed, like she always did, and he tested the spell combination on her. Something must have gone wrong, though, because Manon lost consciousness and the next thing she remembered was waking up on the floor, Thoth kneeling above her and fretting over her, making sure she was okay. Manon wasn’t okay, she ended up somehow contracting some illness from the spell combination. She remembered Thoth carrying her to bed and tucking her in, then nursing her back to health for a few days.

He never asked for anything in return. Gods, he was so sweet. Manon loved him. She hoped one day to return his kindness. She didn’t know how she would, but somehow, she would do it.

In addition to his lovely personality, Thoth looked good. Sure, he didn’t look like a male supermodel, but damn, he was still hot. Manon could admire him and his multicolored eyes, messy hair, and slender but somewhat muscular body for hours. She also liked the way he dressed, especially when he wore his usual outfit of a lab coat, t-shirt, and jeans, all scribbled on in marker with various hieroglyphics for easy spell-casting. That outfit captured his personality well, Manon thought, plus it looked comfortable and hot on him.

Gods, she had it bad, didn’t she? Swooning over an ancient deity like some hormonal schoolgirl. Even just a thought of him made her blush and grin.

Manon sat at the bar, a dreamy smile on her face as she stirred her drink with her straw. Only a layer of ice and watered down whiskey remained in the glass.

She had come to this bar for no reason, really. She had just gotten out of a musical that she saw in downtown Memphis. Thoth said he had something else to do, so Manon went alone. And once she was done, well…she could use a small drink. Not much, just a little something to make her tipsy, to keep her attention off her thoughts and feelings.

Thoth had been hesitant to let her leave, though. “You look feverish,” he had said, laying his cool, smooth hand on her forehead, a look of concern upon his face. “Are you feeling alright?”

Manon said yes, and he let her go to the musical. Truth be told, Manon was only “feverish” because she was in his presence and was blushing wildly.

And now, she found herself here….

“More whiskey, miss?” The bartender asked her.

Manon nodded and slid her glass over. “Sure. Just a bit more, though. I don’t want to get wasted.” She chuckled a bit.

The bartender nodded back and went to go pour her drink.

A man who Manon hadn’t even noticed sat down on the stool next to her.

“French, eh?” He asked in a gruff, vaguely southern-US accent. He was a large, hulking man who obviously frequented the gym. His appearance reminded Manon of a modern Gaston from Beauty and the Beast.

Eyeing him suspiciously, Manon nodded. “Yes. From Montpellier.”

The man let out a whistle. “From what I’ve heard, the French are notorious for their lovin’. Is that true?”

Oh, so he’s one of those guys. Manon rolled her eyes. “I don’t know and I don’t fucking care,” she grumbled, turning away from him.

The man frowned. “I was just askin’ a question.”

“A weird one,” Manon muttered.

The man didn’t answer. Manon received her drink and took a sip. The man spoke again.

“I like that dress on you. Really shows off your beautiful ass.”

Manon almost choked on her drink. “Ex-Excuse me?”

“You have a beautiful ass,” the man murmured, leaning closer to her, his arm starting to wrap around her waist.

The shock wore off, and before the man could do anything, Manon picked up her drink and poured it all over the man’s face. Whiskey dripped down from his face in golden-brown drops as he glared at Manon.

“Bitch! I was giving you a compliment!”

“And touching me inappropriately!” Manon yelled back, not caring that the whole bar was staring at them now. She was pissed now. “And your comment was creepy! Who the hell compliments a stranger’s ass? Get away from me, creep!”

She moved to get up and find somewhere else to sit, but the man grabbed her elbow, yanking her back down. Letting out a yell, Manon snatched her arm from his grip. The man retaliated by shoving her, causing her to fall backwards off the stool.

Manon landed on her back, hissing at the impact. The skirt of her dress was all messed up, and Manon was thankful that she had the foresight to wear shorts beneath it.

She tried to get up, but the man kicked her down again. The bartender and a few bystanders tried to restrain this man, but his strength made this an impossible task.

He kicked again, causing a sharp pain to shoot through Manon’s ribs. Despite this, Manon tried to get up to beat this guy’s ass, but the man pushed her back down and tried to punch her, which Manon dodged with almost-expert reflexes.

The bartender and bystanders once again tried to restrain this man, but their efforts were futile. The man managed to break free of their clutches, and as he did so, he swung his arm and fist back, ready to punch Manon again.

Before Manon had time to react, an iridescent hieroglyphic flashed across the man’s face. Manon had time to just read it before it sank into the man’s forehead. Calm.

The man pacified instantly. “Sorry,” he mumbled in a dreamy voice, the voice of a mortal under the influence of magic. “I didn’t realize you were taken. My bad.”

He walked away before anyone, whether Manon or the bartender or the bystanders, had time to say anything.

“Are you alright?” Thoth asked, appearing in front of Manon and offering her a hand. His eyebrows were furrowed in concern. “Are you hurt?”

Dozens of thoughts cluttered Manon’s mind, and she turned pink and desperately tried to find some way to verbalize all of them, but only one of them managed to be said, the most important one.

“Why...why are you here?”

“According to my calculations based on all known information about the musical and its venue and location, I estimated that your time of arrival back to my place would be around 10:45 PM, give or take ten to fifteen minutes,” Thoth began. “But that time period passed, so I decided to find your location, in case something happened to you. You seemed feverish earlier, and I was hoping that you didn’t fall ill while on your way from the musical.”

He frowned, putting his hand once again against Manon’s forehead. “You still look and feel feverish...though I suppose it could be the result of the alcohol you’ve consumed and the fight against that...moron.”

Manon blushed even more and gently pushed his hand away. “I’m fine, I’m fine, it was just the fight and the whiskey.”

Well, she wasn’t fine, she was fairly certain she broke a rib, but Thoth didn’t need to know that at the moment.

Thoth nodded, his eyes narrowing. “Very well.” He then tilted his head. “I saw that man kick near your rib cage. No pain around there?”

Ah shit.

“They hurt a bit,” Manon said, biting her lip and looking away. “Not much, though. I’ll be fine.”

That was a lie, they actually hurt more than a bit, but Manon didn’t want Thoth to worry about her, even if she would like it if he did. She was just his mortal assistant. Nothing more.

“Very well,” Thoth said again. “I can take a look at them once we get back to my building.”

“I sure hope you can,” Manon joked, looking back at Thoth, a grin dancing on her lips. As her gaze returned to him, she noticed his outfit. He wore a maroon button-down shirt, which was tucked into a pair of purple pinstripe pants with suspenders. A black bow tie hung from his collar. Manon turned even redder.

“You like nice,” she complimented, her mischievous grin turning into a shy smile. Thoth smiled back.

“Why thank you. I didn’t want to stand out too much here.” His eyes moved up and down Manon’s body, analyzing her outfit of a black dress with lace sleeves. “You look nice as well.”

Manon grinned. “Thanks.”

The two kind of just looked at one another for a few moments, then Thoth looked away, clearing his throat. “Well, shall we head back?”

Manon nodded. Thoth offered her his hand again, and Manon took it this time, standing up. She wondered if Thoth used lotion or if his hands were naturally that soft.

He let go of her hand and started leading her towards the front door of the bar. Manon followed, her walking wobbly due to the bit of alcohol she’d had and the pain in her ribs.

As soon as they were outside the bar, Thoth looked back at her and noticed her difficulties walking. Manon thanked the gods that she decided not to wear high heels that night.

“Do you need help walking?” Thoth asked, his voice gentle.

Manon nodded. “I’d appreciate that. I’d like to not die before we get back.”

Thoth smiled at her joke and walked towards her, offering her his arm. Manon took it, appreciating his kindness as well as the firmness of his muscles, though she’d never admit that to anyone.

They walked together, Manon using Thoth’s arm to steady herself as they walked in the direction of the university where Thoth’s building was located. It wasn’t too far of a walk, thankfully, maybe just ten or fifteen minutes, but Manon was thankful for Thoth’s presence. She knew that walking alone in the city at that time of night could be dangerous for a young woman like Manon, especially if she was intoxicated. Of course, she could always use her magic and fighting skills to take down any mortal threat, but that would be rather difficult for even a mildly intoxicated person.

People smiled at the two as they walked, obviously assuming that Manon and Thoth were a couple. Why people were out on the streets that late, Manon had no idea. Thoth seemed to pay no attention to them, focusing straight ahead. Manon just blushed and focused on walking like a normal, functioning human being, ignoring the pain in her ribs.

They were almost to the university when Manon decided to break the silence that stretched between them.

“Thank you.”

“What for?” Thoth asked. Manon giggles slightly. Gods, he was so adorable.

“For saving me from that douche in the bar. And for walking me back and letting me use you as a support. And for, well, everything, I guess. For allowing me to exist in your home and exist in your life. For...being my friend.” Manon looked away, suddenly ashamed of her giving of gratitude.

To her surprise, Thoth gave her a gentle smile, a smile that seemed to ease her pain and dissipate her embarrassment. A smile that brought her joy and a sense of security and comfort whenever she saw it.

“Of course. Anything for you.”

The End

Word Count: 2626

[manicpanicaddict]

v: down the rabbit hole

Kylie stepped out the door. She thought she'd feel free once she had but really it felt as if the world was shrinking around her. Everything felt fuzzy and undefined yet hard and unforgiving. Walking past Ravinski's car she thought about his comment earlier about how it came into his possession. She didn't know what to believe from him anymore. He was a liar and shadow and up to no good. 

