#apologies again for anyone/mutuals who are/were either lacking information or something

[sixtymillionoverdueideas]

Tentative Character Sheet for Utsu - (Walking-By Verse)

(Credit: Picrew creator 乍 - here)

Character Name: Utsukushinagare Lee (note! Lee is both Rock Lee’s personal name (first name) and that children who have inherited ‘Rock’ are Rock Lee’s children with other people, while his children with Sakura and Sai are ‘Lees’). Sai... named his son while Sakura and Lee were preoccupied with recovering from Sakura’s birthing - Sakura on anesthetics and Lee... having his hand absolutely crushed from holding hers. It means “beautiful flow/stream”, which Sai had intended to reference ink.  Character’s nickname: ‘Utsu’ from most everybody, ‘‘Gare’ from Shinki and Ajikaku, sometimes. As not unexpected, Utsukushinagare’s full name is somewhat of a mouthful at times and most of the Walking-By children adopted Quartz’s casual use of ‘Utsu’ and it spread outwards from there. Birth date: (FILL LATER) Physical appearance: Utsukushinagare takes very much after his father Sai Lee, both in personality, temperament, and appearance. While he does not look a carbon copy of Sai at his age, he does have many sufficiently similar traits. Age: 8-20 (in flux according to when they’re Mused out - 14 as a starting point.) How old does he appear: Tends to look young and baby-faced as he grows older - at his current age does not look especially older or younger than he is in reality, though he does deliberately angle and highlight different things to make his impression young or older. Height: Average for a Konohan boy - will not grow to be tall. Body build: Slender, slightly waifish - but make no mistake - takes after his father Sai much in build, looking deceptively ‘soft’ in musculature. Shape of face: FILL LATER Eyes: Utsukushinagare’s eyes are dark with the pupil not easily seen - not black like his father Sai’s, but simply a color so dark it is near black. On a side note, Sai’s own eyes are black but with an underside of dark gray, while Lee’s are a dark deep brown also easily mistaken for black. Glasses or contacts: Skin tone: Rather pale, like his father Sai, but notably more in-line with other children in Konoha Distinguishing marks: FILL LATER Predominant features: Notably extremely fair skin, which unfortunately is difficult to pin down to any single location, much less family. Speaks with a very slight accent that is hard to pin down - Utsukushinagare has a slight Ame/Rain sound, which stands out the most; very, very, slight. Is easily recognizable and identified from his voice as Konohaean. Nondescript to anyone who hasn’t seen Sai hair. Despite his attractiveness, easily blends into a crowd.  Hair: He has similarly short, simple dark hair that is cut in a similar style to his father Sai’s - though his hair unlike his father’s is simply a dark brunette rather than Sai’s black. Type of hair: Voice: Pleasant and smooth, a light tenor. Overall attractiveness: Utsu has been rated “very attractive” by his brothers and Hironori of the Walking-By children - in fact, is considered one of the ‘top bachelors’ in Konoha as he grows up.  Physical disabilities:  Usual fashion of dress: Practical, muted colors primarily in blue-gray or simply gray. Black and white. Long sleeves, but not heavy. Favorite outfit: A varsity-style jacket in simple black and white - standard Konohan shinobi gear - long, slightly loose pants that reach his ankles in black - plain t-shirt under jacket (solid black or white). Jewelry or accessories: FILL LATER Good personality traits: Diplomatic - rational - sympathetic Bad personality traits: Will rather try to obscure own true opinion rather than make a fuss - Disingenuous - Slight tendency to cede and make peace rather than stand to a point. Mood character is most often in: Calm. Sense of humor: Muted, but yes, Utsu does have a sense of humor. He’s most particularly amused by wordplay or visual puns -  Character’s greatest joy in life: Watching nature, from Konoha’s fields to the canyons of Kumo or the perpetual-drizzle of Ame. Spending time with, or watching, his family and friends - having all of those he cares about safe. Character’s greatest fear: Harm befalling those he cares about or is charged to protect/watch over. Why? Self-explanatory. What single event would most throw this character’s life into complete turmoil? War. Utsukushinagare has studied and been taught about the horrors of the previous Wars by Kakashi - and he absolutely does not want one from breaking out and tearing Konoha, his Konoha, his family apart. In fact, he may even cross over some of his lines and morals just to try to prevent that if he feels it would be necessary. Character is most at ease when: At home, at peace - knowing that nothing is immediately wrong in the world - especially with people he knows. Most ill at ease when: FILL LATER Enraged when: FILL LATER Depressed or sad when: FILL LATER Priorities: FILL LATER Life philosophy: FILL LATER If granted one wish, it would be: FILL LATER Character’s soft spot: Nature, (some) bugs, plants, his siblings, then the rest of his family and friends - yes Utsukushinagare holds his precious siblings a touch higher/more than everyone else he cares about.  Is this soft spot obvious to others? Generally, as when he’s out on the field or out of Konoha? Not usually. He keeps a strong wall between his public, free information and self and his private one - it would be remiss of him to openly expose his weaknesses like that even if he might occasionally, quietly gush about his siblings (perhaps like Itachi would with Sasuke, in another world). Greatest strength: FILL LATER Greatest vulnerability or weakness: FILL LATER   Biggest regret: FILL LATER Minor regret: FILL LATER Biggest accomplishment: FILL LATER Minor accomplishment: FILL LATER Past failures he/she would be embarrassed to have people know about: FILL LATER Character’s darkest secret: FILL LATER Does anyone else know? FILL LATER Drives and motivations: FILL LATER Immediate goals: FILL LATER Long term goals: FILL LATER How the character plans to accomplish these goals: FILL LATER How other characters will be affected: FILL LATER Hometown: Konoha!! The Village Hidden in the Leaves is treasured/deep to him, and he is a loyal shinobi of Konohagakure. Type of childhood: Peaceful! Calm, nice, and friendly. But for him, he made his own choice of initiating and accepting an apprenticeship with retired Rokudaime Hokage Hatake Kakashi, and since he was 6 has spent most of childhood out of the Village, spending around similar amounts of time in Ame, Kiri, Kumo, and Suna. Pets: He does own a mixed-breed cat (bengal-savannah hybrid tom named アロエヴェラ - Aloe Vera) and hound (russet husky-retriever breed named 遠い目/Tōi-me - Far Eyes) in his apartment in Konoha - they’re petsit by Ino and Omoi’s son, who we still haven’t found a good enough name for yet. He exists. First memory: Wrapping his small fingers around one of Sai’s kunai while he was distracted talking to his partners - half-laughingly and half-sadly Sakura said Utsukushinagare was growing up to be a fine ninja, which was only backed by everything he said and did as he grew older. Most important childhood memory: The first time  Childhood hero: FILL LATER Dream job: FILL LATER Education: Utsukushinagare did not attend the Academy!! He went straight into an apprenticeship that took him out of the Hidden Leaf, and therefore has a thorough grounding in politics, many, various social etiquettes, history (lots of history), calligraphy and writing and more than a basic amount of fuinjutsu/rune-reading/activation though he does not currently have any interest in learning sealing/fuinjutsu like his sibling Ajikaku, mathematics, tactics, and both theory and on-the-go shinobi basics and essentials like all the basic tools and Academy Three. Kakashi was a very thorough teacher, now being as relaxed as he was running genuinely, without Naruto/Team 7′s luck safe and simple C-rank missions for the grounding start of Utsukushinagare’s training and also being a one-on-one instructor of a dedicated, serious student. He Religion: FILL LATER Finances: FILL LATER Present current location: Either out in the field, outside of the village - alone, or returning back to Konoha - fresh from a mission or on break, also alone - back to visit his family, presumably. Currently living with: He both owns his own apartment, with no roommate, and also stays sometimes at his room at his parents’ house - Sakura’s house, actually. 

Occupation: A fine young shinobi of the Hidden Leaf (genin to jonin rank depending on time range - we stick to playing him as relatively young, but in “canon” he’s an early-promoted jonin!!) Family: Sakura, Sai, and Lee are his parents, and his direct siblings/family are Ajikaku and Aikokyū - though he is half-brother to Quartz, through Lee their mutual father. Consequently of the Konoha Huddle, or what-ever the poly mess we’ve made the Konoha 13+/Sand Siblings into, he loosely considers many of the other “next-generation” as his more distant cousins as well. They might as well be, Mother: Sakura. FILL LATER Father(s): Sai and Lee. As Sai is the one that “stays-at-home” the most often, Utsukushinagare is closest to him out of all his parents, and looks up to him. Is not especially trying to emulate/mimic his father - things just developed naturally and it’s just acknowledged he’s just very much like his father Sai.  Siblings: Ajikaku and Aikokyū. FILL LATER Spouse: None! Pre-established or not, this is “open” if you want to plot out/talk it out with us - drop in!! or by!! Children: None! Open to writing “Utsukushinagare accidental baby/child aquisition”, very much so though!! Other important family members: FILL LATER Favorites Color: FILL LATER Least favorite color: FILL LATER Music: Food: Literature: FILL LATER Form of entertainment: FILL LATER Expressions: FILL LATER Mode of transportation: FILL LATER Most prized possession: FILL LATER Habits: FILL LATER Hobbies: FILL LATER Plays a musical instrument? FILL LATER Plays a sport? FILL LATER How he/she would spend a rainy day: FILL LATER Spending habits: FILL LATER Smokes: Does not smoke! Will do so for missions and to blend in - when he does so, prefers the light, somewhat-higher quality mint-tasting brand from Kumo that produces nice plumes of white, much less scentful smoke. Drinks: Does not drink!! Though when he does, for social purposes among those he’s friendly with, he prefers the likes of mojitos, caipirinhas, and mint juleps. Other drugs: No!! Though he may have done a few injections (he’d rather do that than the other methods, but sometimes he doesn’t have a choice-) for missions, Utsukushinagare keeps a very strict oversight of his own body and will clean and rest for weeks afterwards.  What does he/she do too much of? FILL LATER What does he/she do too little of? FILL LATER Extremely skilled at:  FILL LATER Extremely unskilled at: FILL LATER Nervous tics: Utsukushinagare tends to still instead of fidget when he’s surprised - Usual body posture: Straight-backed, but not overly straight and formal - he only does so when apologetic or embarrassed. Mannerisms: FILL LATER Peculiarities: FILL LATER Optimist or pessimist? Introvert or extrovert? Daredevil or cautious? Logical or emotional? Disorderly and messy or methodical and neat? Prefers working or relaxing? Confident or unsure of himself/herself?

Animal lover? Yes, like bugs, cats, and predatory animals - or deer, lambs, dogs, what have you - to be honest, Utsu prefers plants. How he feels about himself: He’s mostly self-aware and relatively confident/satisfied in how and where he’s built himself at his age - though he does have some subconscious fears about other people not being genuinely, openly friends with him, tolerating him and his occasional quirks. One word the character would use to describe self: Poised. One paragraph description of how the character would describe self: FILL LATER What does the character consider his/her best personality trait? His diplomatic and calm nature. What does the character consider his/her worst personality trait? His difficulties being honest and true to himself with others he trusts - to fully relax his guard is no small task. What does the character consider his/her best physical characteristic? Utsu? Doesn’t care...? about his physical appearance much - though he does take care of it and himself it’s an unconscious, “mission-ready“/”maintenance“/”appearances-matter” kind of thing. Some of his classmates are jealous/envious at how effortlessly he pulls it off. That being said, he’s most proud of how he’s crafted his smile. Sai is also a proud father in being able to create and help create such an open smile, as while he’s improved vastly from his initial times in public Konoha, he’s still not quite able to erase the slight unnaturalness from his - it’s become integrated into him. His personality. Sakura tells him that she loves him even more for it, and to not try to erase himself further - Sai is good as he is. He never fails to melt a little when she asks/demands him to smile for her, and himself. What does the character consider his/her worst physical characteristic? Utsu would probably rate his skin tone as his worst feature - it has both been mocked, in some way, by other-Village genin-shinobi (”milky”, “moon-white”, “lily”), and made trouble for him by making him desirable, like to that one old, initially not-unpleasant Lady in her Tea Parlor who ended up being a fifty-years-long preyer of young people from the town and beyond - turned out she was draining them of their blood to bathe in. Yes she’s based off of Elizabeth Bathory. How does the character think others perceive him/her: FILL LATER What would the character most like to change about himself/herself: FILL LATER Relationships with others: FILL LATER Opinion of other people in general: To be treated politely but distantly - Utsu may be very subtle about it, but he tends to keep people at a distance - even those he cares about, at times. Does the character hide his/her true opinions and emotions from others? Not usually, but Utsukushinagare tends to reserve and observe judgement but outwardly maintain a polite and respectful manner. Usually he’s quite nonjudgmental and it’s a rare occasion that he meets someone that either gets under his skin or repulses him in some way. Person character most hates: None! Utsu is not an especially hateful person. Best friend(s): FILL LATER Love interest(s): Utsukushinagare is single “canonically” and this will not change for now - that being said, if you and yours are interested in musing up a ship feel free to drop in our IMs or askblox to yell at us - we should talk more there!! Person character goes to for advice: Kakashi, his mentor, primarily. Person character feels responsible for or takes care of: His younger siblings, and generally more of the New Konoha Peace Generation - especially as he’s around a year or two older than most of them. Person character feels shy or awkward around: FILL LATER Person character openly admires: Jiraiya, Orochimaru, Kakashi, Sai, Sakura Person character secretly admires: FILL LATER Most important person in character’s life before story starts: FILL LATER After story starts: FILL LATER

Additional References: additional credit to Picrew-Creator duckyora - link here. y’know, in fact, this first initial picrew formed our visual impression of what Utsu was going to look like. like the varsity-jacket and the choker. Similarly, it’s also the currently best to-date that we have found/”made” for Aikokyū. Neat-o.

[kimberly-spirits13]

Dating Damian Wayne HC:

(imma do one for all of the guys I just had the writing idea for Dames first)

How You Met: Artist credit @axeeeee​

.        You went to Gotham Academy before him

.        You were also making sure that you were top of the class and also maintaining class president

.        Anyways, it was just something that you pushed yourself for

.        Arts was another strength for you but that was something that you weren’t as inclined to maintain on an extreme level like everything else

.        So it was your job to show the new people around the school before their first day which meant that you were showing Damian around

.        Your parents already knew Bruce so you weren’t really freaked out at all

.        It was just another day tbh

.        That was until you met him

.        It was weird since you were more of the person to not talk much about yourself

.        No one really knew who you were and you were content to keep it that way

.        Everyone’s friend but no one knew who you were really

.        Damian was kind of the same way but not as friendly or open to people

.        He was like the younger you

.        Still, for some reason you were interested in him just as a person

.        He was as well

.        You didn’t immediately hit it off seeing as you are both reserved and closed off when it comes to personal things, but you hit it off faster than any one else

.        A miracle in all honesty

.        So you started hanging out and eating together in the lunchroom instead of either with a group or alone

.        It was nice and then evolved over time

Friendship:

.        So after a few months, you guys were getting closer and closer

.        It was something that you just expected to happen and when it did you were ready

.        You were starting to hang out outside of school whether that was at your place, the park, his house, maybe a café on a weekend

.        Just anywhere

.        If there were any galas, Damian would invite you and you him since you didn’t really feel great inviting anyone else

.        Sometimes galas had this secret mandatory code to bring someone so it was nice to finally have someone to bring

.        The media was all over it

.        It was honestly really weird for a second and then you just accepted it

.        Damian and yourself slowly started opening up to each other about everything

.        Depending on how fast you pick up on things and possibly if you’re also a vigilante, this is where you figure out that he’s Robin

.        He doesn’t call you by your last name anymore and instead by your first name which is fun

.        It’s an honor lol

.        If Damian is having an issue at the manor, you just have extra stuff for him to come over anytime

.        It’s always there and you make sure to get more when you see something’s running low

.        By the end of the friendship stage, you’re probably wearing each other’s clothes by now

.        He gets flustered sometimes though

.        That’s the first few signs

.        Also very protective but we’ll get into that

Signs:

.        So Damian now gets flustered?

.        Not something that you ever thought you’d see

.        Complimenting you too

.        It was a mutual thing that you both started doing more and more

.        Hanging around each other even more than before if that’s possible

.        He introduces you to his pets

.        All of them

.        Even Goliath

.        That was after watching random animal videos one night in the movie room of your house and seeing your reaction to them all

.        You bout died meeting Goliath

.        It was pretty awesome

.        Damian was so proud

.        Anyways, so you start getting more and more protective of each other

.        Any stupid girls from the Academy were getting immediately shut down

.        Same goes with the boys

.        For Damian he was always making sure that no one was messing with you or making you feel uncomfy

.        Death glares to all and smiles to none that tried it

.        That was both ways

.        Omg you guys have the death glare mastered

Confession/ Relationship:

.        So now that his brothers have caught on, they’re hell bent on getting you two together

.        So is Alfred and Bruce and that’s not typical at all

.        Everyone ships you and you both know it just won’t accept it

.        After some time though, you’re at this string of events and the press was just bombarding you for info on the relationship and whether or not you were dating

.        You said no every time and then just moved on

.        Damian noticed how much he missed you and loved seeing you thrive even from afar

.        It was kind of like oh shit I’d better say something now cause they’ve got everyone wrapped around their finger

.        So when you got back, he told you

.        It was kind of informal and unexpected

.        I mean finally but, out of the blue

.        You were thrilled

.        So basically from then on, it was wonderful

.        Sometimes his brothers might tease you two and post really just dorky things about you guys

.        Maybe one day it’s freaking out cause they found you in the movie room passed out on each other asleep with an older movie playing

.        Picture of you not being apart at all

.        The press loved it all

.        You guys loved it all

.        Now he’d spend the night all of the time but this time in your room, asleep, with you

.        Not just in some guest bedroom or in the same room but apart

.        Sleeping is actually a big thing since you both greatly lack it

.        You’ll sleep everywhere

.        The couch, a chair, the bed, in a car, on the floor sometimes, at a table just next to each other, anywhere

.        It was something that like your friendship just evolved over time

.        Eventually, you were taking vacations together during the holiday breaks and training together

.        Your families loved the other

.        Friend groups too

.        Sometimes you’d fight but typically it got resolved quickly

.        There was always this challenge of apologizing on Damian’s end even if it was really his fault since he just doesn’t know how to

.        He got better with that real quick

.        Basically, you just appreciate each other and see the other as your other half

.        Nothing gets in the way of that

.        Not even some stupid boy or girl hitting on the other or the media’s twisted perception of something taken out of proper context

.        Those are typically what more serious talks are about but they’re solved quickly

Dates:

.        You’re either going to a nice place or not staying in

.        There’s no in between

.        Either 5 star or the home theater at probably your place

.        He loves taking you nice places even if you’ve already been

.        Watching new movies

.        Or really bad ones just to judge them

.        Those are always really fun

.        Sometimes you might go for a coffee date and those are typically just spur of the moment type things

.        You might go to a gala and then go home and kick back

.        Either way it’s the best

.        Homemade treats and movies with a possible blanket fort and pillows everywhere over the couches in the movie room

.        There’s always a chance that they might get cut short for heroics but that doesn’t typically happen since someone covers Damian’s or your shift

Hero:

.        So if you’re a hero, it’s kind of an exhausting thing especially considering schooling and everything else

.        Sometimes you find yourself not getting sleep for days

.        There are times that you regret everything and Damian understands it all

.        He’s just terribly impressed that you can do all of this like he does

.        It’s great having someone like that

.        Both of you are extremely well trained which sometimes Damian questions where you got your training since it’s so similar to his and his father’s

.        Very calculated and precise every single time but also unpredictable which makes you dangerous

.        It’s something that you always use to your advantage

.        On nights that you patrol, you do it together and always tag team

.        Damian knows that you put up one hell of a fight, but he’d rather be there incase something happens then not at all and have something bad happen

.        Both of you are always stitching each other up and helping the other with nightmares

.        It’s just inevitable at this point

.        Staying over at each other’s places depending on how close you are or how badly injured

.        You always go to the manor if there’s something really bad that happened

.        That’s cause they have better medical equipment and Alfred who is a legend

.        Alfred can fix anything and if he can’t it’s to the hospital but that pretty much never happens

Routine?:

.        With everything, you have to have a routine

.        It’s very exact and important

.        In the morning, you both wake up together but not before hitting the snooze button three times

.        You have the alarm set early enough to be able to do this

.        Plus some time just to lay there for a second

.        Damian is typically the cutest and most tired in the morning

.        He hates them

.        If you’re washing your face or doing whatever, he’ll just hug you from behind and lean against your shoulder

.        Has fallen asleep before

.        Then you both eat and head off to school

.        After school, you go back to someone’s place to change into comfy clothes and complete homework which most is done at school since you wouldn’t have time otherwise

.        If you have a meeting to go to, you’ll go to that and then head back

.        After supper, it’s to patrol and then after two to three hours of that on average, you go back to one of your homes and shower typically together since you don’t have time to not

.        It’s easier and more time efficient so you’ve said

.        Also uses less hot water

.        Then, you check your phones for any other emergencies and head to bed

.        If you’re not a hero it’s basically the same thing but he comes into your room, locks the window again after he’s made sure everything is safe inside, creeps in your closet to get his nightclothes, looks at his phone for anything that might have happened since, goes to shower, and then gets into bed with you after making sure you’re okay without waking you up

.        When sleeping, you’re either touching slightly or just on top of each other in some way

.        Either way, you’re touching

.        He can’t have you far from him incase something happens

.        Never really sure what might happen, just that it could happen

.        Since he’s a light sleeper, if you shift or move around, he opens his eyes for a second to make sure you’re okay

.        That goes for hero or not

.        It’s really nice and sometimes he’ll come in and you’ll still be awake

.        Always asks why

.        “Dami, I’m always awake at this hour.”

.        “I know beloved, but you should sleep.”

.        “Well then let’s go.”

.        He’ll swing by for just a second during patrol to check in if you’re either grounded from patrol due to injury, sickness, just need a night off, or if you don’t do it

.        Texts you updates every now and then since he knows you worry and it helps him when he’s home and you’re patrolling

.        Basically keeps him from going insane so he does the same for you just incase

[winterscaptain]

constellations.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader

a/n: as usual, an ajf fic that requires very little context. i’m so sorry this took so long!! i was busy thinking about how to quit my job this week and then KIRA CAME TO VISIT ME (we’re being safe and covid-conscious!) so this took a couple of days longer than expected. also - i see your beautiful messages! i will keep chipping away at them :)

you can expect the route 66 fic on tuesday at 11pm pdt!

words: 4.4k warnings: canon-typical discussions of violence, some mention of canon-typical sexual assault, language

summary: as hotch recovers from the explosion in new york, you find yourself more concerned than you expected. (au!2008)

masterlist | a joyful future master list | requests closed!

“The Angel Maker. I remember the case.” 

It’s a fairly normal start to the week, with a case packed and ready for you at 10am. Aaron was out of the field for a week or so with his injuries, but his presence at the round table and the go bag you spotted beside his desk this morning warms you. 

He’s back. Not completely, but that’s better than not at all. 

“They caught that guy.” Reid’s flipping through the case file, but you know he’s got one ear open. 

Rossi’s on the same page, and finishes Reid’s thought. “And executed him.” 

“That’s right,” JJ says. “He was put to death by lethal injection a year ago yesterday.” 

You release a little breath you were holding. “Yesterday?”

That’s a clear enough trigger for a fanatic. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen something like this, either with your tenure at the BAU or in previous case studies at the academy. It was always a little shocking - the lengths people go to complete the work of the devil they romanticize...

Derek throws a finger at you as if to say Exactly. “So we’re looking for a copycat.” 

“Honoring the anniversary of his hero’s death.” Dave sits back in his chair, almost satisfied. You smile a little. 

The confidence of a seasoned profiler. 

Aaron catches your smile, and his lips pull just the barest amount. You shake your head, suppressing a wider grin. 

Funny, isn’t it?

His brows tug. What?

It’s so...normal. And so predictable. You sit back, peering at Aaron over your copy of the file. He huffs (you recognize it as a laugh, though the rest of his face remains exactly the same) and turns his attention toward Reid, who’s still flipping through the file. 

“It says here they found semen at the crime scene. Perhaps locals will get a DNA match through VICAP?” When you follow Aaron’s gaze to Spencer, you’re not surprised to see him already absorbed in the latter half of the report. 

“See, that’s where things get weird.” Her face screws up. “They already ran it, and got a match.” She throws the file toward you, and you open it. 

“If they already have a name, why’d they call us?” Emily’s confusion is swallowed up in your own. 

“You’ve got to be kidding.” You look over at Hotch, who takes the file from your hands. “The match they got back on the DNA is to Courtland Bryce Ryan -” 

Hotch lets out a sharp huff. “The Angel Maker.” You meet his gaze again. 

This is going to be a weird one. 

“Wheels up in thirty.” 

+++

You lean against the back of Hotch’s chair, peering over his shoulder as ideas bounce around the cabin. He’s focused on Reid along with the rest of you as the younger agent spins a theory. 

Derek’s the first one to question his particularly amusing line of thought. “Reid, you’re not seriously floating the idea of an evil twin, are you?”

“No. I’m floating the idea of an eviler twin.” Reid looks dead serious, and Hotch glances up at you. You shake your head a little, and he shrugs before restoring his attention. “Traditionally the concept is good twin and an evil twin. But in this case, it’s evil twin, eviler twin.” 

You swallow a laugh as both Derek and Emily look at him like he’s grown three extra heads all at once. 

Before any of you can say anything, Aaron’s hand rises to his forehead and his face scrunches up in pain. You place a hand on his shoulder from over the seat, patting him for his attention. “Hotch?” 

He hums something that sounds like, “Yeah?”

“Are you cleared to fly?”

He sucks in a breath to cover a wince, and you take that as a no. 

You sink your hands into his hair as he tips his head back against the seat with his eyes closed. The tips of your fingers find the little pressure points around his head, and you lean forward, keeping your voice soft. “Does that help?”

He nods, just a little, and you’re satisfied. You look at Derek over Hotch’s head, and he looks just as concerned as you feel. 

+++

“I give you a legacy. A breath of life from the Angel Maker himself. Those who prayed to forget me will one day see my face and shrink in fear.” Reid recites aloud from the letter, and you listen with your head propped on your hand. 

The sheriff sighs and crosses his arms. “That’s the last thing people need right now.” 

“Reid, how does that compare with the original correspondence?” Derek ignores the sheriff, redirecting his attention to the letter and the genius holding it. 

You jump on Derek’s line of thinking. “It can’t be authentic, can it?” You drop your hand from your chin and lean toward Spencer, feeling Aaron hover over your shoulder. 

“They share some compelling characteristics. I’d obviously like to look at it under a magnification under a better light…”

Obviously.

Hotch’s voice almost startles you, right by your ear. “Best guess, Reid?”

“I’d say it’s authentic.” Rather than looking at Hotch, he looks at you. Your furrowed brow speaks for everyone present. 

“How can it be authentic if the guy’s been dead for over a year?” Looking over at Hotch, you hope he has something better than paranormal speculation. 

He doesn’t disappoint. “It could be an elaborate forgery.” 

“Or,” Reid adds, “it could be a genuine article, just written before his death.” 

You hum. “That's my favorite of the theories so far.” 

The sheriff shakes his head, coming up on your other side. It’s almost comical the way you’re all crowded around the letter. “Mail here isn’t that slow.” 

Derek’s the only one who hasn’t joined you. He’s still happily posted up at the desk, leaning against it with his arms crossed. You glance at him before offering, “Could have been released through an intermediary.”

“You mean the copycat?” Reid asks. 

Nodding, you suggest, “He could be buried in those visitor logs - we’re checking them out now to see who visited Ryan and how often.” 

Derek finally joins you. “That’ll narrow the suspect pool.”

Hotch flinches again and his fingers press to his brow as the front door opens, allowing the rush of a truck to sound through the room. 

“Hotch?”

He waves you off. “I’m fine.” 

Liar. 

There’s nothing you can do. 

+++

You’re with Derek in one of the interrogation rooms, going through letter upon letter from Ryan’s time in prison. “What happens if Hotch actually loses his hearing?” You can’t help the overwhelming notes of concern coloring your voice. “I mean, what are we going to say to Strauss? ‘Excuse me ma’am, if our unit chief goes deaf because he won’t fucking slow down, can he still be our unit chief?’ I mean - “

You shut your mouth as Hotch walks into the room. Shame floods through you. It was more than unkind to talk about him behind his back as it was, and here you were - broadcasting your worst fears about his condition to one of your closest mutual friends. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean -” 

Aaron once again waves you off. “It’s alright.” He comes to rest beside you, and you reach for his arm in apology. 

“How are you feeling?”

He shakes his head, and Derek leaves the two of you alone, closing the door behind him. Hotch looks over his shoulder, satisfied that you’re on your own. 

“Dizzy. Nauseated. Tired.” It’s like a checklist - matter-of-fact and without bias. 

