#because I cannot put into words how uncomfortable it was to see how police mentality influenced her approach | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

meikuree · 3 years ago

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the centre cannot hold

Fandom: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Relationships: Hitch Dreyse & Annie Leonhart Characters: Annie Leonhart, Hitch Dreyse, Armin Arlert (mentioned) Additional Tags: Canon Compliant, Mild Psychological Horror

ao3 link

The days blend into a seamless fugue, dreamlike and out of reach.

(Or: a look at Annie's time in the crystal.)

The days blend into a seamless fugue, dreamlike and out of reach.

She can't place what time it is, inside. Time is meaningless. The interrogators who enter complain about the cold drafts puffing through the bricks; she can't feel any of it. Only the blunt sensation of the crystal’s cover, cool as iron is cool, running over her arms and torso and head, her entire body.

Hitch visits, many times. She comes to know her by the telltale skip of her boots on the floor. The way she always leaves the door ajar, as though she hadn’t intended to stay long. Her own eyes are closed now, all the time. It means her other senses become sharper. She hears mutters even through the thick slab of wood that passes for a door, and learns the smell of autumn filtering through the bars of her cell’s sole window, carried into the space in dead leaves stuck to the soles of soldiers' boots.

Those signs are what she begins to rely on to mark the passage of time. In the initial months, it’s an inexact science. Mere guesswork, in which she misestimates, on a few occasions, the correspondence between the oil-stench of polished boots and badges and the exact military festival being celebrated outside.

She listens to the chatter of the scouts who return daily to work out the mysteries surrounding her. How she breathes, what is keeping her alive. She knows the answers herself, of course. In this state she is tapped into the Paths realm; feeding on the otherworldly largesse of Ymir Fritz somehow, her lungs sustained by oxygen piped into her chest by means metaphysical and invisible. How long do you think she’ll last in there, they ask, and she wants to bark a laugh, say: I can stay here for the rest of my life. She starts a betting pool with herself about when they will meander towards or away from the answers, and also memorises some of their names—Anya, Nicolas, Louis—as a matter of personal amusement. Hange is the one who gets closest to piecing together anything about the truth, including the concept of an afterlife and/or higher realm.

Eventually they give up on her. With the Shiganshina basement breached, Hange’s purview as commander shifts to other horizons. The room hollows out as they clear the furniture, the echo that bounces off its walls widening into a sound vast enough to fill graveyards. A looming silence. Still as death. Only Hitch continues to come by, and Annie begins to yearn mentally for the stimulation of her conversations, like a plant straining towards the sun. Towards necessary sustenance.

She reminisces about her history lessons back in the Survey Corps, sometimes. It had been fascinating to see what counted for fact and narrative in a different land. She now wonders if she's become an artefact of history herself. Dead for all intents and purposes, preserved only in textbooks. Pragmatism brings her back to earth, when she remembers that nobody has ever been memorialised for lying in a coma.

Her sensory awareness only extends so far, after all that. It is deep, but not very broad. In the first year she keeps track of worldly happenings by the generosity and latitude of Hitch’s reports. Her passionate spiels, often preceded by a long indrawn breath and groans of despair that could have rivalled Eren’s, span an impressive set of topics ranging from Eren’s whereabouts, the Survey Corps’ movements, and military gossip, to more quotidian ills that ail her: a nail chipped while filing paperwork, her anguish over a sold-out bakery on the way home. The twenty letter-long saga she has going on with a romantic rival-turned-interest-turned-rival-again. Annie becomes the unwitting beneficiary of her ability to transform all ordinary occurrences into effusive theatre.

There are a few signs. The stunning perseverance with which Hitch comes. The verve and enthusiasm Hitch puts on full display before her, as though she is performing—and hoping that somewhere, she might be watching. The fond wonder and melancholy with which she speaks of their short-lived time in the Military Police. Hitch, Annie suspects, comes because she is nursing the remnants of a badly timed crush on her.

In this place, it’s a happy accident. It relieves the slight irritation she feels when Hitch confesses a touch too much detail about the minutiae of her morning routines and new interests. She’s grateful, in some deep unacknowledged part of herself, for the contact with another person from her old life, even if it’s one-sided and not very conversational on her end.

Every now and then she gets glimpses of the activities her erstwhile associates—Eren, Armin, Mikasa—are getting up to, in updates from Hitch spaced months apart. It is amusing, at first, to hear Hitch discuss them with distant respect and reverence as if at a remove, when she has firsthand knowledge of their individual quirks and neuroses, and can fill in the blanks within her iron silence much better than Hitch can. She saw long ago how they were some of the greatest breathing idiots to walk the earth; she briefly wishes she could tell it to Hitch too, puncture the aura of myth that has surrounded them like a bubble.

Eventually enough time passes that she has to recontextualise what she knows of them against the secondhand knowledge Hitch relays to her each time, adjusting her mental picture of who they are, the distance between memory and fact asserting itself. It grows apparent in those moments that they are becoming foreign to her too, changing while she remains fixed here, with outdated fragments of people, an insect trapped in scintillating amber.

Armin drops in to see her about four times in the first year. When he speaks he reaches a hand out to touch her crystal, and probably gazes at her the whole time; she can tell by the soft thud of his fingers upon her looking-glass cage. He tells her about Paradis’s defenselessness, their discoveries over the ocean. Pleads with her for a sign, any sign, that she is listening, and then sits with his knees drawn up, the stone floor vibrating imperceptibly with his motion. After his second call he begins to express his sympathy for her. The belief that he now understands why she had to betray them.

She wonders, idly, if he’s kept his nervous habit of biting at his cuticles. He has a grim edge to his voice now, a flute and gravel ruthlessness she hadn't recalled belonging to him before. Unlike Hitch, he doesn't say much. With him, she gets treated to dense silences interspersed with outbursts of conviction, or emotion. As though he speaks only when he has no choice, no other outlet.

She supposes his approach is one of delicacy, in opposition to Hitch’s: there is no evidence she is conscious, although she is alive, so talking is more or less a fanciful gamble; there’s no guarantee his words will reach a living being. She can’t fault him, on a technicality. She only laments that his idealism has given way to unimaginative realism too. Officially, he is devising a plan to establish contact with underground allies in Marley; unofficially, she wants to ask him if reaching the sea had truly made him happy, or only brought a new wave of troubles.