 She looked up to see her Grand Marquis slide into the space between the buildings. It was a light at the end of the tunnel- which was really saying something as Eduardo jumped out and came running towards her. She choked as her throat closed up, a hand went to cover her mouth. Stress, terror, exhaustion, and internal conflict turned into tears. 

Eduardo placed his hands on her shoulders and bent down to look at her. "Are you hurt?" His voice was low, eyes darting between her face and the door she appeared to have come from.  Kylie only shook her head and muffled a sob. "Jesus, chica." He noted her messed up makeup and matted bangs. He already imagined so many things she could've gone through this night but he never expected to find her like this. He pulled her into a short embrace before walking her car with a protective arm around her. He looked back at the theatre once more before getting in the driver's seat himself.

"Dammit, Kylie, what were you thinking!?" Eduardo's tone had switched to something between anger and terror. He unclipped a holster from his belt. He set it in the seat between them after pulling the magazine from the pistol. 

 Kylie flinched from the sudden yell and the sight of the weapon in his hands. She didn't think he would care about her enough to come armed. 

 "You could've been killed! I know what the violent crime rate in Manhattan is, do you?" Eduardo nearly scared himself. He didn't mean to come off so aggressive. He looked at her after putting the car in gear and peeling away from the curb. She had dropped her bag in the floor and curled her legs up against her chest. She didn't seem to care that he could see her underwear. "I'm sorry, Ky, I didn't mean to yell." He sighed. "I've been worried sick about you. Are you okay?" 

 Kylie nodded, wiping her tears against her coat sleeves- which had a notable stench to them since soaking them at Caine's. 

Eduardo didn't take her answer to heart. "I'm staying with you tonight. Tomorrow morning you're going to tell me what happened." It wasn't a request. He wanted to make her feel better but he needed to give her structure. She needed to talk about this whether she wanted to or not. They weren't exactly close but he had known her long enough to know that she wouldn't talk about anything otherwise; he didn't like prying but sometimes it was necessary. 

The 20-minute drive back to her apartment was quiet. Kylie had calmed down enough that she was starting to nod off. Eduardo though was still alert and still watching the other cars closely to make sure they weren't followed.

Once they arrived, Kylie quickly hopped out and made her way up the stairs. Eduardo followed, carrying her bag in one arm and his firearm in the other; the magazine safely tucked in his jacket pocket. 

“Did you eat or drink anything?” Eduardo set everything on the small kitchen island.

“I’m fine, Eduardo. Go home.” Kylie shed her jacket and hung it on the rack next to the entry. As grateful as she was for him coming to her aide, she didn’t want to deal with him tonight. She knew he was going to interrogate her. When she turned back around, she found him leaning back against her counter and staring at her. His expression neutral and his arms crossed. “Whatever. I’m going to shower. You can show yourself out. You obviously showed yourself in. So much for a guard cat, huh?” Pagan, who was curled up on the back of the armchair, yawned.

As Kylie went to pass him, Eduardo grabbed her arm. “I’m serious. What happened tonight?”

Kylie wrenched her arm out of his grip, she was furious, “What is it with everyone touching me tonight!? Just leave me alone!”

“What?!”

“No- That’s- That’s not what I meant. I just-“ Kylie was fighting not to get worked up again. She wrapped her arms around herself, bracing herself. “I had two glasses of wine. That’s all.” “You weren’t…?” He couldn’t form the word in his mouth.

“No. Gods no. I wasn’t hurt. Not physically. Can I please shower?” She didn’t know why she was asking him.

“Yeah. You look horrible.” Eduardo looked away, playing with the tattered hem of his shirt collar.

“Thanks, ass.” Kylie didn’t fight the small smile that came to her lips.

With that, the tension between them dissolved. Kylie went on to shower. She felt disgusting. The scent of Caine Manor had clung to her clothes. She almost rather burn them than wash them. She let the warm water rinse away the night. Some nights she would be absolutely covered in grime, slime, and god knows what. But tonight it felt like her very being had been soiled. She felt sick and lost. She decided that, yes, she would tell Eduardo everything tomorrow. He wouldn’t understand it all and hopefully wasn’t stupid enough to tell Dr. Stantz anything.

When she walked out, Kylie found Eduardo fast asleep on her sofa, his boots still on and the gun now on the coffee table. It felt so odd to her that he would do something so serious. For her. She barely knew him. She trained him and worked Saturday nights with him. She knew where ever he lived and whoever he lived with wasn’t great. She knew he had a great taste in music but only recently found out that his second job was being the front of a cover band. Pagan stood up and stretched. The poor baby had started getting a little stiff in the joints. He hopped off the back of the chair, Kylie had thought he was going to follow her into her room. Instead, he walked across the end table and onto the sofa, settling on Eduardo’s chest and neck. “Really?” Kylie whispered, offended at this startling behaviour. Pagan only blinked in return.

Kylie sighed, turning off the kitchen light before heading to bed.

By morning the tension was back. Eduardo sat facing Kylie at the island, leaning an elbow against it and a hand covering his mouth in thought. Kylie glared back at him, coffee in one hand and pen in the other.

“You’re sure you weren’t drugged?”

“You don’t believe me.”

“No, Ky, this is fantasy.” He gestured to her journal laid out between them. He was trying to be gentle about it but it was ludicrous.

“Oh, but working in an occult bookstore for the leading engineer of ghost busting equipment isn’t?”

“Kylie!-” He stood up and paced around the small space of the kitchen and living area, trying to stay calm. He settled, leaning on the island to look at her directly. “This is all from Halloween Horror Nights. I’ve been trying to tell you about it all summer. I thought you’d be interested in going but apparently, you weren’t listening.” He couldn’t help but be passive aggressive about it. He couldn’t scream at her but he still needed some outlet.

“What?”

“Exactly.” Eduardo rolled his eyes. Why did he even try?

“No, no, no! It’s in Orlando, right?” She set her coffee down and shook her hands frantically.

“Yeah?” Eduardo stood up, backing away from Kylie’s shift in mood. “And Hollywood.” He wasn’t sure where this was going.

“So you know! The box! This Ravinski guy-“

“The Director?”

“Whatever. Is an informant with information about the box. And he’s Peck’s boyfriend.”

“Peck’s gay?”

“Focus! The Ghostbusters found the box but they didn’t think it was a problem when they investigated. Tell me about the box!”

“Jack’s box?” He didn’t like the idea of entertaining her delusions but… “It’s a giant jack-in-box. Uh, literally. The story goes that Universal found it with a bunch of circus stuff and when they opened the box, Jack’s corpse was inside.”

“And what happened to it?” Kylie had a feeling she knew the answer.

“He took over the park for Halloween. He was the first major icon. What are you getting at?”

“Peck won’t tell the guys that they missed something while they were down there. When I tried to ask about it, that’s when Paulo took me to Caine’s manor. What’s so bad that Walter won’t tell them to fix the problem?”

“Wait.” Eduardo rubbed his forehead. “Now, I’m not saying I believe you- but if this stuff is real. If you really met The Director, The Caretaker, and The Usher that would make Jack a real person and not an actor.” He was stressing everything. It was crazy. “That would mean because the Ghostbusters didn’t catch activity around Jack’s box, they indirectly caused people to die. Because Jack started all of this.”

Kylie sat in stunned silence. This is why Peck wasn’t doing anything. This is why Paulo wasn’t saying any more than he had to.

Eduardo sighed, concerned for Kylie’s mental health. “But they’re actors. It’s a story. It’s terrifying, yeah, but sometimes it’s funny.”

“Because I’m known for my jokes, Eduardo.” She deadpanned. Realizing that the “showcase”, as Paulo called it, was really an event used for entertainment, it made sense as to why Eduardo was so unwilling to believe her. “I don’t know what to tell you. I’ve known about Ravinski before last night. I met him before last night. He’s dating Walter Freaking Peck. Does that really sound like roach to you!?”

Okay. Eduardo didn’t know what to say to that one. Rohypnol and GHB didn’t affect long-term memory. “So there’s a guy in New York calling himself Paulo Ravinski?”

“UHG. Yes! I doubt that’s his real name, but yes! He wouldn’t be able to lead me to Caine’s manor or to the theatre otherwise.” God damn, Rivera. I have credibility here. “Fine. I’m going back to the theatre in a few weeks. I’m going to investigate Julian and his wife and see what I can do for them. You’ll go with me.”

“Uh.” Kylie remembered a lot more about what Eduardo told her than he thought. That was the first weird thing about this. The second was everything else Kylie had told him: The Usher having a wife, Caine’s descent into insanity being the death of his wife, there was so much more detail to their characters that were never writing in by the creators of the shows. “I’ll think about it.”

Kylie knew he’d be hesitant, but she knew how to twist his arm. “You’re too chicken.”

“I have had one bad experience with a nasty book. That doesn’t mean I’m chicken.” He grabbed his jacket from the hook and pulled it on. “Now I have to go cover for you.”

“You’re too scared to read most of the books in the shop.” She teased again as he picked up his skateboard. “You’re chicken!”

He tried to ignore her but was failing miserably. He threw his head back in agony. “It’s not that they’re scary they’re just boring.”

“Well going to a haunted theatre to search for ghosts and meet a giant zombie isn’t boring!”