You take stock of him. The cuts on his face are healing nicely, and the bruise on his cheek is fading. The bags under his eyes, though, betray the lack of sleep. “What can I do?”

He shakes his head with something that isn’t a smile if you don’t know him. “Nothing. Just keep doing good work.” 

“I’m sorry,” you blurt. “I didn’t mean to be insensitive earlier.” 

“I know.” 

“I’m just worried, is all.” Your voice tapers off at the end of your thought, just a little embarrassed. 

A little breath leaves his nose, and you know it’s sort of a laugh. “I know.” He presses a hand to your shoulder for a moment before diving into one of the boxes himself.

+++

Hotch walks quickly, and you keep up as best you can as he informs the sheriff, “I have to advise against this.” 

“All due respect, this isn’t your town. I have to convince them that Courtland Ryan is dead and buried.” 

Hotch glances back at you, and you shrug. 

Small towns. Serial killers. What are you gonna do?

The cemetery is relatively quiet, the sleepy town waiting for something to happen with bated breath. It’s not like anyone would be taking late-night walks anytime soon. 

His head tips, and you know he agrees. Nevertheless, he turns back toward the sheriff. “You’re indulging the killer by perpetuating the ruse he’s created.” 

Nice. Five dollar words for the two-bit sheriff. 

“He’s right. It may embolden him. Prompt more murders.” Emily says, watching the proceedings with a discerning eye. You can only agree. 

The sheriff shakes his head. “Celia lost her only daughter to that murdering bastard. We met when I was working the case and had gotten close. I thought we were past all this, but...I guess I was kidding myself.” 

The crane starts up, and there’s a sinking feeling that you’ve forgotten about something as the chains tighten and begin to lift the coffin. All at once, you remember and turn as Hotch steps away, his hand over his ear and the other pressed against his brow again. 

You hover beside him, not sure what to do. Pressing your hands to his forearms, you do your best to shield him from some of the sound with your body. 

He makes a weak attempt to wave you off, but his voice startles you. It’s so small as he insists, “I’m alright. I’m fine. Just -”

“Hotch -”

“I’m okay I’m okay I’m okay. Yeah.” 

You don’t believe him for a second, but as the noise decreases, so does his agony. He removes his hands from his ears for a moment. He’s blinking rapidly, looking simultaneously dazed and far too aware. 

“Aaron…”

He shakes his head. “Don’t. I’m fine. I’m okay.” 

Your lips press into a thin line and you remove your hands from his arms. “Take it easy. I can’t make your life hell if you can’t hear me, alright?”

Your teasing has the intended effect, and he levels you with his signature glare that’s only halfway playful. 

+++

“The victim is Maxine Chandler. The neighbors say she’s lived here her whole life. All twenty-eight years of it.” 

The house is infused with the presence of children - play structures, toys, the whole nine. Aaron voices your thoughts. “How many kids does she have?” 

“None of her own. She runs a daycare. The guy who called 911 came here to drop off his toddler and found Maxine in her bedroom.”

That’s an eventful morning. 

“Well,” you note, “now that we have more than one victim, we can compare victimology.” 

Hotch nods, and you meet his eyes for a moment. “Different data points should help us significantly narrow the profile.” 

“I’ll get JJ to bring us the files on the first victim.” Morgan says, his phone already in his hand. 

“What did you find?” 

The coroner runs you through his findings, and they’re not much different from the first murder, but there is one notable difference. 

“Nine puncture wounds,” Emily notes, her dark eyes roaming over the body. 

You’re close to Hotch, watching them bounce off each other. It’s always inspiring to watch them. As close as you and Aaron are, you were deeply impressed but his professional relationship with Emily. There’s part of you that chalks it up to your age - they are only two years apart. They form their own little age bracket on the team while you, JJ, and Spencer make up the younger strata. 

More often than not, the three of you were able to keep up with each other just like Emily and Aaron. 

“Can I have your pen?” Emily asks.

“Yeah.” Hotch pulls the pen from his inside pocket, handing it over into her eager hands. “What is it?” 

You wait as she doodles something into her notepad before her head whips up. “She did this.” 

“What do you mean?” You’re not following, and you can tell Hotch isn’t either. 

“The unsub. She made this before she made the puncture wounds.” 

Hotch tips his chin, understanding. “That’s why the coroner found paper in the wounds.” 

“It was a template. The Angel Maker did it from memory, but she needed a guide to get it right.” 

You pull your phone out, already dialing Reid as Hotch says. “We need to go back and re-examine each of the patterns. Where’s Reid?” 

“Spence. Hey. We have something for you.” You pass the phone and a little smile to Hotch, who takes both with a grateful look. 

Emily watches the exchange, feeling suddenly like an outsider - almost an intruder. There’s something between you two, always has been, but this moment is such a clean-cut outline of it. You’re constantly anticipating the needs of the other, ready with a warmth and fondness at a moment’s notice. 

She sees it again when he presses your phone back into your waiting hand. You take it and brush past him as he turns over his shoulder to follow you out the door. It almost looks choreographed. In fairness, you’d both done it what feels like thousands of times before. 

When you pause in the living room, both turning at the same time when Derek calls for Hotch, a shadow of a thought crosses her mind. It’s gone before it’s truly there, and she lets it go. 

+++

Reid’s finally cracked it, and you’re all crowded around him again as he explains what he’s found. He profiled the author, figured out the cypher used by the Aryan Brotherhood, and generally made use of his insane brain. The patterns themselves are constellations, woven into every aspect of their relationship. 

You find a smile breaking out over your face as you listen to Spencer spin. Hotch leans over and whispers, “He hasn’t let loose in a while, has he?” You’re standing on his left, of course, just in case. 

Shaking your head, you laugh a little. Emily’s looking at Spencer like he’s from another planet. She pokes him and voices the thought you’ve all had at least once. “He’s so lifelike.”

Her comment gets a laugh out of you and a smile out of Aaron. You’re warmed by it. 

+++

You clear and search Chloe Kelcher’s house, staying firmly attached to Aaron’s seven o’clock position, right off his left shoulder. 

“Alright. We all know what the endgame is. She’s looking for her final victim. She may have already chosen one.” Hotch looks around, suggesting assignments with the flicker of his eyes around the house. “Let’s tear this place apart, look for anything that might tell us who she’s targeted.”

You follow Hotch and Derek into the nursery, noting the stars on the ceiling. The crib captures your attention - the carefully placed onesie indicating the pain of a woman in denial. Your brow crumples, and Aaron steps up beside you, nudging a couple of stuffed animals out of the way as a cursory search. 

“You okay?”

“Yeah, just...thinking.” The trigger is as clear as a neon sign, and you’re sure much saner people would break down like this at the loss of a child. There’s a silent prompting as he stands beside you, waiting for you to elaborate. “I dunno. I can just see how someone close to reasonable would be in bad enough shape after something like this, not to mention someone as unstable as our unsub.” 

He sighs. “It must have devastated her to think that she could hold on to Ryan by having his child and then lose the baby.” 

Derek hums from across the room, joining the conversation. “Completing his murders became the only way she could hold onto him.”

Something strikes Aaron then - something intangible. He turns and opens the trunk in the corner of the room. Its contents pull your upper lip up in disgust.

With a dubious pair of eyebrows, Aaron notes, “Not the only way.” 

“Guess that answers that.” 

+++

You reach the final victim’s house, and you can only hope you’ve made it in time. Hotch immediately assumes authority, leading collaboration between the BAU and local law enforcement. He assigns Derek to find an opening into the house, while he directs the sheriff to bring all the cars to the front, no lights. 

He finds a megaphone for Emily, and you take your place at his left side, crouched to take the low firing point through the car’s open window. 

“Hit the lights,” he directs, and they do. 

All at once, it’s bright - nearly daylight. Emily starts talking, and you’re singularly focused on the front of the house. The windows, the door, and the curtains are all within your purview. You glance up at Hotch, who glances down at you. He unholsters his weapon, and you bump his hip with your elbow and return your attention to the front of the house

“Go into the pouch next to my extra magazines.” 

You can sense rather than see his frown. 

“Just trust me. Open it.” 

His left hand finds your belt while he continues to scan the area, unclipping the pouch without looking. You hear a huff of laughter as he finds what you left for him. 

“Put one in your right ear and don’t argue with me.” Your voice is still low, but you dropped into the tone you learned from him, only half-joking. 

He rolls his eyes and stuffs the foam earplug in his bad ear before unholstering his weapon. 

“Door,” you warn as the front screen opens.  

“Chloe. Drop the gun.” Aaron’s voice is heavy with authority, and the sheriff backs him up. 

The world slows down when she raises the gun toward you all, and the sheriff fires. Despite the earplug, Aaron immediately collapses, dropping his service weapon at your feet and covering his ears with his hands. You holster your weapon and turn toward him on sheer instinct. 

You retrieve the gun, checking the safety and slipping it into your waistband. When you return your attention to him, he’s almost folded completely into himself, pained groans leaving him. Rossi beat you to him, half-holding him up, but he shifts Aaron to you when you reach them both. 

“Aaron.” You wrap him in your arms and he takes some of his weight as his feet get back under him. He leans into you, and you do your best to support him. “Hotch, are you okay?”

He reaches out, finding your arm and gripping tight. You stay steady, almost in tears. It’s agonizing to see him in pain. 

“I’m okay. I’m okay.”

Liar.

+++

The next day, it’s decided he’ll drive one of the cars home, instead of taking the plane. 

You laugh as Derek throws the keys at Spencer. Hotch steps up beside you, throwing his go bag in one of the cars. Going out on a bit of a limb, you ask, “Want any company?” You keep your voice low, just in case anyone’s listening. 

First of all, you don’t want to out yourself in front of your colleagues - they all know how much you care about him and you don’t want them getting any ideas. Second of all, you know how Hotch gets when he’s alone too long. 

He raises his eyebrows for a second, but Dave interrupts his thought before he can share it with you. “Why don’t you two drive together? It’ll be a better trip with some company and you can’t stand the rest of us for more than three hours at a time.” 

Hotch snorts. “Fine.” He looks over at you and you shrug and throw your go bag in the backseat with his. 

“I’m good with that. What are you thinkin’? Straight through, or are we taking a the scenic route?”

Dave pipes in again. “I think a couple of days could do you both some good. It’s been a long few weeks.” 

You and Hotch look at each other. You look back at Dave. “Good idea. See you Tuesday?”

He nods and joins the rest of the team in the other car, slipping into the passenger seat. 

+++

The car is quiet for the first half hour or so. You’re driving - it’s the only way Aaron can hear you in the car, so you’ll probably nap or post up in the backseat when it’s his turn to take the wheel. 

You glance over at him before you hit the state line. “You’re thinking very loudly over there.” 

A smile pulls at his lips. The heel of his hand supports his cheekbone as his elbow rests on the window ledge. “Am I?”

“Mhmm.” 

He shrugs a little. “It’s weird not driving.” 

“Ah. So that’s why you’ve been silent for the last…” you check the clock on the dash, “thirty nine minutes.” You’re teasing him and he knows it, but it’s also loaded with questions. 

There’s silence, and you wait for him. It’s another thing you’ve learned about him in the last year. Sometimes he’s quiet, but he never avoids you for long. 

“I’m thinking about Kate.” 

There he is. 

You prompt him a little, intrinsically knowing he needs a direction. “Did she have family?”

He nods. “An older sister. She’s flying in from London for the service, but their parents are gone and she wasn’t married, so...that’s it.” 

Still looking at the road, you reach out, wrapping your fingers around his forearm. “I’m so sorry, Aaron.” 

His hand covers yours for a second. “Thanks.”

You pull back, adjusting your grip on the wheel. A question pushes at your lips, but you roll it around in your head before you really consider asking it aloud. 

“You can ask.” 

Your head whips toward him for just a moment. “What?”

“You can ask,” he repeats, the shadow of a smile crossing his face. “I know you want to.”

You concede with a little chuff. “Fine. What happened between you and Kate?” 

“In what sense?” He’s totally fucking with you, and you shove at his shoulder. 

“You know exactly what I mean.” 

He shakes his head. “Alright, fine. There was…” he searches, “a moment when she and I were finished working together on the Scotland Yard case that something...happened.” 

“Something?”

“Well,” he amends, “nothing actually happened, but let’s just say she had a couple too many and made her intentions very clear.” 

Can’t blame her for that one. 

Yeah, and that’s why we don’t get drunk with everyone else. Shit happens. 

You glanced at him, suppressing a smile. “So what happened?”

He shakes his head, and there’s a sort of dry humor in his voice when he answers,“Obviously, she was pretty out of it, so I took her back to her place and made sure she was settled for the night with a glass of water and some aspirin.” A smile cuts through his huff of laughter. You’re not surprised to hear mourning in it, too. “She was miserable in the morning, and called me to ask what happened the night before. I may have...very loosely implied that something small might have happened, just to save her the embarrassment.” 

He pauses, and you know he’s a little reluctant to be this vulnerable - you’re almost sure he never expected to tell this story to anyone, let alone you. 

“The attraction was mutual, so I didn’t feel too bad about omitting the consequences of her…” he searches for a word again, “forwardness. It was - is - something I respect about her both personally and professionally.” 

“Did you ever tell Haley?”

He shook his head. “I told her the truth - that she needed some help getting home, I set her up for the night, and came right back. She wasn’t thrilled, but she and Kate got on well enough that she didn’t mind too much. I think she was more annoyed that I got home so late even without a case, now that I’m thinking about it.” 

You laugh a little. “That sounds like her.” 

“She wasn't always like this, you know.” His voice takes on something a little more pensive, and you settle deeper into your seat to let him know you’re listening, even if your eyes hardly stray from the road. “We had a ridiculous amount of fun together when we were younger - first married, I was fresh out of law school, everything ahead of us, and all that.” He heaves a sigh. “It’s really only since Jack was born that things got...bad.”

He pauses, thinking for a moment. “I wish I could explain the work to her - I sometimes wish she could see it, even though I never actually want her to see the things we see every day.”

You keep your voice light, understanding. “I get that. It can’t be easy knowing that we’re your family, too, and even that’s difficult to explain.” 

There’s silence, and you know there’s a tacit agreement in it. 

His next comment comes a little from left field, but it makes you smile. “She likes you, by the way. She really does.” 

“Good.” You glance over at him. “I’m glad.” 

There’s something he wants to say, and you raise your eyebrows expectantly, knowing he can see it in your profile. 

“Would you want to come over sometime and spend some time with Jack? I -” he exhales, and tries again. “It’s sometimes...weird to have him all to myself.” He laughs a little. “I almost don’t know what to do with him all day when it’s just the two of us.” 

A real smile breaks across your face. “I’d love to.” 

He nods, satisfied with himself. “It’ll be nice for Haley to see you as well. I know she feels a little cut off these days.” 

“Understandable.” 

Another bout of silence fills the car. It’s comfortable. Safe. 

“Thank you,” he says, after a long while. 

You look over, letting your eyes wander down his profile for a moment. “Of course.” 

+++

You stay at a little motel off the highway, pulling over after about four hours on the road. It’s only a little ways back to Fairfax, where you’ll drop him off at home before returning the car to Quantico, but Rossi’s right - it’s nice to take some time. 

In two separate double beds across the room from each other, you wish each other good night in the dark. 

+++

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[plumrabbit]

DA Fandom and moving forward - Calling In vs. Calling Out

Hi everyone,

As a PoC member of the DA fandom, I felt I have been quiet for long enough on the issues that have been presented recently. I am not here to argue against or on behalf of any individual or group, I am only here to present some information that I hope will be helpful moving forward. This is a long post, but it’s my hope that if you read it and want to help contribute to making this place better for everyone, then you will be willing to try to put what is said here into practice.

Since I am a relatively small blog, I wanted to start with a little personal introduction that will segue into the topic at hand. My name is Liz (you can call me Jade too, that’s part of my middle name), and I am a mixed race, “ambiguously brown”, aspec person from Canada. I grew up around mostly other immigrant families, attended predominantly non-white schools that were run by mostly white admins, and completed my degrees at a very white university in a field that does not have much racial diversity. I have experienced racism first-hand many times including, but not limited to, name-calling/slurs, fetishization/exotification, being followed by staff, people second-guessing my name, jokes about hurting/killing people of my race, etc. as well as witnessing racism directed at my friends and peers. I know exactly what it’s like to be exhausted and feel unsafe or othered.  There is, however, one thing I need to point out about the multitude of instances of racism I’ve experienced - most of them were caused by ignorance, and not malice. Yes there are absolute assholes out there, but personally I can count those people I’ve encountered on one hand (I am not speaking for everyone, though). The vast majority of racism, bigotry and general harmful acts come from a place of ignorance, particularly on left-leaning tumblr (to clarify, this discussion is centered around well-meaning people and not the actual lost causes). When I say ignorance, I don’t mean a lack of education or intelligence, I mean not being able to see or understand an issue from another person’s perspective. It’s not quite the same as empathy either (where empathy means you are able to feel another person’s emotions), but fighting ignorance does require empathy. It also requires knowledge on the context of the specific situation, and that I believe is the crux of the problem.  I think the main reason why this is issue is particularly prevalent in the DA fandom is a result of the too-close-to-reality-to-ignore inspirations that have been confirmed by the devs. Yes, it’s fiction, but there are also a lot of people that see themselves (mis)represented in the themes and characters. And what one person sees as disrespectful, another person may not see at all. This can come full circle, too, for example: one person sees themselves and their trauma represented in a character, another person sees their race misrepresented in the same character. Person 1 uses the character as a comfort character or coping strategy. Person 2 thinks using that character in certain situations is disrespectful. Neither one sees the other’s perspective.  This is where intersectionality starts to come into play, and requires empathy and effort to address the intentions and emotions of the other person. Perhaps person 1 is LGBTQ+ and has been traumatized by being as such, and uses Dorian as a character to explore their trauma. Perhaps person 2 is Brown, and racism towards their people is their trigger, and thinks person 1 did not do Brown representation justice in their creative works.  Looking at this more specifically, person 1 may have put Dorian in sexual situations. Person 2 feels that the way it was conveyed was fetishist or exotified. Person 2 doesn’t know person 1′s intentions. Person 1 is not aware of certain descriptions that are racist (e.g. using food to describe a PoC’s skin tone). Perhaps person 1 was self-inserting and wanted to feel desirable on their own terms, but this gave person 2 that squick factor.  Now person 2 wants to address this issue, and I think this is where a call-in (not a call-out) would be appropriate. Here is a good infographic that compares the two: 

(Original source)

Note that there is quite a large difference in the language used. Going back to the above example, person 2 could privately message person 1 asking them why they chose to represent Dorian the way they did, with specific examples, and using call-in language (and I’m going to get back to this in a minute). 

The point of this post and infographic isn’t meant to tell marginalized groups how they should be bringing up issues (though it is a good guide if you are concerned about being polite, particularly to a first time offender), it’s intended to demonstrate to people unintentionally participating in harmful behaviour what a call-out vs. call-in looks like. For PoC and other marginalized groups, yes it does take emotional labour to use call-in language and to try to understand someone that wounded you (here is a good read that incorporates the concept of emotional labour for call-ins, and discusses asking yourself if you are ready to do so). For the people who have unintentionally hurt a marginalized individual or group, please understand that someone calling you in is not an attack, it’s a chance to explain why you expressed something the way you did. 

That being said, we may have reached another hurdle. What if you call someone in, and the person called in does not want to discuss the fact that they were inserting their personal trauma? I think this is where things start to get a bit messy, but I am of the opinion that if you’ve unintentionally triggered someone else’s trauma through ignorance present in your work, you owe it to them to at the very least mention that you were inserting your trauma, without having to bring up specifics (anyone is allowed to set boundaries). From there, the discussion can be hopefully be opened up to learning from each other, and reaching a consensus. Sometimes that consensus requires the creator to edit or remove their work. As an addendum, if you are a creator that unintentionally hurt someone with your work that didn’t have an ulterior personal motivation, it’s your responsibility to understand why what you did was wrong, apologize, remove the work and do better next time. I know some people cherish their OCs, but you are allowed to change your perspective and make adjustments to your character without erasing them entirely. Now we’ve reached another potential obstacle - what if an offender doesn’t respond to your call-in? First of all, ask yourself, did you actually call them in, or did you attack them? Here is a good opinion piece from a Black professor on this matter. I’d like to clarify that I am not trying to tone police, I am speaking as someone that used to go ham on ignorant people on Facebook and Reddit, and has since changed their tactics and has even gotten through to Trump supporters (some of this stems from my spiritual growth as well, but that is not the point here).  There is another issue to address here now as well - what if you have tried, repeatedly, to call someone in and they just don’t change their behaviour? Alright, then it’s probably time to call them out. But again, ask yourself, did you truly try to get through to them? If so, well, at the end of the day, some people are, unfortunately, lost causes. In summary, a call-in is meant to come from a place of wanting to help someone who has seemingly gone astray, because you are worried about their thoughts, feelings, and behaviours towards a marginalized group. You know that if they made a mistake it isn’t them, isn’t their heart, and you want them to be able to understand why what they did hurt others, and give them the chance to correct themselves. It comes from a place of love and acceptance, because you don’t want your friends to harbour negative beliefs.  Finally, I want to give a real example of this in action. My cousin is a photographic artist, and was recently called in to discuss the nature of one of her pieces. Her subjects are usually people, and they come from a wide variety of backgrounds. To help support BLM (she does a lot of work to help fight racism in general), she auctioned off one of her pieces. The subject of the piece happened to be a Black woman. She was called in by Black members of her art community to discuss how people bidding on an art piece that featured a person from a marginalized group perpetuated the ogling and monetization of Black people. She gave a response that acknowledged that her piece did perpetuate this issue, because she wanted to raise awareness of this historical harm, and recognized that her intention was ignorant of this perspective. The Black community also acknowledged that the piece itself was not harmful in any way, only that the surrounding issue that they were painfully aware of needed to be brought to light. The auction went ahead, and the piece sold for ~$1000, all of which was donated to BLM.  I think as a fandom we should be cognizant of when a work itself is harmful, or when the intention is harmful. Sometimes they overlap, sometimes they don’t. Both are talking points, and we should not be afraid to discuss them, but this requires respect from all parties. We also do need to be able to recognize what is strictly fiction, versus what has real-world impacts. My askbox is always open and my DMs are open to mutuals if you would like anything clarified or expanded upon. Or, if you’d just like to discuss a topic, vent, or have any questions about my own beliefs, you are welcome to reach out. I am happy to discuss anything, as long as there is mutual respect. 

[gliese710]

Love - The Punishment: Part 2

Pairing: Kyungsoo x Y/N

Genre: Fluff/Angst

Summary: Y/N is a low ranked devil who finds her joy in the smallest of mischiefs. If only a certain angel could mind his own business.

Masterpost

-------------------------

It's been three days since Kyungsoo got his freedom back, and three days since he has developed this neverending restless feeling.

He can't concentrate on anything with that wicked devil constantly occupying his mind, despite at last freeing him. Maybe...no certainly he had been too harsh. Guilt has been eating up at him since that day.

It's just guilt, he tries to convince himself. He's an angel after all, not supposed to be harsh to anyone. But a vague feeling of yearning keeps nagging at some corner of his heart. Maybe because he had gotten used to the endless chatters and now the silence is almost tangible. He'll grow out of it, he keeps telling himself.

Two more days were enough for him to accept the fact that he misses you; not the chitter-chatters, not the constant hustle and not the small time of breather he got out of an abrupt change in his routined life, but you. Hell, he even wishes you would somehow start following him around again.

He is craving the feeling of having a friend, even if they don't share the same morals. He realizes morals have nothing to do with friendship.

You sit at the bank of a river, feet dangling below, touching the water just enough to wet your soles. It's comforting, away from all the chaos, being lazy and doing nothing. The silence is comforting.

You stare at the flowing water, gaze blank, thinking about nothing.

"Kyungsoo, " a voice so familiar you could distinguish it amongst thousand other sounds snaps you out of your daze.

Turning your head quickly, you look at him with widening eyes. He looks a little fidgety, nonetheless speaks again.

"My name...it's Kyungsoo."

Your lips twitch up in a smile on their own, eyes beaming with genuine happiness, and Kyungsoo reflects the same expression when he sees yours.

---------------------

"Oh, you sure are ticklish," you say, a sly smirk etched on your lips, chasing him up in the sky.

"I told you I'm not," he barks, trying to fly as far from your reach as possible.

You snicker, "Then get your ass back here you coward."

He doesn't counter. He can't.

The chase continues, air filled with your laughter and endless bickers.

Days with Kyungsoo has been just like this. Vibrant.

"I wish I'd met you sooner," you tell him one day, legs splayed on the beach, watching the sunset, breathless after one of your chasing sessions.

Silence engulfs you for a while before he swallows the lump in his throat, "Me too," he whispers in a pained voice.

Black and white, pure and evil, light and darkness; one cannot exist in the presence of other. You two were never meant to be together. Yet the thought that your days are numbered painfully clenches at your heart.

And though none of you ever brought this up before, you know it pains him too.

Serving the earth is a duty for angels, each allowed a specific amount of time to watch over it and then return to heaven. New angels take their place. Whereas for devils, it's their punishment. After repenting in hell, their fates get determined by their crimes. Either they get sent back to the world, reincarnated, to live a more meaningful life or if the committed sin was unrepentable, they get turned into devils, to serve the purpose for assigned time before simply perishing.

You exhale a shaky breath, "Kyungsoo, what sin do you think I committed that I still haven't repented enough?"

He looks down at his hands, unresponsive. Forcing out a humorless chuckle, you continue, "This whole system is so fucked up, don't you think? Why create something so useless only to tarnish something so beautiful? Why-"

Kyungsoo turns fast, panic written all over his face. "Y/N I didn't mean it. I'm so sorry for that day. It was my fau-" he rushes out the words before you interrupt him.

"You don't have to apologize Kyungsoo. I know you didn't mean it. But it doesn't change the fact that it was all true."

"It's not true Y/N," he repeats with too much guilt in his eyes and you scoff, looking away.

"You know as well as I do that we can't alter human's decisions. We can intensify their hidden desire or maybe provoke them a little but the end result remains in their hand. They choose which way to lean on, we just give them options. The monsters live within themselves."

He places a hand on top of yours and gives it a gentle squeeze. Your eyes start to glisten.

"Without evil, there would be no definition for good. Everything has a purpose in this universe, and the world would be a chaos without even one of it. Different purposes are what keep the world in balance."

With a smile and eyes full of tears you nod.

Kyungsoo too smiles and the gentle breeze blows all the worries away...for now.

You know, you can feel your time coming to an end. But for now, you choose to pretend, so that when the time actually comes you'd have no regrets.

And so you live, like there's no tomorrow, like there's nothing odd, like it was always meant to be this way.

You fill your days with mutual bliss.

"You'll live upon my terms today," you say one morning, lips pulled up in a wicked grin.

Kyungsoo cocks an eyebrow, eyes inquiring.

"I'm the evil queen today and you're going to serve me."

Kyungsoo laughs, amusement clear in his eyes. "As you wish, your Highness," he says, voice playful.

You drag him to the same house you two first met.

"Remember, you aren't supposed to be involved, " you eye him questioning and he nods, a little nervous.

Satisfied, you concentrate on the task.

The boy was already sulking, this time because he didn't get his desired PlayStation. Brat.

You succeed easily, a triumphant smile on your face as the TV shatters into pieces.

Kyungsoo winces but changes his expression into neutral once you avert your gaze towards him.

"Doing good?" you ask him, voice teasing.

He sticks his tongue out resulting you to chuckle.

"So, which did you enjoy more? The TV's cruel fate, the boy's utter lack of obedience or..." he squints his eyes playfully, "my helplessness?"

"Oh, you know..." you wink at him before dragging him out, "Come on now, we can't waste all our day here. I'm only queen for one day, gotta make the most out of it."

Later that day, you sit on the grass, cross-legged, brows furrowed and a whiny pout on your face.

"Y/N I swear it wasn't intentional, I don't even know how it happened. I just couldn't stop myself," Kyungsoo tries to convince you, desperately trying to make you look at him.

You refuse to comply though. You are beyond pissed at him, for he has, once again interrupted in your act.

"Look at me, please, " he puts a hand on your shoulder but you harshly shove it away, moving your head sideways.

Again, he shifts in front of you, "I'm so sorry, please forgive me?" he pleads in the most honey-like gentle voice of his and your facade starts to crack.

Struggling to keep the frown intact on your face, you eventually give up, breaking into a laughter at his utterly wary self.

"You look so cute, " you say, in between laughing hard.

Kyungsoo just watches you in amusement.

You stop laughing when your eyes fall on his face. He looks ethereal. It's like fall in a spell, gaze moving from his eyes to nose to his lips...oh those lips look very inviting and in a stance you start leaning forward.

He doesn't move, not his body not his gaze, like he's also in a spell, the glint in his eyes changing to something indescribable.

A dog starts barking suddenly, breaking you both out of your stance. You flinch a little and then move back to your position awkwardly.

