#and shes stuck in this dilemma of being a parent but not wanting to be a parent but wanting *to* parent but not knowing if what shes doing

[star-ocean-peahen]

.

[saintgoths]

ᴛʜᴇ ꜰᴏʀʙɪᴅᴅᴇɴ ꜰʀᴜɪᴛ

LEVI ACKERMAN X READER - THE FORBIDDEN FRUIT. [AOT AU]

[PART FIVE TO THE REALM'S DIAMOND SERIES].

WORD COUNT - 2,977.

RATING - 18+. [unrequited love maybe? Not between reader and Levi, m/f sex and breeding kink].

[she also has other pairings thus the hashtags but its mainly levi x reader]. comments, liking, following and reblogging would be appreciated!

SUMMARY - after visiting the ackermans you meet with a man who tells you unfortunate information that leads you to be stuck between a dilemma choosing between the forbidden fruit or the unwanted proposal.

previous chapter - chapter four.

Mikasa had been happy systems were pass the time where a lady had to have a male companion to walk in public, or when a woman who was seen beside a man who was not a part of her family was not looked down upon, currently, she had been beside Eren. She had come back from her trip in Oscaar visiting the Reiss family, specifically Historia.

When she was in Oscaar, she had missed the presence of her friends, even though Historia was good company along with her close friend, Ymir, Mikasa had missed being around Eren and Armin, and even Jean.

Eren who had seemed blue ever since Mikasa had seen him, had eventually opened his mouth, for a brief moment the two walked in silence and Mikasa had known it had something to do with the gossip she had heard. “Have you heard about your cousin becoming the main suitor for Lady van Richesse?” Eren asked and with a knowing look on her face, Mikasa clasped her hands, paws in front of her hung low.

“Word travels fast in our continent,” Mikasa forwardly answered and with a neutral look on his face, Eren agreed with her. “How do you feel about it?” Mikasa asked and when she shared her inquiry a quick flash of distaste sped past the Yeager’s man’s face, and automatically, she had known Eren had felt bitter. “Maybe, when you were younger, you should’ve been less obvious about the desires you had for [Y/N],” Mikasa said and with a short sigh, Eren fixed the hat he had worn.

She had been right. “Of course,” Eren whispered. “Well maybe in the next life I have with her, I’ll remember your advice,” he breathily chuckled and with a quick look of sadness, Mikasa briefly pushed her lower mouth behind her teeth. “Enough about me,” Eren smiled as he twisted his sight towards her. “How comes you didn’t come to the Annual Ball?”

“I’m not ready to be married,” Mikasa shrugged. “My parents do not pressure me.”

“Lucky,” Eren whispered. “But, let it be my turn and let me give you advice now,” Eren said as he simply fixed his tie. “All the good men are being taken away, so it would be best to try and get married now.”

Mikasa had then scrunched her nose. “Like Jean?”

“Somewhat like Jean,” Eren shrugged.

“Do you want to be married?” Mikasa asked and with an unsure look, he had then shoved his hands into his pockets.

“If I wanted to marry, I would’ve wanted to marry [Y/N],” Eren said and annoyed, Mikasa stood up straight.

Hands unclasped and arms now folded, Mikasa furrowed her eyebrows. “Evidently, that cannot happen, you cannot have that, you cannot have Lady van Richesse.”

“I’m aware of that,” Eren said with his teeth gritted. “And I am aware of the feelings you have for me,” he continued, perceptive of the awkward shuffle she did with her shoulders. “Let us make a deal, since we have a good connection, and we evidently have no one else we would want to be with, marry me.”

Perplexed, Mikasa stared at him as she had felt wind catch in her throat, eyes slightly wide, the Ackerman girl gently shuddered as Eren’s offer translated in her head. Alas, she’d have Eren, but not because he loved her, because he saw her as a placeholder. Blue, Mikasa gently bit the inside of her cheek. “I’ll think about it,” she responded and before she curved her back to him, every muscle in her body had wamted her to leave. “I’ll see you soon, Eren.”

Thus, without allowing the man to say another word, Mikasa began on her trip back to her family home.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

“You are a natural at this,” Kenny smiled, it had been the afternoon, you had visited the rest of Levi’s family for the first time and after moments of drinking tea and eating finger-food, Levi’s uncle couldn’t help but test his nephew’s suitress’s gun skill.

A handful of feet away from them, had been Levi and his mother, sat on chairs with a silver table between them that had an umbrella pole that shielded them from the sun. Kuchel, had still been hungry, so she had fussed for Levi to tell one of the maids to bring them over while they watched you and Kenny interact with each other. Then, with a short smile, Kuchel glanced towards her son. “She’s pretty,” Kuchel said to Levi who had currently had a half-finished cup of tea in his hand, the object held in the unique way he’d never been bothered to explain why he did in such manner.

“I didn’t believe you would be able to become a suitor for someone, not saying that you’re not handsome,” she began to ramble. “Because you are, you’re my son, and it’s not because you’re a bore to be around, because you’re not---”

“I understand what you mean mother,” Levi sighed.

Comforted, Kuchel sat up with a look on her face that spoke of her feelings being reassured. “I know Kenny and I say that a lot, you not being a suitor for someone.”

“Petra died, and there’s nothing I can do about it,” Levi said, lips tight, the man then crossed his leg.

“Yes, there’s nothing anyone can do about it,” Kuchel gently agreed, eyes softly trained on her son. “I’m thankful that you’re ready to move on.”

Both Levi and Petra had fought in the army a couple of years ago, against one of the countries in the continent that had been exposed for ill testing of subjects, Petra and Levi fought together, loved one another and truthfully wanted to marry each other, but their dreams---his dreams, had been scarred when a rival soldier’s bullet flew right into her.

She had died in his arms, eyes cold and mouth agape as she spoke her last words of “I love you,” to Levi. A moment that had terribly haunted him.

“And we’re done!” Kenny cheered as both you and him returned to the other Ackermans and while Kenny had then collected the shotgun he provided you, Levi stood to his feet and aided his suitress to sit on one of the empty seats.

“Thank you,” you smiled as you had sat opposite both Kuchel and Levi, the only chair available being the one next to her, which you had been aware Kenny would take.

“She’s a natural,” Kenny mumbled as he placed the guns away. “Perhaps in a past life she took part in the First Great War,” he said as he then moved his feet towards the empty seat. “She was probably a beast,” he carried on, unaware of the awkward looks his sister and her son shared with each other.

As she had then picked up another finger sandwich, Kuchel forced a comfortable smile at the girl. “So, [Y/N], are you an only child?”

“No,” you replied. “My brother, Alan is in Oscaar right now, doing business,” you smiled before you reached for one of the finger sandwiches. “He will be taking over father’s business when he steps down.”

“When do you want the wedding?” His mother then asked and when the words left her mouth, you could feel the entire atmosphere pause.

To be fair, the question was bound to come up. It was the Annual Ball season, everyone was getting married, and you had been the Realm’s Diamond, everyone had anticipated your betrothal event. “Well,” you breathily chuckled. “Levi is my main suitor, but I’m unsure if we’re actually going to get married.”

“I’ve yet to speak to her family about the entire thing,” Levi added while his metal-like eyes softly trailed all over you, a certain look on his face had appeared as if he had summarised a thought, quietly, you had looked away from him, you had known what that look had meant, thus, you had placed one hand above the other, both paws against your lap.

“Though,” you continued. “Levi is my main suitor and I wouldn’t want it to be anyone else.”

Content, Kuchel picked up her almost cold tea as she had taken a sip, Levi placed his one down before he spoke. “I’m glad to hear that.”

 ༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

You had been well too aware of all the expressions Levi had up his sleeve during the previous times you had shared with him---when he had sent you the short but knowing look when you had mentioned that you weren’t sure if the both of you were actually going to get married. You had noticed it strung a bad string in his heart, as if it had activated a bitter and acquisitive emotion in him.

It had slightly surprised you, Levi had normally been calm with how he expressed himself, the only time he’d be eminently reactive is when you two would intimately share time with each other, like now, his steel blue eyes fiercely studied into yours as he protectively folded his arms around your waist, supporting your movements as you ardently bounced on his girthy cock, while his lips ringed around your breast as he gently suckled your nub, deep moans vibrating against your skin as he gently rocked his hips.

You had almost forgotten how many rounds the both of you were in, when you had first stepped into Levi’s room, he had first taken you against the wall, then the floor, then his bed, his lust animalistic as he commenced to thrust his body upwards, he had promised countless of times he’d learn how to control himself when it came to you. Yet, whenever he’d feel your wet warmth cover him, a sex varmint would take over his body, his mind and drown his thoughts with intentions to breed and dominate you.

“Right there----oh Levi! Yes!” You cried as your area clamped around him while you released your high, your arm that had once curved behind his neck had now supported you from riding his length, your juices flowing and coating his shaft while it throbbed and ached inside your cunt, the curved length had slipped and kissed the sweet spots before it released its sweet white nectar, Levi, tired had petted one last kiss against your neck before you pulled away from him.

Your body collapsed next to his, both of your figures uncomfortably sprawled against his wide sofa. As he reached for a cigarette, he passed one towards you, aware that you had sometimes smoked, when you first made him realise your smoking habit, he had slightly been against it, but you had promised him within time, you’d stop. Plus, it was nice to smoke when you two finished fucking, it helped Levi calm down, he couldn’t put a finger on it, but there had been something about you that turned him into a wild animal, and as much as he never spoke about it, during the short period the two of you shared with each other, the Ackerman had easily fell into a pit of yearn and ache for your presence.

That’s why he sometimes liked it whenever you were gone, to fall into the cycle of the thirst of wanting to see you again and quenching that thirst whenever you were in his arms. “In a day or two I’ll have to actually speak with your family.”

As you shortly agreed, you pulled yourself to sit up. “I’m actually surprised you’re going along with this,” you said after you exhaled a smoke.

“You’re a good suitress,” Levi answered. “And I’m willing to settle down.”

Offended, you twisted your face. “You know what I mean,” Levi sighed as he watched you cross your arms, aware of how your arms pressed against your breast, and as he could feel his breath catch in his throat, the man hastily looked away from you. “Don’t give me that look,” he continued as he pulled on the rest of his clothes.

“I’m upset you’re not completely enamoured by me; other men quickly fall in love with me…and you’re just…” you sourly confessed and with a quick look that flashed in his eyes, Levi put down his cigarette.

“What makes you think that?” He asked.

“You’re not kissing my feet like other men,” you said and with a curve of his eyes, Levi pushed out a breathy chuckle.

“You’re unbelievable,” he smirked and shortly humoured, you pulled yourself off his sofa. “I feel pride when I’m with you,” he softly spoke and as his eyes slightly trailed pass your body, he turned his gaze to the ajar window, unaware that you had planned to continue your complaint.

With your hands on your hips with an increasing disappointment, you had tapped your barefoot against the ground. “So, I’m just arm candy to you?”

“I’m not good with my words,” he mumbled as he stroked his raven-toned hair with his digits.

Annoyed, you rolled your eyes and picked up your clothes. “Evidently.”

-Confused, Levi turned to look at her. “Where are you going?” He questioned and with a twisted look on your face, you pulled your garments onto your body.

“Home.”

“Are you seriously upset with what I said?” Levi apprehensively asked and with a tight light, you turned away from him.

“Yes.”

Adamant to leave her alone, Levi reached out to her. “At least allow me to take you home.”

“No, I want the next time you see my parents to be a special day, even if I’m arm candy,” you stubbornly responded, and annoyed, Levi closed his eyes, exasperated by your adamance to not understand him, though, before he could say anything else, you had already pushed his bedroom door open and left.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

When the carriage had come to a halt, the coachman had immediately pulled himself off his horse to open the vehicle door for you, during your trip back from the Ackerman estate and to your family land, you had nervously re-thought of that interaction you had exchanged with your main suitor. Perhaps you had over-reacted you had thought, mayhap you should’ve allowed Levi to continue to express himself, to explain what he had actually meant, but overall, you were spoilt and usually wanted things handed to you forwardly with no obstacles.

Though, your pool of thoughts had immediately been eliminated when you stepped out of the carriage and noticed a presence you thought you wouldn’t have seen in ages. With a big smile, you picked up your dress and quickly used your feet to run towards them. “Alan!” You screamed in happiness once you saw your brother walking around the van Richesse estate.

Content once he saw his sister, Alan wrapped his arms around you once you jumped towards him. Alan was tall, so he had to bend low to experience your warmth. “[Y/N],” he smiled, first to pull away, Alan quickly looked you up and down. “It seems as if you’ve shrunk since the last time I’ve seen you,” he smiled and as you clicked your tongue, you comedically slapped his arm.

“You just got taller,” you reminded and with his charming smile, Alan patted your head. “Where’s mama and papa?” You asked, now side by side with your brother, you clasped your hands together as you began to walk inside the manor along with him.

“They went out on a date,” he responded and with a short blow of your tongue, you rolled your eyes. “Business in Oscaar was a success,” your brother mentioned, his face now expressionless yet calm.

With a short raise of your eyebrows, you hummed in response. “The business is boring, I’m glad you’re inheriting it,” you muttered. “I just came back from the Ackermans, wonderful family,” you explained, expected to see a proud look on your brother’s face, your brows then furrowed when his face gently twisted in distaste.

You had wanted to question it, but it had appeared your brother beat you into talking. “I’ve actually been in du Aurous for two days,” your brother explained. “For those short two days I was actually in another meeting.”

“Oh, please tell me who,” you replied in faux interest and as you stopped in front of him, you had realised the dark look your brother had in his eyes.

His icy look had aided you to grow a feeling of anticipation, but before you could egg him on to speak, your brother opened his mouth. “It was with Sir. Argent.” With a slight freeze, your body paused before you allowed yourself to walk side by side with your brother around the manor. “He told me everything,” Alan said and muted, you had looked down to your feet.

As you raised your view to your brother, you gracelessly smiled. “You really believe anything that stubborn and bitter old man has to say about me?” You gently chuckled.

“Mama and papa think Eren has not laid with you yet, and think they have protected your integrity by forbidding him from you---but I know,” Alan seethed. “I kept your secret, and I’m willing to keep your secret, but Sir. Argent on the other hand, is not. He is willing to tell the entire world about your promiscuity, your events with Sir. Levi Ackerman and is even willing to tell the world you had influenced Lord Erwin Smith to lay with you.”

Frightened, you gently sucked in your breath as you had attempted to hold back your tears. “I’ve never laid with Erwin Smith,” you whispered and adamant, Alan folded his arms.

“Sir. Argent is willing on holding himself back,” Alan then said and with a slight relief, you had dropped your shoulders to your sides. “If you call off your promise to Mr. Ackerman and marry Sir. Argent.”

masterlist

[en-geneisaxx]

Pairings: Kita x fem!reader

Genre: Fluff, romance, academic rivals to lovers

A/n: Happy birthday imagine for one of my husbands → Kita!

Wc: 873

Please like, reblog and/or follow me! ♡

“I don’t…need…your help…” You sleepily groaned as you continued your scruffy handwriting to write down more things about the upcoming fundraiser you and your smart vice-president were responsible for. The white kitsune with black tips was undeniably wise and handsome, something you’ve coveted about him. You guys were academic rivals – in your eyes at least.

“It would be faster to get the task finished if I did, and you look quite dead with your current state,” He notions at your eyebags and the countless yawns that slipped past your lips, and that slumped posture of yours. “And, this is affecting my routine, so I would like to get back on track as soon as possible.”

“‘Don’t give a damn about your routine, I didn’t even ask you to help anyway, you should’ve just let me do it by myself.”

“And embarrass ourselves because you never got it completed by the deadline? I won’t have that.” He notes down ideas, too, as he prepares himself for a blacked-out version of you. “Also, even if we did complete this, someone might have thought I did it with my zombie-looking president.” 

You huff, because you honestly wished you could sleep at that moment, head squeezing in pain due to you overworking yourself. But, you wanted to make a moment where your parents would be proud of you. Being stuck in a dilemma, you helplessly sob, startling the volleyball captain. 