“Fine! I’ll go!” He said frustrated and walked out the door. He paused before opening it again. “I’m coming back afterwards to replace this lock, it’s shit. Oh and don’t touch that.” He said, pointing the holster and gun on the coffee table. “Stay safe, Kylie.” He had dropped his playful tone for something serious.

“…Thanks.” Kylie was quiet, remembering the severity of the situation.

Eduardo shut the door and went on his way and Kylie went back to her journal and coffee. Pagan meowed, hopping up onto the counter to join her.

“You believe me, don’t you?” She asked cupping a hand for him to wiggle into. He meowed again. “Or do you just want food?”

[athousandmilez-blog]

A Losing Battle → Self Para 002.

Tagging: Miles Sterling ft. Greg Miller, his stepfather

Timeframe: Tuesday, November 21, 2017

Location: Miles’ childhood home

General Notes: Miles is home for Thanksgiving after a whole slew of relationship problems. Greg wants to help — or so he’d like Miles to believe. TW: violence/physical abuse.

This sucked. All of it.

No matter which way he looked at his current situation, all Miles could think about was how much it sucked. Some of it was his fault, but a lot of it was the shitty universe doing shitty things to him at the moment.

He had gone to Lily’s house the night before after informing her that he needed to talk to her. He was pretty sure she knew what was coming; she wasn’t stupid. And when he told her that he didn’t think he could be with her right now, that he’d jumped into it for all the wrong reasons but that she was a great girl, she took it well. She agreed with him, saying she was glad he’d thought about it early enough along. But Miles felt terrible. He could still see the sadness in her eyes.

Lily deserved better. They both knew it. She needed someone who wasn’t going to constantly be distracted by other things. Or more specifically, another person. But it didn’t help him feel any better about wanting to give it a chance and then dumping her.

Now he was home for Thanksgiving, and it wasn’t exactly where he wanted to be. He didn’t think he wanted to be anywhere in particular. But home sucked especially right now. He didn’t mind seeing his mom, of course. It was Greg that bothered him, and everyone else in the family that wanted to know how things were going, what Miles’ plans were, if he was dating anyone. He knew he was lucky to have the family he did, but he just wished he didn’t have to deal with it now.

Of course, this was mostly because his mind was completely elsewhere. He was in his childhood bedroom, lying back on the twin size bed with his eyes closed and his hands folded over his stomach. He hadn’t stopped thinking about the thing with Nick since it happened. He was picking it apart, going over every single detail in his head. He was silly to think that something Nick said while high was going to change everything. But at the same time, Nick had never actually revoked the statement, had he? He never came right out and told Miles he didn’t love him after all. So maybe...

No. He wasn’t going to let himself fall into that bullshit.

He groaned aloud. This was so frustrating. He’d talked about it a little bit with his mom, but he was vague about it. For starters, he didn’t mention that any of it had to do with Nick because that would just open up a whole new slew of questions. He knew his mom, though. She probably had a feeling because she never pried for more information, just stared at him like she was already getting the facts she wanted. Miles never understood how she did it. Just a mom thing, he supposed.

Still, she couldn’t fix it for him. As much as she loved to solve all his problems when he was a kid, she couldn’t do it for him now. But talking about it helped. And she reminded him that it was no one’s fault. Nobody could help how they felt. Even if Miles felt stupid and he was angry at Nick for making him feel stupid, neither of them could be held accountable.

He just wished that could make him feel less pissed about it. Because at the end of the day, even if all was forgotten, things still probably wouldn’t work out the way either of them wanted it to. And that was the shitty part.

He was pulled from his thoughts when he heard a knock at the door. Miles opened his eyes, sitting up a little straighter. “Uh, come in.”

The door slowly cracked open, and Greg popped his huge, goofy head through it. “Hey, kiddo,” he greeted, his wide smile getting under Miles’ skin from the second he laid eyes on him. “All good up here?”

Miles frowned. Of all people in the universe to come in right now... “Um. Yeah, Greg. All good.”

But for some reason Miles would never understand, Greg stepped in anyway, closing the door behind him. “I heard you from my room.” Miles wanted to correct him and say it was his mom’s room, but he refrained. “You sounded distressed. Wanted to come check on ya.”

Miles narrowed his eyes. He’d never understand why Greg spoke to him like he was a child. He always had, since he first started dating his mom when Miles was 20. He absolutely hated it. He hated him.

But Miles never said anything about it. He replied passive aggressively most times, but never had the balls to really stick it to him like he wanted to.

Not until right now, apparently.

“You know, I’m sure I’d have appreciated your super helpful stepdad talks more when I was seven years old, but you seem to forget that I’m a grown man. And, like, my dad was there anyway. So I could really do without them now, thanks.” Miles was sitting up completely straight now, his arms crossed over his chest.

Greg simply stared back at him for a moment, then he bowed his head and sighed. He took a few slow steps forward with his hands in his pockets. “That’s cute, Miles.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah. You know, the whole ‘you’re not my real dad’ thing.” Greg smiled, but it was so fake and Miles wanted to smack it right off his face. “You do a real good job of pretending to be seven.”

Miles rolled his eyes. “That’s really not the issue, I can tell you that right now.”

Greg didn’t press it any further. He knew was Miles meant. They stared each other down for a few quiet moments until Greg finally spoke again.

“So your mom told me you were having some girl troubles,” he started, taking another step forward. “You think you could use a guy’s perspective?”

Miles froze. There were several things that felt very, very wrong here.

First of all, Greg had made countless slightly homophobic comments in the time Miles had known him. The first few times he believed that they were mostly jokes (even if they weren’t funny), but as time went on, it became clear to Miles that Greg was pretty serious about it. He was genuinely homophobic, which was a downright laughable thing to be in this day and age. Miles had never challenged him on it. It was mostly due to the fact that he tried to avoid conversation with Greg as much as he could. So as soon as Greg found out that they weren’t actually girl problems...Miles just didn’t want to hear it. Greg didn’t even know that Miles was bisexual and had been with men to begin with, because why on earth would Miles ever tell him that? He’d made it a point to ask Quinn not to divulge aspects of Miles’ personal life to Greg (he made an exception for very vague comments, which was evidently what she’d given him here).

Second, the last thing Miles would ever consider taking into account in his life was Greg’s opinion. He had no idea where Greg had gotten the idea that Miles would want to know what he thought. He was just such a self centered douche.

Third, he just wanted Greg to be away from him. So he certainly wouldn’t be keeping him here any longer than necessary.

“Uh, no, I’m good,” Miles replied. “I already talked it out with my mom.”

“She said you still seemed upset.” Greg was uncomfortably close to him now. Honestly, he was too close just being under the same roof, but still. “She just went to the store to get some things for dinner on Thursday, so I thought I’d come ask you about it in case you wanted to talk it through. Man to man.”

Miles almost felt sick. “I have absolutely no interest in discussing this with you, Greg.”

Greg sighed. “I know you aren’t the biggest fan of me, kid, but I’m just trying to be nice.”

That was it. Miles pushed himself up off of his bed so that he could be level with Greg.

“You aren’t trying to be nice,” he countered, balling his hands up into fists at his sides. “You never cared to be nice before this very moment.” It was true. Something wasn’t right. There was no reason for Greg to be coming in here with this bullshit for no reason. He wanted something. More information, probably. But why? Why did he care?

Then it dawned on Miles. Maybe Greg had a hunch, a feeling that there were no girl problems after all. And he wanted to find out for himself. Conveniently when Quinn was gone.

“Oh, that is just rich.” Miles didn’t even mean to say it out loud, but he didn’t care that he did. He found himself laughing bitterly. “What exactly did my mom tell you?”

Greg paused. Now it was his turn to narrow his eyes. “She told me that you were having relationship problems, and I—“

“But she didn’t tell you I was having girl problems, did she?” Miles was grinning wildly now. “I bet she slipped up, huh? Threw in a pronoun you weren’t expecting?”

Greg didn’t respond.

“And then she begged you not to say anything. Or tried to pretend it was an accident and play it off. But you just had to find out for yourself.” Miles crossed his arms again. “Well, I’ll tell you, Greg. What is it that you want to know?”

Again, Greg stayed quiet. His expression didn’t change at all, in fact. But Miles wasn’t backing down.

“Do you want me to tell you that I’ve known I liked men since I was...probably twelve or so?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. At that, Greg turned his head.

Strike one.

“Oh, we don’t like that, do we? Hmm. Well, maybe it would help to know that these ‘relationship problems’ I’ve been having are between me and my best friend. You know, Nick? Tall, blond, incredibly good looking.” Miles nodded, almost to himself. “Yeah, things have been a little weird between us since we made out here last Christmas.”

Greg was visibly uncomfortable. Strike two. Miles wasn’t sure if it had more to do with the homophobia or just the fact that he knew Miles was purposely riling him up. In any case, he was upset — which only spurred Miles on more.

“No? Well, maybe I can give you a little more insight into what happened, then. You might have some advice for me if you have more information.”

Miles cleared his throat. He dropped his hands to his sides again and strode forward until he was directly in front of Greg. He felt strangely brave right now. It probably had something to do with all the frustration about so many things building up inside of him at the moment.

“See, we were really back and forth for a while. It’s hard when a friendship blossoms into something more, you know? You have to figure things out,” he explained. “And Nick — he’s not out of the closet. Now that I think of it...probably because of lovely folks like yourself! Funny how that works, huh?”