But her opportunities to have anything to think all these against are privileged and few. The visits are sparse, on the whole, so that she learns to conserve her responses and, most importantly, ration her thoughts—like a precious, corked wine, fit to be let through into her conscious refrain only in drips, a resource not to be exhausted too quickly. She has to remain here until there is certain guarantee she can complete her mission. In layman terms: she has to last through years of boredom.

She repeats it to herself, like an idle song or a blinkered reminder: she can endure it. She has to endure it.

After that she slows down her pace of thinking by necessity. Draws every internal argument that would have taken minutes out over the span of weeks. This dissolution makes her feel not so much like a primordial titan, moving according to vast, immense timespans, but a piece of rubber stretched to its limits, shrivelled and ready to burst.

Dreaming is the most direct analogue for her existence in this crystal shell. But it’s an incomplete description. It’s not like being asleep. She hasn’t relinquished consciousness, simply adopted a fickle and yet compulsory relationship with it. Some days, her mind is sharp and lucid like clear water. Others, she wakes up sluggish and nauseated, with the slow pressure of an anvil headache at her temples, a feverish chill bathing her bones. Like she’s slept far, far too much. Like she hasn’t woken up at all, but passed into a worse, second slumber. The effect is that of being drugged, of being sunk into an unnatural fatigue.

In these moments her choices are confined to the binary of staying awake and suffering, or returning to sleep and worsening it. Her muscles ache and scream for movement or stimulation; but she cannot move, and so has no recourse to relief. Only the sickening ache, the awareness of the uncomfortable fog, her arms trapped by her sides, always, like dumb logs.

Consciousness becomes the centrepoint her life revolves around. Sometimes, its presence is like a bullet aimed at her that she can’t catch: fleeting, painful, inescapable.

Back in the trainee bunkers she’d moved slowly. Pulled off the act of a sullen, indolent girl, better inclined towards a long nap than proper sparring. It’d shocked people that she was in fact a first-class prodigy in hand-to-hand combat. More than once she’d heard herself described by her peers as a concealed knife: inconspicuous at first, lethal once unleashed and in motion.

Those days are behind her now. A trite touch of fate, perhaps, that her languorousness now looks like it had been a rehearsal for this longer, extended sojourn in stillness. She can no longer summon movement; she has no defense against any assumptions people might concoct about her. She can only hope that people will remember the shadow her outsized figure cast as the Female Titan, even in the absence of continued proof.

As it turns out, what is most difficult is not the boredom, or time, or the trappings of her mind. Solitude suits her. She is not afraid of her thoughts. The symptoms of wakefulness frustrate her, but her mind has long been a well-controlled thing, smooth and cunning. She’d perfected the skill of disciplining it through the gruelling, unending hours of training with her father in her youth. Learning great focus, concentrating on the exercises that determined if she got to sleep, or eat, or drink. Disregarding all other excess, like the russet burn of sunset or sundown behind her in the courtyards. Your mind could not be suggestible, in this situation. Not even as an eight-year old.

No; what truly grates is the loss of sensation. Her capacity to interact with the world. Heading inside has severed her from her repertoire of fighting stances, uppercuts, movements. No longer can she understand her environment by the rhythms of her body attuned to it: the sunspots in her vision, the wind whipping her shins, the recoil of her fists against an enemy. She once knew the world by the blows and kicks it directed back at her; they were signals, an entire language of their own. She's been reduced to a lonely speck, disconnected from her single means of communication, her vernacular for parsing the world around her. The lonely, obsessive cycle of thoughts she can stand—but this? The dark, empty corridor of her body where she once had access to momentum, eruption, injury and the lightning burst of revelation in knowing her enemies by their punches, the scrapes and bruises left on them? It’s unbearable.

She resigns herself, but never quite crosses the hurdle. Many times she registers the itch of her limbs desiring to move, a furious bristle skittering upon her skin or on the edge of her brain. There is no outlet for them. Even the smallest movements are off-limits to her. She can’t flex her fingers, or tense her toes. The boundaries of her prison are absolute. These impulses, blossoming and then dead-ended, coil up and accumulate inside her like poison. Like a stricken scream with no release.

After a period of time she tentatively defines as three years, she hears Hitch entering and turning the key in the lock in her usual smooth motion. The tiny clink a struck bell in the gloom of mental oblivion. She perks up. Prepares to listen for any news.

“I know it’s been a while,” Hitch starts, “but we’ve been busy preparing for the Queen’s inauguration— like, god, how many ceremonies do these nobles need?— and I was detained by gift duty, can you believe, which meant I had to shop for the second-tier nincompoops over at the chambers—“

Annie’s blood, a gentle throbbing before, suddenly runs cold. Inauguration? But surely— Historia’s coronation, according to the silver measure of her careful timeline, had passed a long time ago. They should have moved far beyond by now.

“Anyway,” she hears Hitch saying now, a little morosely, “hard to believe it’ll be one-and-a-half years soon with you here. That you’re still in there.“

Annie chokes, a gutted sound in her head. She must have lost touch with her sense of time in the previous few weeks. It’s the one possible explanation.

If it’s only been one and a half years, she can only imagine what the next two, or three, or five, or seven years until her death will be like.

She feels the rug being pulled out beneath her feet. There’s panic now, a stab in her throat, the realisation she has to move back to the drawing board. Reassess everything she knows. She’d kept track well enough in the later half of the first year—what had changed?

Hitch leaves. She doesn’t register it.

Her sanity has so far hinged upon the single, fantastic, incredulous constant of Hitch’s visits to her. It’s a fragile coincidence—Hitch might one day get tired of her, reality outpacing her idealisation of her, and stop coming, too. She is beginning to feel the hours and days like an acrid trap, her thoughts a rapid torrent that her body—inverted in frozen stasis—will never keep up with. Suddenly every second is too slow, too long.

She wants to yell. Wants to rattle the bars of her mind-cage. But the only thing that answers her is drifting somnolence, like a hand passing sluggishly over her head, and then disappearing. The same smiling silence of her unresponsive body, indifferent to her will.

What life will this be, she thinks, what life will I be left with, and tries to plan, to consider the contingencies—but just as suddenly, nothing comes to mind, except the hollow echo of her voice referring across her insensate headscape, the strain of her thoughts thinned into pieces from disuse.