“I’m so tired…so so tired…but I…my parents…” You started becoming immobile, only letting out tears as you closed your weary eyes. Though Kita wasn’t experienced with such situations, he gently pulled you into his warm embrace, rubbing your back and stroking your hair simultaneously as you deeply sighed with exhaustion.

“It’s ok to take a break, especially while I’m here.” He attempts to comfort, possibly bringing in his own personal feelings for you. 

“Kita…parents…” 

“I’m just helping out, is that so bad?” He asks innocently, angling his head so he sees your worn-out figure, illuminated by the orange glow of the sunset. He truly felt bad for you, even knowing about this academic competition you swore to win. 

By then, your mind was more willful than your heart, with you dreaming off into your imagination. He places your head on his shoulder, picking up his pen as he finishes off the last bits of writing. Knowing he has a test soon, he slowly takes his flashcards, using all his limbs to pick up his bag so as not to disturb you. While he silently revises, his mischievous cubs sneak into the classroom, tiptoeing despite knowing that their captain has noticed them. The blond-haired fox masks his face with his hand, desperately trying to hold in his animalistic cackles as he sees your sleeping figure on his robotic captain’s body. 

“‘Cap,” He starts, wheezing once he meets up with Kita’s glare. He desperately clings onto his silver-haired incarnation of himself, who also mimics the actions. The green-eyed fox recorded the moment, taking it from every angle as he slyly smiled. Regaining only a little bit of composure, he resumes, “it seems that your president is sleeping on your shoulder, am I correct?” His eyebrows are raised in amusement as he sees his captain look at him with a skeptical look on his face. 

“‘Tsumu, remember: she’s Cap's girl.” He quietly chuckles out, hand covering his mouth. 

“But this is so unfair!” Atsumu whisper-shouted, hands pointing at you, “You would torture us if we ever slept a wink midday!” 

“Then why not do it back?” The videographer Suna suggests. He waves his phone teasing, a pleased grin spread across his lips as he sees Kita’s eyes bulge. 

“Suna…” Kita pleads, voice lowered as he sees you twitch. 

“Oh, can’t disturb the sleeping princess, am I right?” Rintaro says with a mockingly posh accent that he could possibly imitate. 

“Cap,” Osamu gives his advice, “if you want the girl, just make her the winner. We all know she wants to beat you, and that you have a massive crush on her.” A blush forms on Kita’s cheek from the straightforward statement. The twins giggle with a smiling fox as they leave the classroom. 

“My girl…” He thinks deeply, staring at your child-like writing. 

“Maybe I’ll let you beat me…” He looks at you fondly, “Just this once.” 

The deafening roar of applause from your class as you and Kita found out you were victors. However, you got most of the credit, earning more awards than Kita, something you’ve worked so hard for. Once you two got off the stage, walking towards your friends, Kita held your hands to stop you in your tracks of being able to boast about your victory. 

“Now now, love. Lemme get my words out first, yeah? | He adjusts your body so you are facing him. 

“Believe it or not, dummy, I think I’ve made a first time with you: first time having a crush. I’ll only give you right now to decide: be mine or be left behind.” He takes a step back so that he could spread out his arms for a response, smiling. 

“I’ll still compete with you…” You jokingly grumble, feigning annoyance as you secretly screamed inside.

“Ha,” He heartily chuckles,

“Well then, I guess you’ll always be my winner.”

[justalonelyslytherin]

Legacies | Eleven

Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter

Pairing: Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x Kazansky!OC

Summary: The time for the mission has come. While the team risks their life, coming too close to death, Jake is left to deal with the guilt his reaction left him with.

Warnings: military inaccuracies, mentions of dying, mentions of parental death/parental loss, mentions of killing someone in combat, air combat, dealing with the aftermath of it

Wordcount: 3.1k

If you enjoyed reading this, please consider leaving a comment or reblogging. I don’t allow for my content to be copied, translated, or reposted on other websites/apps. I ALSO DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR THE USE OF AI IN ANY OF MY WORKS! Please don’t steal my work.

A/N: I already mentioned it in another chapter, but I think now the time has come to permanently implement and switch to a bi-weekly update schedule. One week is just too little for me to adequately write the chapters (to my standards) without stressing myself out. I'm going to try to stick with the update times but if needed I'll postpone it for the sake of good quality content.

Taglist: open, message me or comment to be added, will be put as reblog

True to his words Ana didn’t return to the base following the funeral. But contrary to them, Hangman wasn’t happy with the situation.

It bothered him.

His anger toward her had long vanished, leaving behind dread and a new annoyance focused solely on himself and his stupid actions.

Mixing with it was the feeling of irritation he felt now that she was missing. It felt different without her there. They were missing one person in their group and everyone was well aware of it. Hangman perhaps most of them all. 

Never before in his life had he been so affected by the lack of one's presence. The moment she’d been officially taken out of the lineup for the mission he’d nearly stormed out of the room. Guilt and shame fought to overtake him. To no little part he’d been at fault for her absence, he was well aware of it. 

Even though his rational thinking wanted to tell him that the loss of her father was reason alone to sit out a mission with such dire stakes, where even one millisecond of distraction could cost one’s life, the other parts of his brain screamed at him.

Your fault.

It bothered Hangman. More than he’d ever admit and more than he could ever possibly hide. Her absence left a gaping hole unable to be otherwise filled. It felt different without her there. Empty.

In the days to follow he’d been an emotional wreck. Constantly irritable, tense, and snippy. A fuse so short anyone breathing in his direction was bound to set him off. He dangled on a dangerous path toward exploding at any moment. 

Not even his otherwise impermeable cocky attitude, the mask he had built up so meticulously, could hide his true emotions. For the first time since he became Hangman, his walls weren’t enough.

None of the others could be blamed for his irritability. Once more it was his own fucking fault. He, all alone, was to blame for it. And perhaps that was what made it this bad. Well aware of his role in the dilemma, Hangman couldn’t help but still be upset about it.

If he was honest with himself he had never been angry at her, not directly. He’d been angry with the situation. Not understanding it and on top of it misinterpreting it. On any other occasion he would have forgotten it, let it be, and moved on. But he couldn’t. 

He could not move on from this. 

Not with Ana. 

He couldn’t do that to her and he couldn’t do it to himself. But there also wasn’t any way for him to fix it. Not right now.

Not when he was in the middle of the ocean, stuck on an aircraft carrier, bound for the most dangerous mission of his life.

Yet all he could think about was the woman he’d wronged so horribly.

“It's been an honor flying with you.”

It was an entirely new experience for him. Being distracted. Unable to focus solely on the mission. Never once in his entire career had that happened to him. No, that wasn’t entirely true. It had happened once, early on, and nearly cost him the career that had been just in the wings. 

That’s when he’d been still Jake Seresin in the navy, not yet Hangman, which had soon after changed. He’d made up his mind. Nothing and more importantly no one would ever distract him from his dreams, from the career that had almost ended before it had even started.

“Each one of you represents the best of the best.”

For nearly ten years, he’d lived after this principle, becoming Hangman but also becoming perhaps the best naval aviator of his generation and the only one on active duty to have a confirmed kill.

“Choose your two foxtrot teams.”

As new and unusual the sensation was, he’d tried to keep on track. Stubbornly he’d commanded his thoughts back to the mission, punished himself for any stray thought by reading the mission briefings, the F-18 manual. 

“Payback and Fanboy. Phoenix and Bob.”

It didn’t work. Not as good as he’d liked for it. He was distracted enough for it to be noticeable. 

“And your wingman.”

Green eyes focused forward as he braced himself for the pick.  He’d been sure to have the spot in the pocket the moment he’d set foot in San Diego. The moment he’d seen them, first Rooster waltzing into the Hard Deck in civilian clothes and then shortly after Ghost at the bar, he’d known they were his competitors. The three of them.

They’d been the frontrunners for the position of mission leader. And had it been him from that night in the Hard Deck two-ish weeks ago standing here in the hangar now, he’d been just as sure of having the spot of wingman too. Present-time Hangman wasn’t so sure of it.

Maverick stared straight ahead, jaw tense and eyes full of a sadness and misery he’d never seen in their instructor's eyes. Not even on the day of the funeral. Maverick had been filled with sadness, grief, and loss. There had been an acceptance in his eyes that day, now he looked torn, refusing to acknowledge the present, the reality of what lay before them but more importantly the difficult decision that lay immediately before him.

“Rooster.” Mavericks' voice was dismal as if he’d predestined an awful fate over them.

To his great surprise, Hangman wasn’t surprised not to have been chosen. In a way, he’d already known it. He wasn’t ready, wasn't good enough for it.

Not in the technical sense. Ana’d been right. He wasn’t enough of a team player for the mission. It was where Rooster excelled, surpassing him miles ahead.

The Hangman – the Jake – at the beginning of the training, not even three weeks ago, would have reacted differently. Disappointment still filled him, but the Jake then would have not been able to accept it. He wouldn't have been able to see the fault in his ways, to admit his fault.

A small and twisted part of his mind hollered that he’d deserved it for wronging Ana. 

He knew that Maverick hadn’t chosen him for apparent reasons. His inability to be a team player and the lack of attention in the last days more than clear to see for everyone had cost him the spot, had he ever had it at one point. Maverick had said it himself: My choice reflects that and nothing more.

Outside on the deck the blonde waited for Rooster. They weren’t friends, yet Hangman didn’t want to let him leave for the mission without having spoken to him first.

He hoped that the brunette was ready. That he and Maverick could work together, jump over their shadow to fly the mission. Both had been limited, held back by their shared past – whatever it entailed – too caught up with their demons to realize what was needed for the mission. 

Rooster was surprised, coming face to face with him. Stopping in his stride the two men stood across another. The brunette looked at him questioningly. Under the observant, guarded look all words Hangman had carefully laid out in the last couple of minutes left him all at once. 

His tongue was tied, clued to the bottom of his mouth. Suddenly his lips felt dry and his throat had closed down entirely.

“You give ‘em hell!” He managed to utter, voice strained and close to cracking. Hangman wasn’t even sure if Rooster had heard him over the noise of the jets. Rooster’s eyes followed him, burning into his side until he was past the brunette.

“Dagger one is hit! I repeat, Dagger one is hit! 

Maverick is down.”

Phoenix’s crackly words coming over the radio comms sent a shockwave similarly big to the blast of the SAM hitting, through Hangman’s body. A shot of pure electricity raced up his spine, culminating in a deafening, mind-numbing sensation as the shock settled over him.

Over the comms followed Rooster’s stricken and panicked calls, requesting for their team leader to respond, to show any sign of life.

There was no response.

This couldn’t be happening. Maverick was the most qualified out of them all, the one with the least chance of crashing or getting hit, yet out of all of them it had been him.

No, actually it was him who was most likely to be hit. Maverick made it clear from the beginning that he’d protect his wingman, that he’d protect Rooster just as much as he would every other aviator under him.

For it to actually happen was entirely different from the possibility of the scenario.

“Comanche. Bandits inbound. Single group, hot. Recommend dagger flow south. One minute to intercept.”

Still no sign of Maverick, not even a parachute. Jake's teeth were grinding on another, back ramrod straight, hands balled into fists. Here he sat, strapped into his jet, on short standby to aid them. Why wasn’t he in the air with them?

His breath came in uneven, short bursts. Entirely contrary to how he was taught to stay calm and unaffected. Entirely opposite to how Hangman should act. How everyone expected him to act. Damn them, damn everyone. Damn the stupid fate.

Jake refused to believe that they could lose Maverick this easily. If his legendary exploits were anything they showed that to get rid of this man, death himself would have to step up and lead him to the gates of the afterlife. He refused to believe that they wouldn’t come back with everyone on their team from this mission. He refused to accept Maverick being gone.

They hadn’t lost him.

She couldn’t have lost him. Not another one. Ghost had just lost her father. If she now lost Maverick too, how would that wreck her?

She’d already suffered too much, much of it at the hands of him and Jake wouldn’t let her suffer even more, wouldn’t let her have to grieve another person. Even if that meant he had to go get Maverick on his own.

Jake scrambled, reaching for his mask. 

“Dagger Spare requests permission to launch and fly air cover.”

With bated breath and furrowed brows, hands ready to clasp his mask on entirely and get ready for take-off he waited for a response from the control room.

“Negative, spare.”

Disappointment and anger flushed him. Jake scrunched his face in annoyance, mask dropping to dangle down his side.

“Damn it.”

His balled fist hit the top of his thigh in anger. Sinking down back in his seat, the straps strained against his chest. It hurt, the space tight as his heart clenched in pain. Pain for Maverick and Ana.

Touching down with the jet back onto the deck felt great. But not even the euphoria and the adrenalin kick after the successful albeit close-cut mission could keep his thoughts of Ana away.

The high that had swept over him after shooting down the fifth-gen fighter and thus saving Maverick and Rooster came to a plummet the moment Hangman climbed down his jet.

His feet hit the deck, flight crew rushed all around him to aid Maverick and Rooster for their return. Eyes scanning the moving crowds where the duo seaters had gathered after coming back with the rest of the team, he stopped abruptly, a deep frown forming on his face.

Too late did he realize the person he was looking for wasn’t even on the ship. He was looking for her – subconsciously – to share the excitement, the high of the win, the success they had worked so hard for. 

She wasn’t there and it may well have been his fault entirely. 

All at once the euphoria of the mission, the relief that Maverick had survived the crash and both him and Rooster the following chase back to the carrier, his second shot down, it all seemed hollow and meaningless. None of it brought joy anymore. 

Hangman felt guilty, he felt angry, and sad. And on top of that the realization, just as it had happened the first time, that he had taken the life of another person – another human – perhaps a guiltless one and for certain a life the same as those of his colleagues, like his, swept over him. The weight of it crashed into him full front, nearly taking him off his feet.

His breath grew heavy and labored, each intake harder than the last as a mechanical vice wrapped around his torso and squeezed him tighter and tighter. He couldn’t breathe and it made him dizzy.

Smoke from the wrecked F-14 drifted over the deck, the flight crew littered the space around the jet. Maverick and Rooster. He had to make sure they were actually alright. With shaky, unsteady legs Jake started to march, quickly transitioning into a jog toward the crowd,  weaving his way through the cheering figures until he stepped up to Rooster. 

With every step from his jet he’d gradually forced himself to appear calm and collected, even though the sweat trailed down his skin in heaps, it stung in his eyes and left a salty taste on his lips. By the time he stood in front of the brunette nothing but the slight flaring of his nostril indicated his troubled mind.

Jake was genuinely glad Maverick and Rooster appeared to be alright. The brunette, even with what had happened shortly before the mission with Ana, grinned at him. It was a grin that – for the short moment of it – made him forget the horrible guilt running through every cell of his body.

A relieved grin brightened atop his face as they looked at each other, Jake ultimately holding his hand out to him to shake. In congratulations. Rooster took the hand, shaking it.

“You shot yourself another kill.” 

Although well-meaning, the words left an aching pang in his chest, his grin momentarily dimming. 

Remember who you are. 

And so, with another grin, even brighter now and entirely Hangman, he answered “That makes two.”

While everyone else was still swapped up in the celebration of the successful mission, Jake had withdrawn inside. Somewhere quieter, somewhere he could be alone.

In his hand lay his phone now. All his thoughts had centered on Ana once more after he quelled the rising panic in him. Her contact opened on the dim screen in front of him, he had his thumb hovering over the call button.

For the last ten minutes, he’d been stuck in this position. Going between hovering over the icon and changing his mind. To call her or not to call her. What would he say if he did? 

Before he could pull through or back down Jake was startled. Rooster appeared along the hallway, coming towards him. He quickly put his phone down, locking the device, its screen turning black. Not fast enough.

“If you think she’d even answer you are mighty stupid.”

The words were clipped and strained. Nothing of the friendliness, the truce between them, was left. Rooster now eyed him with open animosity, arms crossed in front of his chest.