At that, Greg’s head snapped up to look at Miles. He was staring him down. Something didn’t sit right about it with Miles. But he wasn’t about to let this go now. Seeing Greg squirm was incredible. Plus, it wasn’t like he was actually going to do anything to Miles.

“So anyway, that complicated things right from the beginning,” Miles continued. “There was a whole lot of bullshit for a long time. But probably my favorite part was the wedding. You and my mom, I mean. Nick was there, remember? And at some point we decided to ditch the reception, and I ended up coming across your keys.” He laughed. “You ever wonder what happened to your shitty radio stations? Yeah, you’re welcome.”

Greg still didn’t seem all that amused, but the way he rolled his eyes at Miles’ words, then sighed and looked away, made Miles think that he thought that was the worst of it. He held out a hand.

“Oh, I’m not finished. We’d both had some drinks and smoked some weed so, like, you can’t really blame us, Greg.” He shrugged. “The mood was just right, you know? It felt right, no matter where we were.”

Greg was back to staring Miles down. There was the same look that gave Miles sort of a start. But again, it only made him want to do this even more.

“I worry you don’t understand what I’m trying to tell you, so I’ll phrase this as plainly as I can.” Miles looked him dead in the eye. The air around them was heavy. “I fucked him. Right there. In your car.”

Strike three.

It was fast. Miles didn’t really have much time to process. It happened in quick succession. First he felt the hand around his throat sending him stumbling backward. Then he felt his back hitting the wall, groaning as his head came into contact with it. The force of it sent the kids books that had been on the shelf above Miles’ desk since he was little tumbling to the floor.

“You think you’re funny?” Greg asked through clenched teeth. He pulled his hand away from Miles’ neck, only to replace it with his forearm, pressing into it and holding Miles’ entire body against the wall. “You think you’re going to gain anything from this? Huh?”

Miles reached up instinctively to grab onto the arm that was nearly choking him. He had provoked him, sure, but he hadn’t expected anything to come of it. He pulled at Greg’s arm with no success. He tried not to struggle too much, to make it look like Greg had won.

Because that was what he wanted. To win. To overpower him.

The reality of the situation set in. Miles was almost struggling to breathe here, and it all boiled down to the fact that his own stepfather, someone his mother had deemed suitable to marry, had gotten upset over some comments Miles made about something he didn’t like. Now he was holding him against the wall and threatening his safety. When he thought of it that way, Miles went back to being pissed.

From there, it was a pretty easy decision to lift his leg and knee Greg right in the crotch. It caused Greg to let him go, stumbling backwards and doubling over. Miles immediately raised his hands up to his own throat. He took a few deep breaths, regaining control, and then looked down at Greg.

“Fuck you,” he said lowly, his voice a bit hoarse. “All of this because...what? What’s all the anger for, Greg?” He raised an eyebrow. “Because I have sex with men? That offends you?”

Greg looked up from where he was bent over. He was breathing heavily when he stood up straight. Miles thought for a moment that he was just going to turn and leave. But he should have expected the opposite, because if Greg was crazy enough to choke him against the wall, then he was certainly crazy enough to reel back and swing directly at Miles’ face — which was just what he did.

Miles didn’t have time to react. He stumbled backward and instinctively reached up to hold his face, but there wasn’t much else before Greg grabbed him by the shoulders and raised his own knee right into Miles’ abdomen. Miles grunted at the force of it and fell to his knees when Greg let him go. He braced his hands on the floor in front of him as he now struggled to catch his breath, since the wind had been knocked out of him. He hadn’t nearly recovered yet when Greg gave him a swift kick to the ribs, sending Miles crumpling over on his side.

“You’ve always been a disrespectful little shit,” Greg told him. His eyes were dark as he stared down at Miles, and there was a wildness in his eyes when he kicked him again, causing Miles to actually cry out this time. “Someone ought to teach you a lesson.” He lowered himself to the ground to put his face right in front of Miles, giving him a wicked smile.

Miles gasped and struggled to move further away from him, but Greg curled his fist into the collar of Miles’ shirt, keeping him there. He used his other hand to deliver several swift punches to Miles’ face. Miles tried to block it, to push Greg off of him, but he was already messed up enough from the kicking and not having a moment to really catch his breath. Greg was easily overpowering him. Miles couldn’t tell where all the blood was coming from, but he felt it all over his face and could see it every time Greg pulled his hand back right before coming down on him once again.

He didn’t know how long it was before Greg finally stopped. At that point, Miles had his eyes closed, and he didn’t even want to attempt to open them again. He felt severely weakened from the whole ordeal already. Once again, he didn’t have time to get his bearings because Greg used both hands to yank Miles up into a sitting position by his shirt. Miles’ body was fairly limp; he struggled to keep his head upright, and he couldn’t do much to fight back while Greg was moving him around like that. He feebly brought his hands up to try and pull Greg’s off of him, but Greg simply responded by swiftly shoving Miles’ upper body backwards where he sat, causing Miles’ head to slam against the wall, hard. Miles groaned again.

This had been a bad idea. He didn’t know at the time that Greg was an angry fucking psycho, but now he wished he could go back in time and stick to his usual passive comments. He was in pain and honestly fearing for his life, and it was absolutely not worth it at all.

“You need to learn to show some fucking respect,” Greg said darkly. He emphasized his words by slamming Miles back against the wall again. “If I ever see you talk to your mother the way you just spoke to me, it will be a lot worse than this.”

Miles thought that it was probably the mention of his mother that caused him to do what he did next. He hated to hear Greg speak about Quinn like he knew her. As if he had any claim over her. As if she meant more to Greg than she did to Miles. Whatever it was, it had Miles completely forgetting the lesson he’d learned just a moment ago.

There was no rational thinking behind it. He opened his eyes and then spit right in Greg’s face.

Miles had already gotten his strike three, so it seemed fitting that he got a much worse penalty for going even further than that.

There wasn’t much after that he could remember. Another slam, followed by his body flopping back into his bedroom floor. Miles caught a quick flash of his Pokémon bedsheets before Greg started wailing on him again, this time adding more of kneeing Miles in the abdomen for good measure. Miles tried to remember the bedspread, how the entire room was filled with all the things he’d loved and missed about his childhood. He kept thinking about it, holding onto the memories.

It was a distraction, maybe, from the pain radiating throughout his entire body, the throbbing of his head. Whatever the reason, he did it until he fell unconscious, catching one last glimpse of Greg’s clenched teeth followed by his fist coming down on him once again.

[kaoru-chibimaster]

How Not to Run an Event

Don’t Do What The Kingdom Hearts Big Bang Did.

Just Don’t.

Rant under the cut, so like... Seriously, scroll past this. This is me letting my feelings out and I doubt anyone’s interested in that.

-o-o-o-o-

So basically this event started out pretty hype. I was super excited to join in with something related to the Kingdom Hearts community. Before this, I just wrote fic. Like, I was so far in my bubble, I wasn’t aware of zines, I wasn’t aware of other collabs, I wasn’t even aware of some BNFs (so I’m sure I got weird looks for asking who some people were when basically everyone knew who these “some people” were). I just wanted to write and I crossed my fingers and hoped at least someone might enjoy it when I posted it. 

Joining fandom was not a sudden life-changing event for me or anything like that. I was 13 and just getting into forums and had essentially only had knowledge of the KH fanbase through gamefaqs, youtube, kh-vids and kh13 (and fanfiction.net a little later). Before then, my “fandom” was my close friends and I all being fans of the games. I saw posts and read fics and sometimes commented in forums but I was not involved. For the longest time I’d never really been involved.

Big Bang felt like a way to change that. I was so looking forward to the people I’d meet and the art and fics I’d get to see. I’d made friends over the past few months and I’m so, so grateful to BB for that. I was excited for all of the up and coming events planned for Dreamwidth. I’d started out in DW for FFXV related stuff but I’d never actually used my account, so I’m thankful for the opportunity to really learn DW and start using it more extensively. I loved the little events and activities like the posts where we could share our works in progress. That’s another thing I’m grateful for; there are a number of fics of mine that would’ve never gotten off the ground if not for WIP Wednesdays. I also really appreciated that this was set up as a pro-shipping community and that it emphasized that participants could ship what they wanted without being harassed.

Aside from that? 

Downhill. 

Like, at first it was a slow roll down the hill: the discord server would have some channels overrun with discussion I was either uninterested in or outright made me uncomfortable. I’m not going to name drop what these discussions were and who had started them but I muted them one by one until there were only maybe three or four channels (out of a good chunk, I didn’t count but it was a hell of a lot more than three or four) that were unmuted. It’d devolved from a lot of genuine and interesting discussions where we helped each other out with fics/art and just had general fun talking to each other into channels full of the same handful of people talking over each other or venting. Not at all what I was interested in from a community. It wasn’t too bad though because the server wasn’t necessary for the BB so if the people still there needed that space then it’s not my right to give them shit for it. It was, however, totally within my right to remove myself from it, just as it was my right to feel uncomfortable with it.

That was then though.

Right here and now? 

It’s a shitshow. It’s a dumpster fire. It’s basically anarchy.

My discomfort with the direction the server went in was hand in hand with my loss of motivation for my participation. I can’t even look at the fic I was writing for this event without feeling upset and stressed over it. So I dropped. 

And apparently, so did a good number of other people.