Kyungsoo clears his throat before standing up, proceeding to hold one of his hands toward you, the other behind him, in a bowing posture.

"Allow me, your Highness," he dramatically states and you laugh, offering him your hand.

He helps you stand up, then kneels infront of you, head hanging beneath, "This lowly creature is at your mercy now my queen."

"Hmm...so what do you think your punishment should be?"

Kyungsoo looks up at you before answering, "I suggest you spare my life this once and in exchange I'll gift you the best day of your life."

"It sounds pretty tempting-"

"Oh, you'll love it your Highness, please think about it."

You pretend to be in deep thought, "Ok, I'll take the offer for now. But if you fail to impress me by the end of the day, I'll take your head as compensation."

He smirks, "Sure, your Highness. I'm all yours."

Your cheeks go bright red at the way he stated it. You try to hide it by averting your gaze.

Kyungsoo lets out an amused chuckle before interlacing your hand with his. He ushers you to take flight and you do, holding hands.

"Where are we going?"

"You'll see."

And the rest of the journey goes completely silent.

You stare at him as if he has hit his head doing the dumbest thing possible.

"What?"

"What?"

He rolls his eyes and huffs out a frustrated sigh, "Just trust me okay?"

You sigh at his pleading look, "I guess there's nothing to lose anyway, your head's a pretty good deal."

His face lits up and you feel a slight tug at your heart.

Kyungsoo has brought you to an amusement park, which you thought at first was because there will be far too many opportunities for you to annoy people, and you felt excited for a short while before he informed you of his plans.

"We're going to try out the rides," he had said like it was the most normal thing to do.

You wonder from where did Kyungsoo get this weird idea, you've never seen any of your kind do this before.

You aren't complaining though. Being with him is enough for you, but of course you aren't going to let him know that.

Kyungsoo asks you to choose the rides. You can tell he's hoping you would choose the less scary ones, but it's your day and you're not giving up an opportunity like this to see a scared Kyungsoo.

He goes a little stiff beside you as you head towards the roller coaster ride.

"You're not afraid right?" you ask him tauntingly.

He scoffs, instantly putting on a brave face, "You're forgetting I can fly. What's even there to be afraid of?"

You smirk, before literally screaming, " Then let's gooooo..." pulling him along with you.

"Sit tight, don't let the wind blow you away," you wink at him and he gives you a glare.

The ride starts slowly, "It's boring, " you say, feigning a yawn.

"It hasn't even started yet, " he scowls.

"But it's-" Kyungsoo puts a finger on your lips, "Shushhh."

You roll your eyes but shut your mouth anyway.

He doesn't scream like the humans do, too prideful to give his fear away, but the extra pressure in your hand which he hasn't let go for once since the very beginning is enough to know.

The ride goes well, for you anyway, with you laughing your lungs out more at the bloodless pale sight of Kyungsoo than the thrill of the ride.

He clearly isn't fond of these, yet he lets you jump from one ride to another, each one scarier than the former. Not once does his smile falter.

Kyungsoo literally stumbles out on wobbly legs after your fourth ride on Drop Tower. You particularly loved this one very much. But now as you are looking at his breathless form you can't help but feel a little guilty.

This shouldn't be happening. You should be selfish. Anyone's suffering should purely serve for your satisfaction. But somewhere along the line, everything changed. Your purposes, your rationales, basically your whole track now revolved around an angel. An angel who should be your absolute enemy. And yet here you are.

"Where to now?" Kyungsoo breaks your stance, brows raised teasingly, as he caught you staring at him for far too long.

You shake your head, smiling, not at all embarrassed at getting caught, "Let's end it here."

This is when his smile falters, not entirely but enough to point out the sadness in his eyes. The inevitable, which you both unspokenly decided to push back in your mind for the day- your last day, finally sinks in, and you blink rapidly to keep in your tears.

You've been fading noticeably since this morning. You both know it's going to be your last sunset, which is not much time from now.

"Let's take a rest," he says, a sad smile plastered on his face. Let's spend the last moments together.

He guides you towards the ferries wheel to sit on top of it, your hands still joined together. The sun is still quite visible from here, atleast till the tall buildings start to engulf it.

For a while, you sit there in silence, staring into oblivion. Then exhaling a shaky breath you look at Kyungsoo to find him watching you with a look in his eyes you can't decipher.

"I guess this is it then," you say, forcing a smile.

He just stares blankly.

"You can keep your head, it indeed was the best day of my life," you try to lighten up the mood a little but he still doesn't respond, "It was fun seeing you so scare—"

"Y/N," he calls, eyes fixed on you, "Would you call it love?"

Your breath hitches. You stare at him wide-eyed, unable to form any words.

"I'm promised all the happiness in heaven and still I don't want to go back. I want to stay here, with you, forever. Is it foolish?"

A forced chuckle escapes your lips, "It is very foolish..." you raise a brow, "but I like foolish thoughts."

Shaking his head, he lets out a small laugh.

You look at the ethereal creature infront of you and gulp the lump in your throat.

"Kyu...Kyungsoo, " you croak out, "Do you think it's part of my punishment?"

He gives you a confused look.

You gulp again before continuing, "I'm not supposed to feel anything good, love isn't a feeling I could perceive. Then why do I feel it?"

You return your gaze towards the far sky.

"I thought about it a lot. I think it's my ultimate punishment, I wouldn't have dread perishing if I didn't get a taste of heaven, " taking a sharp breath you continue, "Thank you, Kyungsoo. Though only for a short time, thank you for being the heaven in my hell."

"Y/N, believe me, I wouldn't exchange any heaven for you, I..." The lump in his throat felt painful and words turned into a jumbled mess which couldn't be delivered to express his emotions. So he did the only thing that could.

And when your lips met, so deeply that you could finally taste his soul, pure and serene, and the love he felt for you, the sadness for the inevitable separation— all so strong you could feel them like your own and you knew he could feel yours too.

The lights lit up the entire park to bid goodbye to the mighty sun, and with mingled tears, intertwined tongues and closed eyes, you bid farewell to the world too.

[imagine-loki]

The Slutty Web One Weaves

Title : The Slutty Webs one Weaves

Chapter NO. 7 of 10?

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki’s Asgardian wife learns women write fanfiction about him on a trip to Midgard. She’s edgy for the duration and lets him have it when they get back.

Author: lokilover9

Rating: M

Astrid apologized, agreed to everything and Thor lead them to a location to hide their vehicle.

"Loki will be pleased to know your helping."

"I should have thought to from the start." She regrettably admitted.

Frigga hugged him. "Thank you for agreeing to take her back should this fail." ***** For eight days, their plan worked until her Father paid the palace an unexpected visit.

Odin was in the front courtyard boasting to some Einherjar about beating an Embassador at charades, when their commander, Nedvar, interrupted. "Ignoramus at twelve o'clock, Sire."

The King groaned. "Splendid. It's Rodderick the dipshit."

"Give the word and we'll pitch him over the wall."

"Tempting, but what do I tell my daughter in law?" Odin hated the occasionally unkempt Lord who preferred perfuming to bathing and greeted him from behind a hedge. "Welcome Roddy. I look so forward to your unscheduled visits."

The disdain was mutual with Roddy feeling Astrid could've done better than wed whom he considered a criminal, Prince or not. "Greetings, Heiness. Might you be so kind as to share the knowledge of when your son intends to return?"

Astrid's parents had two daughters, her being the youngest and known to the Royals as her Father's least favorite.

"That depends on whom you miss more. Asgards lovely Duchess, or my son? Her beloved pardoned Prince. I can give either a message."

"Miss? Impossible as Astrid's practically taken up residence again. Should I relay you wish she ceased luring her Mother from bed crying, or send her home to disturb your sleep?"

"I wasn't aware she'd returned from Midgard. Has age required you hearing aids, or were you night prowling in hopes of accessing Ingrid's locked bedchambers again?"

Roddy frowned and crassly replied. "The lovely Duchess returned with Frigga. Is your wife telling lies, Allfather? Mine would never."

Odin cackled. 'Festering dimwit. Ingrid is banging my valet.' "You shall regard Frigga as 'Queen' and with utmost respect."

"My apologies. She is celestial, yet your defensiveness is revealing."

Roddy liked poking subtle jabs at the Royals and assumed Astrid a barrier to consequence. Most were directed at Loki and the King, but he'd worn Odin's patience too thin. "Insult anyone in my family again, including your daughter and face repercussions. Be gone, Rodderick."

"So soon?"

Odin's jaw clenched. "Leave egghead before I crack it on the pavement. Nedvar, escort him to the gate."

"Gladly, Sire."

Roddy followed, hardly perturbed. "One might expect the offering of a beverage after a stuffy carriage ride."

The commander jolted the gate closed. "Try opening a window Lord Heskin. If you're thirsty, there's a pub nearby rumored to host naked wrestling in the basement. Some days it's ladies, others gents. Enjoy."

When Odin entered their chambers bellowing to the Allmother, her lady in waiting sent word through a chain of servants to a handsomely paid Stableman. Familiar with an alternate route to Astrid's parents, he arrived ahead of Roddy and rushed her to the observatory.

Thor received her call and left immediately. 'Shite, brother. Where art thou?' ***** Following two days in Paris, Loki and Brianna cruised Lake Laguno in Switzerlandand. She questioned him about Asgard and her grandparents, yet when asking the circumstances behind his adoption, Loki spun a tale of half truth.

"Jotunheim had a King named Laufey who owned a magical cube that opened bridges to every realm. Long ago, he used it to attack Earth. Grandfather bravely defended your realm, forced his army back to Jotunheim and demanded he relinquish the cube. Laufey refused and continued attacking Asgards army until most of his people died. Grandfather found me alone amidst the rubble and decided to adopt me."

"You didn't tell him who your parents were?"

"I was an infant and the only survivor for miles."

"Where was Laufey?"

"He'd gone into hiding like a scaredy cat."

Instead of finding his comment amusing, anger washed over Brianna. "He abandoned a helpless baby to freeze? Introduce us and I'll use him as target practice."

Loki booped her nose. "I'm honored you wish to avenge me, but Laufey died and still suffers in the afterlife."

"How?"

"King scaredy cat will never have the privilege of meeting you."

Brianna smiled. "Or you. Was Grandfather hurt?"

"He lost an eye, but recovered nicely."

In Amsterdam, they visited the Artis zoo with over 900 species of little animals, an aquarium, planetarium and Zoological Museum. Further confirmation Brianna's his was how quickly she learned enormous amounts information and remembered the smallest details when later initiating a quiz. Since confessing to the burglaries, Loki was curious how she knew the homeowners were abroad and worked it into their conversation.

She replied like it was all in a day's work. "Dory accompanied me to different parks in fancy neighborhoods around Jersey, posing as my babysitter. Between eavesdropping on adults and questioning kids, it's amazing what you can learn inside a sandbox."

"Questions of what nature?"

"Like, 'I'm new to the neighborhood and love my big house. Where do you live?' Or, 'I'm going to visit my aunt Matilda's lavender farm to make soap.'"

"How was that helpful?"

"Most thought it dull and bragged of their families planning grander trips. Once attaining addresses and dates, I'd stake out their houses and proceed from there."

"Ah. With Dory as the lookout?"

"I left her in shelters or nearby motels. She never figured out how I managed, but by the third burglary, stopped worrying whenever I'd sneak away and send her a text." His eyes widened and Brianna rose a palm. "Dory lacked powers and I wouldn't risk her arrested because of me."

Why lecture when she'd acted out of desperation to find him? "You're a good friend, Og Min Lille."

"Thanks. I regret the stealing, but pranking the authorities was fun."

Loki thought it something innocent like tipping off their hats, but discovered her mischievousness paralleled her intelligence.

"I always struck at night and at one house, four police were investigating inside when I turned on the lights, flushed every toilet and set off their sirens. At the third, I poured a large olive oil path onto the kitchen floor, slammed a pantry door and watched two come running. One slid into it and fell, while the other amusingly contorted himself until the first tripped him. They sure swear a lot for the good guys."

"Brianna." He playfully scolded. "Say you did nothing worse."

"I'd be lying."

"Oh?"

"At the last house, the master bedroom had black drapes and life size models of a lion, wolf and a fang baring polar bear on its hind legs. Weird people. After aligning them near the door, I closed it, extinguished the lights and tripped the alarm. The police came, shone a flashlight inside and from the foyer, I made the bear roar."

Loki chuckled. "Did they scream?"

"And shot the bear."

"What?!" He led her someplace quiet. "From now on young lady, all pranks must meet my approval or…" While pondering means of discipline, he blurted what first came to mind. "...All shoulder and piggy back rides are discontinued."

He made both fun, thought Brianna. Bumping into things when her hands covered his eyes, then flipping her over his head for tickles. Or feigning valiant attempts at shaking her off to escape enslavement.

~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~ "Have mercy and release me!" He pleaded, captured during a picnic.

Brianna popped him on the head with her fake sword, a stick with a bushel of leaves at its tip. "Cease your begging, pheasant! I rule this realm, appoint you my new zombie slayer and hunter of all things chocolate. Fail and be fed to puppies!"

Loki set her down and knelt on one knee with a hand to his chest. "A frightful demise your majesty of cuteness. I humbly accept."

"Daddy, I'm supposed to be fierce."

"Eh he he he. Sorry." ~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~

Brianna deliberated his threat and wittingly proclaimed. "Are you not the God of Mischief and I your offspring?"

He arched a brow. 'Don't laugh or she'll never take you seriously.' "I mean it."

Brianna had already pulled some under his nose. A boy who'd aggressively budded before her at a park slide discovered his shoelaces tied together after nose diving into the sand. A woman at a restaurant who harshly berated a server had red wine spilled onto her Gucci bag. Minor sprinklings of karma she happily administered.

"But you're still a prankster."

"Rarely and without endangering anyone." 'Shite. I'll need to keep that fib under wraps.'

Brianna crossed fingers behind her back and feigned defeat. "O-kay. Can I have a snow cone now?" ***** After seeing the Northern lights in Norway, they'd returned to their hotel where she became oddly sombre.

"Has something upset you?" Loki asked.

"During our travels, I've seen many people with children. It's obvious they're loved, but my family..why, Daddy?"

Her pain pierced Loki's heart as she clung to him. "People can do terrible things for incomprehensible reasons, but you're my little girl now and I'm overjoyed you've come into my life."

When her tears ceased, she unexpectedly opened up about the women. Her first memory was of Jillian singing her to sleep at age three. She and Claudia taught her to talk, walk, bathe and dress herself, brought her toys, fictional and educational books. Yet it was Jillian who'd paid her the most attention, their visits consistently monitored by Hannah. A person so controlling and void of sentiment, Brianna wondered how the trio became friends. The woman opposed their closeness and the first time Brianna defended her Mother, she was forbidden upstairs without Hannah present, who ordered Claudia to report otherwise. This became impossible when the two landed full time jobs. With Jillian delegated homemaker, Hannah was forced to trust her. Over the past year, she'd broadened Brianna's computer knowledge, snuck her for walks to a hidden trail entrance off the main road she'd marked with glow in the dark tape, taught her outdoor safety and survival skills and always stressed keeping everything secret, especially Brianna's magic or Hannah would separate them for good.

"Jillian knew of your powers? Why have you never mentioned any of this?"

Brianna frowned. "She bread me to thicken her purse. No amount of secrets and added kindness makes that excusable or her worthy of commeding."

An undeniable fact Loki avoided arguing. His daughter was hurting and preaching Jillian might've experienced a change of heart could impede their relationship.

She halted his conflictual thoughts by bashfully asking. "Do 'you' love me?"

"Very much, Brianna."

"Can I stay with you forever? Please? I'll move to Asgard."

Loki doubted she comprehended the gravity of her words. "Forever doesn't mean a month long visit as we previously discussed. It involves permanently residing on another realm thousands of miles from Earth where the landscape, culture, even people's wardrobe's are entirely unfamiliar."

"I know. Devoid of space travel, would it be any different if I moved to India, Antarctica or say..Bhutan?"

"I suppose not. I'm sorry, Bhutan?"

"It's a small country just south of China. I memorized Earth's geography and most of its cultures in one month."

"Very good." 'Genius supreme. I must catch up.' "Then you're willing?"

She yawned, proudly raising her chin. "Affirmative. I'd like to see those sandbox dwellers top that adventure."

Incredibly relieved, Loki chuckled. "You've ten remaining seconds to gloat, sleepyhead. Ten..nine.….three, two, one."

"Hey, you said those last digits awfully fast."

"It's time for vampire pajamas, your fierce and Royal Highness."

"A story too? Will you conjure The Empty Grave by Jonathan Stroud?"

"The Empty 'what?'" He amusingly queried. "No way, Jose. I've chosen three options of popular children's literature from the internet. The Cat in the Hat, Whinnie the Pooh, a rather peculiar name for a bear and Charlotte's Web."

"Isn't the last tale about a spider?"

"Yes."

"They're creepy. I choose that one."

'Mother would be impressed.' "Hurry then before zombies find us and eat my brains!"

Brianna shouted from the bathroom. "Nobody hurts my Daddy! Huyya! Take that you fiendish barbarians! Uh oh."

Loki rushed in upon hearing glass crack and found her standing on the bathtub ledge. "What did you do?"

"I was pretending to fight them off with my hairbrush when it flew from my hand, struck that picture and landed in the toilet."

He laughed renewing both with magic. "Your toothbrush is safe, yes?"

Loki finally thought her asleep when she reached out for a hug.

"I'm sorry, Daddy. I forgot to say I love you too. Goodnight."

His heart swelled twice its size. "Goodnight, Og Min Lille." ***** Next they ventured to London and a budding lover of history, Brianna asked to visit The British Museum. While viewing a dinosaur skeleton from an upper walkway, she pointed into the crowd below.

"Daddy, isn't that Tony?"

He took a gander. "Well, well. Iron Man it be."

"Who's the strange lady he's with?"

"Pepper, darling. She often wears wigs to avoid recognition."

Her eyes brightened. "Please, can we say hello?"

"Inconspicuously. I'll him send a text." Daddy concealed his phone. 'Greetings kinky crossdresser. What brings you to Londinium?'

'Loki???'

'Yes. Act casual, we're hiding.'

'Holy shit! We're on vacation and at the Savoy in the Royal Suite. Can you meet us there ASAP? It's important.'

'We're on the ninth floor. Rendezvous in an hour?'

'Ha! We'll be there with balls on!'

'Come again?'

'🤪 Bells, dammit! Bells!'

'😂 Brianna can't wait.'

Tony hurriedly guided Pepper through the crowd. "Excuse us..pardon us..excuse us."

"Where's the fire?" She whispered.

"Daddy Snowflake's in town. Hustle, Butch." ***** Their door opened and Brianna ran to him. "Uncle Cootyoodles!"

"Little Warrior! Am I happy to see you!"

The couple listened with enthusiasm about everywhere she'd been, then Tony asked to speak with Loki alone.

Virginia led her into their bedroom. "Wait 'till you see all the cool stuff I bought."

"That'll keep her busy." Said Stark. "Pepper's a London shopaholic. So why the vanishing act? Thor called me."

Loki scoffed. "I did tell him not to."

"Don't be angry. Astrid returned and wanted to contact me."

"Why? You knew nothing."

"She didn't believe him. Neither did your Mother and Thor worried they'd show up at the Tower."

"What?! Our Mother came to Midgard in search of me? Shit..shit!"

Stark told him everything and Loki's face was unreadable. "Nope. There's nothing weird about staring like I've grown a nipple on my face."

"Did I mention it's pierced? You're saying 'my' brother, Shakespeare in the park, lied that extensively for me?"

"Yes and sent them back to your Dad to expand on it. What's everyone's problem with an awesome six year old anyway? Is that why you didn't go home?"

"Becoming a parent, you're suddenly bombarded with complex decisions centered around one tiny person you never fathomed loving so deeply, much less an indisputable desire to protect above all else."

Stark smiled. "Look at you. The master of Sheisterism all growed up..whose dodged my question."

Loki sunk into a chair. "Maturity aside, my life is a mess. Asgards people still regard me a traitor, Astrid and I are constantly arguing and it's completely unfair of me to expect she Mother a child she didn't bare and Odin's my grandest worry for classified reasons I've become an insomniac over. I can't subject Brianna to that. Her life has been dreadful enough."

"Not anymore. She has you now. I endured shitloads of public and political outrage over changes to Stark Industries. 'Wealth aside', I thought it my doom. People adjust and opinions fade. Astrid will come around once they meet. Look at the number Little Warrior did on us."

"She 'is' irresistibly charming."

"Whatever gramps issue is, arrange for her a few rounds with the old coot. She'll straighten him out."

Loki smirked, picturing Brianna dancing circles around the Allfather. "My Mother would buy ring side seats."

"See? The bulk of your family is on your side. Let them help."

"As appealing as that sounds, Astrid will expect hours of explanation I haven't the energy to convey. I love her, but she 'is' a drama queen."

"Eligible for an academy award."

Loki's eyes narrowed. "Piss off, flying human."

"Thor's willing to talk without the wifey knowing. I've a burner phone as you tend to appear in the strangest of places."

"Mm. Like when I ran into you in a sleazy massage parlor near Carnegie Hall?"

Loki was still a bachelor then, but Tony wasn't.

"I didn't know they offered sexual favors until the masseuse grabbed my dick. They weren't listed on the brochure."

"Eh he he he. I'll call when I've a chance."

They clammed up when Brianna exited the bedroom. "Can I go Daddy, please?"

Pepper followed. "Sorry. I blabbered the Tea shops chocolatiers add finishing touches to their masterpieces at this hour."

"You may." Said Loki.

Tony slipped Little Warrior fifty euros. "Buy me an eclaire and keep the change. Badass ate mine."

"Yay! Thank you!"

They left and Stark unpacked the phone. "Here's your chance while Brianna's absent. Text him, 'Garage?'" ***** Jane distracted Astrid while Thor sat in the cabin of his truck and the brothers soon cleared a lot between them.

"I'm not upset you deceived me anymore Loki, nor is Mother. Yet I'm worried Father's making her life miserable. Are you fearful he'll scorn Brianna?"

"Not up for discussion and relax, brother. You've been gone a while. Mother's gonads have grown."

"She's taking male hormones?"

"I meant she's less meek? Have you dropped the toaster in your bathwater?"

"That only happened once." Thor defensively replied. "I was late for a waxing of my package and hastening making breakfast. Nor have I recently smoked Jane's medical marijuana. She threatened torture were there not enough to ease her menstrual cramps again."

Loki deadpanned. "Norns you're a tit, fruit of Odin's loins.' "How's Astrid?"

"Coping. Jane said she'd do anything to see you again."

"Coping amidst stewing over my bedding of another 'Midgardian hoe' I've fathered a child with, and the humiliating circumstances involved."

"Believe me, brother, she too is no longer angry and the diaries contents stayed within Stark's walls. It isn't my story to tell."

"Your software needs reprogramming, impersonator. Thor Odinson was never so thoughtful of his sibling."

The blond laughed. "He's turning over a new leaf."

Loki had sought privacy in another room and suddenly heard Brianna desperately calling him. "I have to go. Don't tell Astrid we spoke yet." Upon opening the door, she threw herself at him.

"Daddy!"

"What happened?" He asked Pepper.

"We neared the shops door when she gasped, bolted for the elevator and started frantically pushing the button."

Brianna was trembling. "Darling, why are you frightened?"

"We can't stay here, Daddy! She's down there!"

"Who is?"

"Hannah!" She cried. "I'd know that red headed witch anywhere!"

"Shhhhh." He soothed. "I promised they cannot hurt you, remember? Stay here with..."

Brianna wrapped herself tighter around him. "No Daddy! Don't leave me!"

She was so distraught, he couldn't. "I won't, Min Lille. Shhhhh."

"Virginia's gone." Said Tony.

Loki's head shot up. "Back to the shop?"

"Yeah. Said the witch looked familiar and went on a hunt."

"Fuck! Get her back here!" Brianna jumped from Loki's voice. "Sorry Min Lille. Tony, now!"

"Erm..why?"

"Because they've met! If Pepper confronts her, she'll vanish!"

[infinitum-imaginaerum]

Jun; S. 13

Junhui | S.13“You’re so much fun to touch.”

Words | 9,600

Warnings | Pretty tame for a smut

Notes | HERE I AM LIKE… ALMOST THREE WEEKS LATER POSTING SOMETHING. He’s soft and I’m soft for him and I kind of (?) documented my struggle with this so I hope it’s okay. A big thank you to Shelby for basically being the primary contributor to this idea. 

Please check the status of the game at the top of the prompt list before requesting. 

Send me a bias, a section, and a number and I’ll write you a thing!

In the year and a half that you had been taking piano lessons, not one time did your instructor bail. She was practically your only constant in life with all of the new jobs and moving apartments and trying to get onto bigger and better things in life—piano and your instructor were the only things keeping you grounded to real life.  

Naturally, you were devastated when she called you the day before your lesson to inform you that your lessons would continue, but that she needed to find a replacement for you due to some personal emergencies. Never once did she allude to how long she was going to be gone, but encouraged you to keep up with your lessons because it was important that you didn’t fall behind once she returned to continue to work with you.  

Despite your hesitancy, you packed up your notebook and your music book and couple of other things into your bag and made your way down to the studio where you met for practice. It wasn’t a long walk from your newest place, thankfully, but the building was musky, going mostly unused despite its numerous rooms available for music and dance, studios newly renovated that rarely ever saw use.  

Being a bit early because of the new short walk, you made your way into the studio you normally met in and closed the door behind you. You made your way over to the grand piano where there was a note with your name on it on top of a recorder. Curiously, you picked it up and pressed play. It was your instructor, leaving you a little more information about her replacement. All you really gathered was that his name was Jun, there was probably a slight language barrier, and he had been playing piano for a long time. You would probably have to guide him to where you were practicing, but other than that, it should be smooth sailing until she got back.  With a hum, you placed the recorder on the table next to the futon that resided in the room—she would probably want that recorder back, so you’d leave it in Jun’s hands.

Just as you had pulled your music book out and placed it nicely on the stand of the piano, the door clicked again, signaling the entrance of someone else. Your head turned to see who you would guess was Jun, and standing there in the flesh was a boy you recognized. For a moment, you had anticipated him to say something, but the look on his face told you that he recognized you, too. The way his brows rose and his eyes got a little wide, his mouth frozen from the words he was going to say when he laid eyes on you and the only word that came out of his mouth was your name.

“Junhui,” you purred back, the dots of Jun and a language barrier now seemed incredibly important despite being overlooked in the beginning. You knew Jun from way back. He was a friend of a mutual friend of your ex-boyfriend and sometimes you’d bump into him at the coffee shop down the street from your last apartment building. In fact, you saw him a lot of places that you didn’t think you’d ever see anyone you knew, but Jun was elusive like that.  

“Never in a million years did I think we’d cross paths again,” he finally stated, his music book tucked under his arm as his feet finally unbolted from the floor, allowing him to move about the room and over to the table where you’d set the recorder. He dropped the folder onto the futon while he tugged his jacket off.

“Me either, I thought you were long gone when your friend dumped me,” you spat back, some unwarranted venom in your voice as you thought about your most recent breakup a number of years ago now.

“First of all, he’s not my friend. Second of all, you’re much better off without him, the way he treated you,” he replied rather nonchalantly as he hung his leather coat up on the coat rack to join yours. He felt the tenseness in your silence, even though you were the one who brought the subject up to begin with. Either way, he plucked his folder from the couch and turned it to a marked page—the folder was familiar, it was your instructors, so perhaps there wouldn’t be too much guiding after all.  

Admittedly, Junhui always made you incredibly nervous. He was quiet, but friendly; silly, but serious; aloof, but sometimes all too kind. He always took care of you from a distance with your now ex-boyfriend and you owed a great debt to him because of it. You knew it was him all those times that bought your coffee ahead of time;  had flowers delivered to your home now and again just to make sure you were doing okay. He’d grown pretty close to you while you were dating his not-friend-anymore, you guessed, which in hindsight was probably part of the downfall of your relationship.

The same nervousness stood true now as you took a seat on the bench per his instruction. He was rattling on about intermediate piano before asking to hear your scales and a little beginner music before he would decide the best course of action. It seemed to go well, everything you had learned stuck in your head like glue. Listening to him was difficult enough while all of the thoughts about who you knew him to be before were swirling in your head, but it became even more difficult when he leaned over your back and reached around you to play a couple of keys, explaining something pretty simple—you could judge only by the sounds the keys made, something you’d heard a million times by this point—all the while the captivating fragrance wafted into your nose to make you a tad dizzy and miss a key.

He paused dramatically and turned his gaze to you. “What happened?” he asked, alluding to your mistake being something you should never miss.

“You bumped me,” you lied, pushing your shoulder back just a bit to come into contact with his chest which, indeed, could have been close enough to bump you. He raised his eyebrows, unsure if he should buy your story because in the time he knew you before, he could always tell when you were lying. Even as he peered at you, your pursed lips stayed flat, your eyes cast down at the ivory keys as you waited for him to respond.