“The only reason I haven’t killed you for what you did to her was the mission. Regulations may keep me from doing anything right now but don’t think I won’t take the chance once we are off this damn ship.”

Gradually Rooster’s voice had become more furious and resentful. Not that Hangman could blame him for it.

“You had no right to say this to her. Who the hell do you think you are, to accuse her of something that doesn’t even concern you–”

The realization came over him like a wave. Of course, how didn’t he realize that Rooster must have known from the beginning? As close as the two of them were. 

“–Not like you are going to have anything to do with her after this mission. You like shooting people down, don’t you?”

Seething jealousy filled him at the thought that Rooster had known all along. “You done now? I get it. I was an asshole and I made a huge mistake. I was already regretting it before you had to rub it in.” 

Jealousy was an ugly thing, almost as rotting as his hurt had been at the funeral, he added as if it was entirely blasé “Why do you even care so much?”

“Because she is family. The Kazansky’s have been there for nearly my entire life. I’ll be damned if I let you hurt her even more.”

With every word, Rooster came closer to him. Dangerously close. Now they stood nose to nose, with the slightly taller brunette staring down at him murderously.

For a moment Jake wasn’t sure if Rooster would do something more, go against regulation, and beat him up here and there. Instead, Rooster walked past him, shoulder bumping harshly into his.

That night, long after the mission when they were already on their way back to home port, Jake was lying in his bunk.

The dim, blueish glow of his phone lit up the confined space. Opened was a chat window. An empty one.

A lengthy message was already typed out in the little box, the obnoxious arrow taunting him to send it off. Just as with the call button, his thumb hovered over the arrow.

It would take little effort for him to send the message off. His eyes jumped up to the name on top of the window. 

Ghost.

In the end he deleted the message.

[timextoxhajima]

Sonder: Part III

Parts: I II III IV V

member: enhypen heeseung! x oc! woo ki yeom [3rd person pov]

genre: coming of age, slice of life, angst, romance

w/c: 5.8k

warnings: topics on religion, distressed relationships, mental health (I want to leave an a/n here that I grew up with my maternal family being Buddhists so what I've written is based off what I researched online and the way her family practised Buddhism. I'm personally a free-tinker and this narrative is not in any way meant to offend nor support any particular religion.)

synopsis: after being kicked out of her home, Woo Ki Yeom is forced to live life on her own. struggling to find herself in the midst of her chaotic life, she meets lee heeseung, who, like her, can't give any more fucks to life than she does.

"n. the realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own."

By the time Sim Ji Yeon had realised what was happening, she knew deep down in her heart that it was too late. She was stuck with the dilemma of whether she should aggressively offer Ki Yeom support, or let her writhe in her own pain for a while, especially since she knew that Ki Yeom might take it the wrong way if she went with the first option.

Ki Yeom's pride and ego was fed to her since they were children. She had grown up in a stable home, both parents worked and so, they were better than the average household. She didn't have a difficult childhood that would've otherwise created a timid and inferior person.

Her confidence was further fed by the years in which she excelled in every single arts class she took. She had the perfect knack for it, always creating original pieces and never having trouble finding inspiration for her assignments.

Ji Yeon had always admired her eye for the arts, while she was stuck as the boring, better-looking-than-average girl who loved volleyball. She was well aware of the attention that dragged around with her wherever she went - boys would come to her matches just to see her and her teammates. She would get random love notes and gifts from people she didn't even know.

While Ki Yeom somewhat teased her and envied her for this 'small celebrity' life, Ji Yeon would've much preferred being talented in her own, safe bubble.

The hard part during the entire process of the falling out was the fact that Ji Yeon hadn't heard about Ki Yeom being kicked out of her home from her, but instead through friends who somehow knew people who had seen her looking for single-room apartments to rent.

Talk about a small world.

And talk about not sharing your worst nightmares with your best friend.

Ji Yeon remembers the day she felt Ki Yeom had given up on her friendship, and till this day, she doesn't know exactly why. Ji Yeon had decided to wait near the building that Ki Yeom used to stay with her parents. She's been over multiple times, so it wasn't hard to blend in with all the convenience and food stalls owners greeting her.

She figured that Ki Yeom probably still had to come back to pick up more things.

But hours turned into days and by the time she had waited three days, Ji Yeon realised that Ki Yeom had completely moved out for good. Then, she spots her mother leaving the apartment building.

She's hesitant at first, but it's the only way she will ever find out anything about Ki Yeom without needing to spam call her.

With tired eyes and a broken heart, her mother tells Ji Yeon that she hadn't seen her daughter since the day she ruined the altar.

"Ruined the altar?" Ji Yeon's lips part in startled surprise. "But..."

Her voice trails quiet when she realises she doesn't know what to say. She can't imagine what Ki Yeom is feeling, much less her parents.

"I don't suppose... you know where she is?"

The elder shakes her head gently. "You're the only person who has a shot at knowing where she's gone. So if you don't know, then I definitely wouldn't."

There's something harsh and direct in her voice, that almost makes Ji Yeon uneasy.

"Alright," She chooses not to pry. "I understand. I'm... so sorry this happened."

A chilly gush of wind runs between them.

Her mother parts her lips and inhales slightly, as if already finding the words to say - but she decides against it and swallows instead. "I have to go run my errands."

"Of course," Ji Yeon slightly bows and lets her on her way. She stays, long enough until Ki Yeom's mother disappears down the corner.

Ji Yeon wonders if she will ever visit their home again.

She will spend the next few weeks leaving Ki Yeom texts. Calls. Even resorting to E-mails and leaving her DMs on Instagram. She starts to think of herself that she's pathetic, but no, she can't think this way. Her best friend was just kicked out. She's probably lost and afraid. And honestly, she might not even be alive. What if something happened to her and nobody found her body?

But somehow, she finds comfort in knowing that she hasn't heard from her in months now. At least she's alive, and her body hasn't been thrown in a ditch somewhere and in the news, with the headline 'MURDERER ON THE LOOSE'.

And yet, everytime she tries to comfort herself to think this way, she can't help but think - why is she not speaking to me?

What have I done wrong?

Months turned into trimesters and trimesters turned into a scholarship offer to a university in another state. Ji Yeon decides that fate will bring her back to Ki Yeom when the time is right.

She leaves, and decides that she will only come back during her longer summer breaks.

And in the blink of an eye, she graduates next year.

But to Ji Yeon, this meant that it had been four years without Ki Yeom. How could Ki Yeom pretend that she didn't exist anymore? How could she move on with life, not accounting for what happened to her? Doesn't Ki Yeom know that she cares, especially with all the shit she's sent her?

Ji Yeon is not one to get angry easily, but Ki Yeom is the exception. Perhaps she hasn't tried hard enough.

She googles her name. She scrolls through the 'Ki Yeom's whom she know aren't her Ki Yeom.

Then, she stops when she notices the name under a tattoo parlour's search result. Ji Yeon hunts for the address on their website, and finds it.

Just about thirty minutes away from where Ki Yeom used to stay.

"Ki Yeom might look a little cold, but she promises her best. Top of sales 2022." Was written as her description. No photo though.

Ji Yeon picks up her phone and drops her some messages.

"She hasn't spoken to you in four years and you still want to go look for her?"

Ji Yeon is quiet. She knows how ridiculous it sounds from someone else's perspective. Ki Yeom clearly doesn't want to be found and reconnected, so why should she go out of her way to do it for her?

"Think about how we left off, don't you think it'd be terrible of me to not even... get some kind of closure?"

Sunghoon frowns at her, crossing his arms over his chest and slightly rolling his eyes. He's never liked this 'Ki Yeom' whom he's never met. By the time he had met Ji Yeon in university, he thought the falling out was through and finished. He knew that Ji Yeon had always wanted to find her and find closure, but he thinks otherwise.

"It would've been terrible if you didn't try to reach out but the thing is you did and you tried. I don't know why you think you haven't done enough."

"Well, maybe you think I've done enough, but it's not enough for her."

"Come on," He pushes his hair back and sits in a chair, back slouched and his elbows on his knees. "Love, I just- From my perspective, she sounds like she doesn't care about anybody else. If she had wanted to reconnect or find closure like you do, she would've responded by now. But it's been four years. We met, dated, fell in love and moved in together in these four years."

Ji Yeon sighs.

"Have you ever thought that she just... outgrew the friendship? Like, I don't know, maybe her getting kicked out of her home just escalated it. Like it was an event that forced the two of you apart and it was just... meant to be? It hurts to see you trying so hard and she doesn't reciprocate. I get that she's your childhood friend but that doesn't mean she would do and think the same way you do."

"I know what you mean," She's quiet as she turns and looks at him. "But I just... Maybe if I see her one last time. Just over a cup of coffee or something. She doesn't have to catch me up nor does she have to give in to my 'needs'. Maybe I just want to see that she's well and taking care of herself."

Sunghoon stands and walks over to where she's sitting at her desk, standing near enough so she can rest her head in his stomach.

The next day proved a challenge for Ji Yeon, a challenge she didn't even think she had to deal with. She had found the tattoo parlour as early as after lunch with Sunghoon, who reluctantly left her alone. Ji Yeon felt nothing less like a creep, spending the entire afternoon sitting at the coffee shop just a few doors down from the parlour.

The challenge was mustering up the courage to speak to Ki Yeom after four years. Why was she even finding this hard? They were best friends, weren't they? And as far as Ji Yeon knew, she didn't do anything wrong on her end. If anything, this was just a case of a fading friendship, not a messy falling out.

She thought, and thought, and panicked, and thought again, until the sun had set. There were more clients leaving than entering, she thought that this was her chance.

Now or never.

Her throat had gone dry when she stood at the door, fingers wrapped on the metal handle and ready to push herself in. Ki Yeom had shoulder-length brown hair, but with her black roots growing out on the crown of her head. She was sat in a roller chair, backfacing the front door, turned and talking to a guy with bright, bleached pink hair who was definitely a couple years older than her. And another girl, around the same age or even younger, with her hair cut so short, some might mistake her for the opposite gender.

Then again, Ji Yeon knows better than to bother about that.

"Hi. I'm looking for Ki Yeom, I saw somewhere that she worked here."

WHAT? She thinks to herself. She's literally standing infront of you, why would you ask that?

Ki Yeom takes a moment to stand and turn, like she already recognised her voice before she even saw Ji Yeon.

Oh, my God. It's like meeting an ex again.

Ji Yeon's heart drops when she can see how much Ki Yeom has grown in four years. She aches to know that she wasn't by her side, following her through the healing she probably needed.

"Who told you I worked here?" The words are cold, and sharp. Like her mother's. Ji Yeon starts to sweat, the warm gush of uneasiness sweeping through her when you feel unwell or about to faint.

Ji Yeon's mind is running at a thousand miles per hour. Say something!

"I... I googled you," Ji Yeon gulps. She can see the knowing scowls and squints from Ki Yeom's two acquaintances. They must think she's a bitch. "Took me a couple of minutes, but it wasn't that hard to find your name as a tattoo artist in this parlour."

Ki Yeom rubs the back of her neck, looking exasperated and at a loss of patience, like she were thinking 'I don't have the fucking time for this.'

She turns around and begins a mini discussion with her acquaintances, which Ji Yeon realises, if she's close enough to trust them in times like this, then Ki Yeom must consider them friends.

She has been replaced.

Ji Yeon isn't surprised. It was a sooner-or-later thing.

But why did it hurt the same?

She can hear the 's'-es and the whispering they're doing whilst turned back. She wonders if they know who she was, or if Ki Yeom has kept her an embarrassing secret and memory she doesn't want to relive.

There's a little scuffle. Someone swats someone on the arm, and someone knees the boy in his groin. Then the short haired girl drags him away, leaving Ki Yeom alone with her.

When Ki Yeom turns around, there's this fierceness and sternness in her eyes. Ji Yeon knew that she wouldn't be meeting the same person she became best friends with back then, but it hit her harder now that she's seeing this new-and-improved version of Ki Yeom.

Ji Yeon can see that she doesn't have much to say, so she starts first.

"I know you've been reading my texts," She says quickly, hoping to get some reaction out of her.

Nothing.

"I just wanted to know how you were doing. I don't know anything about you anymore and I just can't stand to know that... I no longer know anything about you and your life."

"I don't know why it matters that you don't know anything. My parents don't know anything. Nobody knows anything, but I'm fine and well."

Ji Yeon is stunned at how quickly she responded. It's almost like she had rehearsed for a moment like this. Has Ki Yeom just been waiting for Ji Yeon to show up, so she can tell her to fuck off?

"It matters because I care," She wishes that Ki Yeom can hear the sincerity in her voice. "It matters because you basically disappeared, and for the last couple of years, I've been stuck wondering what I've done wrong. And if it was my fault that the friendship has turned sour."

"It's not your fault, it's mine. For being an ass."

Ji Yeon didn't even realise she was holding her breath until Ki Yeom finishes her quick-witted reply. The words start to come out naturally.

"So at least tell me how you were being an ass. You have so much spine to be out here making a life for your own but you don't have a spine enough to tell me why I had to google you?"

"'Spine to be out here'?" Ki Yeom snaps her head and squints at her, clenching her jaw as she strings the words together. "Have you... forgotten why I was even made to be out here making a life for myself?"

Oh.

Ji Yeon didn't mean for it to come off that way. Ki Yeom must know she didn't mean it like that. Right? ...Right?

"I'm sorry. That wasn't what I meant."

In Ji Yeon's peripheral vision, a client pays at the cashier's. He awkwardly walks around them, arm wrapped in a protective foil as the light reflects off the surface.

She thinks carefully about what to say next. It feels like years before she can think of how to put it across.

"Look, I... I just want to know what happened. And... if after all the clearing up, you still hate me and our paths have just... diverged too far and too long ago, then... I will just have to make peace with it."

Ji Yeon pauses. She thinks about what Sunghoon said to her earlier today.

"But I can't just leave this... it's like abandoning my house without reason."

Her eyes are teary and she can feel the sour ball creeping up in her throat and her nose.

But Ki Yeom doesn't look like she gives a single fuck.

Ki Yeom's head falls in the gap between her arm and herself, nodding herself awake. She looks down at her sketchbook, instinctively rubbing her forehead to get any pencil markings off her skin.

She turns and looks at the clock. 2.23am.

Sighing and yawning at the same time, she looks around her apartment, spotting the unwashed pot from her instant-noodle supper sitting by the sink.

She recalls the encounter at the tattoo parlour earlier that evening, where Miss Little Perfect showed up and demanded for a redeeming coffee break tomorrow.

Ki Yeom rubs her eyes and yawns again, finally getting up from her desk and making her way over to wash the dishes.

Suddenly, life had so many offerings to provide her.

Picking up her phone, she slips on her slides and heads out the door, making a point to close it quietly. Then she turns and heads for the lift, in her peripheral vision, noticing that the nosy boy's door was slightly ajar.

She ignores it, turning for the lift and dragging her headphones over her head-

Then she hears the piano keys, and the singing.

Ki Yeom will admit that she didn't think that would stop her in her tracks, but it did.

She stays in the same spot for a few seconds, listening to the random piano keys, then him singing or humming a tune, then the piano keys again.

He's writing an original, she realises.

Well, if he can be nosy, so can I.

She finds herself at the door, peeking in through the gap.

He's sat, angled backwards against the door, with a portable keyboard infront of him and a notebook in his lap. She looks around, and spots his desk - which was a round dining table that he probably picked up from someone's garage sale - strewn with lecture notes.

Ki Yeom leans against the door frame, quietly studying the apartment that resembled hers while listening to the music-in-progress. Her eyes are mindless, until they finally return to him sitting at his piano.

Except, now he's staring at her, wide-eyed and surprised.

"How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough to tell that you gave up on studying," She pushes the door open and nods toward his dining table. "Sitting against an open door isn't very smart. I could've gone in and stolen something and you wouldn't have known."

"Well," He shrugs, picking up the notebook from his lap and tossing it on his dining table. He starts to gather the papers and binded notes. "Thank God it's you, then. I'd just have to worry about missing a washing machine token."