The mods made a post about how We’re Committed (which no one can find now because they deleted all their social media but I’ll get to that). They urged other people within the server to stay dedicated to the event. A rebuttal was made that pointed out the sort of environment they’d created that’d made a lot of people feel the same way as me: uncomfortable. The event mods were understaffed and constantly diverting attention to other/future events and one of them didn’t even communicate with the rest of the server save to make announcements, and the cherry on top? 

They expected the participants to make the effort. They expected to create a server and essentially let everyone grope around in the dark until they found a handhold. They outright told us they wouldn’t hold anyone’s hands, which was as condescending a statement as one could get, and then somehow expected the whole thing to work out? When the rest of the server occupants, including people who hadn’t spoken for ages and people who hadn’t spoken at all, started voicing their complaints, the mods acted like they were being backed into a corner they’d already placed themselves in.

They lashed out. Like children. Like a little kid on the playground confronted by their teacher after they pushed another kid and then loudly proclaimed “He pushed me first!”.

They backed out of the event and left it to the server mods. They, after having made a big deal out of commitment to the event, dropped it like a hot potato. 

And then they sent this nonsense:

Just. Out of nowhere.

It might’ve been salvaged if they left it in the hands of the other mods, but they cancelled it. They fucking cancelled all the people who put hard work into making fics and art and put time into this. Every single participant wasted their time on this. And it wasn’t just a few weeks, this fucking event started in April and they had the gall to just up and cancel it.

The rest of the email below, which is just as much a wall of text as this rant is, is essentially an overly worded temper tantrum in which the mods blame the participants for everything that went wrong. Like, I get it. You’re only human. You’re stressed too. You suffer anxiety like the rest of us. I get it. Yes, it was on us to communicate with our partners. But when we come to the mods for help? The last fucking thing you should ever tell us is “we don’t hold your hands”. No wonder no one ever came to you guys for help. 

But what really gets me is the fact that not every participant in this event was in the discord. Not everyone saw the drama that went down. Not everyone saw this coming. Imagine having joined this event only to find an email in your inbox a month before we were supposed to start posting telling you that the event is cancelled and it’s all your fault.

Makes the mods come across as incompetent at best. Malicious at worst.

And seriously, regardless of what’s going on in your life, what sort of hangups or problems you might have...

YOU DO NOT START AN EVENT LIKE THIS WITHOUT BEING READY TO FULLY COMMIT YOURSELF TO IT. IF YOU CAN’T HANDLE CRITICISM, IF YOU AREN’T GOOD AT COMMUNICATING WITH PEOPLE, IF YOU CAN’T HANDLE THE IDEA OF MODDING FOR AN EVENT THAT YOU STARTED THEN MAYBE YOU SHOULDN’T HAVE STARTED IT.

This is common sense. Seriously. I’d never put myself in a position of leadership without being able to accept the responsibility that comes with it. Because it leads to shit like this.

I’m upset. I’d dropped the event a few weeks ago and still I’m genuinely upset. Because nobody deserved this. None of the participants deserved to have their time wasted like this. Nobody deserved the drama and the bullshit that was dredged up from this. Nobody deserved to have this bomb dropped on them literally a month before posting was going to start.

It was supposed to be fun. For me, a chance to finally contribute something in the Kingdom Hearts fandom as part of a fandom effort. A chance to reach outside of my bubble and make friends and create. And while I did get to reach out, I did get to create, and I’m going to continue to contribute on my own as I always did, I can’t say anything good about the Big Bang beyond that. All good will there might’ve been for it was ruined the moment the former mods sent that passive aggressive email.

Who the hell wants to see that nonsense in their email anyway. Aren’t they grown ass adults? They ought to know better. A simple “We regret to inform you that we’re cancelling this event” would have been enough. The rest was unnecessary and, quite frankly, downright nasty and that was honestly what pissed me off enough to make this rant. 

In the end if it had silently died, I wouldn’t have even minded at this point.

But, well...

The Big Bang had to go out with a bang, I guess.

Too bad it was a shit grenade and now there’s shit all over the walls and I’m just glad I’m not the one who has to clean all that shit up.

[imkerf-uffle-d]

For the roleplaying ask meme: 😡 ♀ ✍ ♫

😡 : Worst roleplay-related encounter and what advice you would give to others to avoidsimilar situations?

(Warning for creepy, borderline rapey stuff)

Well, it seems like half the people I talk to in-game eitherwant to fuck me the muse, or me the mun, so there’s that. But there was this one guy I meton Minzie who takes the cake. For context, Minzie is a bt1 Chiss with one ofthose chest pieces that’s just a tiny halter top and a jacket. I was still newto cantina rping, so I was just walking around in circles while I worked up thecourage to talk to someone. Then out of the blue, I got a whisper sayingsomething like “you might get a strange feeling someone’s watching you.” Ididn’t reply at first, because I was looking around the cantina trying to findthis guy, when he whispered me again, “what, do you not want to rp withme?” (I don’t remember exactly what he said, but I do know it sounded a littlepassive aggressive).

That should have been my first warning sign.

At the time, I just thought it might be kinda cool, so Iwhispered back, and we started rping. Then things turned even weirder. He startedcreepily commenting on how pretty I was and calling me “little girl.” (Heseemed really hung up on how small I was, which was creepy in and of itself.)By this point I was actively wishing I’d ignored him from the start. I’m sureas hell not interested in normal erp, let along creepy stalker erp. So Icommunicated this with him. Multiple times. I made it very clear to him thatMinzie was completely and utterly terrified by him (and for good reason too, though he never seemed to understand that), and I explicitly said I wasn’t interestedin him.

Then he decided to start choking her.

At this point in the conversation, I’m one straw away fromtaking this to general chat and letting him have a nice big piece of my mind, butbefore I can go that far, he cuts off the rp, citing the two times I’daccidentally posted in the chat channel instead of whisper as his reason,because he doesn’t want “the whole fleet to come down on that kind of rp.” (A:Hey maybe if you realize that the same chat frequently filled with Trumpgroupies and literal Nazis would think you’re crossing a line, there is something fundamentally wrong withyou. And B: Literally not one single person had commented on it, and one ofthose slip-ups had been right in the middle of him choking me.)

I was physically shaking irl after this. I’d went into itthinking it would be something fun and different—I can handle creepy, but rapey? Fuck no. Hell, even if he’d justwarned me ooc ahead of time some of what he’d be doing, I could’ve rolled withit. It might even have been fun. But this is the sort of thing you should keep to tumblr, or within a guild, where you can . Fuck him.

(I think I’ve got screenshots of most of the conversationtoo, if anyone wants to see it.)

 Oh yeah, I’m supposed to give advice too. Okay, here goes:

If anything about a rp gives you a bad feeling,just walk out right then and there. Block them. If you don’t want to do that,just shoot them a message ooc asking them what direction they’re taking thingsin, and take some time to plot things so everyone’s comfortable. If they refuse to listen to you, block them.

Be petty. Be a bitch. Publicize their shit. Itwon’t stop them from being creeps, but it will make you feel a little better,and it’ll warn other people that they’re creeps.

♀ : A trope you catch yourselffalling back too often?

I feel like I make Kahss too much of an asshole sometimes.She does have a softer side, I swear.

✍ : Offer 3-5 tips on how to getother role players started on interacting with your muse.

While it’s not necessary, shooting me a messageabout it is a great start. We can work out what kind of relationship our ocswould have, how they’d meet/have met, etc.

Send me stuff when I reblog rp memes. If we’venever rped before, it’d help me a whole lot for you to include which ocs youwant me to do it with.

It also helps if you have a short little blurbof your oc, either on a character page or somewhere in their tag. It’sdefinitely not a necessity; it just makes it easier for me to get a feel foryour character and how they might fit in with mine.

♫ : Are there parts of your ownpersonality that you reflect onto your character? How do they work?

LOLOL are there parts of me that aren’t reflected in my characters? I was lucky enough to miss the“if your characters resemble you in any way at all they’re an evil MarySue~~~” memo, so I have no compunctions about tossing bits of myself into mycharacters, assuming it fits their personality. Several of them have mydepression, the Chiss Disasters have anxiety, Verity Kahss and Minzie areinsecure, Ker’s extremely private, she and Erissa have my weird brand ofoptimism and my love of nature, Kimarra cries at the drop of a hat, Cethric canbe ridiculously affectionate….. etc

[jennycalendar]

Imperfections (24/?)

ao3

will i stop posting these at midnight??? probably not

“Ronnie, deadbeat. Steve, klepto. Kenny…drummer.” Faith rattled off the names easily, looking at Buffy out of the corner of her eye, trying to gauge her reaction. “Eventually, I just had to face up to my destiny as a loser magnet. Now it's strictly get some, get gone. You can't trust guys.”

“You can trust some guys,” said Buffy. Faith gave her a doubtful look, and Buffy added earnestly, “Really, I've read about them.”

Faith laughed. “Yeah. So, what about you?”

“You mean like, me and guys me?” There was a sudden edge to Buffy’s voice.

“Mm-hm,” said Faith carefully.

“Not much to tell these days,” said Buffy simply.

Faith kind of wanted to keep pushing, but the guarded look on Buffy’s face reminded her a lot of various tense moments with Jen and Giles. Whatever this was, it was something Buffy didn’t feel like sharing just yet, and honestly, that kind of sucked. Back when Faith had first come to Sunnydale, she’d thought that Buffy was closed-off, but now she was starting to miss even that Buffy.