#i'm rusty with writing but! here's a thing #this is mostly about the horror of being stuck in a crystal for four years with your thoughts as your (almost) sole company #featuring very light and one-sided hitchani #i actually love the ship; annie just can't reciprocate because she's. y'know #snk #annie leonhart #hitch dreyse #hitchani #hitchannie #annie leonhardt #my fic #aot #armin arlert

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rpbetter · 3 years ago

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"writes dubcon therefore is a freak who should be bullied off the site" ho boy i'm fed up with people acting as if consenting adults writing [insert "problematic" fictional thing here] is the worst thing in the world. seen way too many people justifying harrassment of REAL PEOPLE by "they write thing that triggers me". ok, and? mute the tags or don't follow! "it triggers someone" is not a valid reason to ban a topic. piano music triggers me yet i don't go around demanding everyone stop playing the piano.

Anon, not only is everything you said absolutely valid, but also, thank you for demonstrating that triggers are incredibly varied and as such, we cannot predict everyone's triggers. Making the entire "point" of banning for possible triggers invalidated as hell.

We should be aware of things like the most commonly occurring phobias (things like arachnophobia and coulrophobia that are, additionally, easily triggered by imagery) and tag them. We should be aware of very obvious triggers, that are, again, easily set off by imagery, like blood, eye trauma, and depictions of domestic violence. And we should always read and be aware of our writing partners' stated triggers so that we can tag them appropriately or even decide that it isn't going to work because our muse, canon story, or interests are going to present an unfair situation in this partnership.

But triggers can be highly unusual, as well as activated differently (even at different times) for everyone. I'm not triggered by seeing hotel rooms in pictures or movies, I'm not triggered by writing scenes that take place in them, but I'm triggered to some degree by being in one. It's outrageous oversimplification to act like all triggers are the same, they all display the same way, they're all going to trigger someone on the same basis, everyone's going to react the same to their triggers. There is absolutely no way to prevent 100% of possible triggers for 100% of the population, 100% of the time.

Add to this that way too many people trivialize triggers by throwing around that term to justify the banning of something that makes them uncomfortable or that they take a personal, moral issue with. "I don't like this" and "I'm grossed out by this" and "this makes me feel uncomfortable" is not being triggered. It's just a good way to weaponize the better nature of other people so that they comply.

Most people legitimately do not want to trigger someone, especially if they have triggers and know what it's like. Just like no one wants to be accused of cruelty towards trauma survivors in general, or be designated a pedo, rape apologist, or fascist. They're all things to weaponize in order to isolate, shame, and control. And that's really fucking gross. These are serious, real things that have no business being trivialized to police content, win internet arguments, or garner popularity.

The potential for someone to be triggered isn't a reason to ban anything; we have tags, we have blacklist.

While I'll be the first to say that tumblr's blacklisting can be as shitty as everything else on the site, the primary issue with running into content you don't want to see comes down to two factors: no one tagging/tagging correctly and actively exposing yourself to that content. Going through people's properly done tags and blog warnings about their content in order to "call it out" is actively exposing yourself by choice. You actual walnuts.

Calling people on on their "problematic" content is bringing those topics to the attention of other people. That's the whole point of this gross behavior: look at the freak pedo abuse apologist I found, they write dubcon!! Don't look if you'll be triggered uwu

Buddy, pal, my guy...you just put that on blast for anyone to run across. Maybe their blacklist catches those words in your callout post, maybe it doesn't. Maybe they think you're a safe space because you promote yourself that way, so they click it anyway. Point is, you just willfully and irresponsibly exposed people because it's more important to you to demonize a rando on tumblr RPing something you take issue with. Good job!

Furthermore, dubcon itself is such a hilarious issue to take. Do they realize that isn't always sexual, or? Not? I'm thinking not. Funnily enough, one of the oldest posts I've been working on for this blog is about exactly this topic, the myriad situations that are dubious consent. That doesn't have to be sexual, and neither does it have to be intentionally predatory. You can come up with some amazing character development with a lot of muses in the RPC with dubcon because almost everyone's muse has some manner of trauma that might negate their perception of their own consent...and what do you do then? Is it removing more agency from that muse to shut them down, or is that always the better option? Can you separate your opinion as the mun from your muse's natural reactions? How does this impact the muses involved not just that moment but the next year?

Point is, dubcon isn't always some rapey situation. Even if it was, even if someone is writing it that way, it's literally not your business or your problem.

There's one mutual-in-law on my RP blog that really bothers me. They write things that I find fetishizing, incredibly rapey, all around shit that bothers me. I don't want to see it, some of the things they write makes my damn skin crawl. This person doesn't know it, we certainly don't speak and I don't think they like me very much, but I've repeatedly defended their right, specifically their right as a person with some long-term callouts on them, to write what they want to. I have them blocked and their urls blacklisted so I never have to see my mutual reblogging their threads. It's not a problem because I don't click "show anyway." Why would I, if it genuinely bothers me so much?

That's how you handle things that bother you; you use the tools available to not interact even by accident. Not by launching a morality crusade.

If any of us want to write what we enjoy, we have to allow others that same freedom. It's always a matter of time before this policing grows to include more and more topics, it's been used multiple times to get well-meaning people who don't fall into the general demographics to police queer, BIPOC, and other marginalized groups off of platforms. We've been fortunate in most of the RPC that it implodes on itself before it gets all the way there, but even so, you can see it.

It starts with things that produce a visceral reaction in the great majority of people, positions this with a repeatedly condemned idea presented as solid fact that fiction is reality, and you've got the start of something awful. Today it's something you don't like, maybe even something that triggers you, so you either support it or you quietly allow it to happen. Who needs to write that "freak shit" anyway, can't they just be gross privately? Six months from now, it's something "problematic" that you enjoy like violence that's canon-typical for your muse, or your OTP because they're gay and that's fetishizing, they're cis male and female but one or both is bi and that's bad representation, or they canonically have a rocky relationship so that's romanticizing toxic/abusive relationships.

If you can't care for any other reason, you really should care about how it is going to impact you sooner or later. In an environment like this, you can stay in your space, put warnings on your blog, and tag properly and you're still going to get a callout if the wrong person finds your blog. Just takes a single person with more time, energy, and skewed ideas of justice than they have reading comprehension or common sense.

Again, I cannot encourage people enough to give warnings, but it's difficult to ignore why those warnings are slipping; they're a way to be found, designated as a Problem, and called out. Look, it's another reason why callouts actually make things worse, not better! People put that shit in their rules so you can avoid content, they're being responsible and interested in promoting a safe RPC. Let them do it, damn.