Ki Yeom rolls her eyes, but doesn't hide the little smile that curls up on her lips.

"Couldn't sleep?" He lifts the stack off the table, aligning them against the surface and placing them nicely in the centre.

She scratches the spot under her ear. "It's... a little more than 'couldn't sleep', I guess."

Heeseung turns to face her, arms reaching back to lean on the edge of the dining table. But it wobbles from how old it is, so he clears his throat and stands away from it instead.

"I'd invite you to come in and talk about it but I don't want to seem creepy," A pause. "Nor does it seem like I have adequate, functioning furniture to host a guest."

Ki Yeom chuckles, which is a surprise. Maybe it's just the 3am lack of discipline and awareness.

"I was going to go on a walk."

"At..." He picks up his phone. The screen lights up his face. "3am?"

"Why, scared of the dark?"

"No, I'm scared that I'd be murdered in an alley and thrown in a ditch."

"Yeah, because you live in a dangerous country," Ki Yeom pushes herself off the door frame, hoping that the sarcasm can be detected. "No obligations. If you prefer to sleep, then good night."

Heeseung shrugs, picking up his keys and phone and shoving them into his pockets.

"Can't say no to a 3am storytelling session though," With a cheeky smile on his lips, he walks to the door. Ki Yeom moves to let him close the door, only now realising how tall he was.

Maybe Jun Yeol was just short.

"Who said anything about a 3am storytelling session?" She says as-a-matter-of-factly. As he locks the door, she heads to press the lift button.

"Well, I'm just a nosy stranger. And you walked right up to my door, striking up a conversation with me. Besides, who am I gonna tell about your dramatic life story?"

The boy pulls his key out of the door and turns around, tilting his head at her. His eyes are tired, the kinds that sleep but not quality. The kinds that try their best, but it's never enough.

Perfectionist eyes.

Ki Yeom knows because those were hers too.

"So why are you up at 3am?" She quietly asks.

"Hm," He hums in thought, eyes looking up at the panel displaying the floors the lift was climbing. "Somewhere between existential crisis and can't sleep. If that makes any sense."

"'Existential crisis', huh?"

There's a silence that envelops the both of them as the lift reaches. She doesn't even know his name but she can tell what type of person he is - or at least, she can guess. She conjures the thought, 'What if he's a serial killer luring her in so he can murder her in the middle of the night?'

Nah, Mr Hsien has seen his face. If he were a serial killer, he wasn't a very smart one.

"I'm Heeseung, by the way," He turns to her in the lift, awkwardly raising a palm to her. "I just realised I know your name but you don't know mine."

Ki Yeom gingerly takes his hand, giving him a firm shake as she does some of her clients. "Nice to know."

"So, what do you do? I mean, you don't seem like you go to university."

"I'm a tattoo artist."

"Oh, shit. No kidding?" Heeseung looks pleasantly taken aback. "Would love to get one one day. Where? Is the parlour nearby?"

"Just about a twenty minute bus ride into town," The doors open into the lobby, the security guard at the counter exchanging glances with them.

"Town? You're a fancy tattoo artist. What, do you like top sales or something?" He giggles as they walk out the building. The cool, crisp breeze kisses her skin and she instantly hugs herself. Ki Yeom remains quiet to his question, merely shrugging her shoulders.

"No," He turns to her and folds his arms across his chest, hugging his arm pits. "That's crazy! Are you really? You're like some super talented tattoo artist, and I'm just some... stupid student that can't beat the curve in school."

"What do you study in university?"

"Performing Arts - But the thing they don't tell you is that half the things you study is theory, which don't work that well with me."

"I heard you just now, with the piano and the singing. You sound good, is it an original? For a project or something?"

They stop at a traffic light. Opposite the building was a park. The crickets were chirping, the street lamps were sizzling and there wasn't a single soul in sight. Some cars driving down the main road, but it had been awhile since Ki Yeom had found the motivation to leave home for something that wasn't work.

"Uh- Yeah? I guess? It's more of just a 'me' thing. But, I also tutor kids. Piano lessons. So they help me sort of... sort it out in my head. Makes it abit easier to teach when I'm figuring out the notes and bars myself."

"Interesting," Ki Yeom nods. The traffic light turns to the green man. She smiles when she realises they didn't even need to wait for that, since it was so empty.

"Why?" Heeseung shoves his hands into his pockets, smile mimicking hers. "Realised we didn't have to wait?"

"Yeah. It's so empty."

"We're law-abiding citizens, what do I say?"

They enter the park, the scent of grass and trees filling their noses. Ki Yeom can see the birds scattered about in the grass, slowly walking or standing almost completely still. The leaves were gently rustling in the breeze. Empty cups, food wrappers, tissues, strewn here and there and on benches.

"By the way, I was joking about the storytelling. You don't have to share if you're uncomfortable. It's just... nice to talk to someone that's not from school."

Ki Yeom walks quietly, sitting in her thoughts. He must've understood her silence, for he goes quiet as well, matching her pace and looking around like he hadn't already been to this park a couple of times.

She considers the day's events. First, being told she had an opportunity to leave everything she had here, to go be part of an art organisation. Then, being told she had topped this months' sale (again), followed by Ji Yeon showing up at the parlour. It had been four years since she had seen her.

Suddenly, she's tired. Her lids are heavy and her heart is torn into shreds. Maybe it wasn't that great of an idea to go for a walk with a stranger at 3am.

"It was a long day. Alot of things happened," Ki Yeom starts, unsure how to continue. She didn't want to seem like she was trauma dumping or asking him for advice when he barely knew her.

"Oh," There's a hint of sadness in his voice as he can hear the reluctance to share. "I understand. It's alright. You don't have to divulge anything. We can walk the whole park in silence. Or if you want to go back, that's totally fine with me too-"

"No, it's okay," Ki Yeom shakes her head and rubs her palm down her eyes and the rest of her face. "I just..."

She strings the thoughts together, holding her breath as she does.

"I was offered... a thing. My boss told me that she had an opportunity to send someone overseas. To be part of a touring art organisation."

She looks up at Heeseung, watching his face for any reaction. As opposed to before, he suddenly had this slightly heavy look on his face, as if he instantly knew what it meant to have such a grand offer... in such a faraway place.

"That... That is something," He nods as he acknowledges it. "I assume there's a 'but'?"

Ki Yeom rubs the back of her neck and turns away from him.

"I mean, it's not easy for anybody to leave anywhere, honestly. Even if they had nothing else left, it still wouldn't be easy."

"You sound like you know this experience yourself."

Heeseung turns and looks at her intently, his tired eyes getting even more tired.

"I'm the total opposite, actually. I had... everything. Like I had a nice home, my family is intact unlike alot of my friends. Supportive environment. But... when I left to find... a purpose, I felt lost. It was my decision, yes, but... it's hard to leave somewhere you're comfortable in."

"You left home to find 'purpose'?" Ki Yeom stifles a little chuckle.

"Well, yeah," Heeseung grins, knowing how stupid it sounded out loud. "I wanted to find out what life was about, you know? I didn't want to stay sheltered. I wanted to meet crazy people and do crazy things and see where the wind blows me."

"That doesn't sound like the life a university student should be living. Just being a student on it's own already takes away the freedom to do that."

"I know, I know," He rolls his eyes half-exasperatedly. "I realised."

They both go quiet again. Ki Yeom is pleasantly surprised at how easy he seems. She wonders if she's being nice and vulnerable because it's 3am.

Yeah, probably.

"So what's keeping you here?"

Ki Yeom smiles, but it's weak and sad and depressing. "What isn't?" She turns and looks at him, then turns back to look straight.

"I grew up a devoted Buddhist and my family practised it to the T. Then, about six years ago, my father lost his job and we were broke for a few years. In those two years, we scrimped and saved. My grandfather had tried to help, but my parents... believe it or not, didn't accept it. Out of filial piety. It's one of the most valued principles in Buddhism. I came home one day, tired and exhausted from work, and my room was literally sold out. The furniture, the lamp, the damn bed."

She pauses. The memories come back in quick flashes in her head.

"I ruined the altar. Shoved everything off. My mother kicked me out. And I had so few things left that it took me an hour to get everything I needed out of the apartment. I walked aimlessly for hours, just wishing that a car would run me down and I'd never have to open my eyes again. I somehow fell asleep just a few shops down the tattoo parlour, and I don't know what it is that the owner of the parlour saw in me, but she waited until I woke up, gave me a pad and pencil and told me to draw. I don't know how she knew that I loved art. But I was at a loss and honestly, I had nothing better to do. So, I drew."

A pause.

The grains of rock and sand crunch under their feet as they stroll under a lamp.

"And she hired you."

"And told me that this apartment building had rooms for rent and that she'd pay for the first few months until I could sustain myself."

"What a lad," Heeseung nods. "What did you draw? That made her hire you?"

Ki Yeom stops in her tracks. Heeseung hears the crunching stop behind him, so he stops too and turns to look at her.

"I... I drew my room. Down to every single detail. Before it was sold and ruined."

Now, her voice is quiet, low, and raspy. The type that comes from someone who is about to cry. Heeseung can see that Ki Yeom is fighting all the urges in her throat and nose not to stifle a sob, because her eyes were already welling with tears.

But she blinks, and breathes through her mouth so he wouldn't have to hear the sniffling. Then all that resolution to keep it under wraps crumbles under the weight of letting it out for the first time, directly telling someone the whole truth without them having to probe and ask for them to fit the pieces together.

Ki Yeom squats and buries her eyes in the heart of her palms, her lips finally contorting into a quivering, shivering slobber as her tears and mucus start to run down her philtrum. She's feeling light-headed, but her chest heavy, from all the feelings that were bottled up and never once poured out.

A warm, gentle hand lands on her shoulder, a shadow casting over her as he stands in a spot to block the lamp from shining all over her.

Ki Yeom doesn't have a clue how long she was in that position, because it felt like forever. The tears were relentless - caught up for four years, and she hasn't even told him everything that happened that day. Would she cry even more?

One way to find out.

She lifts her head, hair messily stuck to her face because of the tears, and coughs, "You know... My best friend..." She chokes and hiccups in between the words as he looks down at her, tired eyes trying to show sympathy.

"She's just so fucking perfect, and I... I hate her for it.... She lived a perfect life, you know? Popular, smart, pretty... happy. Her family was so fucking... textbook. Sometimes I wondered if she was friends with me to... make herself feel better. I hated how much she tried to compensate for... something that wasn't even her fault. I hated that she started paying for me... or started defending me and protecting me in front of others just so they didn't think I was a loser."

She sighs and wipes her philtrum with her fingers, the glistening music on her nails and fingerpads as she wipes them off on her pants.

"I saw her for the first time today... In four years... asking me for a cup of coffee so we could talk about what happened... But I have nothing to say. What do I even say?"

"You can say what you just told me."

Ki Yeom looks up at him, wandering eyes unsure of what he means.

Then he squats, meeting her at eye level and awkwardly trying to pick her hair out of her face without it seeming like he was flirting with her.

"I think it's valid that you felt the way you did. I mean, all that that you went through? Not everybody knows how it feels. I'm sure she meant well, but I'm also positive that you would've felt the same way about anybody who tried to do those things. So, it was nothing personal."

He folds his arms over each other and wraps them on his knees.

"If it makes you feel better, I'd be annoyed too. If I had a perfect specimen of a person trying to make me feel better. Who wouldn't? It's like salt rubbing salt in a wound."

Ki Yeom gulps the phlegm and musuc away, rubbing her eyes.

"I think... you should go get that cup of coffee and push through it. It's the only way to resolve this."

"But I spent four years running, and I didn't hate it," She wipes the tears dripping off her jawline and stares at the rocks under his slides.

"Clearly, the more you run, the more she's gonna run after you and I'm sure you don't want to deal with her ten years from now again?"

Ki Yeom looks up and into his eyes now, his fringe slightly covering them.

"Here's the important question: Do you think you've been living life fine without her?"

Her eyes drift off to look at the bush on the grass.

"If the answer is 'no', then it's your chance to redeem yourself and mend things with her. But if the answer is 'yes', then sometimes a chapter just... ends. Without you knowing. Things happen. Just because it happened doesn't mean it's your fault."

She looks back at him, swollen eyes slightly drier, but eyelids heavier.

Heeseung is quiet now. He's said his piece, and has nothing else left to share.

"Come on," He whispers, just loud enough for her to hear as he gently grabs her arm. "Let's get you back home and to bed."

Ki Yeom weakly stands, knees trembling from squatting too long. He has a palm on her arm the entire walk home, in silence. The security guard almost looks concerned - he hasn't ever seen this resident cry.

The lift doors open with a ding, but before Heeseung can walk her rightways to her door, she pauses and looks at him.

"Do you think... do you think you can stay with me tonight?" She blinks her tired eyes, not even looking at him. "Not in the same bed, just... with me."

Heeseung blinks, slightly taken aback with the request. His lips are parted in a bid to protest and say that it would be inappropriate, considering that she was just tired and in a vulnerable state and it could've been easily misunderstood the following morning- but she puts a stop to it, for she quite literally mutters the words:

"I've been alone for so long, sometimes I wonder if I would be happier if I wasn't awake."

PART IV

[101flavoursofweird]

Define ‘Mom Friend’

Description: “Luz, what’s a ‘Mom Friend’?” “A mom friend…? That’s someone strong, smart and kind who looks out for the rest of their friend group— like a mom!” Luz pointed at her. “Someone like YOU, Willow!” Willow blinked. “Me…?” - Willow questions whether she’s the ‘mom friend’ of the group.

-

Spoilers: Spoilers up to the ending of Season 2. No major spoilers for Season 3: Thanks to Them, except for the opening, maybe.

Set: After the ending of Season 2, during the ‘montage’ we see at the start of Season 3, when Luz and the gang are living in the Human Realm.

Warnings: Willow’s turn for angst. She misses her dads and makes references to being bullied in the past. She muses over what it means to be a ‘mother’. Also contains angst from Amity and Hunter, with reference to each’s awful parental figures.

“Luz, what’s a ‘Mom Friend’?”

Willow hated to badger Luz with such a pointless question, especially when Luz had just gotten home from school and she was probably saddled with homework… on top of figuring out how to reconstruct the portal door… but Willow was curious.

Earlier that day, she and Gus had watched a T.V. show— a ‘sitcom’— about a teenage girl who led a double life as a famous singer. (Gus’s choice!)

After an incident where her secret identity was nearly revealed to the world— had it not been for the efforts of her best friend— the girl had jokingly referred to her friend as her ‘Mom Friend’.

The invisible, omnipotent sitcom audience had laughed hysterically, as if there was something humorous about the best friend’s care and loyalty for the protagonist.

Willow hadn’t laughed and neither had Gus, much to her relief. They had just exchanged a glance, a shrug and an, “Eh…”

“Human thing?” Gus had muttered, before switching over to a documentary about wild animals.

That term— ‘Mom Friend’— had stuck in Willow’s mind all day.

What did it mean? A friend who was a mom? A friend of a mom? A friend who was like a mom?

How could the English language be so specific and so obscure at the same time?

Gus— former president of the H.A.S.— hadn’t seemed bothered by the phrase, so maybe it wasn’t that big of a deal.

Then again, Gus had thought the colourful puzzle-cube was a weapon before arriving in the Human Realm...

Sometimes, one needed to seek out knowledge in order to become wiser.

Willow had poured through all of the books, magazines and newspapers in the house, but she hadn’t found a definition. She would have looked it up on Luz’s laptop, but she couldn’t recall the password and she didn’t want to risk locking it forever. (The computer was a fickle contraption!)

Vee, their unofficial guide to human technology, was out with friends.

So, Willow had no choice but to ask Luz when she got home with Camila.

Willow waited until Camila had greeted everyone, hung up her car keys, and headed upstairs.

It wasn’t that Willow felt embarrassed in front of Camila… Okay, maybe it was a little embarrassing. Camila was a mom. The subject of Willow’s dilemma.

As tired as Luz looked, she didn’t roll her eyes at Willow’s trivial query, or reply in a patronising manner.