“You know what?” she said. “We're oh for six tonight. Why don't we just blow this off?”

“Yeah. I am kinda beat,” Buffy agreed, then faltered. “But Shady Hill's pretty close.”

“I'll swing through it,” said Faith casually. “It's on my way anyway.”

“Alone?” Buffy replied hesitantly. “I-I don't know if I'd…”

“I’ve already got that evaluator lady on my back. I don’t need another babysitter,” said Faith, hoping that that sounded reassuring enough. “I’ll holler if I’m having any fun.”

“Okay,” said Buffy a little reluctantly.

“Later,” said Faith, still keeping her voice light and breezy as she walked towards Shady Hill.

She was a little glad to be alone. She had a lot to think about. Buffy, who was sweet strawberry-milkshake girl one minute and closed-off mystery girl the next. Mrs. Post, who seemed pretty invested in making Faith see how important it was that a Vampire Slayer couldn’t have people who put her before the world.

Except—

Buffy had that. Buffy had always had that. Buffy had a mom, and a dad, and a bunch of friends that Faith still barely ever talked to. Buffy had everything that Mrs. Post said Faith couldn’t have, and that just didn’t add up. What, was Faith supposed to be the Slayer without the life so that Buffy could slack off and have hers? If Mrs. Post really thought that Faith wasn’t in a good learning environment, she’d be trying to pull Buffy out of that situation too.

Or maybe Mrs. Post just kind of figured that Buffy was some kind of a lost cause, what with all the time she’d been living with parents and friends and all that jazz. Maybe Mrs. Post thought Faith would be easier to reach because she hadn’t been in Sunnydale as long as Buffy. The thought of being the Council’s last hope filled Faith with a strange mixture of pride, guilt, and fear. By all rights, it should be Buffy who the Council was depending on—Faith was kind of a mess.

But Mrs. Post hadn’t even paid attention to Buffy. Faith was going to have to leave this life she just found while Buffy stayed in Sunnydale, slaying vamps with friends and family. The thought of leaving Sunnydale with the knowledge that there was a relatively happy Vampire Slayer living there made Faith angry.

“God, I really hope there’s something for me to beat up when I get to Shady Hill,” she said emphatically, rounding the corner to the cemetery.

“Ah! Yes. There we are.” Rupert entered the kitchen, looking adorably rumpled from all the boxes of books he’d been sorting through, and placed an open book on the kitchen table. Jenny stepped closer to him, looking down at the page he was pointing to. “There's a wood engraving. See? The Glove of Myhnegon.”

Mrs. Post, sitting at the kitchen table, barely glanced up. “Yes, engraved by Father Theodore of Wolsham.”

“Yes,” Rupert agreed.

“Based, I believe, on very sketchy and unreliable folk legends,” said Mrs. Post matter-of-factly. “The pictures are fun to look at, Mr. Giles, but one really ought to read the nice words as well.”

Jenny, furious, was already halfway to insulting the entire Watchers’ Council when Rupert placed a hand on the small of her back. The kettle went off. “Some tea, perhaps?” he asked, a gentle warning in his voice.

“Yep. Tea.” Jenny sat down at the kitchen table, making sure to choose the chair across from Mrs. Post instead of next to her.

“I know that you must find me tiresome, but it's insidious, really,” commented Mrs. Post. Rupert stepped forward with a tea platter, setting it down on the table and pouring some hot water into the cup in front of him. Mrs. Post looked down at her own cup. “A person slips up on the little things,” she continued, taking out the teabag, “and soon everything has gone to hell in a handbasket.”

Rupert poured Jenny half a cup of tea before Jenny stopped him. “I probably need something stronger tonight,” she said, only half joking.

Mrs. Post opened her purse, taking out a small box of tea. “For example…Buffy, your Slayer.”

“Wow,” said Jenny. “You carry tea everywhere, or just when you want to make a point?”

Rupert pressed his lips together, looking thoroughly exhausted. Jenny felt a pinprick of guilt; her being sarcastic almost definitely didn’t help the evaluation, and she had a feeling that that put a lot of stress on him. She’d have to try to tone it down a little. “Mrs. Post,” Rupert said, pouring Mrs. Post some hot water, “I can assure you that Buffy is both dedicated and industrious, and I am in complete control of my Slayer.”

The doorbell rang, followed immediately by someone banging on the door. “Giles! Ms. Calendar!” Xander shouted.

“Use the key, Xander,” called Jenny, very grateful for an interruption.

They heard the sound of a key in a lock, and soon after, Xander tumbled through the door, sprinting into the kitchen and knocking into Jenny. “Sorry,” he gasped, very out of breath. “It’s just—we have a big problem. It’s Buffy.”

Mrs. Post raised an eyebrow.  

Rupert winced. “Will you excuse us?” he inquired. Without waiting for an answer, he took Jenny’s arm, tugging her out of the kitchen with him and shutting the door behind them. “What’s going on, Xander?”

Xander, who had been looking almost comically panicked, sobered. He glanced between Rupert and Jenny a few times before answering heavily, “Angel’s back.”

Jenny blinked. “Is that all?” she asked without really thinking.

Rupert gave her a look.

Xander stared. “Is that—what do you mean is that all? Did you know?”

“Wait.” Jenny frowned. “How do you know?”

“Oh no.” Xander held up a hand. “I want to hear how you know first.”

“Jenny?” Rupert turned to her, taking her hand in his.

“Uh,” Jenny tried to collect her thoughts, “well, when Pete and Buffy were fighting, I—I thought I saw Angel, but Rupert and I thought it was just nerves. I only found out that I’d really seen him when Debbie said something at Homecoming about seeing a vampire kill Pete.”

“That’s all we knew,” Rupert added. “We didn’t tell anyone but Buffy because neither of us were exactly sure what Angelus was planning, and he hadn’t actually hurt anyone.”

“He still hasn’t,” Jenny added. “The death count isn’t as high as it was when Angelus was first on the loose.”

Xander nodded slowly. “Huh,” he said. “I guess that’s some small consolation.”

“What do you mean?” said Jenny apprehensively.

“I found out Angel’s back because I saw him grabbing something from a crypt,” said Xander uncomfortably. “I followed him—”

“Xander,” said Jenny sharply.

“What? No one else was there to do anything!” Xander objected indignantly.

“You can’t just follow Angel on your own!” Jenny said, her voice higher and tenser than she’d intended. “You see something that dangerous, you call me.”

“Yeah, because you’re so accessible nowadays,” Xander muttered.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jenny asked sharply.

Xander winced. “Uh. Nothing. Doesn’t matter. Anyway, I followed Angel to—”

“You can’t just say something like that and drop the subject,” persisted Jenny.

“Pardon me,” called Mrs. Post from the kitchen, “but would you like some assistance?”

“Thank you, that won’t be necessary,” Rupert called back with a feigned smile.

“Xander, being passive-aggressive is going to get you nowhere,” said Jenny pointedly.

“Look, Ms. Calendar, maybe we can talk about this when you’re not busy fussing over Faith,” snapped Xander.

There was an abrupt, uncomfortable silence.

“Perhaps I should go make some more tea,” said Rupert nervously. Jenny grabbed his arm, holding him in place.

Xander seemed to realize what he’d said, but he didn’t take it back. “I’m glad that Faith’s so important to you,” he continued awkwardly. “I mean—I know she needs it. But Willow and I barely ever see you, and when we do, you’re always researching with Giles or teaching your class. Willow almost skipped school last week because she was so sad about you ignoring her that she wasn’t sure if she could even pull off going to class, and it was me that talked her out of it. Not you.”

Jenny thought about all the times she’d tried to make it clear over the summer that she’d be there for Willow, and how it must have then felt for Willow when Faith showed up out of the blue. “God,” she said quietly. “I guess I’m not as good at balancing things as I thought.”

Xander shrugged. “Guess you’re not,” he said coolly.

“I’m going to talk to her as soon as this evaluation is over,” Jenny said with conviction.

“You got anything to say to me?” Xander asked, challenging.

Jenny bit her lip. “I—”

“Anyway,” said Xander shortly. “Putting aside our own unresolved issues for a little while, we need to talk about Angel and Buffy.”

Rupert started. “Angel…and Buffy?”

Xander shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Like I was saying. I followed Angel to that mansion where…” He trailed off, but Jenny saw his eyes dart quickly to her crooked fingers. “Acathla,” he said. “And I got there, and Angel and Buffy were kissing.”

Jenny thought back to Buffy’s tense expression in the library, back when she and Rupert had told Buffy about the possibility of Angelus’s return. She felt vaguely sick. “She knew,” she said.

Rupert had the same look of realization. “When I came in after Pete’s death,” he murmured, “I mentioned Jenny seeing Angel, and Buffy looked almost guilty. I never thought—I assumed that guilt was due to Jenny being hurt.”

“Yeah, well, it looks like it wasn’t,” said Xander bitterly. “I think we need to talk to Buffy.”

“All of us,” Rupert agreed.

“Not Faith,” said Jenny suddenly.

Xander pressed his lips together, very clearly biting back an angry retort, then looked up. “Why not Faith?”

Jenny sighed. She honestly hadn’t considered that focusing on Faith would have this big of an effect on Xander and Willow, and she felt horrible for not even bothering to think about it. “She cares a lot about Buffy,” she said finally. “It’s going to really hurt her to find out that Buffy’s kept this from her. I think she should talk to Buffy one-on-one.”