“My apologies; I won’t stand so close next time,” he muttered to you, backing off so that you could bring your left hand back up onto the keyboard and continue where you left off on your own.

The rest of the lesson seemed to go well for the remaining forty five minutes you had. You packed up your things while he packed up his and without too much interaction, parted ways after chiming that you would see each other again in a couple of days. Since you had lessons a few times a week, you would be spending a lot of time with Junhui out of nowhere. What a coincidence that your instructor happened to pick the only piano player you knew on the face of the planet to fill her place. It seemed a little suspicious, but one day when Junhui didn’t leave the building with you like he had before and instead entered another room, you thought that maybe he was teaching other lessons, and that’s how your instructor knew him.

A few more lessons seemed to go by without incident, but you found your heart pounding in your throat every time he placed a hand over yours to feel you sweep over the keys, or to guide you for better posture to not put so much strain on your wrists, any time his chest touched your back, or his breath touched your ear, you could feel that same tangling of nerves in the pit of your stomach.

Most of the time, he wandered around the studio, reading the notes in his book in sync with you playing them on the piano itself, pacing back and forth around the room, bobbing his head with the music bouncing off the old sound-proof walls and off the wooden flooring that desperately needed a scrubbing. Occasionally, his index finger flittered through the air as if to conduct you, having faith that you would play the right keys with the right timing despite your seemingly lacking need of a metronome.

Sometimes, when you were doing well, he’d come over and place a hand on your shoulder to peek over it and watch the way your hands moved across the keys. Sometimes when you were taking a break he’d slide that hand down your arm or up to the side of your neck. They were intimate touches you were pretty unfamiliar with when it came to him, but you couldn’t push him away; it just wasn’t in you for a reason you couldn’t determine.

He even clapped sometimes when you finished a song—that had your face beet red as you turned it away from him, trying to hide the dust across your high cheek bones while he fingered through some other sheets to find something a tad more difficult to play. As the difficulty increased, the more protective and coddling Junhui was when it came to helping and correcting you. Some pieces were a little too fast for your skill level and you often found yourself stumbling over keys, just to have him take a seat on the bench next to you and whisper encouragingly that you would get it right.

“It’s okay,” he’d always whisper. “This is difficult stuff, far beyond your skill level and I don’t expect you to get it right.”

“Then why have me do it?” you would ask and look over at him. He took a deep breath and smiled.

“The more difficult something is, and the harder you try at it, the better you’ll get. Your skill will never increase if you keep playing the same mundane stuff over and over again. You have to set goals higher than you can reach so that you have something to strive for,” he would say every single time.

“I already know,” he started, looking at you as he nudged further onto the stool, nudging you a bit off to the side, “that you’re going to be way better than me, someday,” he praised, setting his fingers on the keys to play exactly what you had been struggling to play for the past hour with utter confidence and perfection. The way his fingers moved across the keys almost blew your mind, how effortless it looked to him as he moved his head with the sound that wafted from the piano and swirled around the room. There was something different in the air when Junhui played. It was heavenly, surreal almost, the way he became one with the music.

“I’ve always been jealous when it came to you,” he uttered, his fingers hitting the final keys as he turned his face to you.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked him, turning your face to his, but your eyes were trained on his hand that pressed into the bench. You could feel his coaxing touch under your chin that had a certain feeling erupting inside you as he tilted your head up.

“Your talent: the way you seemed to pick up things so easily and excel at them. Your views, your handle on life even in the face of adversity; how tender and sweet you were to the people who didn’t deserve it, how you took everything so gently and gracefully… I ached for you; I ached for you to get out of that damn relationship, I ached for you when it finally ended and the tears that came down these cheeks were like daggers in my chest—”

“Junhui,” you interrupted with the soft shake of your head.

“I ached to have the type of grace that you had that day. The way you smiled and took it, despite the tears on your face. It killed me; I wanted to strangle him. Admittedly, I was jealous that a prick like him had such a doting girl by his side. You were the epitome of perfect and you deserved so much better,” he spoke through gritted teeth with a brow knit so tight it gave his face a pained look.

Your fingers gently wrapped around the wrist of the fingers that were still cupping your jaw, making you look at him as he spoke. His eyes darted between yours, looking for something, anything, to give him a sign. He swallowed hard; you could almost hear it in the silence of the studio.

“I just wanted you to be okay. I wanted to remind you that despite everything, you were nothing but good to him. I wanted to remind you how doting and loving and caring you are. I wanted to remind you that you are absolutely beautiful—”

“As beautiful as the flowers you sent?” you uttered back, interrupting him for the second time as you quoted one of the notes he’d given you in a bouquet you would always remember—sunflowers and red roses.

“You deserved so much more than a stupid boy who didn’t know what he wanted. You deserved consistency, you deserved surety, and you deserved hard work. You deserve a world nobody is worthy enough to give you,” he uttered back as his thumb stroked against your chin, brushing the curve of your bottom lip as he looked from your eyes to your mouth for a fraction of a second.  “You deserve someone who is as doting of you, if not more so.”

The light grip you had around his wrists tightened just a bit when his gaze fell on your mouth and back before whispering that last statement. There was a bubbling in your abdomen that you had to determine the meaning of—were these past feelings that resurfaced as familiarity, or in your unexpected meeting, did you really still feel that way about him? You knew that your feelings for Jun were, inevitably, a part of the final crumbling of your previous relationship, even though you knew things would never have worked between you two given the damage. You felt fondly towards another man while in a committed relationship with someone he knew; those were dangerous waters itself.

It would take time, you thought, to figure out how you truly felt as you sat in front of him, the feeling of his minty breath on your face just exacerbating your struggles as you sat there facing him on the piano bench of a studio room in a run-down building down the street from your apartment while the overcast barely allowed for sunlight through the dingy window of said building.  Even still, you couldn’t help the way your eyes traveled down his face, down to his lip currently being abused between his teeth, lower to his collar bones peeking out from the v-cut of his black shirt. The itch to kiss him was overwhelming—it felt like the right thing to do especially when his face was a foot or so from yours, his breath when he wasn’t abusing his lips beat against your own, his gaze periodically glancing down; he had to be thinking about it, too.

His grip on your chin was a little tighter as the path of your gaze seamed to sear a trail against his skin; he stopped abusing his lips, his jaw clenching instead as a low growl reverberated in his chest.

“Junhui…” you uttered, prompting him to share his thoughts with you since he obviously had quite a few.

“You’re driving me crazy, the way you’re looking at me,” he snarled to you. Admittedly, you were looking over him like your next meal—it wasn’t the first time you had, as it appeared to be a common occurrence back when you were dating your ex. He often ignored you, so your attention turned to the only person in the room who seemed to acknowledge your presence—Junhui. Although you never acted on it, you looked at Junhui like your prey, particularly because you loved the way he squirmed under your gaze. The two of you kept your distance, knowing it was taboo, but you never understood the harm of looking as long as you didn’t touch; it wasn’t as if your boyfriend at the time paid close enough attention to you to even notice your gaze elsewhere as you were often cast aside, mostly forgotten about.

“Looking at you how?” you teased, knowing exactly what he was talking about. His grip on your chin turned from a gentle cup between his thumb and knuckle of his index finger, to a grasp in the cup of his palm.

“You know how,” he growled. “The way you used to look at me… the look that made me want to totally violate your relationship,” he spoke breathily as he squeezed your cheeks a tad, puckering your lips that he completely drank in. “What are you thinking?”

“I don’t think I should tell you,” you replied with a soft smirk, the corner of your lip being drawn between your teeth as you looked at him, eyes dragging back up to his own, his mere presence clogging your receptors, making you hazy-eyed with the sheer amount of hormones he was releasing.  

“I think you’re thinking about how pretty I would look with my head thrown back while you mark up the veins in my neck you can’t stop looking at. I think you’re thinking about all the nasty sounds I would make with your mouth all over my collar, peppering it with love-bites… and judging by the look on your face, that’s pretty spot on, hm?” he hummed, revealing all of your wildest fantasies about him, the thoughts that coursed through your mind back then when you looked at him so hungrily, like he was the only one who could keep you well fed.

If you weren’t in your right mind, your eyes probably would have rolled back with the things he was speaking of. While they were true, hearing them come out of his mouth made them sound that much dirtier; perhaps it was just the needy lilt off his tongue that made it so. But you were relatively in your right mind, unable to shake the fact that you were in a public studio room sitting sinfully close to the man who often had you questioning your relationship, before and after it ended. So, while you would have given everything to crush your lips against his and then lower, marking up that immaculate skin that begged for your teeth to abuse it, your self-control was too intact to even consider falling for his plot, even as you purred his name in reply.

He brought a leg over the bench to straddle it.  “Do you want me to tell you how sinful I know that mouth would be deep in the crook of my neck or tracing my collarbones or lower to mark across my chest? Do you want me to tell you the way I’d clutch to you, or cradle your head and, in a quiet rasp, would praise you with sighs and hisses that would make your skin crawl?” he asked, gathering one of your hands in your hazy state to press it against his abdomen and drag it upwards to feel the curve of his chest, to feel the way it rose and fell with every breath he took while his tongue came out to wet his lips, but mostly to tease you.

“You’re a tease,” you uttered to him, falling apart under his gaze. The way he looked at you was akin to the gaze you often gave him. His gentle chuckle only made the situation that much more dire.  

“Oh, honey, if you think I’m a tease now, you’re in for a frustrating surprise,” he cooed back, dragging the hand of yours he placed against his chest and put it against his strong thigh, high against his rough jeans. He could feel the way your hand tensed, clenching around his leg which just pushed him further. Involuntarily, his head lulled back, the fantasies at the forefront of his mind making him a little dizzy.

Your mouth watered and your teeth snapped shut, trapping your choked down sigh at its gate. The way his veins pulsed, pumping blood through his gorgeous neck had you swallowing hard as you drank it all in. Your tongue swiped across your lips, your next meal right in front of you, practically offered to you on a silver platter and your nails raked against his jeans.

“Go ahead,” he prompted breathily, “take what you want.”

The offer was too good to pass up, even with your strong self-control. You leaned over, your primed lips tentatively kissed against the hollow of his throat where his collarbones met before your warm tongue swiped against the collarbone to your left, nipping at the thin skin that covered it. Junhui shivered, but you could feel it with the five inch distance between your bodies.  His scent was enough to drive you wild, swirling in your nose as it pressed against his hot skin. Your control was diminishing by the moment, evident by the way you turned on the bench, your free hand tugging the collar of his v-neck to the side to continue your assault on his clavicle.

His hand that previously covered yours against his leg couldn’t help but weave through your hair, furling a handful in his fingers. Your mouth was so much more than he could have ever imagined, and he fantasized about it a lot—with the way your ex talked about it all the time, he begged to experience it himself; he was coming undone and you just started.  

As he promised, the sighs started falling from his lips, the hisses to follow as you nipped at his skin, at his veins lining his gorgeous neck and up to his jaw where you kissed a little more aggressively, pressing deep kisses into his skin, tugging it to break the capillaries underneath and licked it apologetically with every hiss he gave you. Your front was on his when he leaned back, supporting his weight on his free hand that planted on the bench behind him. It had you shifting on the bench, putting a knee against it to give you a little leverage while your hand left his leg to roughly cup his jaw and direct his head, tilting it away from your hungry kisses.  

“Oh, my god…” he uttered shakily as your face sunk into the crook of his neck, biting at the junction of his neck and shoulder, into the thick muscle that resided that. He couldn’t help but arch, pressing tight against you as you left a dark love-bite there, deep in the crook of his neck, then a lighter one just above it. You pushed against him, both of your hand finding the bench behind him as you guided him with your body, your lips kissing against his jaw, across to his chin and by the time your teeth took his bottom lip to give it a gentle tug, his back hit the bench with you hovering over him, deep between his legs which were still straddling the bench.

He swallowed hard when your teeth released his lip, expecting to be followed with a tender kiss, his tongue anticipating yours, but it never came. He was panting underneath you, his eyes rolling from the back of his head, it seemed, hazy and hooded as he looked at you, a pink-faced mess.

“Lesson’s over, Junhui,” you whispered teasingly, a ghosted breath against his lips while you pulled away and watched his chest rise and fall as he panted into the stale air of the studio room. He didn’t move when you dismounted the bench, just laid there and stared at the ceiling, trying to get his vision to go back to normal, hazy and lust-filled, the tensions in his jeans almost unbearable and he drew his thick bottom lip between his teeth to abuse it some more. The frustration had his brow knitting together. He turned his face away from you and toward the piano, hiding it in embarrassment as he bent one leg to put it up on the bench, trying to ease some of that tension.

Once you had all of your things gathered, you silently ambled over to him. His eyes were closed lightly, face still turned towards the piano as he laid there. You reached down and walked two fingers up his torso and to his chin.

“Don’t forget, next lesson is in home,” you reminded him. He vaguely recalled seeing something like that on the schedule. There was one lesson a month that was two hours instead of one in which you instructor kindly came to your house since the studio was being used on that particular day—your lessons were very ritual and couldn’t be changed because of your busy life. His eyes opened as your fingers softly turned his jaw to you and you leaned down.

“Take good care of yourself when you get home for me,” you breathed and placed a soft kiss against his needing, abused, and rosy lips. His eyes hardly had time to flutter at the small victory before you were gone; the click of the door behind you beat Junhui’s eyes back open.

“Who’s the tease again?” he uttered out loud, finally finding the will in himself to rise from the bench and gather his things, noticing you left your music book and snatched that on his way out, too.  

The couple of days that passed between your lessons seemed to go by pretty quickly for one, and agonizingly slowly for the other. Junhui almost dreaded the way your address burned the paper in his hands before he looked up to stare at the exact numbers in front of his face. Multiple times he thought about sending you a text, saying that he got sick and couldn’t make it but how pathetic would he look. Nothing, not even the privacy of your apartment, was going to have him slipping up like that, so unprofessionally, again… or it could go extremely poorly, and he had his bets on the latter.

Regardless of the past, he clenched his fist, crumpling the paper with your address in his hand and wrapped on your door. He could hear your angelic voice on the other side of the door, prompting him to wait just a second before the door opened, not nearly as much time as he was hoping to have to prepare himself.

The way your eyes glimmered when you opened the door and looked up at him had his insides melting. He had discovered over the past couple of days that it wasn’t just lust, although he’d never deny that there was a lot of that, but the remainder of his shredded feelings for you had somehow knit themselves together to form some semblance of actual desire for you as a companion. Your soft gaze on him only reconfirmed that, especially with the soft lilt on your tongue as you spoke his name and reached out to take his hand and the arm attached to it to pull him into your apartment when he seemed to be a bit frozen.

Your apartment was exactly as he envisioned it, exactly as you were: simple and chic, beautifully but minimally decorated, clean and tidy, bright and homey.  His eyes looked around your place before coming back to you, having not noticed the warmth of your grip through the sleeve of his turtle neck had disappeared for a moment.

“Junhui, I won’t lie—I haven’t been practicing, I forgot my music book at…oh…”

He held your music book out to you without words but also managed to cast his gaze away from you to hide the small blush across his cheeks. You thanked him, even if he could barely hear it through the sound of his own heartbeat in his ears.  

The first half of the lesson went by without incident, albeit you both kept your distance from each other. Junhui was having a hard time with the lack of pacing room as you played on a small keyboard just enough to fit into the empty space on a wall of your place. He paced behind you, unable to take his eyes off your back, off the way your sweater barely clung to your shoulders, the way your hair swept over it and revealed a sliver of your neck. He found it hard to concentrate, the darkest love-bite staining his skin feeling as if it was on fire with just the thoughts running through his head.  

Junhui tugged at the collar of his turtleneck with a light hiss and you stopped playing upon hearing it. Slowly, you turned to look over your shoulder at him, watching him take a deep breath and collect his nerves before finally opening his eyes and jump at the sight of your stare.

“How about we… take a break?” you suggested, “I can make some tea and we can just relax—”

“Please,” he almost begged before asking to use your restroom. After directing him to it, you left to the kitchen to put some water on the stove to boil. You were clutching the countertop as you waited, really soaking up just how awkward everything was now. It felt too unnatural to try and avoid it as there was undeniable chemistry and some stepped on toes and shards of feelings that were coming back together from the past that neither of you were able to ignore.

Seriously, you kissed him as you were leaving from your last lesson, was that something so easily ignored? Not to mention the dark mark in the crook of his neck as the undoubtable reason for his choice in turtleneck, accompanied by a few lighter marks that you were pretty sure still littered his skin. It was no longer a matter of what to approach, but more how to approach it.  

Junhui cleared his throat from the doorway to the kitchen, bringing you out of your deep thoughts and forced a smile when you finally looked at him. He leaned against the frame looking way more attractive than you were willing to admit to yourself in that particular moment. You tried to gather yourself before he caught you staring too long and thankfully the squeal from the kettle gave you a reason to turn away from him.

“The tea is—”

“We need to talk,” he piped up, interrupting you and the tea. You froze but still didn’t look at him.

“Jun—”

“I still love you, and don’t act surprised because you knew I always did. Seeing you that first day when I came into the studio… just about shattered me. Those long pushed away and forgotten about feelings came welling up in my throat, I almost couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t stay away from you,” he began, still standing in the doorway to watch you as you slowly retracted your hand from the kettle, wiping the condensation against your pants before you finally mustered the courage to look at him.

“I’ve spent three days considering everything and came back to the same conclusion every single time. I can’t ignore it anymore without making it incredibly awkward,” he uttered, spilling his heart to you. You could never deny that you felt the same way, but your hands trembled at your sides. The kettle had stopped chirping, enough mind to get your hand on the knob to shut the stove off.  You were blinking hard, trying to take it all in, trying to get it to register enough to get you moving, but you didn’t have to. Junhui was there, leading the way like you wished he did so many times.

“I lost you once, I won’t lose you again,” he whispered, slipping an arm around your waist to tug you into him, turning your chin up with his free hand so he could really look deep into those glimmering eyes that wowed him every day. All you knew, all you could think of was his name, and it slipped off your lips again like a sweet lullaby in his ears, making the kiss that much sweeter when he collected your mouth for himself.  His kiss was as deep and passionate as he was, reminding you of his feelings, reminding you of what you meant to him. It was ardent, unrelenting, but it made your insides melt into a puddle as your shaky hands finally rose to clutch him against you, wrapping one of them around the back of his neck, the other hooked on his shoulder.

You relished the taste of his mouth, the searing warmth of his body the way it melded into yours, the sigh against your lips like he couldn’t get enough. All of that hurt, losing you to another man who didn’t deserve you, who didn’t treat you right the way he would have. All of that tension through years of teasing while being off the market. All of that grief once it was over and you disappeared from his life, all of it came rushing back now transformed into victorious relief. He kissed you like he’d never be able to kiss you again as he turned you to push your back up into the edge of the counter, sliding a hand over it as he braced for contact. He leaned you back against that counter, begging to put you up on it when you wiggled against him.  

Both of his hands trailed down your sides to have you squirming against him, even more so when his warm soft hands slipped under your shirt to touch against the skin of your hips. You almost broke the kiss; the reaction to his touch had you up on your toes trying to escape while simultaneously melting into his hands. The kitchen counter he had pinned you against kept you right where he wanted you, so even as you tried to escape, the firm tile pushed into your back.

“Jun!” you squeaked when his fingers ghosted up your spine. With a hard arch of your back, your front pressed deep into his and he hummed against your skin, keeping his lips occupied with your neck when you broke the kiss to exclaim his name.  His lips kissing at the curve of your jaw, down the column of your neck had your hands clutching at his hair, had your labored breath hitting the kitchen air, had your head lulling back to offer as much of your neck as you could.

“You’re so much fun to touch,” he growled into your neck, his hands sliding out of your shirt and over your rear, tickling the back of your thighs that had one of your legs rising on its own to try and hook on his hip. He took the hint and hulled you onto the counter to slide between your legs which were quickly clenching against his hips as he kissed down the cut of your shirt, one of his hands tugging at it to reveal more skin for his hungry lips.

“What happened to shy, sweet Junhui?” you asked, not that you were complaining, but you could hardly get breath in your lungs fast enough before it was being exhaled as a sigh.

“He lost you to Jeonghan instead of putting his foot down like he should have and taken you for himself. Then had to deal with the pleading stares and the teasing touches and watch the way you suffered and I ached to take you away from him,” he growled, his grip on your hips tightening as he pulled you closer, grinding between your legs which had your jaw falling open. “And then you were gone and I can’t tell you how much I missed you, how much I wanted to see you again, to give what should have been a chance. I also can’t tell you how bad you tortured me, how many times you sent me home to take care of myself.” His voice was rough and you could feel him between your legs which did nothing to aid the way he nipped at your neck as he growled against it.

“I can’t tell you how many times I gritted my teeth and tried to bear your looks and your touches as I clawed at anything I could get my hands on. I can’t tell you how many times I wanted to put you under me, to lay you down and stick it to Jeonghan. I can’t tell you how many times I wanted to take advantage of the way you were up on me sometimes, because we both know I could have taken you home.”

You were a panting mess in his hands, clawing at his hair, legs squeezing around his hips as he told you about all the things you did to him. He was right; there were a number of times he could have easily slipped you away from Jeonghan. You took pride in your loyalty and it killed Junhui in more ways than one. On the one hand, he couldn’t take your teasing anymore and on the other, he wanted you to just get the hell out of there because it was clear you weren’t happy.

“Shy, sweet Junhui has endured enough torture,” he answered as a reply to your initial question as he kissed against your chin and eventually taking your lips again. His warm tongue was slick against yours, taking you a little by surprise, but it didn’t take long for you to relax into him again before you broke the kiss.

“And now what are you going to do?” you asked, pulling the smirk onto his lips.

He cupped your chin, making you look at him as he looked over your face, the hungry glint in his eyes made you shiver as you watched the gears turn, watched the way his gaze shifted over you. “I’m going to take you to your room and take my sweet time taking every piece of clothing off of you. I’m going to kiss every inch of this beautiful skin.”

“And then?” you asked, anticipating the sweetness of Junhui’s words was going to wither away.

“And then you’re going to get a pretty good idea of all the frustration you pent up in me. I’m going to make these legs quiver; I’m going to make you a mess for me, the way you made me a mess and more. I’m going to blow your gorgeous mind.”

He didn’t even give you time to respond as he took the back of your knees, pulling you entirely into him so that he could scoop you off the counter. Evading your kisses, he took you to your room while your teeth nipped at his lip, begging desperately for his mouth to be on yours. He gave you his signature smirk, finally pushing through the correct door to take a quick glance around before he was setting you back down on your feet. Half of you expected he would go after you first, but instead, he tugged his turtleneck off and let it flutter to the floor.

Your eyes drank him in, seeing his naked torso for the first time despite how many times you’d thought about it, how many times you’d dreamt about it in this exact situation. His chest rose and fell with each breath as he waited for you to make the move he knew you would—your hand rose from your side to touch against his abdomen before withdrawing. He took your hand, pressing your palm flat against his searing skin and bit his lip as he guided it over his torso.  

Junhui absolutely adored the hazy look in your hooded eyes as your flat palm maneuvered against his chest. Your tongue flicked out to wet your dry lips and your labored breath fanned against his collarbones. Speaking of which, that nice dark love-bite on the crook of his neck was staring at you with such intensity it had your head lulling for a moment. Your teeth bit lightly on the tip of your tongue, the thoughts of making all the lighter marks that littered his skin that much darker. The image of his collar peppered with hickeys had your legs clenching together while he just watched you in amusement. Despite the amusement, Junhui’s pants were getting unbearably tight.

He guided your hand back down to the hem of his pants, watching your eyes shoot to his. “If you would, darling,” he prompted, letting your hand take control of itself before being joined by the other. You fumbled with the button, the adrenaline from your fantasies becoming reality coursing through your veins as the brass button finally popped open to reveal a small sliver of the waistband of his underwear. Tentatively, your fingers pulled the zipper of his pants down and the delicious sound he made at the feeling of sweet relief had you making one similar in response.

Not a moment later, his hand collected your jaw and brought your lips back to his for a fiery kiss. Your hands freely explored his bare chest, taking in every crease and crevice of his body as he made your head spin. The taste of his lips, of his tongue was out of this world.  His fingers were toying with the hem of your shirt which he slowly pulled off, breaking the kiss as he tugged it over your head just to meet your lips again. He sighed into your mouth, the feeling of your warm skin on his was ethereal, and after a couple of steps back he had you tumbling onto your bed.  

Deep into the mattress on either side of you his hands sunk into the bed, pinning you in. His mouth was fervent on yours, swallowing your shallow sighs and choked off moans. He shoveled a hand underneath you to hoist you into him and drag you further to the middle of the bed before he reeled back to look you over.

You squirmed under him as he kneeled between your parted legs, your hand gripping the covers underneath you despite your desire to throw them across your body—you knew he wasn’t having any of that, and he wasn’t playing games. It wasn’t long before his head was buried in the crook of your neck, hot open-mouthed kisses trailing across your skin as he lightly marked your collar and lower. He could feel the way you shivered against his mouth, your fingers carding through his hair as he left a mark against the swell of each of your breasts.

“Absolutely gorgeous,” he muttered into your skin, trailing lower to kiss over you quivering abdomen, his hands on your sides to tickle your skin.  Once his lips hit the hem of your pants, he nipped at the tender flesh of your lower abdomen just enough to make you hiss. His smirk against your skin about branded you as his fingers worked at the button of your pants, popping it open and the zipper followed, but he wasn’t keen on leaving your pants dangling on your hips the way his were. He tugged them down just a tiny bit and laid eyes on the silky maroon underwear you were wearing.

“Does everything about you have to drive me totally crazy?” he asked, looking up to you for some type of explanation he knew he wasn’t going to get.

“Jun,” you whined, hoping that he would just hurry up because you were getting incredibly impatient.

“Damn, that’s sexy; you can’t even finish my name,” he purred, teasing you, ignoring the fact that your pants weren’t even halfway off your legs.

“Wen Junhui,” you growled, throwing your head back into the covers, “hurry up!”

He was back up to your face in an instant, focusing down on you. “You want me, princess? Am I teasing you? Are you getting frustrated?”

Your hand came up to cup against his manhood, hard in your palm and Junhui’s breath stuttered out his throat, his head dropping as his jaw fell open, a libidinous moan falling from his lips. His breath was labored against your chest as another lascivious moan dripped from his mouth when you gave him a gentle squeeze and a tiny bit of much desired friction.

“I think you want me, too, baby.  Is that right?” you asked.

He uttered something you couldn’t hear, so you reiterated your question, giving him a generous stroke.

“Yes! God, yes,” he yelped, thrusting against your hand which ended up rubbing against the opening of your jeans.  You didn’t need to say anything more—he kissed down your torso and tugged your jeans off, letting them fall to the floor with everything else as he kissed against your legs, caressing your skin with his wide hands as he parted your legs to kiss inside your thighs. You were biting back moans, your hazy gaze staring up at the ceiling, the warmth of his breath against the most sensitive pieces of skin would have had your hips bucking if you weren’t busy counting your breathing until you could feel his hands slither under the arched small of your back.  

Expertly, he unclasped your bra and slipped it off your shoulders and down your arms, discarding that to the floor somewhere in an obscure direction. He worshipped the newly exposed skin, whether it be his mouth or his hands, any and every contact had your fingers  in his hair, tugging gently at it while your legs impatiently rubbed together until he parted them again with his knee.

It was some sweet relief, the way he propped it just enough for you to rub against him, to writhe on the bed underneath him until finally a lusty moan graced his ears. He was working back down your body; almost unable to endure it anymore as he hastily tugged your underwear off, marveling at the way you lay naked underneath him, entirely at his will. He caressed your right thigh while his right hand entertained his erection, trying to give himself a little reward for all of his work.

“Let me,” you pleaded, guiding him off the edge of the bed as you slid to it. Your hands took his hips once his feet planted on the ground, rubbing deep circles into them which had him biting his lip as he looked down at you. You pushed his jeans down a bit, letting them hang off his thighs while you were face to face with the navy cotton of his underwear until your right hand palmed him.

The noise that fell from Junhui’s lips sent sparks through your lower half the way it had before. You stroked him through his underwear, one of his hands threaded through your hair as he hissed and sighed with every movement. He swallowed hard; you could almost hear it, when your nimble fingers tugged the thick waistband of his underwear over his solid manhood. The cool air that hit it had it twitching and you calmed him with your touch. He was a fire in your hand; hot, heavy and thick. Your mouth was watering, your legs clenching together as you looked up at him.

“Mmm princess, I can’t,” he tried, unable to get a full sentence out, totally smitten with the way your cloudy eyes looked up at him. “I can’t take it anymore,” he begged, tilting your head up just  little bit more, his tongue wetting his lips as he leaned down to collect yours in a soft kiss. “I want you so bad; can I have you, please?”