Luz smiled as Willow took her backpack from her.

“A mom friend…?” Luz said. “That’s someone strong, smart and kind who looks out for the rest of their friend group— like a mom.”

“Like your mom,” Willow said, hanging the backpack on a hook by the front door.

Before Camila, Willow hadn’t felt the absence of a mother in her life. Her dads were so loving, nurturing and strong that it had never even crossed Willow’s mind.

Papa could he worrywart, but he was the wisest, toughest worrywart in the Boiling Isles.

He’d started out at Glandus High and, like a lot of kids there,  he’d faced his fair share of bullies.

Willow had to beg him not to storm over to the Blights’ house that day, years ago, when Amity had rebuffed her for being too ‘weak’.

From then on, Willow had downplayed how much Amity’s friends were bullying her. Willow hadn’t even complained when she was put in the same abomination classes as Amity.

Still, Papa had noticed a change in her; Willow had spent so much time alone in their garden, she hadn’t liked practicing magic in front of others, and she hadn’t laughed as much as she used to.

Papa had started giving her daily pep talks: ‘You can do it, Willow! I know the abomination track is difficult, but you’ll get there. It doesn’t matter if your grades aren’t perfect— as long as you try your best, that’s all that matters. We love you!”

Back when Wilow was constantly tripping over her own feet, Papa was always there to patch her up with band-aids… and Dad, if he needed any.

It seemed Willow had inherited her former clumsiness from Dad. Dad insisted on wearing slippersaround the house, so he was prone to falling over, and the number of times he had spilled his tea…!

Dad never failed to make Willow smile, even on her worst days. He celebrated Willow’s smallest achievements like she’d won the Flyer Derby Isles Championships.

With his construction magic, he would make her little trophies and flower models. He’d helped Willow build a tree house when she was ten.

Dad cooled Papa’s temper and he’d taught him the breathing trick, which they had passed on to Willow.

Together, her parents made the perfect pair.

So what if they weren’t filthy rich? (Dad’s family were still paying off bills from St. Epiderm…) So what if they hadn’t pushed Willow as hard as Amity’s parents had pushed Amity?

The one time Willow’s parents had pushed her was when they enrolled her into the abomination track… but that was because they were worried about Willow’s future opportunities, and they’d both had a bad experience with the head witch of the Plant Coven.

What’s more, Willow hadn’t admitted how unhappy she was to them.

Since she had switched to the plant track, however, they had been completely enthusiastic and supportive of her studies. (After Willow had promised them she would never work for Terra Snapdragon!)

Both of them had planned to quit their jobs to homeschool her when she got expelled! Willow’s dads had been prepared to forget everything they knew about abomination and construction magic— while they still had their sigils— just to teach her plant magic.

That would have involved a lot of book work. (Papa had stayed up all night reading about the lifecycle of a common swamp toad!)

Her parents had made some mistakes, but Willow had never felt disadvantaged by not having a mother. Thorns— imagine if she’d ended up with mom like Odalia Blight!

Even Camila wasn’t perfect. Hadn’t she made a mistake similar to Willow’s dads, by trying to send Luz to Summer Camp?

All Camila had wanted was for Luz to put down her ‘fantasy books’ long enough to make some real friends…

But then, Luz had returned with four new friends from a fantasy world.

Camila hadn’t dismissed them, as Amity’s mother would have done. She had taken them all in— after already taking in Vee— and let them stay under her roof for months and months.

Camila had completely rearranged the house to give them their own bedrooms. She had brought them ‘Demon-esque’ food and new clothes. She had taught them how to cook, how to speak Spanish, and how to use the bus.

When Luz had revealed she was Bi and in a relationship with Amity— via ‘Point-power’ presentation— Camila had embraced them both. From then on, Camila had started wearing a rainbow heart badge, which made Luz cry with happiness.

There was that time Gus had woken up yelling after a nightmare… Willow had bolted down to the basement to find Camila already there, comforting Gus with Hunter.

Camila had shown Amity how to make tea, helped Hunter with his sewing, and she’d let Willow spruce up the garden— despite the shock Willow’s plants had initially given her.

No, Camila wasn’t perfect, like Odalia Blight claimed to be, but she was trying. Willow hoped Camila would keep in touch— maybe even visit, or vice-versa— when they all returned to the Demon Realm.

There would definitely be a Camila-shaped hole in Willow’s heart when they left.

Luz hummed loudly. “And someone else I know.…”

”Eda,”  Willow exclaimed. “Of course!”

Eda had adopted King (Willow had watched it live!) and she had practically adopted Luz too, giving her a home at the Owl House.

“Well, yeah…” Luz’s face fell and her shoulders slumped. “But Eda… She’s…”

Gone? Willow knew Luz was thinking it.

Willow often had the same fears about her dads.

She almost wished she hadn’t mentioned Eda’s name, but, as much as it hurt, they couldn’t act like Eda, Willow’s dads, King and everyone else back in the Demon Realm had never existed. That would be worse than if there were gone.

Hoping to lighten the mood, Willow wiggled her fingers at Luz. “Untraditional?”

As motherly as Eda could be, she was not your traditional mother.

Eda was the Owl Lady— criminal, social outcast, cursed...

Since she had fully accepted her curse, though, Eda could turn into a harpy! With wings! (Willow’s dads wouldn’t even cover themselves with stone or abomination goop like Head Witch Darius…)

Eda revelled in her notoriety. For years, her face had been plastered on ‘Wanted’ posters all around the Boiling Isles. She’d done time in jail, which she was proud of. Enemies and exes fell at her feet!

Eda had taken a strong anti-authority, anti-coven, and anti-academy stance, until she’d helped Luz enrol at Hexside.

When it involved her kids, Eda became a protective mama owl:

Seeking revenge on Tibbles after he shrunk Willow and Co at the carnival…

Chaperoning them to Grom…

The look on Eda’s face when Willow told her Lilith had captured Luz…

Eda saving Luz, when her curse was at its worst…

Assisting Gus (or ‘Goops’, as Eda fondly called him) with his homework assignments…

And arranging a spell to fix Willow’s enflamed mind.

“R-right,” Luz agreed, smiling wistfully. She pointed back at Willow. “But I was actually talking about you! Willow Park!”

Willow blinked. “ Me…?”

-

Willow knew Luz had meant it as a compliment…

Luz had gone on to explain that Willow was still one of the strongest witches she knew— Definitely the best plant magic pro!— but, more importantly, Willow used her strength to protect others, and used her smarts to keep them all out of trouble.

…But there was still a seed of doubt in Willow’s mind.

“Am I really… like a mom?” Willow wondered, clutching Clover as she sat on the end of her bed. “I’ve never even had a mom…”

Buzzing softly, Clover brushed her head against Willow’s cheek. Willow chuckled.

“Maybe to you, but you’re my palisman. It’s my duty to take care of you…”

Willow glanced over at Amity, Vee and Luzs’ beds.

Did her friends all find her motherly?

Strength, wisdom and a tender-heart weren’t bad traits and they weren’t inherently maternal…

But what if everyone thought Willow was too prudent ? Too… bossy?

Maybe the power of being Flyer Derby captain really had gone to her head!

It was no good bottling all of her worries up. She had to check— starting with Gus!

-

“Do you think I act like a mom?”

Gus, so engaged with stacking jenga blocks on the basement rug, didn’t seem to hear her. “Sure…”

Willow huffed. “ Gus!”

He gasped and shielded the jenga tower as if Willow’s exclamation could blow it over. “What?” he said, finally looking at her properly.

Slowly, Willow repeated, “Do… I act… like a mom to you?”

Gus raised an eyebrow. “You’re still worried about that—?”

“Answer the question, Augustus!”

“I don’t know!” Gus shrugged— lightly so he wouldn’t touch the jenga tower. “Maybe— sometimes?” He squinted at her and curled his lip. “You don’t always approve of my foolproof plans…”

Like when he’d tried to use a human ‘spork’ to comb his hair and it got stuck? Or that time he’d snuck Luz into Hexside while she was still banned— culminating with them both getting thrown in detention? Or when he’d accidentally sent a gang of angry pixies after Willow?

And may they not forget the ‘bubble wrap forcefield’ incident! (Thanks to Gus, they had all been tearing bubble wrap off the Nocedas’ house for a week…)

Willow scoffed, but she didn’t provide him with a sarcastic comment. That would only prove Gus’s point that she was disapproving.

“I helped you with some of those plans!”Willow pointed out.

“When?” Gus challenged.

“When we— we had the Moonlight Conjuring! Aaaand— we rode on the Scaris Wheel, took on the Bat Queen, faced off against the Banshees— which you were sidelined for, Gus!” (Willow didn’t remind him that she had also been on the fence about playing until Amity came along.)

“Those were all my ideas,” Gus taunted her, “and Luz’s! You were just going along with us—“

“No, I wasn’t! Not always!” Willow jabbed her thumb against her chest. “It was my idea for Luz to ‘borrow’ the Healing Hat— Which was dumb!— but I… I stood up for Eda when she was about to get petrified! I set up the Flyer Derby Team! I brought Hunter onto our team! And I…”

Willow trailed off, breathless. Gus was smiling at her like a cat who had gotten a bowl of cream.

“Those are some devious plans,” Gus agreed. “A mom wouldn’t approve at all…”

Willow smiled at him. “Thanks.”

“What do I know?” Gus sighed. “I never even met my mom…” Pulling his legs up, he tucked his chin on top of his knees. “It’s always just been me and my dad… but there’s this girl who watches out for me at school. She helps me stay calm and makes me laugh, kind of like a big sister—“

”Awww, Gus!”

Willow lifted him off the floor and twirled him around. Gus laughed with her… until his foot hit the jenga tower and sent the blocks flying.

“NOOOOOOO—!”

-

After her conversation with Gus, Willow felt confident enough to approach Amity. She found Amity with Ghost in the clubhouse.

It appeared Amity had been reading some books, but she had put them aside to play ‘chase the string’ with her cat palisman.

When Willow came in, Amity immediately gave her her full attention (much to Ghost’s indignation). “Hey, Willow!”

“Hey… Um, can I get your opinion on something?”

“Of course…”

Willow fell back onto the purple beanbag. Amity sat in the pink armchair, leaning forward.

Willow rubbed the back of her neck. “Am I… motherly? ”

“Motherly?” Amity reared back with surprise. Clearly, she hadn’t expected Willow to ask that. “No, I don’t think so— unless…”

A frown spread across Amity’s face, like Willow had just given her a tough quiz question. Amity’s eyes traced over Willow’s head.

Sheepishly, Willow gripped the end of her braids. (Was there something mom-like about Willow’s hairstyle?)

“Do you want to be seen as motherly?” Amity exclaimed. “Because if you do, I can definitely see it! You’re kind and brave and you protect everyone around you. You give people great advice when they need it! You’re not afraid to pry into other people’s business, with good reason… And you’re so… so forgiving…”

Amity let out a long breath. She clenched her right fist against the base of her neck. “That’s how a mother should be,” she muttered. Ghost mewled and rubbed herself against Amity’s legs.

Willow stood up, reached out and took Amity’s hand. “Thanks, Amee… I wasn’t trying to test you— I swear. I just wanted to see what you thought…” Willow chuckled. “Gus said I’m like a big sister!”

“You do remind me of… Em,” Amity admitted. “Maybe it’s the… the braids…” Amity’s voice trembled. She squeezed her eyes shut. 

Willow enveloped her in a hug— for the first time since they had reconnected.

“I’m here,” Willow promised, “if you ever want to talk.”

-

“I… wouldn’t know,” was Hunter’s faint, faltering reply. “I never had a mother— or a parental figure, really.”

He turned his head away from Willow, gazing across the Nocedas’ front garden. The two of them were perched on the steps outside the front door.

It was dark out now, with a chilly bite to the air. Willow felt Hunter shivering a little.

“I’m sorry,” Willow whispered, pressing her shoulder against his.

She hadn’t intended to mention it to Hunter, but he’d overheard her talking to Gus, and later, he had asked if she was okay.

Out of all her friends, Willow was the only one with two caring, wonderful parents who lived in the same world.

They would never dream of hurting her. (Even when she was grounded, Papa had let her sneak out, and Dad had pretended not to notice when she got back late!)

Willow should consider herself lucky. Why was she fussing over something as frivolous this? Who cared if she was a ‘mom friend’…?

“You don’t need to apologise,” Hunter intoned.

Willow shrugged. “That’s what you say when someone’s hurting.” The invitation was there if he wanted to open up…

Hunter almost took it. “I… I’m not…” He stopped with a sigh. Hunching over, he crossed his arms.

Willow frowned. She wanted to offer him some consolation— “It doesn’t matter that Belos was your uncle. You’ve got us now!”— but it did matter.

Willow doubted Belos had personally raised Hunter— He’d probably ordered a Coven Scout to babysit!— but Belos seemed to be the only living relative Hunter had left.

What was Hunter’s childhood like, if he’d even been allowed to have one?

Had he spent his days cooped up in Belos’s castle? How had he passed the time, aside from studying? Did he have any friends? He hadn’t even known how to react when Willow and Gus gave him a hug!

Hunter was still a child… but Belos had made him the youngest Golden Guard in history. When exactly had Hunter started his training?

Life in the Emperor’s Coven sounded brutal— They only got one day off every year!— and extremely lonely.

Sure, the coven members could use multiple types of magic, but they still had to abandon their families and give up their palismen if they had them.

Willow couldn’t stand the thought of losing her dads and Clover…

Even Amity, for as much as she fought against her family, might have struggled in the Emperor’s Coven.

Hunter had also mentioned missions, duels and deadly trials… Was that where all of his scars had come from?

Unlikely, Willow thought darkly.

According to Gus, Hunter had a full on panic attack when he found out Belos was looking for him at Hexside, and Hunter had frozen when he saw an illusion of Belos.

Willow had seen this for herself when they confronted Belos at the Titan’s head. Hunter was terrified of Belos. And who could blame him, when Belos had transformed into… that?

At the very least, Hunter had refused to accept any more of Belos’s lies.

How many times had Belos lied to Hunter? Belittled Hunter? Purposely laid a hand on Hunter?

Kikimora— That slimy little toadstool!— had sneered that Belos would snap Hunter in two when she handed him over! (For Hunter, Willow had unleashed the full might of her power on Kikimora’s Abomatron.)

Willow squeezed Hunter’s shoulder.

She wondered… If she had been in Hunter’s place, if Belos had been her uncle, how long would she have lasted?

The Old Willow would submit and suffer in silence. Eventually, she would break.

The New (Real) Willow would stand up to Belos. She would fight back.

Belos was lucky the Collector had obliterated him before Willow had her chance.

Willow would have shoved a thorny tree down Belos’s throat. She would have torn him apart from inside out— tenfold for  every time he had harmed Hunter, the rest of her friends, her dads, the palismen, the Boiling Isles as a whole... and Willow herself—

Willow’s dreams of revenge were interrupted when Hunter murmured, “I have no idea if you’re like… a mother, but I know for a fact that you’re an incredible leader. Our cool, fearless captain—“

He paused as Willow laid her head on his shoulder. She was close enough to feel the pulse in his neck. He was alive and he was here, with her.

“Thanks…”

-

“De nada,” Vee said breezily as she typed the password in to Luz’s laptop, so gentle even with her claws. She passed the laptop to Willow. “Is there something you want to look up?”

Willow shook her head. She reached for the camera and the connector wire Camila had given her. “I just want to add some photos—“

“I can help you with that too!”

It took Vee a second to hook the camera and the wire up to the laptop. Willow’s eyes widened as the latest photos she had taken appeared onscreen.

“Awesome! Thanks again, Vee.” Willow sighed. “We’d really be lost without you…”

Though she said ‘we’, it felt more like just Willow…

Luz had matured so much from when Willow had first met her.

Gus was like a sponge, absorbing everything there was to know about the Human Realm.

Last week, Amity had studied a recipe book and baked an apple pie— which was actually edible!