“Buffy didn’t tell us about Angel,” said Xander. “Why does Faith get the special treatment?”

“Because—” Jenny faltered. It took her a moment to find a genuine reason. “Because if Faith finds out any other way, there’s a chance she might run off and try to kill Angel. I don’t want that happening.”

“I don’t count that as all that much of a loss.” Xander’s expression was hard and angry. “He hurt you and Giles and the first thing he does when he comes back is make out with Buffy, not try and make things right with the rest of us. Seems like killing him is long overdue.”

“I won’t have anyone I love die trying to kill Angel,” said Jenny fiercely, stepping away from Rupert. “And that includes you, Xander.”

Something in Xander seemed to falter. He dropped his eyes to the ground. “I wasn’t sure about that one,” he said to his feet.

Jenny breathed out. “I’m so sorry,” she said. Her voice broke. “You and Willow were so good to me over the summer. I got so wrapped up in taking care of Faith that I never once checked in on how that might affect you.”

“I get that Faith doesn’t have parents,” said Xander quietly, still not looking up, “but I’d swap the parents I’ve got for having no parents any day.”

Rupert cleared his throat. “I’m going to check in on Mrs. Post,” he said uncomfortably.

Jenny grabbed Rupert’s arm again before he could leave. She really needed to talk to him about his attempts to avoid emotional situations. “We are a family,” she said, choosing her words carefully. “Not just a bunch of people thrown together fighting evil.” This part was kind of directed at Rupert too, because she wasn’t sure if he always understood that. “And Xander—you’re going to stay over here one day of every week.”

Xander did look up at that. “What?”

“What?” Rupert echoed, looking more than a bit perturbed.

“Once a week, you come and stay here,” said Jenny. “I’ll clear off some of the boxes and you can sleep on the couch.”

“What if I don’t want to do that?” Xander challenged her.

“Yes, what if he doesn’t?” Rupert added.

Jenny elbowed Rupert, gave him a shut up look, and said to Xander, “I want to fix things. This seems like a way to start. If I turn out to be wrong, you can tell me, but at least try spending one night over here. Rupert makes good pasta, and you and Faith can get to know each other a little better.”

“And you’re not asking Willow to do this?” said Xander doubtfully. “Seems like this kind of thing would be something that’d make her way happier than me.”

“Willow doesn’t have parents like yours,” Jenny replied simply, crossing her arms in front of her chest. Suddenly she felt a little like running; emotions were kind of scary, and parenting (did this count as parenting?) was even scarier. “I can find her a different kind of space.”

She saw the change in Xander’s expression—it was a subtle thing, but his eyes didn’t look so hard and angry. “Fine,” he said. “How’s Friday?”

[comicteaparty]

December 24th-December 30th, 2018 CTP Archive

The archive for the Comic Tea Party week long chat that occurred from December 24th, 2018 to December 30th, 2018.  The chat focused on Cat-Person by P.Lo.

Featured Comment:

Chat:

RebelVampire

COMIC TEA PARTY- WEEK LONG BOOK CLUB START!

Hello and welcome everyone to Comic Tea Party’s Week Long Book Club~! This week we’ll be focusing on Cat-Person by P.Lo~! (https://catpersoncomic.tumblr.com/)

You are free to read and comment about the comic all week at your own pace, so stop on by whenever it suits your schedule! Remember, though, that while we allow constructive criticism, our focus is to have fun and appreciate the comic. Below you will find four questions to get you started on the discussion. However, a new question will be posted and pinned everyday (between 12:01AM and 6AM PST), so keep checking back for more! You have until December 30th to tell us all your wonderful thoughts! With that established, let’s get going on the reading and the chatting!

QUESTION 1. What has been your favorite scene in the comic so far? What specifically did you like about it?

QUESTION 2. At the moment, who is your favorite character? What about that character earns them this favor?

QUESTION 3. Why do you think Neko refuses to go outside and has, in general, a grumpy attitude? Do you believe this is something she’ll eventually overcome at the current rate?

QUESTION 4. Will Neko and Eleanor be able to overcome the tension in their relationship? If so, how? Do you feel Neko’s attitude towards Eleanor is justified or vice versa? Will Neko ultimately ruin her dad’s relationship with Eleanor?

Delphina

(Content warning for anybody who needs it: Suicidal thoughts/attempts are a central theme in this comic)

So the creator describes this as a "serialized psychological-thriller". Neko is our viewpoint character, she's clearly got some unaddressed mental health issues that nobody around her is qualified to deal with, and as such becomes the most sympathetic. But it's clear that everyone starts from a deeply flawed baseline, and the creator is using things like porn addiction, alcoholism, and vegan diets to paint everyone in those "shades of grey".

From the about page:

“When a last-minute business trip forces DAD to leave home for a week, he enlists his eager girlfriend ELEANOR to take care of his reclusive daughter NEKO, which leads to jealousy, passive-aggressiveness, and… Bloodshed.”

So based on the tension, and clues being dropped around with Neko pocketing the key, and how controlling Eleanor is getting, I'm not expecting this to be a gentle healing story where everyone comes to understand one another. Things are going to go WAY south, perhaps physically and psychologically violent between Neko and Eleanor.

RebelVampire

QUESTION 5. Do you think Neko’s dad will be able to get a grip on his own problems, such as his drinking? How might his problems affect his relationship with Neko and Eleanor as the story continues?

keii4ii

I must say, I'm super impressed with how the art style and the repetitive format contribute to the storytelling. The clean style, the pretty but understated colors, the calm repetition of the three panel format... All of it contrasts against the turbulence and the ugliness of what's happening under the surface, and it's extremely effective.

RebelVampire

QUESTION 6. In what ways do you believe Neko’s life is reflected in the story she’s writing, especially given she mentioned taking aspects form it? What could that mean for the current state of Neko’s life?

RebelVampire

1) i really enjoy the first lunch scene when its just eleanor and neko because i find it to be a hard slap of truth in how communication can quickly go awry. eleanor is clearly well-meaning, but because of her personal insecurities about her position with neko and her own personal life beliefs, she winds up being pushy. but on the otherhand, neko is kind of a brat in general, even if i empathize with her more in that scene. but inevitably i really enjoyed the character dynamics in this particular scene cause they felt all too real and made my heart hurt. because neither character involved is awful, they just arent on the same page of communication. and that fact i think is really poignant for the darker tones of the story. 2) favorite character is probably neko's dad. because despite his own issues, he is an honest soul trying to balance helping neko while having his own life. he woefully underqualified to help neko, obviously, but hes trying at least.

3) i go back and forth on neko's decision to not leave the house. on the one hand, it could be hinting she might have extreme social anxiety or a form of agoraphobia. but on the otherhand, as someone who doesnt like to go outside, it could be she just doesnt like to go outside. not everyone gets a kick out of what the outside has to offer (often cause a lot of the more interesting things to do also cost zounds of money). so in a sense, i kind of feel it might be a mix? in that in general she just doesnt enjoy it, but that she does have some anxiety issues that doubly encourage her not to go out either. as for overcoming it, fff, it's not looking likely. as others have mentioned, she's really in need of some professional help, and atm she is not getting that. but as for the going outside thing, i dont think she necessary needs to overcome it. ppl can live healthy lives while staying mostly indoors. its mroe about whether it's hurting her quality of life. but i like the fact its not entirely clear in this regard, cause it makes neko more sympathetic in regards to her reactions to eleanor

4) I feel both character's attitudes is both justified and unjustified. as i mentioned with favorite scene, they both have their positive and negative sides. neko has issues but is also kind of a brat. eleanor is well-meaning but extremely pushy and inconsiderate. but in the end i dont think it matters who is more justified. theyre both right and both at fault, which is great because in general this is the gray situations we often face in real life. as for overcoming the tension in their relationship, eh, probably not. but in all honesty i dont think the dad and eleanor's relationship is gonna work out. i think at the end it's the dad's own unaddressed issues that are going to sabotage the relationship, nothing that neko does. but i do think neko is gonna feel like it's her fault and i think shes gonna feel guiliter about it then she suspects she will despite her general dislike of eleanor

5) as said in the end of 4, i think his own issues are what's actually going to ruin the relationship with eleanor. alcohol addiction leads to bad places and makes ppl not themselves. so i can only see it going badly. as for neko, i kind of think the same thing is gonna happen, more because he's not going to get neko the help she needs. inevitably, this story is on a downward spiral because everyone is sad and nobody seems to dealing with their issues in a healthy manner as of yet.

RebelVampire

6) before i speculate, i just want to say i love that the story flat out tells out neko's life is being reflected in her own story. because this is an element that would be left to reader speculation on simile and metaphor and stuff. but since this story is upfront about it, i actually think it makes room for a lot of tension building. since the story neko is writing is revealed in bits and pieces, this allows us to get the occassional view into neko's psyche. as the story she's writing gets darker, we get a window side view into neko's inner turmoil. and the more turmoil, the more worried you get since it's clear her mental situation atm might not be the most stable. now speculation, while i dont think neko is some secret killer of those around her through supernatural means, i do think shes reflecting the fact that she feels like a burden on those around her. which is somewhat interesting and also very sad. the extreme manifestation shown in her story makes me think neko has a very distorted self image. but on the otherhand, at the current moment its hard to say she isnt bit of a burden, though mostly in regards to her being a bit of brat just cause her dad wants to dad. but in a way, she kind of self fulfills the prophecy. and inevitably its just this cycle that leads her down a dark road that is overall very depressing but still interesting to see portrayed in this way.