With your gentle nod, he gathered you against him and hulled you onto the bed before your hand was clawing at the bedside drawer. He leaned over for you, reaching in for a rubber that he quickly unwrapped and rolled down his length.  Your legs were happily parted for him, hooked on his hips as he nestled between them, stroking over your thighs as he looked down at you. The tip of his manhood grazed your silky center, pressing just enough to have you shivering with the way he rubbed it up and down against you. He nodded, pleased with the moisture coating his tip.

“Can you take me?” he asked and nodded as you did. His left hand laced with your right as he poised himself, probing against your entrance and met your eyes. Your breathing was uneven already, anticipating him as he slowly pushed in, savoring the look of total pleasure on your face as your head fell back into the mattress, squeezing his hand in yours.  

His name hardly came off your lips as a whisper into the stale air of your bedroom. He was biting back his own pleasured noises, pinning his lip between his teeth, feeling the way you stretched around him, your nails in the back of his hand as you gripped his tightly. Junhui pointed his feet, allowing him to sink further down onto the bed while his right hand steadied your hips as he filled you to the brim.

Your chest rose and fell with each breath, you could feel his eyes scanning you since he couldn’t see your face; but that didn’t stop him from leaning over, bracing with his right hand as he pinned your right above your head.  He took your lips in a tender kiss, waiting for the green light as he kissed away from your lips and against your cheek, whispering sweet nothings into your ear until your hips wiggled against his. Tentatively he tugged out just about all the way, listening to you whine as you cupped the back of his neck before slowly sinking back in. He shuttered a moan against the crook of your neck, overwhelmed with how good you felt, especially as your ankles hooked behind him to hold him still for a moment.

“Are you okay?” he asked you, reeling back to get a good look at your face as he pushed your hair away from it, stroking your cheek with his thumb while you nodded.

“You just feel really nice,” you replied with a sheepish smile, closing your eyes to turn your head away from him, but that didn’t stop him from kissing against your temple.

“Good, it only gets better,” he reminded you as your ankles unlocked, letting him move a bit more freely.

He was gentle with you, his pace slow and sweet, locking eyes with you as you shared the fire of passion. His left hand never left your right, his fingers laced between yours to pin it to the bed, to lift it to kiss it, no matter what that hand never left his. He loved the way your warm breath hit his collar, the way your moans filled his ears and sent a tingle down his spine, especially when your eyes could barely stay opened and fluttered closed from time to time.  

Equally, you adored the way he pinned his lip between his teeth, the way he tilted his head and hissed when it felt just right, you adored the way he nodded when you fed him every pleasured noise he was looking for. His pace picked up, rocking the bed a tad, but it was still silent in comparison to the way you whimpered for him. When he sat back on his feet, his right hand took diligent time to trail down your body, to feel every inch of convenient skin beneath his fingertips down to your hips where his hand took purchase. He held your hips still as he worked you over.

When his gaze left your eyes to look between you two, you couldn’t help the blush that rose to your cheeks. His jaw fell open, watching himself disappear deep between your legs that had him pausing, shivering, and dropping his head back for just a moment before he was moving again.

“I love the way I just… disappear inside you,” he uttered, exacerbating the blush high on your cheeks that he probably couldn’t see and even if he could he probably didn’t care. “Not to mention how… incredible you feel.”

“You can curse in front of me, Junhui,” you giggled, knowing that’s what the small pauses were about. He always had the most pristine imagine in front of you, but underneath you knew how he really was.

Even still, he buried his face deep in your neck to curse against it, muffling it just enough to be indecipherable, so you were surprised when he pulled back just a tiny bit to whisper into your ear.

“You feel so fucking good,” he told you, kissing against the curve of your jaw until he was at your lips, but before he kissed you, he left you with another gem against them, “I could come right now,” and then he took your lips for a lingering kiss.

Despite his words, he didn’t seem to slow down. In fact, it only appeared he sped up, trying desperately to keep that hand in yours even if he begged to take both of your hips and put you through the mattress. His right hand was on target, tugging your hip towards him to help you meet his thrusts as he picked up, clearly ready to finish and so were you; the pressure in your abdomen was ready to explode. You had to reach down, too eager, to guide his fingers towards your sensitive crux—it didn’t take long for him to get the hint. He swiped his tongue against his thumb before pressing against that fiery bundle of nerves and just that simple touch had you arching up, feeding him a needy moan and drawing a smirk onto his lips. He turned his hips up, rubbing against your top wall as he teased that button, rubbing in indeterminate circles; some fast, some slow, some full, some half way, some hard, some soft. Regardless, your legs were clenching around his hips on the edge of your release, and you could tell he was teetering on his, too, the way his thrusts became cautious.

They turned shallow and rough instead of long and smooth, trying to make it through for you, but when you reached up to take the back of his neck and crush your mouth against his, muffling what would have been the most delicious moan of the afternoon as it faded into a squeal, he let it go. His thrusts were long but quick, snapping into your hips as he pulsed against your tight walls, even as your lips broke. You were panting against his mouth as he sloppily attempted to kiss you, pretty well spent as you stroked through his hair, his left hand finally having released your right.

He shoveled his arms under you, settling into the crook of your neck where he planted lazy kisses, feeling the way your walls continued to clench and unclench while your nails lightly moved along the back of his neck. You were panting into the air of your bedroom which reeked of sweat and sex while he was panting into your neck, turning your hot skin even hotter as he gradually softened and eventually found the strength on shaky arms to tug out of you, listening to you whimper and squirm on the bed as he tugged your legs closed. They quivered in his hands as he rubbed them down, kissing your kneecaps as your legs bent.

You missed his hands while they busied themselves with cleanup and you watched as he tugged his underwear back on.

“Clean underwear?” he asked you, following the point of your finger to the bottom drawer of your dresser across the room. Your eyes scanned his naked back, the totally smitten feelings that you felt about him before had multiplied tenfold and you smiled as he leaned down to pick out a pair he liked. He helped them on you once he returned, sliding them on as you lifted your hips for him.

“It’s a little hot, or I’d shirt you with my turtleneck,” he told you. The smile on your face just widened.

“So, you’re not going to leave me like they all would?” you asked.

His brow knit together, kissing that statement right off your mouth as he leaned over you.

“Of course not,” he replied, stroking your hair back the same way he had all afternoon, getting a better look deep into your eyes, his favorite place to look, even back in the day. “I told you. I lost you once; I will not lose you again. I will stay for as long as you want. Plus, I’ve hardly begun aftercare,” he continued with a soft smile and, after you directed him to an oversized shirt for you, cuddled up into your back for a midafternoon nap, rubbing down your legs as he snuggled behind you.

Finally, he felt at ease about you. Finally, you were his, and nothing was going to change that. Finally, his heart was able to feel freely instead of being constrained by your relationship, because now your relationship included him.

[writerman]

Bard never thought that much of Thranduil's top surgery scars, he was told Thran had surgery, and they never bothered him, so that was it. Until Bard finally asked Thran how he got the scars. Thran just gives Bard a look. (Trans Thran, you can throw in my boi Elrond if you want XD.)

//This one is close to my heart for very obvious reasons. Thank you for letting me write this and I hope you enjoy it. 

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Scars.

Everyone had them.

All different kinds, from all sorts of injuries- embarrassing or serious.

Life gave you scars, some people were proud of them and others sought to hide them, overall most of the time they weren’t anyone else's business but your own.

Well… all of the time.

People can share stories of their scars with you but only if they want that, you cannot demand the story of another person’s body, nor will they ever be obligated to tell you anything about the world that lives on their skin or under it.

Thranduil had scars.

Scars on his chest, one healing and almost invisible on his forearm. They were faint silvery things that Bard only noticed when they were close.

The discussion of scars never came up between them in conversation, and honestly, Bard never thought it was any of his business.

Though he could not deny he was curious, still, he never mentioned it, curiosity needn't be spoken out loud.

Bard and Thranduil had not been together all that long, a couple of months, they met at the tail end of winter, the last dregs of the winter festivals loitering on the outskirts of the city, looking more menacing than cheery now that Christmas had passed by.

The grey slush had soaked Bard from his shoes up to the calves of his jeans, but he’d trudged dutifully through the snow with his youngest sibling to take her to see the reindeer that lay sullenly at the far end of a dreary paddock.

Tilda was far too involved with naming the reindeer to notice that her older brother’s attention was elsewhere.

A literal angel that had descended from the Heavens was leaning over the paddock fence watching the animals intently as though his gaze might will them to their feet.

It did not and eventually, they gave up, as they turned they caught Bard’s gaze and gave a shy smile before trying to hurry off through the slippery slush.

He’d had half a mind to follow the stranger but even the allure of smooth skin and long blond hair could not pull him from his tiny sister and her joy at seeing “Santa’s reindeer”. They remained at the fence for another 10 minutes before Tilda complained she was cold and Bard offered to take her to get hot chocolate to warm up.

Tilda had taken a seat by the window with her mug of hot chocolate leaving Bard to navigate a chair through the packed cafe, he sat quietly while Tilda chatted about the animals and the names she gave them, meanwhile, Bard could not shake the feeling of awe that had struck him at the sight of the blond stranger.

Sadly, he didn’t see him again that day.

They bumped into another a few weeks later, Bard instantly recognised him and stood in panicked silence as the blond apologised for not watching where he walked- after a long awkward pause Bard cleared his throat and did something he had never truly imaged he’d have the courage to do.

He spoke to him.

“I saw you- uh, at the winter festival.” He blurted out his voice croaking midway through his sentence, mortifying really, he would have to spend the rest of his life living as a hermit in the mountains now…

The blond just nodded as though Bard pointing out the obvious was the norm for him like he had expected this for some reason, the same shy smile tugged at the corners of his mouth and he looked away.

“Ah, you were really staring at those reindeer.” Again, words came forth and he was wondering if his brain had actually engaged with the rest of his body that morning when he left the house, it seemed not but the blond responded this time with actual words.

Good LORD that voice could restart a heart.

“They looked sad,” Three words and Bard already knew he was done for, who sounds like that and looks like that- this whole beautiful package?! “I was trying to work out if I could come back that night and steal them.” He seemed sincere and Bard had to take a moment to relearn how to breathe as he choked on air.

“So… did you?”

He never got an answer instead he received a very rushed query that sounded something along the lines of ‘Wouldyouliketograbcoffee…. Youcansayno.” After deciphering the code Bard accepted the offer and they headed to the closest place for coffee.

Once in the warmth the blond opened up a bit and apologised for not introducing himself.

His name was Thranduil.

“I’m Bard, it is really nice to meet you, Thranduil.”

And that was how they met, they had had coffee and then remained in contact until a mutual friend forced them to ask one another out.

Even after 4 months Bard still couldn’t quite believe his luck, some mornings, after Thranduil had stayed the night Bard would roll over to watch the other sleep and he’d have to pinch himself to make sure the whole scene was real and he wasn’t just enjoying a ridiculously vivid dream.

Silly maybe, but Bard did really feel so incredibly lucky.

He realised quickly that Thranduil was a quiet man, always seemingly deep in thought, never sharing the contents on his mind as though the key to unlocking the secrets of the universe was to keep it bottled up in one head until one day something clicked.

That’s what Bard imagined, that had a complex system of thoughts and feelings zipping through his mind at a thousand miles per hour leaving him reeling but unaffected on the outside.

It was not fair to put him on a pedestal like that, he knew deep down if he ever voiced his thoughts that Thranduil would be hurt and he wasn’t sure why, it just felt wrong that he assumed the other was on the side of Godhood than mortal man.

Maybe in a past life…

The blond had a flair for art, thought stifled by his family and their expectations of him. Always needing to be better, to stand taller, to speak clearer and only to speak if the words held meaning- a scary way to live wondering if your words meant anything to those that surrounded you on a daily basis.

Asking to pass the salt would likely end up in a conversation about the wealth of the earth if that was how he was to live.

Bard hoped it was a slight embellishment the information Thranduil fed him, the tiny morsels of his life at home revealed with one sentence at a time but as soon as the blond realised he was talking about home he shut down.

There were times Bard would be studying frantically very last minute for an exam, his masters was important but not important enough to study in good time for a test,… at 29 years old he still lived like a teenager but with more bills and more responsibility, and suddenly he would be presented with a sketch of himself his hair wild and falling in his eyes as he leaned over a book gripping a pen a little too tightly.

Thranduil often explaining that it was always a pleasure to draw him while he studied or even slept, though he would quickly add that he hoped he did not “appear creepy” at the admission that he had, indeed, watched him sleep once or twice just to draw him.

“All in the name of art!” Bard would quip, he would then proceed to smother the blond with kisses- though if things got too steamy Thranduil would stammer out excuses before putting some distance between them.

Apologies would come from both of them but the air would remain tense. It was usually around this time that Thranduil would take his leave and head home claiming he had forgotten some important appointment with his family or doctor.

He saw the doctor a lot, and it worried Bard. Yet, he did not pry.

It all came to a head one summer night, they were walking back from a garden party/BBQ hosted by the same mutual friend that got them together, both of them on the right side of buzzed from the few drinks they had.

He wasn't sure why he brought it up, the lack of intimacy in their relationship and his constant doctor's visits.

“We have intimacy it just isn't sexual. I know it isn't enough for you,” The words came out wrong and sounded accusatory to his own ears. “In truth, it isn't enough for me either.” Thranduil trailed off and looked away, he couldn't find any other words to further explain himself.

His gaze stayed on the floor for a moment to shield himself from Bard's curious and intense gaze.

“Tell me about you, what bothers you. Share the burden, you don't have to do this alone.” Bard grabbed Thranduil's hand giving it a supportive squeeze, smiling when the blond finally looked up at him.

“I'm so scared of how you'll see me if I tell you who I am.”

“You're Thranduil, my boyfriend and sketch artist extraordinaire!” They both laugh and Thranduil seemed more at ease but fear lingered in his now glassy blue eyes.

It was now or never it seemed.

“I've seen you look at the scars on my chest, I know you're curious and honestly thought you'd work it out from that but… now I'm seriously thinking that you just look at me adoringly and don't think what things are only that they are there.” A weak and nervous laugh escapes Thranduil, his hand is damp in Bard's and he pulls it from the other's grip.

“Well…” Bard began a small smile forming as they continued to walk back towards his flat, Thranduil was half right. It had never occurred to him that they were close enough that he could ask- he knew they were in a romantic relationship and that generally they could be more open about themselves but to Bard it still seemed inappropriate to ask about something like that.

Scars were something intimate and secretive about a person, a story that they may have buried deep within themselves almost repressed so as to not relive the memories every time they saw the reminder in their skin.

They way Thranduil spoke it was as though he wanted Bard to ask, perhaps it was easier to explain if someone asked than to broach the subject completely out of the blue and unbidden.

Quite the quandary, Bard was well aware that his boyfriend was notoriously secretive about many things, many personal things aside from his general interests and whatnot.

To ask him now was bold but if he didn’t he may lose the chance to try again later. The alcohol in his system buoyed his confidence to a degree and with some hesitation pushed on and bit the bullet.

“I do want to know- I see them all the time and I am curious as all Hell what they could be from. I just…,” He stopped speaking trying to grasp at words all the while they continued to walk now in an awkward silence both holding their breath for a moment. “How do you even bring up the conversation of scars without sounding like an ass with no tact?” Thranduil laughed as soon as he heard Bard’s reasoning for remaining shy on the subject and he grabbed his hand to squeeze it, clearly happy that his boyfriend was just as unsure as he was at times.

Though it never really showed, the uncertainty he certainly harboured. Bard seemed untouchable in his enthusiasm and courage, constantly looking out to the horizon and following the edge of the world rather than looking at his feet and watching his every step.

Never brutish in his words or actions, not overly gentle but capable of comfort- he had a calming influence simply because he seemed so confident all the time.

Thranduil felt lucky to have met such a man by chance, and he didn’t want to think about the future especially if Bard was not in it- there was a flutter of hope in his chest that once he explained what he had been through things would not change. But such an outlook felt entirely too positive for Thranduil and he dampened down the hope so that his expectation fit with who he felt he was and how he came across to others.

There had never been a time he had enquired as to how people saw him from the outside looking in, that would require speaking to a lot of people and he already felt tired thinking of doing so.

“They are surgery scars.” God, the words had come out in one breath and he felt his inside seize up as Bad whipped his head round to look at Thran, his eyes darted to his shirt then back to his face before speaking.

“Surgery scars, were you unwell?”

Thranduil gave a noise that could be construed as ‘Well…’ but nothing more, after a moment of silence Bard spoke again.

“You can tell me, I promise you that everything will be fine.”

That was not a promise Bard could make not with the nature of the surgery, instead it would open a whole other can of worms, Thranduil felt stiff with fear, the process of rigor mortis setting in before he’d even died from the sheer fear of what he was doing. HIs heart had never beat so fast.

“For a long time I believed I was sick, that there was something horribly wrong with me but I was not sick I just didn’t have the words to describe who I was yet.” He was drawing this out unnecessarily and it wasn’t helping his anxious heartbeat in the slightest.

“I am transgender, I have not always been known as Thranduil and the scars are from surgery to sculpt my chest to appear more masculine.” The stunned silence that followed was sickening, it felt heavy and cold in the pit of Thranduil’s stomach and he felt tears sting the corners of his eyes.

Then there it was! Bard’s grip tightened on Thranduil’s hand the squeeze of comfort he had always offered until he realised he was being pulled round to face his boyfriend.

They were stood at the foot of the path that led to Bard’s front door.

Their eyes met.

“This changes nothing- Thranduil, I love you, I can’t even think of enough words to get across how much I love you. I know you’re scared, I mean, you’ve just told me something huge something important to you and honestly I feel honoured that you trust me with this.” Bard wasn’t sure what to say, for all he knew Thranduil was the first transgender person he had ever met, he couldn’t be sure but he was definitely the first transgender person who had openly told him that about themselves.

Rather than hanging around outside while the blond felt so vulnerable, he tugged Thranduil into walking again and they went inside.

Thranduil remained quiet for a long time, Bard moved about the flat a moment before returning with a glass of water for Thranduil who accepted it gratefully.

“I- want to ask a question but I think it is too forward,” Even as he spoke Bard regretted the words but Thranduil had a knowing look in his eyes, as though he had expected a certain question before it had even been voiced.

“You want to know if this is the reason we haven’t had sex.” His tone flat and he took a sip of water, one hand clenched into a ball rested on his thigh the other holding tightly to the glass, at that moment he looked exhausted and Bard was at a loss on what to say.

So, rather than saying anything he sat next to Thranduil and covered his balled fist with his hand giving a light squeeze- the blond needed time and he absolutely needed an apology.

“I’m sorry, it wasn’t necessary for me to question you on that- I can’t just assume things about you.” There were many things he wanted to say but wording them seemed hard now, or at least accusatory and that was the last thing he wanted.

“No, it’s fine, really… it is the reason but the fact you just jumped right to that as though, as though it was something that was wrong and not just nerves. I can’t expect you to be perfect about this if you don’t know anything.”

“You’re right to be upset, I wasn’t exactly delicate about it, and I shouldn’t have questioned you at all. Google is a thing, you don’t have to tell me anything, I want you to know that you have the freedom to tell me whatever you want or not.” Finally Thranduil set down the glass eyes red and glassy still he wanted to cry with relief that this man still loved him the fear in the back of his mind that leached into his heart and stomach was subsiding- how terrified he had been to think that Bard would toss him aside for ‘lying’ to him this whole time.

But no, his Bard as not like that. His Bard wanted to learn and understand and his Bard treated him like a human, as a man.

“I love you.”

[blurryhoney]

She Makes Him Better Part 2 (Billy Hargrove x Reader)

Summary: After taking Billy home where does your relationship lie? 

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Henderson!Reader, Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader (Platonic), Dustin Henderson x Reader (Siblings).

Settings: Stranger Things 2, The Henderson Home, Hawkins High School, The Hargrove Home.

Inspired By: My Brain and part 1. 

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Cursing, Talks of Blood, Jealous!Billy, Protective!Billy, Talks of Abuse If You Squint.

Author: Heather ( Account Owner (: ) 

Note: I do not agree with billys personality and behavior this is simply my interpretation on his character and am having fun writing. NO GIFS USED THROUGHOUT THE STORY ARE MINE. Sorry for any misspelt words its 1 am and I didn’t get to re-read 

Don’t forget to read end notes for additional information. 

Requests are open! Don’t be shy to message me or ask anonymously. :)

Word Count: 3051

Part 1 Part 3 

To say getting an unconscious teenage boy to your bedroom at 2 am was hard would be an understatement. One, he was unconscious and heavy as Hell. Two, it was 2 am and getting him to your bedroom with your mother sleeping just down the hall in a quiet manner was difficult as fuck.

You managed to get Billy there safely kicking your door closed before tightening your left arm around his torso while your right arm held onto his hand that was hanging over your shoulder. You stumbled to your bed dropping him onto your bed causing him to groan in his sleep and roll onto his back with his feet hanging off the bed still in a deep sleep.

You stare at him for a moment taking his face in. Even though he was bleeding with dried blood on him he looked the calmest and at peace he's ever been. When he was around anybody he would be this tough hard exterior of a person and not show any emotion unless it was anger or sarcasm. With you he was better, sure he joked and was sarcastic but he was rarely angry around you. He smiled and showed you that he cared. Without going to far about his personal life or how he really felt.

Yeah you knew about his life at home, but that never meant you brought it up. If you asked anything remotely relating his at home life he shut down and pushed you away, that's the last thing you wanted.

You sighed and walked to your bathroom connected to your bedroom and grabbed the first aid kit under the bathroom cabinet and a wet towel before kicking your shoes off and walking back over to your bed. Setting the kit down on the bed you knelt down and pulled off his boots and socks before standing and crawling onto the bed and sitting criss cross next to his head.

You sat and cleaned off his face wiping off the blood before disinfecting his cuts and putting small patches on them before pulling him up onto the bed more so he was comfortable on the pillow.

You sighed climbing into bed lying next to him staring at his face. You couldn’t help but admire him and fall even more in love. You were upset at him of course for what he did that wasn’t okay. You couldn’t help your feelings, you could just live with them. Closing your eyes you drifted off to sleep exhausted from the day and excited for some much needed rest which came quickly.

Waking up with a start you realized immediately you were sweaty, like you had just had a nightmare except you couldn’t remember a thing about it. Then you remember one thing, Dustin. You shot up out of bed rolling out of it almost falling and running to your bedroom door throwing it open to see Dustin standing right there about to open the door. You let out a shaky breath tearing up slightly before grabbing him and pulling him into a tight hug holding him as close as you can.  You could feel him shaking slightly holding onto your shirt with tight fists before burying his face into your chest.

“ Oh Dusty” You breathed out, closing your eyes feeling a tear roll down your cheek as you put a hand on his head. He chuckles softly sniffing before looking up at you with slightly pink eyes and a big smile that could win the hearts of anyone who walked by. You were so scared that something bad would happen. You knew Steve was fully capable of watching them and you knew he had a special relationship with your brother but you could never help but worry for him.

“ I stayed the night at Wills with everyone to make sure he was okay, are you okay?” He asked, being cut off by a low groaning noise. We both turn looking into my bedroom seeing Billy stir in his sleep. “ He’s here?!” He practically yelled making me shush him. He nods understanding before closing your door and walking back to his room. It was easily 4 in the morning as the sun hasn't risen yet and you still felt sluggish. You walk over quietly looking down on him on the bed as he came too.

He opens his eyes for a moment but closes them again quickly your desk lamp light apparently being enough to irritate his eyes in the dark atmosphere. You reach over clicking it off before looking back at him seeing his eyes peeking open softly. He stared at you and smiles softly, his rare little smiles making your heart flutter.

“ Hey princess” He speaks softly sitting up with a grunt not tearing his eyes away from you.

“ Hey asshole” he hums softly his smile fading all the memories of last night flooding into his mind all at once. He looks down at his hands seeing the cuts on his knuckles before looking back up at your sad and disappointed face.  He didn’t want to see this face. He didn’t want you to be disappointed in him. He stands as quickly as he could facing you and walking as close as he could get before you hold your hand up stopping him.

“ Spill it Hargrove because I know you didn’t just decide to beat up a 13 year old boy for no reason.” You tear up softly shaking your head, “ What happened?” You whispered seeing his jaw clench as he looks away from you looking out the window at the dusk woods. He sighs rubbing his face before sitting back on the bed holding his in his hands as he sits on the edge of your bed. You walk in front of him taking his face in your hands making him look up at you.

“ Max went missing while on my watch and my dad found out before I could leave the house. I knew she was fine she’s fully capable of taking care of herself I just didn’t know where she was. He...got really angry as he does and was really rough and made me come look for Max.”

“ Did he hurt you?” You ask immediately. He chuckles sadly.

“  When doesn’t he hurt me? But Max...She doesn’t deserve that pain. She doesn’t need to be involved” He explains then it hits you.

“ You are mean and protective of her so she doesn’t have to deal with your dad?” You asked seeing him nod rubbing his cheek against your palm affectionately.

“ Oh Billy…” You whisper dropping your hands making him look up at you the lack of affection worrying him. You always showed him affection somehow. As far as holding hands to as little as a hand on his arm or back. “ You’ve messed up” He felt like his heart was breaking.

“ I know, I know how awful of a person I am and it won’t be easy to come back from something like this. My anger always gets the best of me….but I want to be better” he stands right in front of you before placing his big hand on your cheek rubbing his thumb against your cheek softly his eyes were obviously glossy. “ I want to be better for you” He whispers sniffing. Your lip quivers, your heart was breaking for Billy.

“ I know you can Billy” You place your hand on his tangling your fingers together. “ But it’s going to take time, I...I can’t just forgive you after what you did.” He nods sniffing.

“ I understand, I wouldn’t forgive me right away either...I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”

“ I know you will, let’s start with an apologizing to Lucas and Steve first.”

“ Of course.”

After Billy apologized to Steve and Lucas events were forgiven. None of them were friends by any means but it was a mutual forgiveness. The events of that day weren’t spoken about. He didn’t question why you were at Will Byers house with 4 children and Steve Harrington and the house being a wreck while as you didn’t bring up the fight.

Billy was better at school as well, staying out of trouble and keeping his grades average so he didn’t get questioned by the teachers about his future and present grades. That didn’t stop him from being the snarky sarcastic man that he was, which you didn’t mind. It made your school life a little interesting.

You sat in Chemistry with Billy beside you as you mixed the green liquid with the clear liquid causing it to foam up and poor over the test beaker. You push you goggles up your nose making sure they stayed secure on your face before you jotted down some notes in your notebook for the project you both were working on together. Billy sat staring at you a soft look in his eyes that you failed to see. He loved the way your nose scrunched up slightly when you were thinking about your work or when you bite your lip at the confusing problems you had to answer. He loved everything about you even the little things.

He was cut off from his admiring when a folded piece of paper landed in front of him having been tossed from another desk over. He looks up his eyebrows pulling together at the note in front of him before he looked up slightly to the right where the note came from. He instantly didn’t like what he was seeing. James, another school jock who was on the basketball team with him smirked at Billy from where he was sitting at his lab table leaning back against the seat not paying attention to anything that was happening with his partner or the experiment. He nodded towards the note then nodded towards you, where you sat minding your own business and enjoying the comfort of Billy's presence as you did your school work.

Billy growled softly before picking up the note, not looking or breaking eye contact with James, and crushed the paper between his fist a scowl plastered on his face. James narrowed his eyebrows before visible tensing and setting his feet flat on the ground before leaning forward resting his arms on his knees before cracking his knuckles. Billy could be considered a bad guy but James was extremely bad. He wanted James nowhere near you.

You look up noticing Billy’s sudden tense body his arm muscles visible tense. You frown resting your hand on his arm near his wrist.

“ Billy? What’s wrong “ You ask confused by his sudden behavior change. He looks at you his face softening at the worried look in his eyes. He shakes his head keeping the paper clenched in his fist but moved it into his lap for a brief moment dropping it to the floor before resting his hand on your knee.

“ It’s nothing.” He says smiling softly at you squeezing your knee softly before letting go. He knew he wasn’t redeemed enough yet to win your heart.

Little did he know he already held your heart.

You pulled your denim jacket tightly around you before lacing up your boots and walking out of your room. December in Indiana wasn’t very kind this year, so you bundled up with as many layers as you could without looking ridiculous.

You walk down to Dustins room just in time to see him walk out of his bedroom the smell of hairspray surrounding him in a subtle aroma. You smile down at your brother as he looks up at you smiling big.

“ look at you little brother, you clean up nicely” You say smiling at him before reaching out and straightening his bow tie. He frowns and swats your hands away before smirking.

“ I know I do, how do I look? “ He asks referencing to his hair. You smirk.

“ Steve tell you his secret?” Dustins eyes widen slightly, you chuckle. “ You look great Dusty. You’ll have so much fun.”