You can't tag everything, and if you've never experienced what a giant series of repetitive tags is like on a screenreader you probably should before you tag seven paragraphs of possible issues. You can tag for visuals, you can tag for the obvious things, and you can tag for what's in the rules you agreed to when you followed/followed back. But you should also warn people that you write "dark topics" on the tin, and expand on that in your rules for specific things like graphic violence, toxic relationships, dubon, and addiction.

That's how responsible adults, not over-aged children, make better decisions about their mental health and general comfort. Not by appointing themselves the watchdogs of the damn RPC, here to protect you whether you want to be or not, find that incredibly insulting or not when you're in one of their categories of people who must be protected, by forcibly banning Problematic Everything. Problematic, of course, being entirely in the eye of the content police.

It's fiction. No one and nothing real was harmed. It's great that you are so invested in the fictional world and people that make you happy, but take a fucking big step back into reality. The real people you're harming with your bullshit had every right to peaceably exist. If what they're writing is triggering to you, stay. away. from. it.

Without any coincidence whatsoever, that's how you get from the base-point of Problematic Material to Problematic Mun. Yeah, it's just fiction, it's just RP, but I also took something out of context OOC or was upset by their tone on their own blog or couldn't exercise the minimal adult logic to remove myself from their presence OOC as well. So, now, you've got OOC behavior being added to the callout, if it wasn't already. Everyone is now ableist, transphobic, racist, and a misogynist because it lends that visceral reaction to the callout and ups the game from just being "y'all so gross you aged up a cartoon character to ship" to "this is REAL and it won't be tolerated! OP is actually a pedophile, they told a sexual joke in a discord server with a minor present and I have the receipts!"

What are the most storied callouts in the entire RPC? I'm absolutely certain the same names came to mind no matter what fandoms you're in, and one of them was "Matt." Another was probably "Ares/Snow". They're all successful and keep being brought up out of the closet anytime people are bored enough because their primary punch is the mun themselves being a predatory threat to the community. The mun is verified to be a bad person. Well, of course, that's got to be repeated, it worked. (Even if it did not, at all, work and only made it harder for people to avoid any of these muns.)

Are there people in the RPC who are legitimately a problem? Absolutely, yes. We're all supposed to be adults, however. Part of being an adult is having and acting upon one's agency. If someone is coercing you into things you are not comfortable with, shut it down. If you have difficulties being certain of those situations, run it by a trusted, honest friend or available, impartial source in the RPC for a second opinion. If you can't handle any manner of confrontation, there really are situations in which it's perfectly alright to block someone without any discussion. It's just the internet, you're in control of your space. Own it.

Minors are a whole other can of fucked up worms I'm not even getting into right now except to say that because a minor exists in a space they were told to stay out of does not mean we ban all topics inappropriate for their consumption.

tl;dr: banning shit doesn't work anyway, the whole idea is predicated upon some incredibly problematic takes IRL, and no, there's no justification for it outside of intense personal problems with one's own importance. That energy would be infinitely better spent volunteering one's time to help real people in crisis or after surviving one, or even oneself in developing some healthier approaches and thought patterns.

#hey what if we all start saying we're triggered by callout culture is that bannable then lmao #vespertine #drama cw #bsnf #callout culture #tumblr rpc #rp problems #also thank you again anon I hope you're having a great day!

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strangeinternetwasteland · 4 years ago

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Shattered Reality- Chapter 5

A/N: This chapter explains Gojo and Geto a little more. Y/N goes through a lot mentally.

Warnings: Angst, Swearing, fluff

Word Count: 2.6K

You were thankful for Gojo’s sense of urgency. The moment you uttered those words, he just reacted. You were anxious, scared, and uncertain. Sure your apartment building wasn’t very big, only three stories, but really other people’s lives were in ashes too. As you were traveling to your probably non-existing apartment, you were filled with dread. Where were you going to go now? You didn’t have any family around, and staying in a motel was going to cost you money you didn’t have. You groaned externally. How much worse could your life get? You really didn’t need an answer to that question, because you knew the answer.

As you debated your life and whether it was worth living, Gojo grabbed your hand and intertwined his fingers with his. An intimate gesture you’d normally shy away from, but for some reason, you found yourself actually enjoying whatever this was with him. You relaxed a bit. He brought your hand to his lips and kissed your fingers. Each and every single one. He hadn’t spoken a word since leaving his penthouse, but you really could use some sort of positive outlook in this situation.

As he turned the corner of the street where your apartment was located, you saw the fire engines, and police cars blocking the way. Gojo slowed the SUV, while you untangled your hand from Gojo’s. When he stopped you hopped out of the car and jogged to the scene of it all.

The fire was quick and intense, but there was virtually nothing left. It wasn’t as painful for you, seeing as you had very little to begin with, but other people’s lives were completely destroyed. You began to weep for them. You fell to your knees and just sobbed. You wish you could erase the last few days. You wanted it to end, all the pain, all the psychological scars, all the loneliness you were feeling.

Gojo had seen the emotional turmoil you were in. He realized that while the loss for you wasn’t great, for other’s it was more. It was their life. It was everything they owned. He’d do a lot more than burn down an apartment for a lot less. Hell, he did do a lot more for a lot less. It was what he grew up to be, who he was. He did feel an inkling of remorse, but at least nobody died... this time. He couldn’t ignore you or your feelings, he didn’t want to appear selfish or cold. So he did what any good guy did. He would comfort you.

Gojo wrapped his arms around you as you sobbed. He could play the perfect gentleman, he had been taught well. He knew that Geto’s father preferred him over Geto when it came to playing that role. Geto would grow angry quickly, and lash out just as he did two nights ago on you. As always, Gojo would be the one to clean up any mess Geto left behind. Most times, they could just drug them off and drop them off in the middle of nowhere with little regard for their wellbeing. Not this time though.

This time it was problematic, you were Kioko’s best friend, and unfortunately, another complication. So Gojo would play the sweet, and kind gentleman who saves the day. Kioko, who was so totally oblivious to the world around her. Gojo did think of her as a little sister, he cared about her. Enough so that he beat one of her ex’s two inches away from death, just because he grabbed her wrist to keep her from walking away.

Geto was lucky he was the leader's biological son. Gojo could’ve done so much worse to Geto, and he planned on it. While it was tricky, it was not impossible. That was always the plan all along though. It was always sitting in the back of his mind. Geto was set up to inherit the Nameless, when his father died, which could be at any moment. The only terrible thing that Geto did besides get physical with people, was take photos of all his “prizes” as he referred to them. Photos of the women he’d fuck, maim, or kill. What was surprising was the number of women who were into it. They’d allow him to do whatever he wanted to them, only because it was fun for him. Geto was really fucked up, when Gojo actually thought about it.