Delphina

I was curious how old she was/what their financial situation is. She's of legal age to drink I guess, so she's an adult. Nothing like getting a job or her ever living independently has come up, so I assume the dad has that covered or is at the very least not mentioning that out of consideration of her mental health. But they can't afford more than one laptop for him to take on his business trip and her to write on?

And surely giving your shut-in daughter internet access would make life somewhat less isolating for her? Especially since internet communication has been established as something the dad does for support, it feels like a particularly odd situation. C'mon man, get your girl an iPad and let her do NaNoWriMo or something.(edited)

keii4ii

Was she actually legal to drink? I was under the impression that it was a special occasion only thing. (which isn't too uncommon IRL even if it's not legal?)

Delphina

I guess, but damn, that makes him an even WORSE dad.

They don't mention school or anything either, so I'm a little unclear.

keii4ii

Yeah...

Delphina

Regarding her writing, I think the dog/cat dichotomy that comes up in Neko's story that she's writing is a big theme (and well, the comic's called Cat-person, and she's named "neko" which means "cat" in Japanese). I'm assuming the parallel here is Neko is not actually the guy in her writing, but the cat. She's aloof, hard for anyone to read, stays away from people, gets violent. Eleanor's possibly the pushy, happy and over-attentive dog?

RebelVampire

i was super confused how old shes supposed to be, but i eventually settled on late teen based on 1) her general appearance and stature looks more teen/young adult to me and 2) a lot of the other stuff you mentioned. like shes very much being treated like a kid and not capable of being someone being independent. but to be fair, id ballpark maybe 17 or 18. so someone who is kind of an adult but not ready to be an adult by a long shot, which isnt uncommon for that age. i got the same impression as keii did about the drinking. that it was just a special occassion thing. neko just goes overboard and the dad doesnt punish her. which tbf to him, im sure hes worried about setting her off or something like that.

as for the laptop thing, i actually assumed that had nothing to do with their financial situation. i mean it might, but i got more the impression that he was protecting her and just in general didnt want her near the internet or things like that. which tbf i can understand that pov. cause as much as the internet can help, it can also hurt. cyberbullying is a real thing after all and we dont really have an established past for neko that lead her to do what she did. not to mention he might be afraid of what shes gonna search where he cant see. like what if she starts looking up "how to kill myself in [insert manner here]" alternatively, he also might just not want her to see whatever porn he has on the computer, cause id bet my soul he has porn on that laptop.

thats a good catch with the dog/cat dichotomy though. i didnt even notice it cause i was too busy fuss worrying over eleanor not caring where the key is

way to watch over neko, eleanor

Delphina

Oh yeah, there was a strip where he was doing some kind of adult chat and he deleted his browsing history before giving his computer to Neko, so he totally had porn on his laptop.

That's true about the internet possibly being a bad thing that he could feel he needs to protect her from. I think that sort of history of how she interacted when she WASN'T avoiding the world would really add a lot of depth to Neko and make her more sympathetic.

That said, the author has done a really good job of making the environment feel uncomfortably tight and trapped, so sympathetic characters might not be what they want for this story and might reduce the sense of tension we feel right now.(edited)

RebelVampire

yeah i def agree. it does feel tight and trapped. especially whenever eleanor is there cause whenever eleanor is around i feel like her constant talking serves to make the place feel more cramped.

RebelVampire

QUESTION 7. Why do you believe the fridge magnets spell out helpful sayings like “ask for help?” Who did it and for what purpose? What is the thematic significance?

Delphina

I suspect the fridge word art is Neko. It might be symbollic of her own subconscious trying to give her advice, or her way of communicating with her dad about his own poor way of dealing with problems.

RebelVampire

(the archive for the chat on Lovespells is now available! @thisintermezzo https://comicteaparty.com/post/181479135680/december-17th-december-23rd-2018-ctp-archive)

RebelVampire

QUESTION 8. How do you think the title, “Cat-Person,” ties into the story’s themes and topics? What does this title tell us about Neko or the other characters?

Delphina

(Going back to a previous topic, it looks like the pages that were added in the last few days do clarify that Neko does have agoraphobia/fear of leaving the house and she is an adult - https://catpersoncomic.tumblr.com/)

RebelVampire

idk if i consider that a confirmation shes an adult. but definitely old enough to drive.

Delphina

Neko knowing her phobias definitely makes me wonder why the dad wouldn't have told Eleanor those things. It seems like the kind of thing that I would have told my girlfriend before she met my daughter? And I have to hope Eleanor would have been broaching these subjects with more tact if these were known diagnoses.

Anyway, yah, the title "Cat-Person" seems to have ties in with Neko's name and the cat mentioned in her story. The stereotype of cats is that they don't like being around others and feel crowded/lash out pretty easily, which fits Neko pretty well at this point. Since it's such a core part of her identity, I'm curious if/how it can shift.

RebelVampire

the dad might have told eleanor tbf. she very much comes across as one of those ppl who thinks all mental issues are something you can just get over. or even if she isnt, i highly doubt eleanor did any research about it and attempted to actually understand.

it wouldnt surprise me if he didnt tell her. tbh, i dont think the dad really takes neko's fear of the outside all that serious either

i feel more he just tolerates it but doesnt understand the full extent of the problem

cause he seems kind of willing to indulge and spoil neko to a degree just so he doesnt have to deal with everything

Delphina

Hmmm, yeah, good point

RebelVampire

but to a degree i also understand cause hes got his own issues to work through. and ppl who have their own mental issues arent the best suited to help others in a lot of cases.

well more in the sense that neither are actively working to heal

so just arent in good places to help each other

keii4ii

I was actually wondering if he didn't tell her because he's a terrible dad and was worried it might drive Eleanor away from him

But I also like the idea of Eleanor having been told, but deliberately acting like she doesn't know

RebelVampire

tbh tho i could also believe he just never found the right time to tell eleanor

cause these are not casual things you drop down on your girlfriend

although i am leaning towards eleanor just didnt care

cause clearly she was told neko tried to commit suicide since she wasnt surprised at all

keii4ii

That, I was guessing (well, it was one of my guesses) Eleanor didn't actually take Neko seriously at the time and saw it as a younger person being an edgelord for attention

But any of these interpretations are possible at this time

RebelVampire

i think that is a good way to put it tho

that is 100% how i see eleanor fewing neko

as some young edgelord

that and she strikes me as one of those ppl who believes sunshine and fresh air will fix any illness

modern medicine be damned

RebelVampire

7) i kind of assume neko did the fridge word art for no other reason that shes a writer. so just makes sense. though i kind of feel like her father maybe encouraged her to do it. like put some positive affirmations on the fridge of some sort. i feel like their significance is to show something like how even when ppl can know what they have to do (like ask for help for instance) the actual execution of that is flawed and contingent on those around us. so asking for help is not necessarily a for sure path that lead to healing. or something like that. 8) as Delphina said, cats are "stereotyped" as being creatures that lash out and are relatively solitary (i quote stereotype cause as a cat owner annd lover, nah, cats are bundles of terror and these are accurate descriptions XD). the unfortunate thing is that ppl tend to assume these same traits apply to "cat people." which fits neko, but i also think in some way it also speaks of how ppl are auto putting their assumptions on her. in that the more they assume shes gonna lash out, the more she does so, and then its just a downward spiral. i think eleanor shows us the story is equally about ppls judgements and assumptions of who we are, in the same way people assume cat people are exactly like cats. and in so doing the title is also talking about how neko is being put into a box that is not conducive to her changing even if she wanted to, because people are already assuming certain things about her even before she meets or bonds with them

(i hope that drabble made sense cause im tired and about to go to bed XD)

RebelVampire

QUESTION 9. Do you believe Neko’s father’s attitude and precautions towards her since her attempted suicide is justified, or is it more likely making the situation worse? What do you think will become of the issue regarding the locked up knife drawer and missing key?

RebelVampire

QUESTION 10. What are you most looking forward to in the comic? Also, do you have any final thoughts to share overall?

RebelVampire

9) I think Neko's father's handling of the situation is kind of a mix of both. I can understand taking precautions so Neko can heal without being in danger. However, he's not doing a lot of other stuff he should be doing to help her get better. As for the key thing, I think it's gonna hurt the dad more than Neko. Cause I can just picture Eleanor mentioning it casually and the Dad fighting with her wondering how Eleanor could be so irresponsible. Or something like that. I'm gonna be optimistic rather than assume worst case. O_O 10) I'm looking forward to seeing where else the story Neko is writing goes. I really love how tied in that story is to the comic's story and it really helps build tension and makes for a really interesting read.

keii4ii

I'm looking forward to seeing actual changes, be they positive or negative... or suuuper negative even. So far there's been a lot of establishing what each character is like (which is necessary, and done very well). I mean, Eleanor being introduced to Neko's life is a change to her life, but not yet a change in her character. I feel like the point we're at is a cusp of some real changes...

RebelVampire

COMIC TEA PARTY- WEEK LONG BOOK CLUB END!

Thank you everyone so much for reading and chatting about Cat-Person this week! Please also give a special thank you to P.Lo for volunteering the comic and creating it! If you liked Cat-Person, make sure to continue to support it via some of the links below!

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