After bidding Dustin a fun night you watch as Steve drives down the road with him as they make their way to Hawkins Middle School for the annual Winter dance. You smiled walking to your car before climbing in. You would have taken him, hell you would have stayed and helped out at the dance. But you had somewhere more important to be.

After what seemed to be a long anxious drive you finally made it to the Hargrove home. You climb out of your car the cold winter air engulfing you in the darkness before you could even shut your car door. You make your way up to the front door noticing only Billy’s car was home. You knock softly on the hardwood door before stepping back a little and blowing out a breath seeing it clearly in the cool atmosphere.

The last thing Billy expected to see when he opened the door was you, bundled up in all of your layed your nose slightly red from being out in the december atmosphere just for a short amount of time. His eyes widen as his mouth opens slightly at the sight of you. He was wearing jeans and a light blue almost denim looking button up that of course wasn’t buttoned up all the way showing off his low hanging necklace.

You smile looking up at him a soft sparkle in your eye. “ Hi Billy “ you breath out making him smile. He gulps and takes your hand pulling you inside before closing the front door and walking into the house with you. He stops and turns around looking at you, the only light on in the room was the Christmas tree and from what you could guess was his room light from down the hall.

He was confused. Why were you here on a Friday night? You could be out doing something fun when instead you were at his home which was thankfully empty. He wouldn’t want you anywhere near it if his dad happened to be home.

“ Sweetheart, as much as I love having you hear, why are you here?” You smile softly before reaching into your back pocket pulling out a leather bracelet. It had multiple layers to it but was simple and beautiful looking even to Billy.

“ I brought you a gift.” You stated simple, grabbing his hand and placing the object into his hand softly before closing his hand letting his hand close around the bracelet. He frowns looking at you confused, you sigh. “ It was my grandfather. He loved this thing so much never saw him without it. Before he paced he gave it to me. Maybe he knew his time had come. “ Billy shakes his head in disbelief. Why would you give him something so special?

“ Why are you giving me this? This is something priceless sweetheart ” He asked confused looking up at you. All he could look at was the twinkle in your eyes reflecting from the light on the Christmas tree. You sighed and looking from the tree up at him.

“ Everyone deserves something special Billy, even you. Even though you’ve made mistakes and were kind of an asshole, you’ve apologised you know what you did wrong. So I’m giving you something from me that is special in hopes you’ll appreciate the special meaning from me to you…” You explained playing with your fingers.

Billy stared at you in disbelief. Someone actually cared for him, maybe even loved him. He put on the bracelet carefully not looking away from you before reaching up and cupping your face in his hands. He studied every aspect of your face. From the (e/c) to your eyes to the freckles and blemishes scattered across your cheeks. Your hair framed your face perfectly, and the color from the Christmas lights shined off your eyes as you stared up at him. Love written all over your face.

He couldn’t hold back anymore and pulled your face close connecting your lips together in a passionate first kiss. He moved his hands so one was holding your face gently as the other one was wrapped around your body holding you tightly to him as if you would disappear. Your hands bunched up on his shirt kissing him back just as passionately trying to poor as much love into the kiss as you could. You knew Billy didn’t feel like he deserved love, but he deserved your love and you were determined to show him.

When you both pull back you don’t pull away from each other. Billy rests his forehead against yours staring into your eyes as you smile softly.

“ I love you, Billy.” Billy almost didn’t hear you. He was in such disbelief at the words that just came out of your mouth that his breath caught in his throat.

“ Say it again.” He whispered tears welling up in his eyes. You tear up letting go of his shirt before reaching up without moving away from him and hold his face softly brushing a stray tear away that fell down his cheek.

“ I love you Billy Hargrove so much.” A few tears fell from your eyes to which Billy quickly wiped away. He breathed out a laugh smiling the biggest you’ve ever seen.

“ I love you too (y/n) so so much.” He pressed quick kisses against your lips making you giggle against him as you finally pull him close into a loving kiss.

This is the best thing he could ever ask for. You in his arms in love with him just as much as he was in love with you. He was a broken man from a broken home, he just needed someone to mend his broken heart and that was you. You already made him a better person in just a short amount of time who know what he’ll be like in the future with you. He felt that he didn’t deserve your love, but you thought otherwise. Billy was a man who was missing a part of him to keep him going, to keep him in the light of the world and to help build his future while also protecting him from everyone who tried to hurt him. You were everything he needed.

He never planned on letting you go.

I am so sorry to everyone because I said I would post the day after I posted the 1st part and then my wifi broke. It just now is kind of working again and it is 1 am. Thank you all so much for the support for part 1 and my other story I love how much everyone enjoys them! 

Tags: @devintagekids @beautifulbri26 @jems8241 @suzumebailey

[blyanten]

THE DUCK AVENGER PK2: #15 THE TRUE ENEMY

AKA “Kids, I'm going to tell you an incredible story: The story of how I met your mother”

Right now, the Avenger is wearing a hole in Lyo’s carpet. As per status quo, he’s still confused as to what Everett is up to. They used to be friends, now they’re enemies, except when they’re allies… sometimes Everett seems to be what he presents himself as, an entrepreneur who created an economic empire thanks to his inventions or a criminal with some kind of planet-wide scheme.

Lyo finishes the sentence, pointing out that the Avenger has been repeating this over and over again for weeks. Lyo also thinks the Avenger is starting to sound like Agnus. Rude.

The Avenger takes a moment to ask for Lyo’s opinion, but he can’t add much. He has collected everything they have on Everett in the computer, so they have it easily accessible. So we get a quick summary of Everett’s greatest hits, microchips in the brain, weird antennas, the North Pole thing… nothing that seems friendly, and yet nowhere near the kind of devastation Everett could manage if he wanted to.

And then there’s Korrina and Juniper. The Avenger notes despite Korrina’s hostility, he owes her his life. Then there’s the seemingly sweet Juniper, who more and more seems to give no fucks about anyone but herself. The body-switch incident was an eye-opener on that.

The Avenger decides it’s enough. They need to start somewhere if they’re going to figure this out, and they’re going to start with the device from the North Pole. But first they have to find it.

Over at Ducklair Enterprises, Everett is telling his two underlings that they better make sure said device gets where it’s supposed to go, Ducklair Enterprises. Birgit Q is responsible for transport. Anymore Boring will be the one to receive it, and make sure there’s a lab ready.

The minions leave that meeting needling each other, while Everett throws a pity party.

Even excluding genuine accidents, at least 60% of that is still your own fault.

Everett notes that “family” is an inappropriate term for him and Juniper, before starting a rant about how he’s super-rich, and can basically ruin entire countries if he wanted to. But what he really wants is a family of mutual love and support.

Instead he was forced to abandon everything, home planet, his wife, to save his daughters, with the result that Juniper barely speaks to him and who knows where Korinna is?

We do, of course. Korinna is busy training the kids she’s responsible for to be perfect little robots. She warns them she can see them no matter where they are, and sends them in to be with their parents and a family friend.

Said family friend has a dog, who just can’t wait to play with the two kids again, but the kids inform their parents and friend that they can’t waste time on useless animals. They should only focus on important things.

The adults react accordingly.

At Duckmall, the competition to be boss is heating up. Donald claims he hasn’t thought of it, but Fitzroy calls him a liar. Rupert also has his mind on other things, like his date with Stella. He leaves them to it. As does Donald, who really has more important things to worry about.

Lyo has located the device. It’s just been delivered at the pier, where a small army and Birgit is waiting for it. The Avenger tries to come up with a plan, but he’s spotted by some security robots. No that he’s busted, he decides to just punch his way through.

Birgit tries to shoot him, and she’s not really open for talking about this either. She’s not letting him get in the way, and uses a secret weapon to trap the Avenger in a “blob-ball”, and then dropkick him into the sea.

I just love the confused seagulls. It’s the kind of detail that just makes a page.

At Ducklair Manor, Everett has straight up trashed his office, and freaked out Juniper more than a little from the looks of it.

And so the lord said to ye... you’re really not helping your case here.

He then decides it’s time for some real talk with Juniper. Juniper says it’s not the time, but Everett insists. While it might be difficult for him to talk about this, especially with Juniper unwilling to listen… Juniper interrupts, declaring it her fault and asking if that makes him happy.

Not really.

Everett took them from their home, their mother, and them brought them to Earth where he forced them to grow up in a machine. He stole entire years from them.

Everett objects, saying that while that’s what it looks like, he was forced to. He grabs Juniper, who tells him to let her go. He does, and Juniper goes back to her chair. Everett takes another one, finally getting to the point. He’d like for Korinna to be there too, but since that’s not possible, he at least wants to explain the situation to Juniper.

Now, what does she remember about Corona?

Juniper says it was beautiful, and Everett agrees. Corona had managed to balance technology and nature, leading to a high quality of life and welfare. This was the result of centuries of hard work, lead by a rigidly structured government.

There was the Queen, who had final word on every law, and was elected by a parliament, composed of representatives from every city state on Corona. One more, important detail, every member of the government had to be a woman.

I just love this throne room.

Because, while all Coronans have mental powers, the women were much stronger, capable of controlling their emotions in order to make decisions for the common good, ignoring the suffering of individuals, even if it was family, or themselves.

This, of course, required a lot of traning.

FINALLY.

Everett was hunting insects with a freeze gun, as you do, and a fascinating one just landed on their mom’s shoulder. She seems unimpressed by his explanation, so he introduces himself, Everett Ducklair, aeronautical scientist, and she has to be a new member of parliament, following the course of emotional self-control.

Since she wasn’t startled when he shot at her, he challenges her to a “see who laughs first” contest.

Dork.

So, at a guess, women are supposed to be in control of themselves at all times and they’re in charge of all politics... wonder if that has a side effect of expecting guys to be less mature? I mean, if the deal is that they literally can’t reach the level of self-control women can, then you might get a society that basically takes “girls mature faster than boys” even further than RL earth does.

*points at Weight of Memories* I mean, Everett was pretty much adopted.

She laughs, then argues that making faces isn’t fair. True, but if making faces is all it takes to make you crack, you might wanna work a little harder on that self-control thing. He offers to buy her a djufango shake as an apology. She agrees and introduces herself as “Serifa”.

Actually, you introduced yourself as Everett, but whatever.

Everett tells Juniper that he fell hard for Serifa, sure that underneath the cold exterior there was a living heart, full of feelings. My, aren’t we poetic. They started seeing each other, and soon became lovers.

Two moons.

Over time, both moved up in the world, but managed to keep a happy life together.

Until it turned out that queen Artana V had secretly created a family. The queen was not supposed to have a husband or children, she was supposed to be entirely focused on the responsibility of command. Artana didn’t have complete control of her feelings, and that was a real scandal. The queen had to resign and the parliament had to chose a new queen.

All the parliament members wanted to be elected, Serifa included.

You’re both so selfish. The complete lack of regard for what the other one might be feeling... which she points out, to be fair, but looking at this entire issue, I’m not gonna be surprised if the attitude is common on this planet.

You know, if you want to be chosen for a job that demands no emotion, no family ties whatsoever… maybe dump your boyfriend. Or at least not have him pick you up. Having a Plan B is nice and all, but not when Plan B straight up disqualifies you from said job. Find a new one later, if you fail.

And it seems kinda mean to not break up when what you really want is… well, definitely not a family. Though, I think world building wise, it could make sense that people try to live as normally as possible, even with the strict emotional control, but if they get a shot at being queen, it’s accepted that they drop all emotional ties to be the queen.

But even if that’s true, if the choice is between woman A, who has a boyfriend, and Woman B,  who doesn’t, I figure woman B just earned herself a crown.

Serifa is unhappy at not being chosen, while Everett is thrilled. He had other plans, which would have been sadly interrupted if Serifa had been chosen as queen. 

That same night he proposes.

I get the impression these two are not on the same level when it comes to this relationship.

Serifa gets over her disappointment real quick though, and is seemingly happy to accept the proposal. So they get married, buy a house and have kids, because that’s what you do, I guess. The happiness lasts for a few years more, and then the problems started.

Everett and the girls were outside and they found an animal. Korinna and Juniper takes it with them home, asking Serifa if they can keep it. She says no, telling them to go study. She and Everett then has a fight.

Everett doesn’t see anything wrong with letting the kids get used to caring for animals, while Serifa does. How can the kids learn to be as unemotional as their culture demands if Everett goes around teaching them to care?

On one hand, there’s no way every woman can be a member of the government, so the same level emotional control might not be necessary for all of them, even if it’s probably something most want to achieve on some level, or at least it is expected of them even if they don’t go into government.

And a world like this, with a single queen as the final arbiter of law, where people are expected to supress emotion and where the greater good is explicitly more important than individual people has to be fairly authoritarian. Standing out in a way that’s not generally approved of might be really bad for you, so you might end up with a question of not just a career in government vs. emotional health, but your life in general vs. emotional health.

That’s enough speculaion, I think.

The main reason Everett is causing problems is that after the scandal with Artana V, the Parliament has decided that future members of the government must be educated more severely than before. And whatever that means for the general population, it does mean that anyone who really wants their kids to have a chance at being queen is going to have to step up their game.

So Serifa does. Korinna and Juniper will be isolated from their peers and home schooled, under her supervision. So she throws out all their toys and brings in a robot to teach them.

Everett apparently have no say in this. A general thing on Corona, or just this family?

As soon as Everett has the chance, he allows the kids to play video games and programs the robot-teacher so that when Serifa checks, it will look like the kids did the work they were supposed to.

That seems like a bad idea, both education wise, even is mom is going nuts, you still need one, and because all Serifa has to do is ask the kids a question about their schoolwork.

Or because eventually, mommy’s going to come home early.

But who could have predicted this?

Everett takes the blame, to Serifa’s complete lack of surprise. Everett again starts objecting to their daughters’ education depending on a robot, which is currently sweeping the floor. Serifa says this nonsense is over, and they should all follow her.

She brings them to her home office and shows them what the Parliament has planned. They’ve chosen 20 girls, one of which will become queen in the future. To make sure they won’t get up to what Artana V did, the girls will be put to sleep inside an experimental machine that will teach them all the facts they need to rule, and no emotion whatsoever.

Oh, the irony.

Serifa has made sure both Korinna and Juniper are among the 20 girls.

So what happens if they don’t get chosen? Actually, since there’s only one queen anyway, what happens to the 19 that don’t get chosen? Is it a heir and spare deal, except it’s a queen and her 19 spares? Or “hey, at least one of them has to come out right”?

Everett did not agree to this, but the new queen has already made it a law.

Well, I think that answers my previous question about parental rights.

The very next day, a special squad will come to pick up the girls and take them to a secret place to begin the treatment. So that’s a no on this being something you can volunteer your kids for. Serifa insists that one of the girls will be able to have what she didn’t.

So, either this obsession was brought on by the opportunity, or she’s been playing a real long game. Either way, it’s time to get the hell out of there. That night, Everett makes sure Serifa won’t notice by putting some kind of force field around their bed, as he takes the kids and runs.

He takes the kids to the research center he’s in charge of, where he was working on a prototype for an intergalactic spaceship that had yet to be tested. So experimental machine vs. untested spaceship! 

Everett chose the planet most like Corona, in the closest galaxy, and, well, we know how that went.

That seems like the obious place to look as soon as anyone notices the missing spaceship, but time was definitely an issue here.

In the present, Everett finishes his story, hoping Juniper will understand. She asks him to leave, seeming confused by the new information. Everett does, also hoping he’ll get to tell Korinna what happened as well.

Korinna is putting her charges to bed, taking away their toys and turning off the light against the kids’ wishes, telling them they’ll be punished if they disobey her.

The kids’s father, having noticed the strange behavior earlier, seems to have been keeping an eye on them, and goes in to the kids, turning the light back on. He says he’ll talk to “Judith” tomorrow.

This seems like a reflection of Serifa and Everett. Korinna, not knowing what happened back then, is acting like the parent she thinks she can still trust, and that’s Serifa. Which is tragic when the exact thing they’re furious at ther father for is something their mother would have done on purpose. 

Meanwhile, the kids’s father is clearly the one we’re supposed to side with, and he’s basically acting like Everett would. Which feels... okay yeah, he’s the better parent, compared to the low bar Serifa set here, buuut... 

The story Everett is telling here is info Juniper should have been given the moment she was lucid enough to understand it. It’s understandable that it’s a difficult conversation to have. You know what is probably more difficult? Waking up on a different planet, having gone from a small child to an adult over night, and then realizing your father took you away from everything you knew for... reasons! And also, your sister, who was with you when you father kidnapped you, is missing. 

Of course, it would have been a way less dramatic reveal if this came earlier, considering that it answers several of the driving questions of this arc.  

 ¯\_(ツ)_ /¯

And character wise, Everett making a mess of personal relationships is not something I’m gonna argue with. 

Still, the reflection of Korinna and what’s-his-name to Serifa and Everett as bad parent, good parent, feels kind of hollow, but taking it as an echo of the simpler times of the past, it still works.

Back at the docks, the Avenger has managed to get out of the blob and back on land. He takes off after Birgit and the alien device, and now he’s the one who’s done messing around.

At least there’s no one else on the road.

He blasts them. They shoot back, and when he tries talking, Birgit runs him over. He’s fine, hiding behind a shield, but not the shooting war in on. The Avenger manages to slow down the truck Birgit’s in, but they crash, straight into Duckmall.

Fitzroy is rather confused.

Birgit and driver gets the car back out of the mall, but end up crashing into the trailer they’re escorting. The Avenger, seeing that the two are fine, takes the opportunity to look inside the trailer, hoping to grab the device.

It’s empty.

Birgit shows up again, aiming a gun at him, but is as surprised as he is when he asks if she often spends this much effort defending empty trailers.

She had no idea what’s going on, and finally admits that despite working for and with Everett for a long time now, she doesn’t know him at all. And now he’s even made a fool out of her by not trusting her with what he was really doing. This seems to be the final straw of… something, as sits down on her knees, tells the Avenger she doesn’t know anything anymore and to please leave.

Everett’s people skills in action.

The next day at Duckmall, Fitzroy uses the situation last night to pretend he was a hero. Donald is annoyed, but still has other things on his mind.

Korinna is having a bad start to her day, as she’s being fired. She’s not allowed to say goodbye to the kids, but when she notices the two staring at her from a window, she gives them a wave, before walking away crying.

And she really liked that job too.

At Ducklair Manor, Juniper is also crying. Because she’s still processing what Everett told her or because Korinna is?

And at Century, the Avenger is asking the same questions as he was at the beginning.

[yeoldontknow]

Hero: 10

Author’s Note: apologies for this going up so late. i’m finally back from vacation and am tired, and jet lagged. i’m trying to get back in the routine of things, so please be patient with me! i hope you enjoy this political PCY chapter! i had so much fun writing the voices and personalities of all the members, omg. enjoy! Song for this chapter: See Birds (Moon) - Balam Acab Genre: Vampire!Chanyeol; horror; thriller; drama; suspense; eventual smut Pairing: Chanyeol x Reader (oc; female) Rating (this chapter): R (for the overall atmosphere) Warnings (this chapter): none Word Count: 4,197

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CHANYEOL

When he was young, he called it the War Room.

Perhaps at such a young age, he should have found himself mesmerized by the size and the grandeur of such an imposing space. Perhaps, he should have been more interested in the conversation and the way war lord voices were brought to the open here, resulting in the neatness with which these men went to and decided on battle. Or perhaps, most important of all, the way each man had a voice that was finally, truly allowed to have a freely offered opinion. 

But all he could concentrate on was how the room was saturated by the scent of death.

Crafted entirely out of metal, iron, and steel, the council hall was initially meant to represent the infallibility of making a united choice, of considering the concerns of every general present, but, to Chanyeol, something inside the room was decaying. At first, he thought it was because he was young and inexperienced with the nature of the hall, but the more his Sire ushered them in, the more he knew the choices made within the confines of the walls meant someone would not survive. Always, there was an agreement on the length of someone’s life and always, it was Chanyeol’s hands that would up rip out their heart. Always, it was Chanyeol’s mouth that would drink them dry.

And so, he called it the War Room. And so, he was punished.

As a boy he was free with his mouth and his tongue, letting words roll into the atmosphere with little thought or care. So when his Sire heard the statement, when his Sire heard the blatant disrespect, he set about a punishment that left Chanyeol bleeding, aching, and begging to die for weeks. And while he never vocalized the thought again, it did little to change his perception.

Even now, standing in the room he finds his chest feels pressed and constricted under the pressure of thought and action. His breathing is tense and tight, body trapped in a perpetual state of abject shock. The sound of rubber boots resonating through the council hall never ceases to amaze him, the way the steel and metal of the walls eats the panic in the footsteps and swallows their echoes whole. He can count on one hand the number of times they’ve had to open these doors since he became Sire, and perhaps this is why he is never used to the sound or the symbolism. Always, he grits his teeth at the sound of chairs being dragged from the circular table. Always, his generals keep their eyes lowered, unable to look one another in the eye in these moments of entry, shielding themselves from the implication and the heaviness of grief.

They keep their eyes low, but Chanyeol admires the way they enter. He can see it from his position at the back center of the room, how their postures remain tall and straight. When they lower themselves to their seats, each engraved delicately with their own crest, they sit with an elegance found only on those ready to greet hell with open arms and hungry mouths. Once seated they settle into the idea of death and find comfort in it, allowing them to raise their heads and regard Chanyeol with a preparedness that reminds him of why they were all chosen. He selected these men, watched them and longed for them because of their strength and their skills, and found that he had sworn loyalty to them before their blood had ever passed his lips.

They regard him now, like always, with clenched jaws and guarded eyes. It is necessary and both painful to speak, and he finds himself inhaling with a rattle to his lungs. And while he is unmoved and unaffected by the deaths of others, standing in the room and bringing words to the atmosphere forces him to acknowledge that the future may hold several empty spaces at this table. Standing in the room forces him to imagine eight phantom limbs amidst his countless others.

At the sound of his inhale his generals turn their eyes to him, each iris and pupil swimming with unprecedented conviction. They sense something is amiss and are preparing to protect each other, and Chanyeol, at the cost of their own lives, but still, they cannot possibly know how grave their situation has become.

‘I’d like to start immediately,’ he begins, tongue dry and fighting against the movement of his lips, ‘but I am grateful for all of you.’

His generals say nothing, merely nod slowly in mutual agreement. A few sounds of fidgeting move throughout the room, a slight discomfort at the lack of tradition serving only to put some members further on edge. Usually, there is an oath to keep what lies in the room secret. Usually, blood promises are sworn over chests to keep strategy within the room safe. But Chanyeol doesn’t think either of these things seem to fit, not today when everything he knows about being a Sire is going through a tremendous upheaval, and so he bypasses tradition in light of their non-traditional circumstances.

‘There are two things I’d like to bring to your attention this morning,’ he continues, finally allowing himself to sit. His body feels tense and old as it settles in the seat, and he knows it is because his bones are tired of keeping his secrets. ‘The first, and he shall be honoured for this, Jongin has discovered evidence of a mole within our brotherhood.’

Bodies press their backs into chars, and Chanyeol imagines if these had been made of wood the hall would be noisy with the movement. For a while no one dares to speak, they simply bring their eyes to Jongin who shifts rigidly beneath their curious, slightly furious, stares. There’s a rage coursing through his body, visible only from the tensing of his muscles and shoulders. It threatens to pull out his fangs and thrust them into the open, turning him from Jongin to Kai, the war lord persona coming to life beneath his skin. The air ripples around him, blurring beside him like waves of heat hovering over hot tar, as the room fills with sirens and sounds of a distant place; Jongin brings them the world while he grapples with control.

‘Do we know who it is?’ Kyungsoo says finally, hoping to ground Jongin in the council by the sound of his voice.  

‘His visage is blurred from our CCTV footage,’ Jongin replies, shuddering through the air to shake the world away. ‘It appears his skill is phasing.’

‘What was the trajectory of movement?’ comes Junmyeon’s even voice. Always curt and to the point, he cares only for fact and result, and has little patience for the excess found in between. His finger impatiently taps the barrel of his gun as he waits for an answer.

‘From the training hangar to the left perimeter bank.’

‘Then we can cross-check who signed into the room with CCTV time codes and start there,’ he concludes.

A concurrent hum fills the room and Chanyeol finds himself nodding minutely, though unable to meet the eyes of his men.

‘Preparations are already in motion for an attack from within,’ he states, finger pressing on the metal table. He briefly becomes distracted by the lack of his fingerprint marks and again finds himself marveling at how he leaves to residue of heat. Standard, he knows, but still, even at his old age, he always finds it surprising.

Murmurs fill the room and for a moment it sounds as though Sehun is going to offer his opinion, but Chanyeol interrupts him knowing that this information, as upsetting as it is, was not and is not the reason for the meeting. He hates to interject, feeling rude for silencing his newest general but, if he does not say the words now, he fears he may keep the news to himself before it is too late. 

‘This is not the reason our meeting is called,’ he announces loudly, and only raises his eyes to his men when true silence attempts to steal the air from the room. ‘It has come to my attention that our human companion is a Reader.’ 

Humanity never considers the heartbeat, never truly considers the thing that keeps them alive and pink and full. Humanity never considers the heartbeat, but vampires do. To a vampire, a heartbeat is thunder. It comes rumbling through the air on the wind, filling every space with its rhythmic trembling. It is impossible to avoid and it is impossible to ignore. Lately, the coven had been filled with the sound of Hero’s heartbeat, bouncing off walls and penetrating locked doors in an effort to be heard and loved and tasted. Lately, because of Hero, Chanyeol had been considering the heartbeat more than he had in centuries and, now, he thinks if his men had heartbeats of their own, they would have ceased.

Hardly anyone dares to breathe or speak, they simply let the words push and press on them, mold them into men they aren’t used to being. With a Reader in their midst, they start to feel vulnerable and mortal, and are forced to consider choices they had to make when their skin broke easier and when their wounds bled faster. Immediately, they come to see her as a great undoing and view time as something less than eternal. Immediately, their eyes move to Jongdae who does not bother to look back. As small as it is, Chanyeol is glad he told Jongdae this news in privacy on the roof, as the pressure of each gaze would slowly cause him to unravel and submit to an urgent sort of despair. Here, now, it is only the control of his features that falters. Murderous and ravenous for blood, Jongdae simply scowls at no one but the grim past that haunts him. 

‘A Reader,’ Baekhyun says, breaking the silence. It is neither a question nor an affirmation, just a statement of fact and reality. His voice is low as he says the words, and it almost sounds as though no one was truly meant to hear it, but there is no marvel to his voice, no awe or surprise. The lights in the room dim slightly before reverting back, and it is only then that Chanyeol understands how Baekhyun truly feels: he’s already imagining his brothers dead.

‘I come to you all for council and input on how this is handled,’ Chanyeol says, looking everyone in the eye in the hopes of preventing further distractions. ‘Her presence affects all of us.’

It’s swift, the movement of their shoulders as they gather themselves and put their thoughts away in favor of action and planning. 

‘Does she know her nature?’ Minseok asks, leaning forward with a grimace as he places his Beretta M9 on the table.

‘She does.’

‘Then she will have questions,’ Minseok says, looking at the rest of his brethren. ‘Perhaps we should start there, by not refusing her answers.’

With a sigh, Chanyeol sits back in his chair and adjusts his position, suddenly aware of his own gun pressing against his thigh as he moves. ‘She already has many questions, far too many, and I imagine more will come once she sees her clothing in the wardrobe.’

‘How ungrateful and stupid would one have to be to not know that was meant to aid them?’ Jongin’s voice is sharp and piercing, cutting through the air with a bitterness not usually found on his tongue. In his effort to not become Kai, his words have taken the shape of razor blades.

‘I think in a way we all wanted to help her,’ Yixing says, his words both calm and delicate, and it’s very clear he is using his power to soothe his brethren. Sitting rigid in his chair with his hands folded tightly together, much unlike his usual relaxed posture, he’s dividing his energy between calming the emotions and focusing on his words. ‘Pieces of us knew she was a Reader from the start, we just couldn’t have been aware or didn’t want to admit it to ourselves.’

It takes Yixing great effort, Chanyeol can tell, to ease a group of nine men back into politics, but somehow he manages it. There’s a warmth to the air, a sweetness similar to the scent of lavender that relaxes each man and forces their guard back to a sort of neutrality. Typically, this is dangerous, but here and now, it effectively recenters the men and even allows Chanyeol to consider Hero without imagining a bullet hole in the center of his heart.

The only man who seems immune to this healing wind is Jongdae, and he remains alarmingly still in his chair as Chanyeol eyes him in his peripheral. The conversation must remain delicate, the further they plunge into the topic the more visceral Jongdae’s memories are bound to become. Chanyeol can tell Yixing is aware of this, and watches the way he focuses on him with an unwavering gaze.    

‘Knowing this, shouldn’t we be open with her?’ Kyungsoo suggests, as if such a thing were simple and obvious. Again, he lets nobility and righteousness take hold of his actions before allowing himself to consider the slicing of his own throat. ‘If she has questions they must be answered. It’s our duty to honor her.’ 