“Gojo, you’re hurting me.” You said to him. Gojo snapped out of his thoughts and back to reality. Gojo released his grip on your shoulder and rubbed the pain away.

“I am so sorry, Y/N. I was thinking about how awful this must be for you. I was getting upset at how terrible these last few days have been.” He told you as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. You leaned into him.You knew that this relationship, if you could call it that, felt good, even if temporary.

“The good thing here is that no one died.” He told you. You nodded in agreement, and gave him a small smile. You really were thankful you had Gojo to lean on right now.

“I should really find the officer that called me and talk to him.” You told Gojo. He watched you as you did so. Thinking on everything .Gojo waited while you talked to the officer. You gave your name and contact info to him. He asked a few questions about your whereabouts, and you answered them honestly. When the officer turned and saw Gojo he gave him a solemn nod. A secret code between members of Nameless. This was not lost on you, and you were going to ask him about it. The officer feigned interest, and let you go after a few minutes.

After talking to a few neighbors and checking in with them. Making sure there wasn’t anything they needed you walked back to Gojo. He took your hand in his as you headed back to his SUV. You warmed at the action, it seemed as if at least one thing was going right in your life.

“Gojo. I saw you and the officer nod to each other. Is that some sort of secret sign?” You teased him, laughing slightly and the ridiculousness of it.

“Yes, actually. We’re both in the mafia.” Gojo told you honestly. You laughed at him, thankful for his playful attitude.

“HA! HA! Very funny.” You said with sarcasm. Gojo was relieved to hear you think it was a joke, but when it came down to it, he could tell you that he was honest and he did tell you at one point. Gojo turned the car around and started heading back to his penthouse. If he had his way, you’d stay there forever, and he will, but he at least needed to act like you had an option.

“Y/N. I know that everything is really fucked up, right now. I want you to know that you’re more than welcome to stay in my penthouse as long as you’d like.” Gojo offered you. You really hadn’t thought much about it honestly. You would’ve stayed with Kioko, and then you remembered Geto. You decided that you needed to talk to Kioko about Geto, but wasn’t mentally prepared for that. You groaned aloud over the thought.

“Judging by that, I will take you to a family member if you prefer.” He countered.

“I don’t have any family, I was going to ask Kioko if I could stay with her, but…” You trailed off. You knew you didn’t need to say anymore. Gojo was with you through it all. You didn’t want to impose him anymore than you already have. Gojo couldn’t have been happier to hear that you didn’t have any family. No one would interfere.

“Look, if it helps, you can stay in my room, and I can stay in any of the guest beds, or on the couch.” He offered you.

“What if I want to stay in your bedroom with you?” You asked, trying to be flirty with him. He didn’t say anything in response. He just started the SUV and headed toward home. Unsure of what to say, you texted Kioko. The silence that filled the car was slightly awkward. Gojo put his hand on your knee. Honestly, the thought of just keeping you locked away from Geto, and being able to have you for himself was incredibly alluring.

“I was just kidding.” You finally said after a few moments of the unbearable silence.

“Hm? Kidding about what love?” He asked you, rubbing your leg. It seemed weird to you that he didn’t even listen to a word you said. Like some sort of switch had turned off in his mind. Although, calling you love, was almost impossible to not get excited about.

“Staying in your bedroom with you.” You said in a small voice. He laughed at this.

“Oh! Did I not respond to you? I mean, I have expectations of a woman when I am sharing a bedroom with her.” He squeezed your thigh with a lusty look in his eyes.

“Oh...I don’t mind helping out with cooking, or cleaning.” You told him, not understanding why he was acting so off.

“I wasn’t talking about cooking or cleaning.” He inhaled sharply as he pulled off into an alleyway. “I was talking about more intimate matters.” His devilish smirk didn’t hide any of his thoughts.

Gojo’s thoughts were far from his actual actions. He thought that if he could be intimate with you then you’d be more willing to do the things he asked. You were attractive to him sure, but the most appealing thing about you is that you were forbidden. Kioko’s best friend, and wanted by Geto. There was nothing he wanted less right now than intimacy.

“I-I am flattered Gojo, really. I know I said I wanted to stay with you in your bedroom, but I was just trying to be flirty. I really am not like that.” You admitted feeling foolish.

Gojo frowned. You were rejecting him. Something that not many women did. Though he had to admit this made you more appealing. He removed his hand from your thigh.

“My apologies, if I made you uncomfortable in any way. I overstepped my bounds. You already are dealing with so much. I am making it harder for you. If you do wish to stay with me the offer still stands. I will keep my distance from you. If you need anything feel free to ask. Otherwise, if you’d like I can drop you off at Kioko’s, since you're most comfortable with her. I can tell Geto keep his distance, but I cannot guarantee he’d listen to my suggestions.” Gojo’s tone turned cold.

You felt a stab in the chest. The warmth you felt just moments ago. You weren’t sure where you’d want to stay honestly. It was all overwhelming. While you really wanted to keep it all bottled up and suppress it, you felt yourself cracking. You weren’t a desperate person. You didn’t need love or affection, you didn’t seek gratification from people. You put walls up and let no one in. That’s exactly who you were. Why did Gojo’s actions bother you? Why did you exactly want Gojo anyway? Why did you let Geto get away with choking you? Why didn’t you kick his ass? Why? The answer was being screamed into your brain. Because you were weak. It was as simple as that.

Gojo pulled into the parking garage. You couldn’t do it anymore. You broke. You screamed as loud as you could muster. It was high pitched, and eerily reminiscent of the day prior. You felt like you were being tortured. When the screaming stopped, the tears came. You weren’t okay, you were losing it over everything. You wanted to make it all stop, and end it all.

Gojo sat there in the car. While, he really did truly understand this feeling. He was unsure how you wanted to be comforted. He let you scream out all of your frustrations, he knew after the pain, there were tears. After tears, there was emptiness. That changed a person, you either got over it and kept being you, or it changed your whole being.

You began sobbing into your hands. Of course when you truly needed someone there was no one. Kioko never responded to your text. Gojo hated you because you rejected him, and Geto wanted you dead. You were replaceable to everyone. You felt yourself growing angry. Why did it matter if you rejected Gojo? He shouldn’t have gotten mad at you. That’s an asshole thing to do. Gojo, to you, was no better than any other asshole. You felt the anger boiling over. You stared at Gojo, tears streaming down your face.