Hunter had improved in leaps and bounds since he’d arrived here…

Willow had taken up photography and gardening, but other than that, she was still getting to grips with human life. (Apparently, the neighbours hadn’t appreciated Willow’s monstrous plants in the front garden!)

But that was okay, wasn’t it? Willow was only fifteen. She’d been thrown into this entirely new world. Yes, they had Camila, but she could never replace Dad and Papa…

“Don’t worry!” Vee wrapped her arm around Willow’s shoulder. “I’ll always be here to guide you… i-if you need me?”

Willow hugged her in return. “Of course!”

Who would have imagined a basalisk could be so motherly?

When they got home, Willow was going to raid every last library in the Boiling Isles and rewrite the history books.

[chaosandcrimson]

no way is that ESPERANZA RIVERA UMBRA.. they're a 34-year-old HUMAN notoriously known for being QUIET & LETHAL but there are some people who have seen them being STEALTHY & SERENE. if you ask me, they remind me a lot of sneaking up on someone without making a sound, an improbable amount of knives hidden on your person, and looking like an entirely different person out of your work gear, but that could just be because they're considered the MAFIA PRINCESS SILENT ANTAGONIST around town. just keep an eye on them & see if their true colors shine through..

I was tame, I was gentle, 'til the circus life made me mean "Don't you worry, folks, we took out all her teeth" Who's afraid of little old me? Well, you should be

OVERVIEW

Name: Esperanza Jacinta Rivera / Umbra

Nickname(s): Essie

DOB: February 4, 2090

Age: 34

FC: Eiza González

Height: 5'8"

Pronouns: She/Her / They/Them

Sexuality: Bisexual

Occupation: Owner of The Floral Dilemma / Enforcer and Assassin for the Skyport Mafia / Personal Bodyguard to the Underboss

Relationship Status: In a relationship with Mercury Midwinter

[+] charming, serene, stealthy [–] bashful, quiet, lethal

BIOGRAPHY

tw: death

Esperanza, affectionately nicknamed Essie, was born into a middle district family. For the first five years of her life, her existence was pretty uneventful; her parents worked regular nine to five jobs, and when they weren't doing things as a family, she spent most of her time trailing after her big brother Nicolas.

Their parents were killed when Essie was 5 years old and Nicolas was 8 years old. There was no rhyme or reason to it—they were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. The siblings were put into the foster care system and placed in a home that might not have been that bad if it wasn't so overcrowded.

They stuck it out for a bit, but eventually decided to take their chances out on the streets. Over time, they ended up gathering a small group of fellow street urchins who all managed to survive by looking out for each other.

Essie was 12 years old when Nicolas joined the Skyport Mafia and their station in life drastically improved. She wanted to attend school, but after years of living out on the streets, she was severely behind. Connie arranged for her to be home schooled and tutored until she caught up enough to attend high school.

In exchange, Essie began secretly training under Connie as an assassin. She saw and admired how seamlessly the older woman moved between her civilian lawyer persona and her mafia assassin persona, and how the two almost felt like entirely separate people, and decided to emulate it. But she took it a step further.

When she started working as an assassin, she took the name Umbra and chose gear that completely conceals her identity. Her clothes hide her figure, her mask obscures her face, and it even provides voice modulation—although she does not speak much in general, and prefers to sign when communicating.

Her identity is kept secret from almost everyone including her fellow mafia soldiers. Even her gender is unknown, and she purposefully uses they/them pronouns when in her Umbra persona to keep it that way.

Meanwhile, in her civilian identity as Essie, she attended college and business school before opening a flower shop in the middle district. The Floral Dilemma is a neutral business with no mafia ties and no illegal activity.

When she was 27 years old, her and Nicolas orchestrated a coup to take out the underboss. He was getting old, hadn't gotten onboard with Reina's vision for the mafia, and had a history of giving increasingly irrational orders. The operation was a success, and her brother became the new underboss with Connie's endorsement, whom may or may not have been involved all along.

As a result, Essie went from being relatively unknown to having a public persona as the little sister of the underboss—the mafia princess who is purposefully kept away from the business. Similarly, Umbra went from being an assassin to being the infamously masked personal bodyguard of the underboss.

It was Essie's increased visibility that prompted her brother to place a mafia soldier at her flower shop as an employee. It was mostly for appearances—Umbra could obviously look out for herself, but Essie wasn't supposed to be able to. She picked Mercury, who also became the underboss's personal driver.

It didn't take long for working together at the flower shop to turn into Essie and Mercury low-key flirting with each other all the time. On the other hand, working together under Nicolas became Umbra and Mercury being mildly antagonistic (weapons were drawn multiple times) but always having each other's back.

It was very funny and kind of endearing when he eventually confessed to having feelings for both of them, and she had to explain to him that he was not, in fact, crushing on two different people. They have been together for the past five years, although for obvious reasons she can only date him publicly as one of her personas, and it made the most sense for it to be Essie.

MISC

She has a number of cybernetic enhancements that mainly improve her stealth, speed, and agility. Most of them are very discreet, and the ones that aren't she keeps carefully concealed when in her Essie persona.

The only people who know that Essie and Umbra are the same person are the mafia leadership (including the capos), Mercury, Cassie, and Oda.

[kattythingz]

I do think it’s interesting that Roy is the one that killed the Rockbells in 03, definitely makes things feel way more personal and perhaps a bit too close to home for winry. Brings a lot of interesting emotional and mental dilemmas to the plate, not just for winry but also ed and Al. Perhaps mustang, too. 03 is better at bringing interesting dilemmas to the plate, though!

But I don’t think it’s less compelling that it was scar in mangahood. A lot of interesting things could’ve been done there, but brotherhood was more insistent on speed running the story (seriously I’ll never forgive brotherhood for what it did to the dublith arc and Xing gang) and keeping it almost solely focused on Ed and maybe kind of Al sometimes. (Will also not forgive brotherhood for how much more watered down Al is in it)

I think it’s less scar as an individual and more scar as a role that makes it interesting, though. As an individual, he’s pretty much considered a serial killer of state alchemists at that point and that really only affects winry in the “ed is in trouble” way. So she already had reason to dislike him, then it’s just added on that he’s who killed her parents. As a role in their deaths, though, I think it’s compelling for winry to confront that her parents were killed by a patient. Someone they were trying to save. That their will and dedication to their job of treating people and keeping them alive was repaid by the person they saved killing them. While with mustang following orders to kill them does still hit the whole “they were just doing what they’re trained to do and they got killed for it”, beat, I think since winry is also training to be a type of medical professional, her confronting that if she was ever in a similar situation as her parents that it could be someone she’s saving that she’d be in danger from is an interesting narrative. To me, at least. Brotherhood just didn’t like letting things sit or putting focus on something other than ed for too long, so more interesting developments for the side cast didn’t get explored or even thought about.

But that entire scene where she wants to shoot scar but doesn’t… I’ve been thinking, right? This could’ve been a moment for her and ed to really think about their morals. Winry, face to face with the man who killed her parents who is now trying to kill ed and Al, her found family, actually pulls the trigger… and shoots ed. because Ed jumped in the way to keep winry from getting blood on her hands in line with his pacifistic morals. Scar still has his moment where he’s reminded of his big brother’s sacrifice and flees. Al’s freaking out but possibly torn between chasing scar and leaving ed to the military because they are still doing a joint mission. Ed survives, but maybe he came close to not making it and that triggered Al’s rejection reaction like what happens in the north when Ed got impaled. Winry has to confront that letting her hatred get the better of her nearly took out the family she has left other than granny. Ed could potentially question where his pacifism is actually getting him and if it’s worth it to remain on this pacifistic path if the person who gave him a leg to stand on again was the same person who was willing to shoot through him to get to someone else.

Perhaps Al is now struggling with keeping everything together while also being unable to emotionally process everything because of the nature of being a soul bound to armour. Winry is wracked with guilt, Ed’s questioning his beliefs, and Al… is stuck in the middle. Stuck not being able to fully process all the traumatizing things that have happened to him on this journey to get his body back because he’s in an unfeeling body. Stuck hanging onto the things he knows despite how those things have changed in front of him.

That’s just a thought, though.

Now that's definitely a lot more interesting than whatever fmab fumbled. I can get behind that! My main issue, and the reason I still can't like the Scar plotline over Mustang, is just how easy it all was. Like Scar is already a serial killer, a stranger, and an active threat to Ed and Al. Winry already disliked him to begin with and there's no "conflicted" feelings on that matter. The actually interesting conflict was passed up in two seconds in Briggs, and dassit. It was just... disappointing. I wasn't interested at all.

(Esp since post that Scar encounter is when Winry's character really begins to devolve back to "love interest", but that's a bear I don't feel like poking.)

Interesting thought for sure!

[callofthxvoid]

Please welcome BEATRIX "TRIXIE" VOS (SHE/HER) to Huntsville, WV. They are a 32-year-old VISITOR who lives in TOWN. You may see them around working as a NURSE AT HUNTSVILLE HIGH. They are looking for FOX VOS, their BROTHER, and CHANDLER VOS, their SISTER. Poor unfortunate soul. We'll see if they survive.

quick facts

Title: The Flight Risk

Name: Beatrix Kendra Vos

Nickname: Trixie, Trix (by Lance), B (by Ven)

Date of Birth: November 22, 1991

Age: 32

Place of Birth: Definitely Somewhere

Hometown: Also A Place That Exists

Languages: English, Spanish

Faceclaim: Skyler Samuels

Pronouns: She/Her

Sexuality: Pansexual

Relationship Status: In a relationship with Lance Cerulli

personality

Myers-Briggs: ISFP - The Adventurer

Enneagram: Type Four - The Individualist (4w3)

Moral Alignment: Chaotic Good

Occupation: Nurse at Huntsville High

Role: Gatherer

[+] adventurous, generous, empathetic, patient [-] conflicted, inconstant, thrill-seeking, self-sabotaging

Character Inspirations: Dr. Emma K. Kurtzman (No Strings Attached), Elaine "Lainey" Dalton (Sleeping With Other People), Bridget Vreeland (The Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants)

background

TW: Alcoholism, Parental Neglect

Born the second of three children to neglectful, alcoholic parents, Trixie has spent her whole life feeling torn between two sides of herself that seem impossible for her to reconcile with each other. On one hand, her early childhood was defined by being the careless, accident-prone little sister who always needed help from her big brother Fox, because she was always the one messing up. On the other hand, she simultaneously found herself stepping up to be the responsible, nurturing older sister to her little sister Chandler—especially after a blowup between their dad and Fox resulted in the former getting arrested and the latter being going into a second chance program.

At the time, Trixie was barely going into middle school, and her teenage years played out in much the same fashion. She had good grades, but she spent way more time in detention than any other honours student at her school did. She refused to drink or take drugs, but she was almost notoriously promiscuous, known for rarely (if ever) saying no to a hookup. After graduating, she attended community college to get an associate's degree in nursing, while she made a living getting paid under the table to work at a dive bar that was a popular concert venue for underground bands.

Trixie was on the precipice of having her life together when her older brother went missing during a job. At the time, she had just qualified as a nurse, was working her first job at a local hospital, and had been in a committed relationship since college. Her boyfriend was a nice, stable person from a nice, stable family, and while he was incredibly good to her, she always felt like there were things that she couldn't share with him—like she always had to hide her messy side, or the parts of her life that weren't as pretty. When he proposed, she had a small meltdown about the whole thing, freaked out and turned him down, and has not been in a serious relationship since.

Life carried on, and she continued working as a nurse while making friends from all walks of life. Among them was Lance Cerulli, whom she met while directing him to an AA meeting after he was admitted to the hospital she was working at; so when he told her that he was going to Huntsville for a fresh start, and she realised that was the same area that Fox had gone missing in, she had no qualms about deciding to accompany him on the road. And yet, despite having now spent two years in a place where her old problems hardly seem to matter, Trixie finds herself stuck in the same dilemma she has always been in—torn between the part of herself that wants to grow up and settle down and the one that recoils at the very thought of doing anything like that.

misc

She classifies herself as straight edge and has xXx tattooed on her left wrist. She also has two other tattoos - the first is her siblings' birth dates in roman numerals on her ribs and the second is a stylised lance going up the back of her right ankle.

She is an avid runner. She will figuratively and literally run from her problems.

[galraluver]

Hi! I’ve read your rules and there’s said that you don’t write major angst or fight scenes. Is it fine if I ask for a bit angsty to fluff scenario? (If no that’s totally fine, if you gonna write so here’s details)

Blaytz being forced to choose between his kingdom and his s/o and eventually giving up his crown because he loves his s/o so much? You can write mostly about their worries: him being put in such dilemma and his s/o having mixed feelings because she doesn’t want Blaytz to lose everything and take that risk althogh she will be missing him (if she has to be separated from him forever or be killed) I wonder why and who can put in dilemma like this I’m bad at world history lmao

Again if it’s too much or you don’t wanna write it it’s fine <3 In other way feel free with details I love your writings anyway :3

I can try my best, so I hope that this is what you were hoping for

_________________________________________

Ever since Blaytz was little he knew that he would become the king of Nalquod when he grew up, unfortunately much to his parents’ displeasure he had an adventurous nature and he never took much interest in learning the things he needed to know about becoming the king. There was so much to see and do throughout the universe and Blaytz wanted to see as much as he could, he often got caught daydreaming during class which pretty much always led to his private tutor yelling at him. During his teen years his flirtatious nature kicked in and he flirted with every cute guy and girl he crossed paths with, no matter what species the other person was. Blaytz knew that he was supposed to marry someone of nalquodi royalty, after his parents stepped down from the throne and his coronation happened it would only be a matter of time before he had an arranged marriage. Then he made friends with four other leaders of four other planets and became a paladin of Voltron; he'd been misunderstood growing up, but they were accepting of him.

It was during one of his paladin adventures when Blaytz got stuck on Earth for a while and met a young human woman around his age named (Y/n); at first (Y/n) helped him in any way she could, but it led to them falling in love with each other. Blaytz had never been serious about marrying anyone during his entire life, when he proposed to (Y/n) and she said yes he was the happiest man in the entire universe. (Y/n) finished up her business on Earth and said her goodbyes before she packed up all of her most important items so she could move in with Blaytz. Everything was going well until Blaytz introduced her to his parents; they didn't necessarily completely hate her, but they didn't approve of her becoming their son's wife, either. Blaytz refused to let anyone tear him and (Y/n) apart, even when the council gave him an ultimatum of either remaining the king and cutting things off with (Y/n) or marrying (Y/n) and forfeiting the crown.

Blaytz didn't necessarily not want to resign from being the king of Nalquod, but he certainly didn't want to lose (Y/n) forever; if they didn't break things off before the next double full moon then the council would separate them by any means necessary unless he resigned. He was conflicted of which to choose, his kingdom or (Y/n), although he was leaning towards choosing (Y/n) because she was the love of his life and if he chose to continue being the king then he would be forced to marry someone he didn't love. After she met Blaytz’ parents and the palace on Nalquod (Y/n) kind of felt like a burden and she knew they didn't want her around, she felt bad for causing so many problems after her arrival. The last thing she wanted was for her lover to lose everything all because of her; Blaytz had lived with her on Earth for nearly a year and over that time they'd fallen in love, unfortunately at the time neither of them considered what the consequences of their love would be. Living on Nalquod had been amazing and despite all the backlash, (Y/n) was surprised that Blaytz never once treated her as less than his equal.

Even before he became the king Blaytz had been treated differently simply because he was different, he preferred being the paladin of the blue lion and (Y/n's) fiance’ over being a king. Blaytz understood that if he chose to stay with (Y/n) then he would be banished from Nalquod; two days before the double full moon he made his final decision. It was nighttime and nearly everyone in the palace was sleeping in bed; (Y/n) felt anxious because Blaytz wanted to talk to her alone out in the garden, she feared that he was going to break things off with her or something. She didn't say a word as they walked through the massive palace and out into the garden, there were so many possibilities racing through her mind that she felt like she might get sick. Once they were outside Blaytz sat on a bench and she sat next to him, fully prepared to receive the worst news of her life.