‘Perhaps bring her to this meeting?’ Baekhyun says, adding quickly to Kyungsoo’s suggestion. ‘We would be able to guide her through this.’

‘I’m sorry, are we suddenly forgetting that she’s a weapon?’ come Jongdae’s biting words as he slaps the table with his flat palm. As if expecting this reaction, seemingly no one flinches at the sound, though their attention is now trained on him. ‘True, our honor and respect will be given to her, but are we forgetting it will be done likely without our consent? We have no choice to honor her because she is death itself. We cannot forget she is an omen. She will be the one dictating who lives and who dies, and her inclusion instigates our actions - it’s already happened, don’t you see?’

As he speaks, the words gain speed and volume until he’s nearly shouting. He’s being burned alive just by the idea of a Reader, and Chanyeol reaches out a hand to rest on his shoulder. 

‘Calm yourself, brother,’ he says, gently though he knows it will have little result. ‘We are still far from our fate.’

‘I’ll not apologize for being the only one considering how lethal she is.’

As Jongdae speaks, his voice becomes two fold as it harmonizes with the low baritone of a war lord. Keeping his power regulated means the release of other pieces of fury, darker, more bloodthirsty pieces that allow Chen to slip through and paint his vocal cords red. His hand that rests on the table suddenly tenses, fingers and nails dragging along the metal in silence as Jongdae struggles to remain whole.

‘No one is saying they aren’t,’ soothes Yixing. ‘We simply -’

‘If she wills us to die I pray that mine is first blood spilled,’ Chen roars, and this makes Yixing rush to Jongdae’s side, his fingers wrapping around his throat with alarming force. The physical contact has an immediate effect on Jongdae, and all at once he slumps back into his chair with a choked gasp.

‘Say such a thing again and I will have you removed from this council,’ Chanyeol says, the voice of his own war lord echoing against the walls. It blooms out from his chest, making him feel warm and relieved, the tone taking with it all the things he’s kept suppressed against his better nature. He knows it’s the room that makes both he and Jongin struggle to remain whole, but he knows it’s the memories that make Jongdae dissolve and willing to set Chen free.

Jongdae nods and twists his neck to crack the joints, releasing a smooth exhale as he attempts to focus.

‘All do respect, brothers,’ comes Yixing’s small yet strong voice as he walks back to his chair. ‘Her will to fight and survive strong enough that I suggest we take precautions. Within a day, she had already looked into my mind. There’s no telling how she will advance now she knows her nature.’

‘She grapples with it,’ Chanyeol clarifies, wiping his brow though there is no sweat or residue to remove, the action alone bringing him a sort of comfort under duress. ‘She has yet to fully accept it, but is true. I found her in front of the halfling cage. She’d looked into their minds and was able to See. It may not be long until we are at her mercy.’ 

‘May I also remind everyone she has yet to be turned,’ Sehun says, relaxing into Yixing’s power with a casual, almost languid posture in his chair. ‘Any power she may have is limited until she’s turned.’

‘It’s true,’ concedes Minseok, spinning his gun on the table and watching it rotate. To anyone else this would appear disrespectful, his sideways posture and seemingly distracted focus giving him the air of bored malcontent, but Chanyeol knows this is simply how Minseok relieves his tension. ‘She won’t truly be able to sway any battle until she’s dead.’

‘Then we still have time,’ Junmyeon advises, leaning back and straightening his suit jacket with a cough. ‘If I may suggest, we should deal with the mole first. If the Reader has questions, we will answer them but we cannot fully integrate her until we know the immediate threat has been handled.’

‘I agree.’ Sehun says with a nod.

‘I second,’ Minseok echoes, with a slightly bright tone, his war lord seemingly under perfect control. ‘Handling her and her questions too soon will only serve as a distraction to us. We run the risk of being vulnerable.’

‘Third,’ comes Jongin’s voice, Kai having disappeared from his voice altogether.  

Raising his fist to cover his mouth as he clears his voice of his war lord, Chanyeol coughs slightly as he straightens his back.

‘It’s important we recognize the motions of war,’ he begins, voice stern and serious, ‘that the Reader and the mole are consequences of the same reality.’ 

He trains his eyes on every general in the room, keeping his gaze on them for several seconds before moving onto the next as he attempts to make his point known.

‘Jinsoo has been planning war against us far longer than the enaction of our deal,’ he continues, allowing the words to settle in the room with purpose and emphasis. Saying them this way, in front of all his men inside the War Room, makes the reality he’s been toeing unfathomably undeniable. ‘There’s no telling how long the mole has been with us, and it is likely this that has placed the Reader in our grasp.’

‘Should we not be grateful she is with us then?’ Baekhyun says slowly, his mind putting the words together as he speaks. ‘If she’s with us we have immediate access.’ 

Chanyeol releases a low hum and nods, only to furrow his brow and remind the members of his original plan. ‘I admit, I had planned to use the Reader as our own mole, however it is no longer in our best interest to send her from where we need her most.’

‘We still should,’ Baekhyun concedes and quickly adds, ‘we’d have information from the other side, far more than any their mole could glean from us.’

‘The choice to participate should be hers,’ Kyungsoo says cooly. ‘We cannot force her. We need to earn her trust and include her. Only then will she truly return to us.’

‘It feels wrong to me,’ comes Yixing’s slightly anxious reply. Shaking his head as he speaks, he continues. ‘Discussing this without her here. Are we not already attempting to influence her fate?’

‘This is exactly what I was saying,’ Jongdae says fiercely. ‘We are already dancing around her existence as though she influences every action of this coven.’

‘I agree,’ Sehun says, sounding slightly bored. ‘If she were anyone else, we wouldn’t be hesitating to use her.’

‘If she were anyone else, she would already be dead.’

‘The reality is that she isn’t just a human,’ Junmyeon offers, cutting through the conversation with his eyes still focused on his gun. ‘She is a Reader, and ignoring her nature makes us careless and complacent.’ When he brings his eyes to the others, he is cold and hard and impatient for action. ‘From what Chanyeol is telling us, war has been a foot far longer than we are admitting to ourselves. Acknowledging she is a Reader, though an unforeseen obstacle, gives us the upper hand. Gentlemen, it’s all about perspective.’

‘Thank you, Junmyeon,’ Chanyeol says, grateful for his decisive nature. ‘And inaction at this point means eternal death for us all.’

‘We know what will happen if we send her over,’ Minseok asserts. ‘Jinsoo won’t be able to stop himself, he’ll immediately feel the pull. We’ll lose her before we’ve even had the opportunity to use her.’

‘That’s precisely why we need her trust,’ Kyungsoo says quickly, tapping the table with his gun and smiling at the sound. ‘If Jinsoo feels the pull, she will walk him to his death if her allegiance is already decided.’ 

‘And how do you suggest we earn her trust?’

‘It has to start with me,’ Chanyeol says, regarding his reflection in the table. There, he looks slightly blue and less of a man and more of a fantasy, someone with colder eyes and the pallor of death to his skin. For a moment, he sees it as a premonition before shaking the thought from his mind. ‘I’m the one most affected by her power, it’s designed for me. The only way to earn her trust is to surrender to it.’ 

‘Sire, she will make you vulnerable,’ Baekhyun says delicately, hoping to neither instigate Jongdae nor remind Chanyeol of how willing he will be to oblige to her will.

At this, Chanyeol nods and his voice takes on the cool tone he’s used to lacing through his words. ‘And that is why I’ll need you all to remain steadfast in in your stations. I want training hours bumped up by three hours, minimum. We should also restock our supplies of holy water. Sehun, how is the armory?’

‘Fully stocked at the moment,’ he says with a wide smile, pride overtaking his features. Since his arrival, the armory had become his nest, taking to ammo and daggers as one would take comfort in their mother’s arms. ‘Twelve rifles are out for cleaning at the moment. I have a shipment of explosives coming within three days.’

‘Excellent. And blood?’ 

‘I strongly advise we acquire more,’ Yixing suggests, a pressure to his words not usually seen in regular circumstances. ‘We’ve been patient enough and I have a lead on a different supplier.’

‘Coordinate with Jongdae,’ Chanyeol advises, the routine focus on strategy and tactics easing him back into the role of Sire without the anxiety of possibilities and omens. ‘I want everything at full capacity within four days, if we can manage it. Money, at this point, is a non-issue.’

A wave of acknowledgement maneuvers its way throughout the room, men moving and nodding with their orders, and Chanyeol finds himself admiring them in a way that sees them as ghosts. He hates that he does this, hates that even with the routine of tactics and money he’s forced to see both his men and himself as antiquities of a distant time rather than men who have earned their right to the present world. He hates that he does this, so he changes the topic and focuses on things he understands.

Bloodshed.

‘Let us acknowledge that the first blood spilled will be the changing tide,’ he says, and he knows he does not need to explain. They all understand an attack from within means the start of war, and that, once vampire blood is spilled, the eradication of the enemy is both swift and complete. ‘Many will die. There is a likelihood we will not survive.’

‘This is what we accepted the moment we turned, Sire,’ Baekhyun offers with a lukewarm smile, the room seeming to glow just a little bit brighter in contrast with his sentiments; Chanyeol finds this action comforting. ‘This day was inevitable.’

‘If we die, I hope we die quickly,’ Minseok declares, his version of optimistic both sarcastic and grim.

Still, it’s enough to make Chanyeol smile even if it doesn’t reach his eyes.

‘I will lay down my life for you,’ he announces, signaling the end of the meeting. ‘You all know this to be true.’ 

‘And I you.’

Nine voices echo throughout the room, all breathing and speaking the same sentiment in a chorus of belief as though these three words were a dogma. They let the words resonate until the din is dry and gone, a whisper on the memory of men deciding it’s time to accept the truth: that with these words, war has officially begun.

[jangyeevns]

i wanna say something just this once while we stand around singing kumbaya for the nth time with this chick's antics, because i've thankfully steered clear the whole time i considered myself a kr*p account ( cue me recoiling at the memory ) well into the present and i don't have that much of a place to speak on all of this as i haven’t been directly involved in any of the shit she’s done. what i can say is this serves her fucking right.

the shit i've seen playing out since she’s apparently grown through her ic interactions with former mutuals as recently as a few months back — where vague as hell noncon themes were being alluded to with mei and had me unfollowing said mutual because i couldn’t have that on my dash ( even though they seemingly hadn’t picked up on it like i had ) — the use of a 17 year old fc when she apparently wouldn't rp with minor fcs ( because she just loves nct so much guys ), having age gap ships galore for mei when she has a whole 18/19 year old fc who is still a minor in her home country, essentially stalking people and sending hateful anons/having her pals send them ( when she claims to be over it or not looking for drama ) for years now, harassing and doing those previous things to people SHE'S stolen from or SHE'S made uncomfortable so frequently that they leave the rpc, her tendency to steal in general...... holy fuck, does the list go ON ! it's all a piss-off, it's excessive and it isn't something to shrug off bc of a self care, i've changed ! narrative when all of the people she's hurt will perhaps never get genuine apologies from her or the minions she's sicced on them over the years.

people who change don't still slip in traces of their favourite problematic themes into threads, people who change don't return to their habits of copying other resource makers to a t while using other creators' content and acting like they have that much of a claim on shit they merely crop and slap a psd onto, people who change don't quietly monitor the people who've challenged them or called them out still, people who change don't deflect from their wrongdoings by playing the victim card and vague posting so their followers don't see the extent of the things being said about them.

at the end of the day, it doesn't bother me if she comes back in two day's time and fucks with her pals as always. i don't have her blocked anymore because i don't have her suggested to me anymore, from what i can tell none of my mutuals rp with her, i don't go into the kr*p tags and i just don't give a flying fuck about her beyond being livid because of the amount of people i know or have encountered that she's fucked over. but i am bothered that she'll spin the narrative as she always has and some people will still blindly believe that all of these ugly things are completely in the past while the cycle repeats under their noses; because they're not if you don't truly hold yourself accountable for every misdeed, and from the apologies i've seen, apologies that i can count on one hand vs the dozens i know she owes and hasn’t given... she lacks this fundamental piece.

let this overview be a lesson: change is seen, not heard. if you give people reason to think that you haven’t, then reflect on that before you proclaim that you know yourself better than anyone else at the top of a rules page. what you put out into the world is not something you wholly control, you’ll be perceived however someone sees you to be in that moment and very little can change that — regardless of the positivity posts you reblog or make yourself. it is not an overnight thing either, it takes time to unlearn the dumb shit you did in the past and because these tendencies can still be shown when you think you’re improving, you are still going to be held accountable until you prove that you’re a better person in ways beyond merely stating that you are. and that’s that. i’m not saying this because i hate her — because i don’t, i just hate what she embodies — i’m saying it because this is what it‘ll come down to when she comes back once again and revives the very rhetoric i’m criticizing because it’s superficial when it becomes this much of a pattern, no matter who it comes from.

HOWEVER ! AND I CANNOT STRESS THIS ENOUGH !

you nameless kids making two whole expose blogs, thinking it'll do any genuine good when clearly you — the creators — aren't willing to share how she affected you ( if she even did, who can ever be sure ), need to relax. shit like this worked recently Only because 1. the mun of that blog has a whole experience of their own to post from the get-go and 2. they feel more like places to bitch than they do places to inform. not everyone needs these blogs if they go by one name for the entirety of their time being the problem child of the community, it's counterproductive and frankly, it makes some people feel less inclined to give you the tea you really want because they're handing over their story to nameless people who will know exactly who they are, while everyone else reading wouldn't know who either person responsible for transmitting said information is. the couple of people who have sent shit in are of course valid, i’m just questioning the validity and benefit of these expose blogs because i don’t see it.

this whole thing is getting traction where it counts as it stands, from someone who has reason to call her out at present. and i’m not saying these anonymous muns behind the blogs are in it for questionable or the wrong reasons, but don't let the need to make several blogs that’ll only become bitching hubs above all else hinder what’s already happened. and if you have something to say about your issues with her or anyone else for that matter, trust me when i say you don’t need to be anonymous for it and send it to these blogs, strength comes in numbers after all.

[thehuntedhuntress]

THE RULES

//Oh for the love of... Tumblr get your freaking act together and fix your damn mobile app. 

Rules under the cut because they’re hella long

((First off, I’d like to apologize for the length of this page. I tend to add more stuff as it becomes an issue, though the top section usually holds a succinct summary of my most basic rules to roleplaying with me. Here are those rules:

One of the most important things in the roleplay community is respect. If you respect me, then I’ll respect you. I don’t mean character to character, but Mun to Mun. I understand that some characters are simply jackasses, and that’s a part of who they are. That is perfectly okay, and even welcome. But if you start disrespecting me as a Mun, I will cease to respect you, and therefor cease to roleplay with you. Part of this respect involved respecting the rules laid out here. That is why this is rule number one.

If you are not an RP blog, or are not a part of the thread I an roleplaying with another person, please do not reblog threads you are not involved in! It messes with my tracking system. You can like the threads all you want, but please, please do not reblog if you are not the partner or partners I am RPing with in that particular thread. This is my one exception to my three strikes rule. If you break this rule, I will block you immediately, no questions asked. I’ve had too many people break this rule now, and I’m not going to be lenient anymore regarding this. As a sub-section of this rule: If I make a starter call for mutual followers, I will also block any non-mutuals that like or reblog the post. Again, no questions asked.

I am a selective blog. This means that I prefer to roleplay with mutuals only (a.k.a. people who follow me with whom I am already following). That being said, if I am not following you, you’re free to send me an ask regarding roleplaying together. Be advised, however; I’ll usually take a brief look over people’s blogs when they follow me and see if they look like someone I’d be willing to roleplay with. Please note that I don’t mean a starter. I mean an ooc request to roleplay. I also reserve the right to decline roleplaying with anyone if I don’t feel I’d enjoy roleplaying with them. Please see the F.A.Q. section below the rules for more information on my roleplay style and pet peeves.

Regarding the above rule: If I don’t wish to roleplay with you, then I don’t wish to roleplay with you. Every person has their preferences, and I have just as much right to refuse a roleplay, since I do this for fun, and it’s not a job. Harassing me, trying to force roleplay interactions, or sending either myself or my roleplay partners hate will not be tolerated.

I do not follow back every person that follows me; however, I will usually take a brief look at most of my followers blogs to see if they are someone I would like to follow back. I only follow those whom I either enjoy reading what they write with others, or I wish to interact with myself.

Do not assume that just because I once followed you in the past that I am still following you. I frequently go through my list of people I follow and clear out people who either haven’t posted in a long time, people I don’t think I’ll ever actually roleplay with, and people I no longer enjoy following anymore for one reason or another. If I have not interacted with you in a while, or if I seem to consistently not respond to asks/replies/likes, you may want to check to see if I am still following you.

IC does not equal OOC. Just because my character may dislikes yours, it doesn’t mean that I dislikes your character, or you. In fact, at least a couple of my favorite roleplay partners plays characters that mine simply does not get along with.

OOC communication is important. If you have a question or concern, bring it up. I can’t fix something if I don’t know about it.

Regarding the above rule, no one is a mind reader. Don’t assume someone knows what you’re thinking. Use your words!

Don’t god-mod, meta-game, power-play, or auto-hit without permission. That’s all sorts of rude and I guarantee it’ll make people dislike playing with you. Myself included. (Hover for my definition of each item.)

Please respect the canon of my character, and don’t force your canon (relationship status, sexuality, etc) onto her. I’ll do the same for you. In such a case where there are clear canon issues, such as AU’s and reality crossings, talk to me ahead of time so we can determine how best to go about it.

If a Roleplay starter is marked private/closed — or if it is marked for mutuals only — ask before jumping in! I can be semi-selective with who I roleplay with, but if you ask me, and I honestly think our characters might be able to work together in an roleplay, then I may be willing to give it a shot.

Please don’t harass me for a reply. It’s okay to ask if I got your post, but don’t nag me for it. I’ll get to it when I get to it. Roleplaying takes inspiration and interest and free time. You never know if I’m busy IRL, or how many other roleplays I have waiting on me.

Any thread that has been left unanswered after 2 weeks (14 days) by either myself or my partner will be considered automatically dropped. If for some reason my partner really wants to continue the thread, they are free to send me an ask so we can discuss continuing it.

Please respect my boundaries. If I don’t want to do something, don’t make me. Be it a kink/fetish, a relationship, or even a simple interaction.

And finally, when it comes to smut: As the Mun, I am well above 18+, and have done smut before. However, I will not, I repeat, WILL NOT do smut with another Mun who is a minor, regardless of the character’s age. Not only is it wrong, it’s illegal, and I could get in trouble for that. So if I even suspect that you are under-aged, you can forget it.

Because I have had problems with people not following my rules repeatedly, if someone ignores my rules more than three times, then I will be blocking the blog in question. If you have any questions, thoughts, or concerns regarding my rules, feel free to message me. Other than that? Happy Roleplaying!))

((Things to know a.k.a the really long and detailed section))

((For those who have been watching my posts, you can probably see that I tend to be a para to multi-para poster. However, this does not mean that I expect the same of you. It also doesn’t mean that ALL my posts will be para-posts. Simply put, the quality of my posts depends on 3 factors: my inspiration, time, and the post I am replying to. If you give me only a couple lines, I’m more likely to only give a couple of lines back unless I get whacked upside the head with the inspiration stick. Which does happen on occasion.

I primarily at this point Roleplay mostly with mutuals. However, I will Roleplay with just about any type of character, whether they Para-post or not, as long as you follow the rules of engagement as listed above, and will message me politely regarding the possibility of Roleplaying with your character. Look down at the F.A.Q. section for more details.

Given that Valerie is being played uniquely with each individual character he interacts with, unless otherwise agreed upon, I will assume that each interaction exists in it’s own sub-verse within it’s general verse. It might cause a few hiccups now and again, but I’m willing to work through things if the other person is too. So long and short of it, don’t be afraid to message me if you want to roleplay!

F.A.Q.

“Where did you get your icons?”

//Most of my still icons were collected from various free to use icon dumps, though a growing number were made myself from screenshots and using either Krita, Avatarmaker, or ezGifs. Nearly all my gif icons were resized and edited myself using a combination of GifMaker and ezGifs. All official art is property of Butch Hartman and Nickelodeon, and any icons based off of fan art, the art is property of the respective artists. You can find the list of artists whose art I’ve used in icons here.

//No art on this blog is mine unless otherwise specifically stated.

“How open are you to OCs and characters from media you’re not familiar with?”

//It largely depends from character to character. I have several people I role-play with that are Original Characters, and I am slowly branching outside of the fandom my character originates from. However, I do tend to be a bit more picky when it comes to OC’s and characters from fandoms I’m not as familiar with.

First off, if they don’t have a fairly detailed “About” page, then I won’t role-play with them. Period. I need to know at least a little bit about what I’m getting into when role-playing blind. If I cannot honestly see how our characters would interact, I may decline role-playing. I also tend to judge based on what I’ve seen them roleplay with others, and I’ll make no secret that I’ll go through a few pages of their blog to look at how they role-play; if they roleplay in a style that I don’t feel will be compatible with mine, or they have the little things that would really bug me as a role-player, such as frequent improper spelling and lack of capitalization and punctuation, then I am just that much less likely to want to role-play with that character/mun.

I should make a note that I will NOT, under any circumstances, rolelay nsfw content with someone who I am not certain isn’t a minor. So if there is nothing listed on the blog and I have no way of confirming, then smut will not be happening. And even if someone claims to be of age, but the way they type makes me believe otherwise, then I’ll err on the side of caution and deny doing any nsfw roleplayinging.

That all being said, some of my favorite people to role-play with are actually OC’s or cross fandom people. And I know that some people complain about role-players being too picky, but to put it frankly, I do this for fun. If I don’t think I’ll have fun playing with a muse, whether or not they’re Canon, OC, or Cross Fandom, then I’m simply not going to try and force myself.

I’ve been role-playing for 18 years (since summer of 1996). That’s longer than some of my roleplay partners have even been alive. I think I’ve earned the right to be a little choosy now and again. And while I know that I am by no means perfect when it comes to role-playing, and that even I continue to learn and evolve my style as I go along, there comes a point when I am simply not willing to go through the mental struggle of roleplaying with someone I have no interest in roleplaying with. If someone is willing to learn and improve as they go along, I may give them a chance. But if I can see that they’ve been roleplaying for a while, and there is absolutely no visual improvement on how they roleplay when it’s a style that doesn’t jive with my own, then I’m not going to waste my time and energy.

Because yes. I put time and energy and thought and feeling and all sorts of other things into my roleplays. And if I get stuck with a partner that isn’t willing to put at least a decent amount of effort into what they’re doing, then I feel like I am wasting my time.

TL:DR

Yes, I’ll roleplay with OC’s and other Fandoms, but I’m very choosy. Your best bet is to send me a message requesting an roleplay together, regardless of whether you are an OC, In fandom character, or out of fandom character. I’ll give your character a look over, and if I think we can make it work, I’ll give it a shot.

I would suggest something a little more than just a “wanna rp”, or an opener with just the word “Hello”, however.))

“Are there any blogs you won’t roleplay with?”

//I have a couple types of blogs that I can guarantee I won’t likely roleplay with right off the bat. The first of these is multi-fandom blogs. Because I follow every person I roleplay with, this means that anything those people reblog end up on my dash. Many multi-fandom blogs tend to have at least one or two fandoms that I don’t want appearing on my dash. Plus, most of them have what feels to me like an excessive number of characters, which makes it hard to follow what’s going on, or know who you’re going to end up interacting with.

I will on occasion RP with multi-character blogs as long as the characters are from the same fandom, and there isn’t a ridiculously excessive number of characters. If you’re a multi-character blog who is literally roleplaying every single character in a game/anime/book/etc., then I probably won’t want to roleplay with you. Sorry.

Other than that, blogs that I see doing nothing but an excessive amount of smut roleplaying, I probably will not want to roleplay with either. While I don’t mind occasional smut, I don’t like jumping into an RP with someone with the expectation that it’s going to happen every RP. I like relationships to be organic, forming naturally, and, well, I don’t see my Valerie just jumping into bed with anyone and everyone.

“What does it mean when you roleplay with mutuals only?”

//While this was somewhat covered in rule 8, I’ll go ahead and put it here. Simply put, a mutual follower is someone who follows you, who you also follow back. I don’t follow back every person who follows me. I like to keep my dashboard clean, and typically only follow blogs that are relevant to my interests, or I would like to interact with. So simply put, if I follow someone, I’m interested in talking/roleplaying with them.

The longer I’ve roleplayed, the more I’ve found myself becoming selective. I’m a cranky old coot and somewhat set in my ways, and I’ve gotten to the point where if I don’t feel like I’m going to have fun roleplaying with a person, I’m not going to go through the hassle of going ahead and giving them a shot only to have to tell them I’m not having fun. That tends to get people all upset, moreso than simply declining in the first place.

As I mentioned before, I make no bones about going onto someone’s blog who has asked me if I’d like to RP, and judging their roleplay based off of how they roleplay with others. And I’ll look through a few pages worth. If I see things that fall under my pet peeves, or I just simply don’t think I’ll enjoy trying to have my character interact with this person, then i’m going to decline roleplaying.

“Do you roleplay with people who don’t write super long replies?”

//Absolutely. I am well aware that my replies can often times get very, very long. I do not, however demand that anyone ever match my length. I do request that in whatever length of a reply you do give me, that you give me something to work with, be it dialog or action. My character needs something to respond to, and if all you give me is “S/He smiled.” I have absolutely nothing to work with. I’m not asking for people to give me a college dissertation in response to what I do, but if I’m giving a longer reply, I would like something more than a one-liner, please.

As a side note, however; I roleplay with the intention of creating character interaction and hopefully development. One of my biggest pet peeves is people starting a thread with me, only getting 1-3 replies in, and then the other person dropping it out of nowhere. I’ve had it happen a lot with a few people, and if I see it become a trend, I will unfollow. Sorry, but it’s something that frustrates me to no end, and rather than get upset about it, I’d rather just not roleplay with people who do that frequently to begin with.

“Do you have any triggers and/or subjects you will not role-play?”

//I don’t have any particular triggers, per say. At least not in the classical sense. However, I do have to be careful about the level of gore, or the intensity of angst, as it can negatively affect my mood sometimes. But I can tolerate it pretty well, at least in written word. If you want to use images, however, I would suggest talking it over with me first.

//As for subject I will or will not role-play, I’ve actually done a lot of triggery materiel before, including abuse, self harm, suicide, rape, and death, though not all necessarily on this particular muse. I do these somewhat sparingly, and only if my partner has not only agreed, but that we have discussed at just what point will we take it. All triggery materiel will be tagged and put under read-mores in deference to my followers.

//At the risk of sounding redundant… if the other mun isn’t at least 18 years old, I will not do sexual nsfw materiel. Period.

“Do you have any particular Role-Play pet peeves?”

//Yes, I do. They fall mostly under the category of technical issues, and role-play issues. The technical issues are things like not using proper capitalization, punctuation, spelling or grammar. Now, I know my own grammar is not the best, and sometimes it’s intentionally so. I write as I think, or as someone would speak. And very few people naturally speak grammatically correct. But if I have to spend more than 5 minutes just trying to decipher what in the heck you said, I’m not going to want to role-play. And I personally feel no one has an excuse for obvious spelling errors, save for those odd typos that spell checker doesn’t manage to catch because you technically spelled a word that exists. For everything else, Google exists for a reason, and most computers have an automatic spellchecker in place.

// In addition, I do NOT RP script style, and don’t really like RPing with people who do. This is the style where you annotate actions using asterisks (*). Example: “ *wanders into the building* wow it sure is dark in here. ” To me this style is very clunky, visually unappealing, and doesn’t lend itself to my preferred methods of roleplaying, such as para and multi-prara posts. Having those symbols in there disrupts the flow of the roleplay, and is very distracting.

//Also, please don’t put out of character comments within the RP post itself. That’s what tags are for. It really throws the thread off to see OOC commentary in the post itself.

//I also highly dislike when people frequently use the wrong words for things, such as the “they’re there their” trio, or words like sore and soar. I get very irritated by things like that, so if it’s a frequent occurrence in someone’s writing outside of maybe an occasional typo, I’m going to be disinclined to RP with that person.

//Also, for the love of God, please trim your threads! There are ways to get around it on mobile, and if you’re on a computer you have no excuse whatsoever. Or ask your partner to do it for you. At the very least, if you can’t cut a thread, then put the whole thing under a read-more so it doesn’t clutter people’s dashes. There is nothing more annoying than having to scroll down several pages worth of one-liners because someone wouldn’t take the effort to try and trim their posts.

//Role-play issues involve the typical things like God-modding and auto-hitting. I also greatly dislike insta-shipping. If you come up to me before our characters have even met and ask me if your character can be my character’s boyfriend/girlfriend, I’m going to tell you flat out no. I will not just have my character instantly be in a relationship with yours. I want the build up and anticipation, if such a thing is even meant to be. And sometimes it isn’t.