“You’re nothing but a fucking asshole.” You told him with venom in your voice. You didn’t care how nice he was to you before. It was his fault. Gojo was as unreadable as ever. He didn’t give you any hint of emotion.

“It must be easy for you. To not feel anything. No not give a shit about anyone other than yourself. To play with people’s emotions! To live in your fortress in the sky looking down on all the people like they’re peasants, for your pleasure.” You screamed at him.

“Anything else you’d like to tell me?” He asked you mockingly. You wanted nothing more than to punch him in his fucking face. There was nothing else that would give you pleasure at this moment.

“No, other than you’re a bitch.” You said as you cocked your arm back and then aimed straight for his nose. He dodged the attack, and took your hand in his. A slightly amused look was on his face.

“Y/N. I understand where you’re coming from.” He told you, but you didn’t believe him.

“Yeah, how could you Mr. Rich asshole, know what it is like to be me? You didn’t grow up poor.” You retorted.

“No. I didn’t. I had all my needs met.” He told you as a matter of factly.

“You know you can go fuck yourself!” You spat at him. Your anger was just exploding. You finally connected your fist to his jaw. Gojo couldn’t believe that you actually ended up punching him. It wasn’t super hard, but he did know it would be sore for a day or two. He knew he’d been egging you on. He knew that you needed to release everything you felt. He didn’t mind being the one you took it out on.

Your face turned from anger to horror as you realized what had you happened, what you had done. You backed up as far as you could, which wasn’t that far. You feared what Gojo would do to you. You fumbled looking for the door handle trying to escape as quickly as possible. Again there was no emotion on Gojo’s face, he turned getting out of the car, and walked around the car. He was opening your door, when you fell back slightly. The only thing on your mind was to run. Your fear was at an all time high. You got out of the car, shut the door, and turned to run.

Gojo placed a hand on your arm, squeezing slightly, and pulling you into him. You were unsure of why he would act like this. You didn’t want to have anything to do with him, and he didn’t want anything to do with you, you were sure. He wrapped both arms around you, and whispered.

“You’re okay. You’re safe.” You didn’t want to believe him, and yet, you believed him. He hugged you for a moment longer and grabbed your hand pulling along with him inside to his penthouse. You felt completely empty.

<<Previous Next>>

#Gojo x reader #jjk au #mafia au #modern au

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ggukcangetit · 4 years ago

Text

Dreamcatchers 4

Pairing: jungkook x oc

Synopsis: DI Jeon didn’t need a new partner. Unfortunately, his superiors felt otherwise; especially considering the extremely high-profile murder that had just taken place in the port city. Recent transfer, DI Choi Yuri finds herself confronted with a new cityscape, unfamiliar people, a hostile partner, and a homicide that is certain to bring back unpleasant memories.

Genre/AU: fluff/action/mystery | detective! au | police!jungkook, police!oc

Word Count: 4.4k

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: mentions of violence, alcohol, blood, drugs, death. Basically stuff you’d associate with a murder mystery/crime drama

Previous: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

Acknowledgement: shoutout to @stutterfly for designing this beautiful banner which i am completely in love with and stare at for no particular reason throughout the day. also a big thank you to @kinktae for helping get through a really tricky bit in this chapter :*

A/N: reminding everyone that this story features a named oc because i’m still very unfamiliar with writing second person reader inserts. i’m not aiming for strict accuracy in this story, and all criminal investigation/forensics knowledge i have has been gathered by watching crime drama/procedural dramas! my knowledge of geography is also not totally accurate so apologies for that. once again, one thing right by @hobios prompted me to write a police inspector! jungkook story. would highly recommend reading that because it’s probably one of my most favorite pieces of writing!

Time: 4.37 am

Yuri had spent the entire night researching Park Jimin. Right from where he went to school up to all the scandalous newspaper articles recounting every aspect of his personal life. Priding herself on being able to maintain a professional outlook in her investigations, Yuri couldn’t help but feel appalled by what she had found. Park Jimin appeared to be arrogant, sleazy, manipulative, privileged, and everything that she despised in a person. Yoongi’s words rang in her head as she contemplated dropping the idea of acquiring a blood sample from the prodigal son of Park. No, this wasn’t because of her last case in Seoul. That was not why she was backing off. This was simply because she had no patience to deal with the self-absorbed antics of a privileged 20-something man.

Closing one of the last tabs, she caught sight of a familiar face. Not familiar in the way that you recognise an old friend, but familiar like a phrase you hear and cannot for the life of you remember where it was from. Park Jimin was seen exiting a famous restaurant in downtown Busan and beside him was another young man, so extraordinarily eye-catching in his loose trousers and green cardigan in a way that only an exquisite piece of art is.

An exquisite piece of art…

That was it. That was the phrase that made it click in her head.

“He’s literally a piece of art!”

“I mean, yes, he’s definitely conventionally attractive,” conceded Ahreum, a little annoyed that her photography was almost completely being ignored. “But what do you think of the pictures?”

“‘Conventionally attractive’? Is that the best you can do with your Literature & Creative Writing degree?”

Of course! This was Ahreum’s friend and Instagram muse.

Yuri snatched her phone from it’s charging spot and quickly scrolled through her friend’s Instagram. Sure enough, Park Jimin’s friend in loose trousers and green cardigan stared back at her from various parts of Busan, his expressions varying only slightly but creating completely different moods throughout Ahreum’s profile.

Kim Taehyung…

xxx

Yuri checked her phone for the fifth time in the last 3 minutes. Ahreum was supposed to pick her up at 8 am. It was currently 8.02 am. Not that it really made much of a difference, but she was raring to go ahead with her plan. A plan she had no doubt could easily blow up in her face, but weeks of fitful sleep coupled with shots of sugary coffee had given her a weird adrenaline rush which she didn’t want to lose.

A couple of minutes later, Ahreum pulled up outside her apartment, her large bike contrasting heavily with her petite person.

“Still don’t see why I couldn’t drive to the place,” muttered Yuri, putting on the large helmet with artistic paint splatters all over.

“The plan was to corner Jimin, and you can’t do that in your car which has a fucking police sticker right at the back.”

Yuri frowned. “Your plan was to corner Jimin. I just wanted to talk to him. And -” she fixed her bag across her body and put both hands on Ahreum’s shoulders - “I kept the sticker for parking privileges. I can take it off whenever.”