“Please look at me, Gorgeous. I've made my final decision and it's only fair for you to know what it is.” Blaytz spoke with concern while he sat next to (Y/n), fidgeting with his hands nervously as he thought about what he was doing with his life; he would essentially lose nearly everything, but he refused to lose the one person he loved more than the universe itself, ultimately he was making the right decision.

“Why should I? I know that you regret our relationship, you don't have to pretend that you're still in love with me.” (Y/n) answered quietly as she stared down at her lap, nearly on the verge of tears because the thought of losing him tore her apart on the inside.

“I don't regret our relationship and I never will, I love whom I love and you're the person I love most. (Y/n), when I said that I would love you in this life and the next I meant it wholeheartedly. Why do you think that I don't love you anymore?” Blaytz responded firmly yet lovingly, questioning as to why she would think otherwise.

“Because your parents and the council are making you choose between your duty as the king and your relationship with me. I don't want you to have to make such a big decision just for my sake. I love you with all my heart and soul but it's wrong of me to ask you to decide between me and your kingdom. Your people need you more than I do.” (Y/n) said solemnly, turning her head so she could finally meet his gaze.

Blaytz wasn't sure how to respond; (Y/n) was ready to end things between them because she believed that he would be better off without her, even though she didn't want to lose him. He admired many things about her and her willingness to put herself last for the greater good was one of those qualities. (Y/n) took his silence as confirmation that he was going to break up with her; she looked back down at her lap as tears welled up in her eyes, some of them spilling down her cheeks. She didn't want to lose Blaytz, alas his parents and the council didn't give him the choice to remain the king and to have her by his side as his wife. When (Y/n) felt Blaytz’ pointer finger curl under her chin she allowed him to tilt her head up so she was looking at him, blinking a couple of times to attempt to stop herself from crying, unfortunately she couldn't.

“I've decided to resign from being king, you mean too much to me and I refuse to lose you forever. Because I'm choosing you I'll be banished, but Trigel offered to provide us with a place to live in the Dalterion Belt.” Blaytz finally said, speaking softly as he gazed into his girlfriend's eyes; only one full moon shone in the sky and the second one was nearly full, casting enough light for them to see each other.

“You don't have to do that for me. I'm just a random human woman who helped you when you came to my planet, I don't want you to lose your place on your homeworld.” (Y/n) argued; part of her wanted what he said to be true whilst another part told her that it was too good to be true, then was not the time for her to be delusional.

“Yes, I do. I intend to remain by your side forever even if it means giving up my role as the king. You know that I've always been different from the rest of my kind and that I would never not do what's right. We'll leave after I make my announcement tomorrow morning. I don't want to live without you, gorgeous.” Blaytz whispered wholeheartedly, eyes half-lidded just like hers.

(Y/n) had a hard time believing that Blaytz truly meant what he said, but she didn't want to doubt him because he definitely seemed serious enough for his promise to be true. Her heart skipped a beat when he leaned down enough to brush his lips against hers before he actually kissed her; they both closed their eyes when their lips finally met in a chaste kiss, gently embracing each other while the one full moon shone down on them. Blaytz planned on giving up the crown and all of his power so that he could forever be with (Y/n), doing so made him feel as though an empty void in his heart had finally been filled. (Y/n) and Blaytz reopened their eyes after kissing for a few minutes, both of them breathing a little heavily as they silently looked at each other. Even though there wasn't a place for them to be together on Nalquod, there would be a place for them to live somewhere in the Dalterion Belt where they wouldn't be judged.

__________

Before (Y/n) woke up Blaytz quietly packed all of their personal belongings and took them to Blue so that he wouldn't have to worry about it later; there wasn't a whole lot to pack up, just clothes, hygiene products and their other things that meant a lot to them. He and (Y/n) would have to leave before nighttime came because that was the night of the double full moon, the night when (Y/n) would be put to death if he didn't break things off with her. It was difficult for Blaytz to leave the only home he knew for his entire life, but to him (Y/n) was far more important to him than ruling over a planet. Blaytz woke his significant other up with breakfast in bed that morning, that way she wouldn't have to be around his parents who still disliked her. (Y/n) appreciated the breakfast in bed, although she noticed that all of her things along with most of his were gone, all that remained was a change of clothes for both of them along with some of her personal hygiene products.

When it was time for him to go tell the council and his parents his final decision she was concerned about him and what might happen, she feared that something bad might happen to both of them. Blaytz assured (Y/n) that he would be alright before he left his bedroom, giving her a passionate kiss that left her breathless. After he left the bedroom (Y/n) took the opportunity to get dressed and do the rest of her morning routine; she packed their remaining items, including their pajamas, so they could leave when he returned for her. Waiting for Blaytz to return was nerve-wracking to say the least, during his entire absence (Y/n) paced back and forth whilst imagining all the possible worst things that could potentially happen. Nearly two hours passed before Blaytz returned to his bedroom, only instead of his usual day clothes he was wearing his paladin armor and he held his bayard.

“Well, what happened?” (Y/n) inquired when she walked over to her fiance’, worried that the council decided to get rid of her.

“I resigned as the king, I'm free to spend the rest of my life with you. It's time for us to go now.” Blaytz answered with a shaky tone; he was shaken after how his parents and the council reacted to him giving up the crown, although it was for the greater good and before he returned to his bedroom he said his final goodbyes to the palace staff.

“Are you positive that this is what you want- that you want to stay with me?” (Y/n) questioned, wanting to make sure that he knew what he wanted.

“Yes, I'm positive. You mean more to me than anything in my life. You've accepted me the way a lot of other people haven't and you're really cute, too. Sometime after we get settled into our new place I would like to marry you, but first we have to leave.” Blaytz reassured her once again, just as he'd done several times before that day.

Tears welled up in (Y/n's) eyes as she looked up at Blaytz, but she wiped them away because they had to leave; she still felt guilty for him having to choose between her and his kingdom, although no matter how many times she questioned him his answer was always the same. Blaytz went to get the final bag before he led her out of his bedroom and down the hallway towards the elevator so they could leave the palace. On their way out (Y/n) bid farewell to some of the staff who had become fond of her, including one of the senior maids who had been around while Blaytz was growing up. She briefly remembered when Blaytz told her that when he was growing up he didn't really want to become the king, that his parents pressured him into taking on such an important role as their only child, and his want to live a normal life was what he'd longed for. It wasn't long before Blaytz sat in Blue's pilot seat while (Y/n) sat on his lap; the initial liftoff felt a little bumpy and so did leaving the planet's atmosphere, thankfully the ride got smoother once they were in space.

“What do we do now?” (Y/n) asked Blaytz after what felt like forever; neither of them had said a thing since they left Nalquod, so hearing her own voice break the silence startled her a little.

“We're going to meet up with Trigel so that she can show us our new home. Don't worry, Gorgeous, our lives are going to be amazing from now on.” Blaytz said with a grin, even though he felt a little sad that he was essentially banished from his homeworld; he never regretted the decision he made, though, because having a true love was better than being a king who would be wed to someone he didn't love.

(Y/n) sighed and leaned her head against his chest, feeling less stressed as she listened to the sound of his heartbeat. A lot had happened during the past few weeks and she needed more time to process it all, although during that moment she just wanted to remain cuddled up to her significant other. Blaytz put Blue on autopilot so he could wrap his arms around (Y/n); they were both a little stressed after what happened and a moment of peace was exactly what they needed. He was relieved that he wouldn't have to hide who he truly was anymore, it felt as though a weight had finally been lifted off of him after carrying it around for a good majority of his life. Until they reached the Dalterion Belt (Y/n) and Blaytz began discussing certain simple aspects about their future that they wanted, they would figure out the rest after they got settled into their new home.

[deepspacedukat]

Broken

Jorik breaks off his engagement. He tells nobody but his sister to begin with. He claims his decisions are logical, but mans desperately needs some therapy. (Sister - T’Lir, Betrothed (soon to be ex) - S’Vel)

I didn’t intend to put this out tonight, but uh...here we are. 🙃

Cross-posted to AO3 here.

~*~

Jorik x S’Vel (OC x OC but like...in a breakup kinda way)

[A/N: This is just angst and Jorik being hard on himself and needing therapy.]

Warnings: Angst, breaking an engagement, T’Lir is a supportive sister, S’Vel is barely in this even though it concerns her.

~*~

**2348 - Jorik’s Family Home - S'Lara Region, Vulcan**

“Jorik...brother, are you certain that you wish to do this?”

“You know I must, T’Lir.” His voice came out quiet and even despite his current dilemma. “This is as much for her good as it is for mine.”

As he glanced at the gray fabric of his robes to straighten them for what must have been the seventh or eighth time in as many minutes, his elder sister’s hands rested lightly on his shoulders. Jorik’s brown eyes met his sister’s matching ones, and he forced himself to feign a state of calm.

“For what reason? S’Vel would be an excellent choice of mate. She is highly accomplished, her parents both work at the Vulcan Science Academy as I do, and she is not aesthetically displeasing. She is in perfect health, so she would be able to provide you with children, should you wish them.” Her reasoning and logic were sound, but he knew the real reason his sister was trying to make him reconsider. “Forgive me, sa-kai. I do not mean to overstep, but I simply wish to understa–”

“What you wish is to prove yourself the more obedient sibling to our parents. Again. They sent you to convince me not to end my betrothal. Do not attempt to deny what we both know to be true.” Jorik bore no ill will toward his sister - to blame her for their parents’ perceptions of him would be entirely illogical as well as unfair to her. He did wish, however, that she of all people would be understanding in this matter. “Forgive me. My rudeness was unnecessary. You are only doing as you were asked. For that, none can fault you, ko-kai.”

An inscrutable look passed over his sister’s face.

“Mother and father did ask me to try and prevent you from taking this action, however, I am not their servant. You are my sibling. I do not want to stop you from doing what you believe is best. I simply wish to ensure that you are certain about your decision before you dissolve your bond with S’Vel. I am concerned for you, just as you were prior to my marriage.” T’Lir sounded as sincere as she always had. The pair had stuck together since their childhood, protecting and helping each other, even if it was against their parents’ wishes.

“The only action that would satisfy our parents would be if I became as silent and contemplative as the monks of Kir. I plan to join Starfleet. They will disapprove, and I will cause them further disappointment. It is better, sister, if I save S’Vel the...inconvenience of a husband who does not live up to his obligations to his family,” Jorik explained, and T’Lir’s eyes widened.

“You truly mean to attend Starfleet Academy?”

“Yes. To do otherwise would be illogical,” Jorik said standing straighter. T’Lir was the first he’d spoken to about his intentions. He trusted her above all others. “I cannot work at the Science Academy as you do. That occupation suits your temperament and strengths. I do not fit there. You know that as well as I do, ko-kai.”

T’Lir nodded her head silently, and Jorik stepped toward the door.

“Brother.” He turned to face her and she offered him the ta’al. As he raised his hand in a reciprocal salute, she took a small step closer to him. “You will excel as a Starfleet officer. Your name will be as widely known as Spock’s. Travel safely.”

“You as well, T’Lir,” Jorik murmured before turning and making his way to the meeting he’d arranged with S’Vel. It would have been unfair of him to do this via messenger.

The walk across the city was both too long and too short all at once. Jorik hadn’t seen S’Vel in many years. It was regrettable that this was how they would spend their final meeting. Likely she would be relieved to be given a second chance to find someone compatible...someone who was worthy.

Jorik wasn’t traditional enough for most prominent Vulcan families - something his parents had reiterated to him whenever he brought up his misgivings about his betrothal to S’Vel. They never shied away from stating how difficult it had been to convince her parents to give him a chance despite his odd fascination with Earth and Human culture. Though he was as logical as any other Vulcan, the word ‘emotionalism’ had been thrown his way without so much as a second thought, damaging his reputation with nothing more than rumors.

At first, Jorik had attempted to disprove those falsehoods by delving headfirst into meditation and Surak’s teachings, but other children and their parents assumed his actions were overcompensation for a lack of emotional control. T’Lir had come to his defense with almost startling consistency. She was the picture of excellence - perfect grades, a bright future, flawlessly logical. When she spoke up for her little brother, none dared oppose her.

Though T’Lir’s support for him stopped the majority of the comments, it was still difficult for his parents to secure a betrothal. Children who were overly curious about emotional species weren’t held in high regard in Vulcan society. Breaking off this engagement was the merciful action for him to take. He would save S’Vel and her family from the needless shame of being associated with him.

He approached the appointed meeting place and saw a woman with perfectly styled black hair in green robes stand gracefully from her seat on a stone bench. They offered each other the ta’al in greeting.

“I wish to speak with you about our betrothal...”

~*~*~

Vulcan Words:

ko-kai = sister

sa-kai = brother

ta’al = hand salute

[floosies]

" run around just so i dont have to think about thinking. the silent sense of content that everyone gets just disappears soon as the sun sets."

he had the same routine every morning. even on his days off he had a routine. since the first demagorgon he's needed it. he's relied on it heavily. when his parents were home it was easier to forget about the nightmares and worries.

but it never lasted, because to them he was a well behaved boy who needed independence to grow into a responsible man. so after a couple of months at home they'd pack up and head out again. another month or so alone.

it was worse without robin. he would wake up screaming for someone to help him, to save him only to be met with the silence from the empty house. its why he avoided being alone like the plague, why he didnt mind if dustin wanted to have sleepovers or constantly ask for rides to the arcade.

sure he hated scoops ahoy but it meant he wouldnt be left alone with his thoughts. he saw the way dustin and robin enjoyed silence, like a prize after a long day. he wished he could feel the same, but when he sat alone in the silence his mind wandered to every possible way he could have prevented things, questioning if he was really alive, wondering why robin stuck around, if dustin would realize he wasnt worth idolizing.

they didnt know, he didnt want them to know the way his mind had changed so much since the first attack. he just wanted to protect them.

it worsened when he started working at family video. then he really wouldnt let up, every moment was planned, robin was constantly around him, and he went to sleep with the tv on high. on bad nights he even went to bed with his walkman blasting music from the headphones as loud as he could get it. sleep was never the same after everything. they all had that problem, they all knew they felt safer near each other but they also knew it was better to try not to depend on each other too much.

steve's condition, his new dilemma had become so engrained in his every day he slowly started to view it as normal.

(im not leaving it at that. he deserves some love and peace, so keep reading please ♥)

when she got to know him, really know him, she picked up on how he hated ending the day, how he would try and make people stay longer. she had nowhere really to be and would often find herself being the last person at his place.

they'd critize a celebrity on a late night show or the news stories they'd watch on the local news station. he'd bring up random facts that robin or dustin told him.

slowly she would start to stay over. they'd fall asleep with arms entangled tightly. she'd unintentionally end up meeting his parents on a few occassions, but they didnt mind, their minds were elsewhere, never really with their son. but her mind was always with him. she felt for him, she liked him, maybe even more.

it was gradual, but she came to ask him about it, about the nightmares and fears he had. he admitted to feeling selfish for not denying her staying over all the time or constantly calling her. she was robin's friend first, but she made it clear it made her happy to know he saw her as his safety net.

robin had mentioned he'd been through a lot and she was just glad he thought of her as a person he could trust. but by the time they'd had this conversation everyone else had already been miles ahead and knew they shared something more than friendship.

he moved out of his parents home a month or so after and moved in with her. the apartment wasnt big but it felt safe. her home felt like his home, it was welcoming, it was as warm as her. she was his peace, the one he had found hard to come by. he held her just as tightly as he had the first night they slept beside each other, he loved her. she loved him, and the silence in the night was easier, lighter, and sometimes filled with whispers against lips.

[discyours]

Long ask incoming. Hello, I had a question to ask. I'm asking here since I know radfem blogs can be biased and I'm not looking for an exclusively anti-male response, I think. I know you're not really ex-radfem in the way one might expect, but I thought you'd understand the dilemma better. TW: I did talk about some trauma here, not with the intent to trauma-dump but to give context. Hope that's okay. The question/thought: How much does trauma shape someone into being gender non-conforming? I wonder if many of us are gender conforming have trauma that make it hard for us to integrate into society, and we've had to cope by adopting masculine (or feminine for men) personas.