//Another roleplay issue I have is replies. While I never expect someone to match my length, it is really disheartening to have written out several paragraphs, and be given a one-liner in response. I purposefully try to write in such a way that gives the person I’m roleplaying with plenty of opportunities to react, respond, or even initiate new action in the responses I’ve given. While I do occasionally do one-liner threads, those are usually lighthearted, and not very emotionally invested for me. And I’ll be blunt; if I look at someone’s blog and ALL they have are a ton of uncut threads filled with nothing but one-liners, I’m probably not going to RP with that person.

As mentioned above, I also highly dislike it when people drop a thread only a few posts in, before the characters have had much of a chance to interact. This is something I find very frustrating, and if it is something that happens frequently, I will likely unfollow because of it.

//Valerie has a mind of her own. Sometimes I will ship something, and she will absolutely refuse to go along with it. I’m not going to try and force her into a ship just to appease someone else. Tried that once, regretted every moment of it.

//Finally, I tend to have issues if I check a blog and find a complete lack of a Rules or About page. Those are major red flags to me regarding RPing with someone, because then I have no idea what I’m getting into if I decide to RP with someone. I often will refuse to roleplay with someone who has no rules or about page.

“How long are you willing to wait for a reply?”

//Due to the nature of how I typically reply, I have a tendency to limit how many threads I actually have going at any given time. I greatly dislike having people wait a long period of time for me to post, and I know that getting bogged down with too many replies at once can be rather daunting and make it that much more difficult to have the desire to get to my posts. Because of this I set a limit on how many threads I will have going at any one time. This limit usually wavers around the 20-30 active threads.

//However, this causes a problem. I am finding myself frequently stuck waiting for my partners to reply, to the point where sometimes it’s been weeks, and in a few cases even over a month since I posted my last reply to a thread. This seriously limits what I am able to do, since as I’ve said I try to limit how many threads I have going at any given time. The times when you seem me with long stretches of inactivity is often because I am literally waiting on ALL my partners to reply.

//Because of this, I decided to implement a new rule: From this point, any thread that has not been replied to after 2 weeks (14 days) I will consider to have been abandoned and officially dropped. It becomes very difficult at times when I receive a reply out of the blue to a thread that hasn’t been answered in ages, and I’m having to try and look back to see what was even going on in that particular thread.

//This rule also works in reverse. On the rare times that I am the one who has a draft sitting in my draft folder and cannot for the life of me think of how to reply, if it’s been over two weeks since my own reply, you can consider the thread having been dropped as well.

//I understand that people are busy, with real life commitments and other interests that they get involved in. I understand that sometimes a muse just isn’t there for a thread, or that a person might be in the mood for a different type of roleplay. This is not an attempt to guilt any of my partners. This is to help me be able to openly interact with more people, or to be willing to try and start new threads. Given that not too many people respond to any memes I’ve posted of late, that often means that I myself would have to send out asks, and I have a tendency to hesitate to do so when I know I’m waiting on a reply from them, for fear that they will think I’m trying to hassle them for a reply.

//This also meant to hopefully serve to help out some of my roleplay partners. I know that many of them do get bogged down with a plethora of replies. So if any of my current partners have replies out there that are between our muses that are beyond that two week time limit, here’s your chance to weed them out of your drafts.

//That said, if there are any threads that you really, really want to keep roleplaying, don’t hesitate to shoot me an ask so we can discuss it. Depending on the thread, and depending on the circumstances at to why you may not have replies, I may be willing to keep it going. If a thread I am particularly interested in continuing seems about ready to expire, I may send one final notice to my partner to let them know the thread is about to expire soon.

//I’m sorry if this seems harsh, and I apologize for the inconvenience, but to be entirely honest I’m tired of feeling like I’m having to beg people to roleplay with me. And I’m tired of feeling like I’m limited because I don’t want to chance everyone suddenly replying all at once, which has happened before on occasion. And it isn’t fair to me to have to sit on my thumbs waiting for partners to reply who seemingly have no intention of ever getting around to it.

//If you have any questions, comments, or concerns, feel free to shoot me an ask. Thank you all for your time.

“What is the best way to contact you, as the Mun/Mod/Player?”

//My ask box is always open, so you can always feel free to drop me a line that way. Mutuals are free to ask me for my Skype, Kik and/or Steam usernames.

//If you actually read through this entire wall of text, I will be very impressed. The password is “Rubber Baby Buggie Bumpers.” Just a note, you don’t have to send me my password, though I do appreciate knowing when people have read through my rules. Sending me my password in no way affects the likelihood of me either following or roleplaying with someone.

[seiichi-the-king]

Kooncha Wasn’t There When It Happened

Kooncha wasn't there when it happened. He was working late and hadn't checked his phone so the first time he heard the news was on the radio when he woke up the following day. Not much was known as of yet, apart from the League of Villains were the suspects and the Yakuza were the victims. Two fatalities had been reported but the newsreader had no clue which side the deaths belonged to. Kooncha hoped to god that they weren't from the Yakuza. 

Dressing in record speed, Kooncha ran through the apartment where his flatmate was eating a bowl of cereal. He waved hello and asked if he had slept well but it fell on deaf ears. Kooncha signed two words: "Car" and "Now". He decided it would be easier to explain on the way. His flatmate must have seen the look in his eye because he threw on a pair of shoes and a coat as quickly as possible. They ran down the apartment building steps and out to the car. 

Once inside Kooncha started fiddling with the radio stations. Usually, he loved listening to the music channels, or random playlists through Bluetooth, but today his heart was set on one thing. The news channel. He was in the passenger seat so the car could pull out of the apartment complex while Kooncha searched. Upon finding it he listened intently, the man in the driver doing the same. 

"And the biggest story of this morning is, of course, the knowledge of a fight that has occurred within the Shie Hassaikai main headquarters. Local authorities reported a disturbance last night when a group of intruders broke into the complex and left a couple of hours later. Who has died can not be reported as of yet however we can confirm at least two casualties. We are not at liberty to say more as of yet but we will be giving you any new information thick and fast so stay tuned."

The car took a sudden lurch as it turned right, the driver putting his foot down on the accelerator. After hearing the news report, Kooncha's flatmate understood. Despite the fact he had mostly kept quiet about his affiliation with the Shie Hassaikai, Kooncha had to explain a few things after an incident when a masked man had shown up on his doorstep asking for the ginger male. After that there had been a mutual agreement not to tell anyone about Kooncha's "friends" and in return, he would be protected by the Yakuza. A fair deal in theory. 

What wasn't a secret was Kooncha's healing quirk. Obviously, the man wanted to make sure his friends were alright and perform any healing necessary. So the pair sped through the town down all the back roads to avoid the morning traffic. Not a word was shared between them the whole journey. The radio blared out other seemingly insignificant in comparison stories, but they fell on deaf ears. Quite literally. 

Before the car had even stopped outside the huge compound Kooncha had unplugged his seat belt. In fact, the moment the building came into view he was sticking his phone in his pocket and getting ready to get out. No one had answered his text, a worrying sign. He threw himself out of the car the moment it came to a standstill, ignoring the shouts from his flatmate. He sprinted up to the gates, shaking them a little to get someone's attention. 

It was clear that something was wrong, there were barely any lights on in the building and half of the staff were missing from the front area. No gardeners, no cleaners, no Precepts or underlings wondering around. The only people around were Nemoto, bent over a little to listen to words spoken by a man who Kooncha didn't recognize. It took them a few seconds, but the pair noticed his clanging and the man was waved away by Nemoto. The latter headed up the drive to meet Kooncha. 

"I'm guessing you've heard the news. They're not here Kooncha." Nemoto claimed the moment he got close enough. He had his hands in his pockets, looking a little slumped. He was getting on now, and while his shot remained as sharp as ever, his eyesight was going more. He couldn't wear his mask anymore, his prescription too thick to fit behind it. The man let out a little sigh, not knowing how to converse with the other. 

"Do you know who the bodies belong to yet? Or has that not been revealed to the public?" Nemoto asked, deciding that questions with either or answers would be safest. 

Kooncha shook his head, pressing himself against the bars more in eagerness. If his friends weren't here, where were they? He couldn't worry about that now however, right now he needed to know if he could help. He held out his hands, activating his quirk so his eyes and hands glowed for a couple of seconds, signaling that his quirk was ready if anyone needed it. He would do whatever he could to help the Yakuza since the boss' son had given him so much. 

It was Nemoto's turn to shake his head this time. "No Kooncha that won't be necessary. At least not here. Anyone here is either dead or fine. The injuries left with the younger ones. But please don't react rashly when you find out, there's nothing you can do." he said, speaking slowly. Despite the fact that he was cold and seemingly uncaring, Nemoto had a soft spot for Kooncha. Most of the older Precepts did, despite the fact that he turned down the opportunity to join the Yakuza. 

"I can't let you in, Overhaul isn't allowing visitors and I apologize for that." Nemoto almost stumbled over his words, trying to avoid answering the question. He looked into the younger man's pleading face. He had to tell Kooncha, the look on his face was hurting him. 

"Seiichi's dead." Nemoto finally got out, closing his eyes for a few seconds as he sighed. 

When he opened them, Kooncha was backing away from him, shaking his head. He must have heard wrong, that couldn't have happened. There was no was Seiichi, the young boss, Overhaul's replacement and son was dead. It was impossible. That man was so strong and so clever. It would take more than the League to beat him, wouldn't it? And he had all of the Yakuza to protect him. Nemoto must be lying to him. His disbelief must have been apparent on his face because Nemoto spoke again. 

"I'm sorry but it's true. Seiichi was killed by the League of Villains, and Shigeo too. The others are alive apart from a couple of underlings I don't even know the name off." Nemoto confirmed, throwing his hands up in the air to show he wasn't lying. Nemoto never lied. He never lied and he hated liars. With his quirk, the truth always came out anyway so there was no point in him being truthful. And Kooncha knew this. So he stopped backing up, head still and settled into a face of pure despair. 

When there was no reply of any sort, not even a physical one, Nemoto went to ask if the other was okay. But before he could even get the first word out, Kooncha was running. He had turned on his heel and sprinted away down the road. His flatmate, who was still waiting in the car, rolled down the window and looked at Nemoto who gave a shrug. 

"There's no point me going after him. He's probably going to find the others. Apologies sir, have a good day." he said, bowing his head to Nemoto before pulling away from the curb and driving off. 

For the first time in years, Kooncha felt deaf. He couldn't hear any of the world around him as he ran, no chatter, no cars, no nothing. All he could hear was Nemoto's voice, repeating that Seiichi was dead over and over again in his head. He didn't know when he had started crying but the wind whipped against his wet face causing it to sting. Yet he kept going. On and on through the city. He knew exactly where he was, the journey like second nature to him, even when blinded by grief. 

Kooncha didn't know how long he had been running, but after what seemed like hours he made it to his destination. Down the street of half-abandoned houses being reclaimed by nature, feet causing the broken glass to crunch beneath him and wood to splinter more. His eyes focused on the house that had stood empty for many years, but now had a couple of lights on. Across the front lawn of the neighbouring house and up to the building, Kooncha burst through the front door. 

He didn't know what he was expecting to see when he threw himself inside, but what he did see wasn't that. Apart from a couple of wall coverings and posters, most of the living room was the same. The chairs and couches that remained were all taken. Dolphin and Toyohisa were curled up together at one end of a couch, the latter sobbing into the former's chest. Dolphin just was staring blankly while stroking the other male's back. Blood was soaking through his jumper sleeve, the material ripped a little. But he didn't seem to notice. 

AJ, Kuu and Reiyou occupied the other couch, the small one in between the other two. All three were crying quietly, hands clasped together and heads bowed. Two of them, fortunately, seemed to be without injuries but the third was not so lucky. One of AJ's ears were torn, hanging limply off of the top of his head. Blood coated the fur of his hair and the blonde human hair that surrounded it. But he didn't seem to notice. 

Hitomi, who was taking up the only armchair that remained in the house, was smoking a cigar, hands shaking heavily. He didn't have his glasses on, they could be seen on the arm of the seat he was in. The reason behind his lack of eyewear became apparent quickly. Two streams of blood ran down his face, overuse from his quirk setting in. There was red beneath his nails, the usual impeccable shapes chipped. He looked like death. But he didn't seem to notice. 

When Kooncha entered the whole room turned to look at him. There was a sudden silence in the room for a few seconds before everything came crashing down. Seeing the gang like this, seeing how broken and injured they were, it made Kooncha realize this was all real. And he couldn't cope. He collapsed to his knees on the mat, as a sob bubbled up and escaped his lips. There was pressure in his ears, everything was too much now, too loud. He didn't want to hear anything in the real world or in his head. So the man cowered on the floor, hands crushing his ears and his implants, shaking his head slowly as he sobbed. 

Going unnoticed by Kooncha, Dolphin gently detangled himself from the younger male on his lap. He crossed the living room, crouching beside the male who had just entered, before lowering to his knees. He wrapped his arms around the other, pulling him into his chest and just let him cry. They rocked gently, Dolphin shushing the other quietly. After a few minutes, each member rose and joined the pair of them. A huge group hug was formed without a word, Kooncha at the center and Hitomi at the edge since he joined last. It wasn't the same without the two dead members as well as the missing Yakumo, but it provided some comfort.

No matter what happened these boys would stay together. Through thick and thin, through the hard times and the easy ones, they all kept each others' backs and supported them. While this was a pretty large bump in the road, as long as they had the gang, they could get through this. They had stuck by Seiichi every step of his journey, even if they didn't believe in his method of going about things. Each and every one of their loyalties had been unwavering and each had promised their lives to the Yakuza. 

Apart from Kooncha, a decision that he expected to be killed for. He was afraid it would be considered a betrayal yet he had been met with nothing but support and acceptance. Even Seiichi, who had been a little disappointed at the news, allowed him to live his life and do what he wanted. And that's what Kooncha did, becoming a carer in a care home where he could use his quirk to reduce suffering in their last few days, as well as extending their life for a short period of time so they could get their wills in order. Kooncha loved his job so much and wouldn't change it for the world. The whole gang could see that so they didn't mind. But despite that situation, he still would visit the others as much as possible and was still available to use his quirk if Seiichi needed it. They still saw each other a lot so they kept close. 

The group hug could have lasted hours or seconds. No one really knew. But slowly they fell apart, still keeping close but giving each other a little space. Toyohisa and Reiyou held hands, needing that comfort. It wasn't going to be a fun few days for anyone, everyone was going to suffer. They had to face Overhaul eventually, at the funeral though no one wanted to think about that yet. Right now they could only think about the moment, each member in their own head.

A noise from upstairs ruined the peace. A gunshot. Most of the boys jumped, heads turning to look at the ceiling. 

"Yakumo!" Dolphin yelled, scrambling to his feet and running clumsily to the staircase and up to the next floor. He looked so afraid, so concerned about what had just happened. Everyone he left behind were also afraid, looking from one another with variable states of horror apparent on their faces. Maybe everything wouldn't be okay after all… 

[preternatural-fools]

I was looking at research for a wendigo, and I somehow? ended up on like a tumblr blog or smthn, and 1st it did show info on the wendigo but then it said I could buy it..? A conjuring/being bound..? Or smthn? Idk I didn’t understand it but it was $30 and I’m very confused why would I want to buy a wendigo- I don’t want a wendigo??I’m good thanks! Anyways their whole blog was on buying a magical companion (w/real money) so idk can you explain conjuring/binding to me :’)??-CA✨(veryconfusedchaotic)

Ooo the wendigo! Very neat for sure!!

Also, fdsjlgfk I love how you came to me for an explanation, that’s so funny to me (I truly love it just in case you thought I was being sarcastic), also I just happened to be on tumblr when you sent this, and it’s kind of right up my alley, so I’m appearing to answer because I can do this with my eyes closed :,) As always, I over-explained a bit, mostly because I want to provide as much information I can to be informing.

Okay so first things first, I know this topic is a little bit of a grey area for you, so I’ll tread lightly with it, and I’ll admit to you—and hopefully I don’t spook you when I say this, though I’m sure you already have guessed or assumed—that I dabble in some things, in relation to craft and the likes. Very harmless, nature and energy based things—because those stem from earth and self, and are, of course, totally harmless (in my opinion and belief) and only involve me and the earth. I promise I’m not meddling with anything scary and I never would, here’s more on this to back my statement and also answer your question:

Though I am fascinated with things relating to what you stumbled upon, lore and craft, I typically like to take an observers perspective and look from a safe distance at things like this, because when I see words like ‘conjure’, ‘binding’ and ‘summoning’ I get nervous. Though I may lack some beliefs in regards to those statements—the whole “if you don’t believe in it then why are you afraid of it?” type thing comes into play here, along with the whole “what if?” thing as well, and that tends to outweigh my disbeliefs in some areas, like in the cases of conjuring, summoning, and binding. 

Conjuring and summoning are essentially the same thing, you are doing some type of ritual, spell, or other means to call on and bring forward a spirit, a deity, or in this case; a creature from lore (you can pretty much summon anything, if you believe in it’s existence and wish to call on it). Some people have beliefs that these things exist, and if it exists—it can be used, in a sense. That’s where binding comes in, you can call on something, and bind it to you, using magick (what people who practice craft use, it’s spelled like that to separate it from ‘magic’, so people know you’re talking about forms of witchcraft or alchemy—things of the occult—and not magician magic), or using a deal or sorts; like sometimes people make offerings in exchange for deeds or favors, but they’re essentially doing something to have whatever they called upon do something for them. However, binding is more of a permanent thing, this isn’t something I’ve looked into a lot, because like I said this is a grey area even for me (partly stemming from how I was raised, though that’s irrelevant), but essentially in binding, you now have this thing at your beck and call and it’ll do things for you while its bound to you. That is, if you can make a deal with it or successfully complete whatever ritual, spell, deal you pitched to have this happen—at least that’s how it’s supposed to go for those who believe and practice this type of thing. 

Again, I do not. I would like to add, though this sounds scary, and can be used for scary things—like binding a wendigo to you, or people who typically jump to the ‘demons’ route—it is not something that is inherently evil or bad. Though some people think that, and that’s their opinion and that’s totally fine and okay, as long as mutual respect from both parties is being applied, it’s never okay to discredit someone’s beliefs or tell them they’re wrong because they differ from yours. I will overstep right now and say that typically that mindset is bred from ignorance on the subject, people fall to that conclusion when they themselves have not researched the topic and educated themselves about it. I’m not trying to make you or anyone else mad or upset by saying that, but you can see ignorance appear in forms like that everywhere; religion, politics, ethical and economic matters, literally anything. 

Anyway, back on track; People who practice do this with more harmless things, like animal spirits—for example, having a familiar, that falls into this as well—or I’ve even seen people attempt this with Faeries, more so to make allies and friends, because everyone who knows about faeries knows that you do not fuck with faeries. Also things like spirits of their ancestors or previously deceased relatives. It can be used in a totally harmless manner, and it can be used badly, for bad intentions—just like a lot of other things we have on this planet. 

Some people who practice craft offer to do these magick rituals for other people, which is what I believe you stumbled onto, perhaps the blog you found was someone who either practices a subtype of magick—or claims to do so to get money—for other people, and so they were offering to do that magick and labor involved in binding a wendigo. 

Again, I was not aiming to upset you, or anyone else though unlikely reading this post, but I believe I touched on everything, detailed enough so you don’t have to go poking around, and also vague enough that it doesn’t seem like either of us are truly invested in this. This is a bit of a grey area for me as well, but that’s basically conjuring and binding summed up in a slightly lengthy, but still shorter than anything else you’ll find online.

I apologize if I overstepped, or made you feel unsafe or threatened by the topic or manner of which I said things, that was truly not my intention. I know talking about this as a general topic—with anyone—can be a bit of a grey area, just because there’s always that possibility that someone might feel like you’re opposing their beliefs and enforcing yours, or the clash of opinions, and I wanted to touch on that a little because that’s something I’ve personally witnessed with a lot of things and it does hold truth, but I was not trying to do that here.

[pisati]

excerpts from an article entitled How to Recognize and Overcome Childhood Emotional Neglect:

“When a parent is not emotionally attuned to a child, there is no mirror held up, no positive reflection being shared with the child. Developing a positive sense of self, then, becomes more challenging for the child.”

“...symptoms of childhood emotional neglect that show up in adults may include (but are not limited to):

“Numbing out” or being cut off from one’s feelings Feeling like there’s something missing, but not being sure what it is Feeling hollow inside Being easily overwhelmed or discouraged Low self-esteem Perfectionism Pronounced sensitivity to rejection Lack of clarity regarding others’ expectations and your own expectations for yourself”

(I was going to bold the ones I have but, oop, it’s all of them)

the article goes on to list the types of parents that emotionally neglect their children: authoritarian, permissive, narcissistic, perfectionistic, and absent. some parents may also have been emotionally neglected as children.

I don’t think my mom was any of those, really, besides maybe emotionally neglected herself. she was kind of strict with me, to the point where one of my friends even politely told her to let up because I was so stressed, but I’ve heard of worse. my mom’s entire side of the family is very closed off. we don’t talk about personal things, really. least of all feelings, how other people make us feel. well, we will sometimes talk about how people make us feel, as long as it’s behind their backs. I don’t like that. 

what is the fear I have surrounding my mom?

she’s pretty volatile emotionally. I’ve noticed I try to be as blank as I can around her now. I choose my words very carefully. still sometimes I’ll be talking to her and I’ll watch her lips purse and she stops answering. hard to know if it’s me or something on her mind, but either way it often gets taken out on me. when she’s stressed she doesn’t think about what she says or does either. once in middle or high school she was stressed about something and I guess I pissed her off over something inane; I still just remember her snapping at my closed door: “you should just go into your closet and shoot yourself”. later she “apologized” saying it was something she was thinking herself and it just came out. right. she doesn’t understand mental illness. she didn’t even realize her own mother was schizophrenic until my brother landed himself with drug-induced psychosis, and she’s spent the most time with her mother of anyone in her family. she still doesn’t know I’m depressed. she’s told me multiple times she doesn’t think I am even though I’ve ben waving red flags left and right for years. she’ll tell me to just quit pitying myself. it really bothers me to see how she changes when she’s around some guy she likes too. she’s laughed at jokes they’ve made that hurt me. she won’t ever snap at them for doing things she doesn’t like, but she’d snap if I did them. if she gets into a mood or snaps at me over something and later someone else not in the family is around, she’s back to being bubbly and lovey. I don’t trust it. I don’t know how to. I don’t feel comfortable talking to her about how it makes me feel.

why is that?

I don’t think it’ll change anything. it very well could, if I phrase it right. part of me just doesn’t want to upset her. part of me remembers how she’d tell me I could talk to her about anything, and then sometimes take what I said and hold it over my head. I’d rather not give her anything to hold over me for any reason. 

how does this extend to friends? who hurt me like that? who ever actually left?

I don’t know. all I remember is artificial kindness. people who would sit at the lunch table with my other friends and talk, who would look at me funny and respond politely because they had to. except not just at the lunch table; all the time. some were genuinely nice, but were rarely ever my friends. most of my friends and I drifted apart after high school, some even during high school. they just found closer bonds with other people I guess. not to say I was unfriendly; just probably not as fun. I still sometimes wonder what other people have that I don’t. I feel in some ways like I never learned some of the most basic aspects of Being a Person, especially socially; mom never really had friends and didn’t go out much, so I never learned how to either. I didn’t know how to talk to people. I still prefer they come to me. I understand that friendship is a two-way street, but I have yet to internalize it and act on it.

I still have my other blog with all the things I wrote about charlotte. she was my best friend then, I couldn’t talk to anyone else about it. maybe my mistake was not bringing it up with her, but like my mom, I didn’t want to upset her. or give her any fodder. she still openly admits to having little banks of information in her head, and she keeps the little things people do locked away for a rainy day. she won’t say if something upsets her in the moment. she’ll wait until a major fuck-up and then let it all out. it happened to me once or twice. some of the things she told me, I didn’t even know pissed her off. she never told me. once she asked me to sub for her at her job while she went to visit family in scotland, and I’d agreed to it 4 months out. but a month out I started getting really sick, my anxiety was so bad I couldn’t even handle 11-15 hours a week at my part-time job, and I hadn’t contacted her boss or anything. so I let her know she’d have to find someone else. my mom gave me numbers for temp agencies to give her. she had coworkers and a boss she could ask. and I let her know a month out. she sent me a very curt response, something to the tune of “I knew you’d back out. now I’m stressed and I have to find someone else. don’t worry about it.” if she knew I’d back out... why ask me? she didn’t talk to me for two or three months after that. then out of nowhere: “want to get lunch some time soon? I have your birthday present”. and things were, cautiously, back to normal. I reminded her of this maybe a year ago and she acted like she didn’t remember it at all. she hasn’t been doing things like this as much the last few years, but then again we haven’t been as close as we used to be since I started college. she still likes to have the upper hand, though, always. she has to be right. in 2017; standing at the barrier waiting for a concert to start and talking about government jobs; I knew something about the clearance process because of my mom and I was telling her I knew it was going to take a long time, and she straight-up told me to shut up. proceeded to explain it to me, because she’s been through the process, so she knows. a totally different process, mind, for the lowest-level clearance you can get (which she insists is one of the highest), while I was applying for a higher one than hers, which would involve a more intensive process. sometimes she’ll concede when she knows she’s wrong, but I can feel the energy she still has from way back when, that almost feels like she put something into her mental bank and is plotting revenge. maybe she has changed and I just wouldn’t know, but I was trained very well to be cautious nonetheless. she never left. but she still makes me feel very uneasy.

the good friends I have... it’s hard to say. with A it was hard to know, but I have reasons for that now. he’d pay full attention to me in bed, and then run ahead of me like I didn’t exist when we’d go visit friends. he’d tell me his intention wasn’t to use me, but he wouldn’t date me. he’d ask me to visit, then spend enough time playing games or watching videos on his phone that I’ve had to bring it up that, hey, I didn’t just drive three fucking hours up here to see my friend for a few days out of the year to watch him fuck around with his phone. we could have deep conversations about literally everything, and we could talk to each other about how we felt. that was a first for me. someone I felt comfortable bringing my grievances up with. he made me less anxious about talking it out, and that’s my preferred course of action now. he helped me learn to admit when I’m wrong and really mean it; not just concede so it doesn’t become a whole thing. I was scared he’d leave, but more afraid that it would be because I clung too hard. I really liked him at first but I had the gut feeling that it wasn’t mutual, so I held back. I learned to hold back, especially when I wasn’t sure. I didn’t want to overwhelm him. that fear of being overwhelming extends to all my friends. 

where does that fear come from? being overwhelming?

I’m not sure. it could stretch back to middle and high school again. never with crushes in particular, but with people in general. maybe I laughed too loud and I’d get weird looks. or something like that. for some reason I felt like I had to subdue myself. I’m afraid of messaging first or always being the one to message first, because I can’t stand the feeling of someone inching themselves away from me. I guess it’s a form of ‘protection’ by not ever reaching out to people, but on the other side of that coin, that also means they might not think I care all that much. this much I understand. 

who have I actually driven away by being overwhelming? is it possible that we just weren’t compatible?

entirely possible. 

I don’t even think I’ve ever driven anyone away, that’s the ridiculous part. what I have had is people slowly get worse at replying to me until we just don’t talk anymore. maybe we’re not completely out of each other’s lives, but we’re distant. I wonder why, then, I should be so upset by it. why would I want to stay close to someone who didn’t want to stay close to me?

what is this fear I have over people not liking me? 

I don’t know that that’s the fear necessarily. I don’t care if someone likes me or not. that’s their problem. what I think I care more about is someone initially being interested in me, getting to know me, and then slowly backing away. maybe we’re not compatible, true, but part of me wonders if it’s something I did. if I was too this or that. if I’m just insufferable on some level that’s only accessible by getting close to me, and I’ll never know what it is about me that makes people want to back off. and maybe it’s different things for different people. I’m sure this narrow focus on myself doesn’t help. it’s always something I do, right? maybe it’s not. maybe I’m not even part of the equation. I really need to zoom out sometimes. 

what is this distrust I have? that people either don’t mean what they say or they’ll change their mind about me and not tell me?

hard to know. it could go back to my mom and her moods again. when someone flips around on you like that, it’s hard to know what they’re ever thinking. I could be projecting that fear onto other people. almost definitely.

what I need to do is zoom out. accept that I’m just one tiny cog in this big ol machine. people generally feel about me the way I feel about them; maybe they do some things that piss me off, but it doesn’t mean I hate them. I need to trust that once it’s communicated that we are able to talk out our problems, people will let me know if I’ve misstepped. Grice’s maxim of quality; people generally say what they mean, things that are true [to them]. I need to work on being clingy; desperately wanting to keep the good things around. accept that maybe they won’t always be around, and maybe it will be my fault, and maybe it won’t. accept that people may grow tired of me. remember that this bubble I’ve been in narrows my view; other people have things to do and friends to talk to and there is a time and place for me too.