“Whatever. Just hold on tight,” said Ahreum, revving up the bike.

4.5 minutes later, they had reached their destination. Yuri knew that it had been 4.5 minutes because she had been fervently counting the seconds to distract herself from falling off the vehicle

“WHO drives like that? Are you totally insane?” she managed to get out, her hands fumbling on the straps of the helmet.

Ahreum gave her a sheepish grin. “Sorry, timing is essential in this case. Tae had texted me that they had reached just before I left from my place. We don’t have a lot of time. So I ugh-”

“Whatever. Let’s just get on with it.” Yuri tucked the loose strands of hair behind her ear, and mentally rehearsed everything she was going to tell Jimin.

Unfortunately, fate had other things in mind, because as soon as they opened the door to the diner, a familiar face (which most definitely should not have been there) spotted them and came over.

“Fuck.” Ahreum pulled out her phone and frantically sent Taehyung a text before the entire plan went down the drain.

“Yuri? Ahreum? What are you two doing here?” asked Seulgi, her long brown hair looked freshly washed and smelt of flowers.

A: why didnt u warn me that s was here fuck fuck fuck

T: i didnt see her… look it wont be that big a problem will it

A: pls tae the last time she saw ur boy they almost set fire to the library

T: shit ur right… umm maybe she-

Ahreum paused her frantic texting as soon as Seulgi came over to them. She gave Yuri a quick nod and decided to wing the situation as best as she could.

“Seulgi! This is incredible! I can’t believe we ran into you like this!” Ahreum hugged the taller girl. “I wanted Yuri to try the breakfast here so we decided to drop by before she had to get to the station. This is really incredible, I was planning to call you today actually. It’s almost time for me to choose my specialization and I wanted to-”

Yuri took this chance to slip off, as Ahreum steered Seulgi outside the diner. She didn’t really know why Ahreum was so intent on Seulgi and Jimin not meeting, but she trusted her best friend’s reasons.

Looking around, she saw that the large table near the window was occupied by the people she had been looking for. Kim Taehyung and his best friend Park Jimin. The latter had his back towards her, and as she approached she saw Taehyung’s eyes fall on her. She gave him a small wave, gesturing towards her phone’s lockscreen - a picture of her and Ahreum.

His face lit up in recognition as he stood up to greet her. “Hello! I’m Kim Taehyung. I thought Ahreum would be with you.”

“She’s umm…” Yuri glanced towards the doors of the diner through which Ahreum had led Seulgi out. “She’ll be here in a bit.”

“DI Choi, that’s not really true,” Jimin turned towards her, his eyes cold and alert. “Taehyung, your friend is diverting dear Dr. Ahn before she could see us and sabotage their poorly constructed ambush of me.”

Taehyung’s mouth hung open slightly, not really sure what was going on. “DI Choi? As in Choi Yuri? As in Ahreum’s best friend from school?”

“Yes,” said Yuri, feeling extremely awkward. She had expected to get two words in before Jimin caught on, but it seemed like she had severely underestimated him. “I’m sorry Ahreum didn’t tell you what this meeting was about. These aren’t the most favorable circumstances for us to meet. Nonetheless, I’ve heard a lot about you and it’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

Taehyung bowed in response, but his expression was still uncertain.

“What brings you here, DI Choi?” asked Jimin. “I doubt it was because you were dying to see me again. But -” he stood up and leaned towards her ever so slightly - “I wouldn’t be opposed to the idea if that were really the case.”

Not for the first time, Yuri realized how powerful Park Jimin’s presence was. She could see him becoming a very successful CEO with how he commanded people’s attention. However, she couldn’t shake off the uncomfortable feeling his gaze elicited. It was like she couldn’t predict what he was going to do next, much less fathom what was going on inside his head.

“Mr. Park,” she said, sitting down on one of the sofas in the booth. Taehyung and Jimin followed suit, but this time, they were both seated on the same side. “I’m afraid this isn’t a social call. I’ve come to talk to you about the ongoing investigation regarding the death of Kang Eunwoo.”

“I believe I answered all of your questions last time,” said Jimin, narrowing his eyes. “In fact, I believe I answered all of DI Jeon’s questions. You didn’t have much to say, as I recall.”

Taehyung’s head snapped towards his friend. "Jeongguk? You were at the station? Why didn’t you tell me, Jimin? What’s going on?”

“You and I both know that you didn’t provide much information. But that’s not what-”

"I don't think I was really required to answer any of your questions, DI Choi. Linking me to a rival company heir's death without a shred of evidence - " he leaned forward once again, his silver bangs falling over his forehead - "Some would consider that harassment. That would mean my lawyer would have to become involved. And neither of us want that, now do we?"

This is harassment. You really don't want to know how I deal with any kind of harassment, DI Choi.

Yuri took a deep breath, trying to ignore the words that kept her up almost every night.

"Your cooperation is highly appreciated, Mr Park," she continued, placing her hands on the table. "However, in order to save you from any further harassment, there is something you could help us out with."

Jimin did not respond immediately, giving Yuri the time to continue her, frankly, insane idea.

"We would require you to provide a blood sample. Which would help us eliminate you from the investigation. It shouldn't take up too much of your time - just a short visit to the station, and you'd be free of us."

Yuri waited for a response - anger, disbelief, frustration - anything really. What she didn't expect was laughter. Full on hysterical laughter. In fact, Taehyung was probably not expecting it either because he kept glancing at his friend worriedly.

"You are truly remarkable, DI Choi," said Jimin, once he had calmed down. He wiped a lone tear from his left eye, the many rings on his fingers glinting in the sunlight. "After everything that you've witnessed, you really thought you could somehow convince me to provide a blood sample? Sweetheart, I have 10 years worth of DNA that the police have been trying to get a hold off. Do you really think you'd be able to convince me when you weren't even able to get an alibi out of me?"

Yuri's face fell slightly, her mind grappling with ways in which the situation could be salvaged. It was at this point that Ahreum came over, looking distinctly more worn out than when they had arrived at the diner.

"Ahreum." Jimin turned his attention to the other girl. "You have such an interesting friend. Are you sure she's from Seoul? I didn't think such naivety could survive in the capital. Much less in law enforcement."

Ahreum frowned, snatching up the glass of water in front of Taehyung and gulping down the entire contents. "Stop being a dick for once in your life, Jimin."

"I love when you talk dirty to me." Jimin winked at her.