I'm a young woman who had an adverse childhood. Ever since I was a child, I had a negative association with being female due to the unfair expectations placed upon me as the only daughter with two brothers. I also had a difficult relationship with both parents, who never dealt with their own traumas. My mother didn’t teach me much about being a woman beyond what was expected of a wife, and she would comment to her friends about me being masculine. She even objectified me to them, which made me feel uncomfortable. My father was the typical angry, verbally abusive, and sometimes creepy man, hurting me more times than I can count. I grew to resent both of them.

Growing up in that environment, I adopted a masculine persona to survive. In my mid-teens, I identified as male to escape my trauma and social expectations but it fell through. I switched to radical feminism which gave me a lot to think of but also worsened my discomfort/dislike of being female. It didn’t offer any real solutions for living a fulfilling life while being aware of the challenges women face. I still felt bad.

Now, I feel stuck. I want to be appealing to men, but I hate the expectations placed on me as a woman and the fact that only men get to live in their natural state without consequences. Am I being unreasonable? I know men can’t control what they’re attracted to, but I also can’t accept the idea that it’s normal for women to have to modify themselves to be accepted. How do I balance my desire to live authentically with the reality of these expectations? PS: Your post about the radfem to tradfem pipeline resonated with me. I was dabbling with tradcon content after I left and it was okay for some time but I'm back in the funk since I can't be like them. It's way too uncomfortable. I'm a straight woman, by the way. What do I do?

I feel like it's reasonable to assume that trauma can make some people more resistant to social norms (as rejecting them feels like a form of regaining control over their lives/bodies) and femininity can be one of those social norms, but it still feels weird to say "gender nonconformity can be a trauma response" because that poses it as a contrast to the "healthy" default, and there is obviously nothing inherently healthy about performing femininity. It's also pretty common to go the other way and be more comfortable with putting on a mask of femininity than the average person would be, whether it be because of trauma of feeling punished for nonconformance, feeling more protected with a more artificial appearance, or just dissociating to the point where altering themselves to fit the societal ideal doesn't feel like it has any downsides. I'm in that position as I'm answering this so if you were hoping for an answer from a GNC woman I'm afraid I'll have to disappoint you.

I have to admit I do not understand your dilemma of wanting to be attractive to men but not wanting to alter yourself. Isn't male sexualisation virtually inescapable? I don't actually know any "category" of women who are universally unattractive to men. Most straight men will state that they prefer for women to shave their body hair and "put some effort into their appearance", will pretend that this is a neutral preference not influenced by society, and will present this unsolicited opinion to women who are not even remotely trying to seduce them, which is endlessly frustrating. But there's also always the men who announce the fact that they do find [pubic hair/overweight women/missing limbs/being 4'8 or 6'5/being a misandrist/having chron's disease/working a blue collar job/only showering once a week/exclusively wearing men's clothes/literally anything else on the planet that you can think of] extremely attractive. Surely there's plenty of straight men who fall somewhere inbetween the categories of fetishising gender nonconformity and being outright disgusted by it? Maybe I'm biased because a lot of the male attention I've received in my life has been unwanted but I just cannot imagine feeling the need to put effort into attracting straight men as a woman. They're attracted to virtually anything with a vagina, not just ultra artificial performances of femininity.

[rametarin]

Doomsday preppers bore me.

Speaking a little bit about my background again.

So. It's 1995-96. I'm 11-12 years old. Parents divorced, we've since moved from where we started into a trailer so I can go to school in a new town, because the old one had a teacher that was an immovable object and destroying my mental health. Mom would either have needed to stop being an utter cunt and bringing her stress home with her to take it out on me, or my teacher would have to, and rather than just stop being a cunt at me, she chose to put me in a different school in a different town.

So we moved in with my 40-something dad after my parents divorced. She was a raging bitch again, dictating things she had no right dictating, starting screaming matches over control issues and just generally causing problems and dilemmas so no one could have any peace unless they were submitting to her and giving her attention. Just privileged (the real definition, not the sociology major one) white woman shit, knowing the law at the time would stan for her no matter how much of a raging cunt she was to everyone and everything. Any excuse to kick a man out of his own home was a good excuse, and everybody knew it.

It got so bad my father took on an obscene financial burden just to buy a house down the street and stick us in it so he'd have his space back. Since mom was hellbent on getting every dollar from him and lording ownership of his property over him while both of us, his kids, were under 18.

By 1996, she had really fallen off the deep end and was being a belligerent and aggressive bitch to everyone and everything for no reason other than they weren't doing exactly as she wanted, immediately when she wanted it. Failure to do that meant she was going to just make your life miserable as a pasttime, since women do not reap physical consequences for these actions without triggering other women's "THAT COULD BE ME! I CAN'T TOLERATE THAT HAPPENING TO ANOTHER WOMAN! SHE'S A MOOOOMM!!!" response.

She started writing down her delusions in a lined notebook. She's always believed she was some sort of psychic/sensitive spiritualist. She identifies as a Christian and sees "the occult" as bad, but she believes herself to be holyer-than-thou and thus, her self-aggrandizing brand of pseudo-spirituality is centered around receiving divine prophecy. Any stupid thing she imagines, she believes is going to happen and continues to look for it. Anything she did not personally imagine, she discredits as impossible, because she didn't foresee it.

So you can have the flu and she won't give a shit and consider you exaggerating your pain and distress, but if she "prophesices" you're going be ill, she ignores how you actually feel and projects her delusions of how sick you're going to be onto you. Just, antagonize you to try and get you to play out how she imagines reality working. It's like being aggressively Live Action Roleplayed at and being stuck in that awkward moment where you won't do what she imagined is true.

It's a kind of narcissism where she's both acting as well as deluding herself to try and convince herself and those around her of her preferred way of seeing the world. She AGGRESSIVELY tries to gaslight reality itself. That level of audaciousness and pride is just, 10/10 asshole. And it's exposure to this raging, consequence-free, insulated piece of shit that has forced me to intolerance when dealing with them. Because like any petty dictator, you can be as deluded and egotistical as you want so long as you make OTHER PEOPLE die or suffer for your delusions. She sacrificed my health, safety and future by forcing my participation in her delusions as a consequence of living around and with her, so whenever she faced setbacks, she demanded I somehow MAKE her delusions work, or not only did I get punished by the consequences of her disgusting decisions independent of her response to it, but I was given the blame for them when they failed. Like it was my ass that filled the room with canned food until the cheap plastic shelves collapsed.

So anyway. By 1997, she had a raging "I'm just, like, psychic, y'know?" boner of self-importance, and she looked around to find literature that'd compliment and play along with her delusions. She was depressed, and the only reason she wasn't suicidal was because she was too prideful to die while we, he kids, were still young and dependent. But, she was miserable. Independent of anything else, she wanted a situation where she could die but be utterly blameless for it.

In fact, she wanted to go to heaven but it be God's will, but god wasn't cooperating. Outside a few panic attacks, she was fit as a fat flabby fiddle. Dispirited, she started diving into literature that confirmed her bias and found a culture of similar doomer-boomers online, from similar backgrounds and attitudes. She found the world of Christian online rapturism.

Now, when one imagines these, they imagine a very top-down hierarchy of cultists preaching to ignorant, receptive, submissive sheep about bible scripture and what for sure is going to happen. This is not true. Each person in that room that is not the preacher has certain expectations for them to confirm their bias and say what they want said, and the preachers that would be popular have to read the room to figure out their bend, biases and what they want, in order to affirm the bias. They are only giving these supposed preachers the power over them to fit that role. If the preacher starts dictating things they don't believe, they lose their top-from-the-bottom narcsisstic flock and wind up followerless. They aren't all a bunch of Pentacostal tongue speakers babbling nonsense or Catholics LARPing demon exorcisms.

So she joined these 'prepper' forums where boomerdoomers talk about how the end for sure is coming you gais, it's prophesized in dur by-bull.

The number of nights I had to listen to this stupid bitch moaning and diatribing to herself about "the mark of the beast" being an ID chip for some dystopian cyberpunk world, and microchips in milk and other stupid shit, were far too many. Chemtrails being poison by some nebulous government agency poisoning the air (JUST FUCKING WAKES OF PLANES YOU DUMB CUNT) and, just, an endless cavalcade of confirmation biases for her delusions. And every single one gave her the confidence to fake it until she made it about The Rapture being right around the corner.

The truth was, I think, she hated the idea of "being used" by us, her kids. Me, in particular. We'd finally gotten stable to where, as a nurse, she was pulling in between 65 to 70K a year in 1990s money. She wasn't paying rent or a mortgage, because the house we lived in was owned by my father, they were divorced, and him paying the mortgage was basically like child support since it meant she didn't have to pay rent to live anywhere. That was easily $1,200 a month in savings.

So how did this selfish cunt spend the savings? Was it on securing new cars to get from A to B? Was it on college educations for us, her kids? School supplies? A second car, so I'd be able to get to and from a job in order to make my own money?

No. She blew what savings that would've come from that out of her disgusting cottage cheese ass on frivolous feel-goods. Going out to the movies every weekend, buying movies, buying junk food, driving around waaaaay more miles than was good for the car, paying automotive bills from using the car too much, throwing fistfuls of money to lord how she was "the good sister" and a martyr and oh how her sisters abused her generosity, at all her sisters.

And she expected ME to get a job, put a car in her name, buy the car, have absolutely no control over where I could go with it, no right to drive it without her explicit direction and permission, but all responsibility to take care of it from maintenance to gas money (and she loves to just ride around in circles for no other reason than to wastegas.) And wanted all my future minimum wage dollars to go towards paying her bills..

So she could, again, blow more of her own money out of her ass. Which she patted herself on the back for by taking the initiative and spending, whether we wanted her to or not, to then wail and scream about how we "owed her" and she'd expect us to fork over our income when we were making any.

So from 1997 to 2002, conveniently from the time I went from 13-18, this world class cunt became the most insufferable, entitled, antagonistic, greedy bitch in the world. Every minute of the day had to be about her, every dollar had to be about her delusions, every inch of space in the house was taken up by her spending exorbinant amounts of money on canned foods and powdered milk and other nonsense until just moving through the house was an episode of Hoarders.

No matter how much I might say, "We HAVE NO MORE FUCKING ROOM!" She'd just buy more because, "IT WAS ON SAAAAAALE. MAKE ROOM!!" and make it my responsibility to Tetris-block rearrange her shit so we could fit more into the way too small house.

It wasn't bad enough that she was keeping us poor as fuck by only investing in her delusional, "seven years of tribulations and strife" food, preceding the rapture. But that she filled the house with her shit, and forced me to participate in moving it around. Forcing other people to normalize your delusions is a power move intended to dominate and control the environment and setting in which other people live. It's a way to try and impose reality onto them by forcing them to interact with it on your terms.

I couldn't have any social life, money to go with other people, or even build my own future, because this disgusting cunt wanted to LARP out some fantasy that god would swoop down, alleviate her need to kill herself to escape reality, and bring her up to heaven while everybody she disagreed with burned in hell beneath her. But I didn't want to surrender to the state and just become homeless.

I wanted her to snap the fuck out of it. I thought she was just a proud moron, not rotten to her core evil. I know better now, but I will never, ever give anyone the benefit of the doubt like this again. You show me who you really are once, I'll believe you, even after you claim to change. Because the reality she was going to be not just worthless but a detriment to my life was too cold and horrible to imagine for teenaged me. The reality was worse than I ever could've imagined.

She never got better. Even after her date of 2000 new years when the rapture was supposed to happen, the world didn't end. Nor did it happen on new years 2001. So we go into 2001, and she's still talking about "any day now." Since she married herself to the idea Jesus was going to beam us up and there was no reason to invest in the future because God made sure heaven was going to be our future.

I was going to turn 18 in summer of 2002. I figured she'd see that she'd been foolish and just went through a rough spell, mentally, and would recover.

And then fall 2001, 9/11 happened. She got back on her bullshit and being irrational and unreasonable. With added bigotry towards Islam above and beyond the antipathy that Islamototalitarianism deserves.

Then that stupid murmuring of prophecy shit caught in her dumbass Doomsday prepper online forums, and 2012 became the next big date of global catastrophe. Which, surprise surprise to people in 2024, was another great big fat fucking nothingburger.

I have no patience or tolerance for doomerboomers. I know exactly what you are. It's ugly, it's selfish, it's ignorant, it's mentally diseased and it belongs in a god damned nuthouse.

The only reason I didn't try to have the stupid bitch committed was she was just functional enough to provide a bit of money for my grandparents (her parents) to keep them out of complete poverty.

Well. Both my grandparents are dead, now. And all her sisters and brothers (my aunts and uncles) are despicable, selfish, delusional assholes that I wouldn't piss on to put them out if they were on fire. She's no less psychotic and insufferable now than in the 00s. Less so, even. I lose nothing and hurt no one if telling the police about her would get her put on the funny farm.

Anyway. Yeah, the eclipse brought out people like her in droves, and it made me angry.

[elenaobeys]

                      meet  elena del flor  !

                  26 — STUDENT

favorite song? regardless by miraa may

sexuality: pansexual

pronouns?: she/her

cursed at birth with the gift of obedience, elena del flor knew nothing of what it was ever like to be free. in many ways, her life never belonged to her, it served others in whatever commands they could ask of her. despite this dilemma posed on her, elena lived however she wanted and in whatever ways she could. just because she had to do what she was told, it didn't mean she had to have a smile on her face while doing it. she often tried to find loopholes as a way of regaining any control she could have back into the situation. the curse on her wasn't the greatest but it's not like people were always asking her to do the extremes, people just thought she took things too literally sometimes out of confusion or that she was a very willing people pleaser. still, to move around the world knowing she'll never move at her own free will takes a lot out of a person.

it's not like there hadn't been attempts at getting the curse removed. before her passing, her mother tried going to many magical sources to see if there was anyone out there who could take it away but nothing ever worked. it was her mother's biggest regret as she came to admit on her death bed, wishing she'd done more to protect elena and wanting nothing else than to be around longer for her daughter. after her mother's passing, it was only her, her nanny, and her father around the house. well— her father was there as often as he could be in between jobs. money was tight and her father tried his hardest to get any job to stick but they never did, it's been like that for all of her life and could've kept going had it not been for the bank threatening to take away their house if her father didn't pay off his mortgage. out of luck, he wooed and married his way into a wealthy family. an unfortunate choice of which brought her step-sisters and step-mother into elena's life.

rotten was a good word for her new family members, it was suitable for how vile their personalities were. to call them stuck up, snobby, and selfish was to put it lightly in how they acted. it didn't take long for her step-sisters to catch onto elena's curse of obedience, they ordered for everything without a 'please' or 'thank you', and though it could've been mistaken for politeness at first, it was soon comprehended that elena would do just about anything they asked for. with her new sisters catching onto her tragic condition and her step-mother beginning to see the amount of debt her family was truly in, their evil spirits turned to seek punishment as revenge. elena and her father are now used as mere puppets in their orchestrated plans to find her step-siblings wealthy and prominent families to marry into. it would be easy to run away, and for some, it would be as simple as saying no as a way to get out of being a part of some farce but she can't. she doesn't really have a choice.

HC’s:

was instructed by her mom, as her dying wish, to not be able to tell anyone about her curse, not even her father knowing of the difficulties she's faced.

all she has left of her mom is a heart shaped locket that used to belong to her mom. she keeps a picture of her parents in it.

as much as she hates the curse put on her, she still doesn't think magic is bad. the nanny that raised her revealed herself to be a fairy and admitted that magical beings like her have to hide out now because of the hunters. elena finds this to be cruel and advocates for their rights despite the danger it could pose.

despite her natural order of obedience, elena has a flair for rebellion. she stands up for what is right whenever she can, often joining or even organizing protests out of her distain for injustice.