"Cool it, Jimin," said Taehyung, his expression no longer confused and worried. "Ahreum, what the fuck is going on?"

Ahreum looked at Yuri, not sure how she could help with the situation. Apparently, things hadn't gone well while she had been diverting Seulgi. "I'm sorry, Tae. I don't know anything other than Yuri wanting to meet Jimin."

"But you knew it had something to do with an investigation," said Taehyung, his handsome features creasing. "Why didn't you tell me that your best friend Yuri was a detective? That doesn't seem like information to just leave out."

Ahreum looked at him guiltily. In Taehyung's eyes, he was the only one who had no idea what was going on, and he felt both hurt and betrayed by her. This entire plan had been a train-wreck and to make matters worse, Seulgi had returned to the diner because she had dropped her keys inside.

"What the hell?" Seulgi stood at their table, her eyes narrowing disapprovingly. "What're you doing here, Park?"

"Hello to you too, darling," said Jimin, leaning back into the sofa lazily. "It's been so long since I've seen that beautiful face of yours."

"So." Seulgi turned towards Ahreum. "Are you really interested in going into forensics? Or was it just a way to distract me so that I wouldn't run into him?"

"Seulgi, I-"

"Darling, they were just trying to convince me to provide a blood sample," interrupted Jimin, his face curling into a smirk. "Was that your idea? You know I would've said yes in a heartbeat if you had asked nicely."

"Fuck you, Park!" spat Seulgi. She turned to Yuri and shook her head. "This isn't how I thought you'd get things done. I can't believe you're bargaining with a murder suspect!"

"Now that's a bit harsh, isn't it darling?" Jimin was enjoying the situation immensely.

"Jimin, don't." Taehyung warned his friend.

"Seulgi, please, this isn't what you think-" Ahreum ran out after the taller girl, the diner eerily quiet after the blowout.

"Jimin, you can find your way home yourself, right?" asked Taehyung, getting up to swipe his credit card at the counter. "I have to go."

Jimin nodded, his fingers lazily running through his silver hair. It was a wonder all the rings didn’t get caught in his hair.

"And Yuri - " Taehyung paused, his long fingers clenching around the plastic of the card - "It was nice meeting you, I guess."

"I think that went rather well, DI Choi" said Jimin, once they were the only two left at the table. "I was thoroughly entertained."

Yuri pinched the bridge of her nose, feeling a headache coming on. "My apologies for wasting your time, Mr. Park. Have a good rest of the day."

Once outside, she realised that Ahreum had left. Her mode of transportation had left. Without letting her know. She sighed and unlocked her phone, trying to figure out if it would be easier to walk back home or to the station.

"Were you abandoned as well?"

Yuri took a deep breath, preparing herself before facing Jimin once again.

"Friends these days aren't what they used to be."

"I don't know you, Mr. Park." Yuri crossed her arms and tilted her head to one side. "I have no preconceived notions, and I have no affiliations in this place. I am merely doing my job - trying to find out how Kang Eunwoo died. I don't really understand why you're trying your damned best to make things difficult for us. But let me tell you one thing- I'm not going to stop until I get to the truth."

Jimin seemed at a loss for words for the first time since she had met him.

"If you didn't have anything to do with Eunwoo's death, providing the blood sample should be nothing more than a formality for you. But by declining to assist us, you're pushing us into thinking you do have something to hide. I don't know about you, Mr. Park, but if I were involved in a murder investigation, I'd like my name cleared as soon as possible. All personal conflicts aside."

xxx

Back at the station, Yuri felt her head was going to explode. She hadn't eaten anything the entire day, her morning coffee forgotten in the chaos of the diner mission. On top of that, her desk had a large pile of papers waiting to be read.

"Goh dropped these off when he came in," said Jeon, noticing how she was staring at the pile. "Just procedural stuff - it's pretty much the same everywhere in the country. But each station requires anyone who joins to read through them and sign."

"Oh, I see -" Yuri stopped abruptly, her head spinning towards her partner. He had never managed to go two words without snapping at her, much less initiate a civil conversation. Why was he suddenly behaving like this? Was this some kind of trap? Was he baiting her?

Jeon seemed completely unaware of Yuri's internal dilemma, and continued typing on his work laptop until his phone pinged with a message. He quickly closed the laptop and walked towards the exit, already speaking to someone on the phone.

Yuri glared at his desk, trying to figure out what he was playing at. Gradually, her eyes landed on that wretched file. The 2nd Nov case file. The file that seemed to be Jeon's purpose of existence.

The 2nd November case that Jeongguk’s been overseeing - I want you to go over it. You might be able to help

Yoongi's words rang in her head. She began reaching over the partition that divided her desk from Jeon's, her hand was just a few centimeters from the file-

"Need some help?"

Yuri jumped in astonishment, Jeon's voice startling her into knocking her knee into the desk. She ignored the throbbing sensation, and focused on trying to explain herself.

"Need a pen to sign the papers. Mine's out of ink."

Jeon seemed to buy this reason, and picked up a pen from the large stack sitting inside a pale red mug on his desk.

"Anything else?" he asked, when her eyes kept flitting back to his desk.

"N-no." Yuri sat down hurriedly, sifting through the papers she hadn't looked over even once.

The next hour went by without much incident. Yuri had managed to grab a dodgy looking sandwich from the break room, and somehow finished it off in between large gulps of water. Never again was she leaving the house without eating.

Her texts to Ahreum had gone unanswered so far, which was hardly surprising. Yuri was pretty sure she was trying to explain things to Taehyung. It was best to give her some space at this point - she'd call and check on her later at night.

Jeon's phone rang again causing him to rush out once more, and from the fragments that Yuri managed to catch, it was Chief Inspector Goh on the other line.

"DI Choi?"

Yuri was stunned to see Park Jimin standing by her desk.

"How can I help you, Mr. Park?" she asked, after a moment's pause.

"I'm here to... cooperate."

"You're agreeing to the blood sample?" she asked, incredulously.

"Yes."

Yuri cursed under her breath. It was lunchtime, which meant that Seulgi and most of her team would be off.

Suho happened to be passing by at just that moment. "DI Choi, can I speak to you for a moment?"

"S-sure. Mr. Park, please wait here for a moment."

"You managed to convince Jimin to provide a blood sample?" asked Suho, lowering his voice.

"I guess so..."

"The labs are closed for lunch right now."

"I know." Yuri bit her lip in frustration. "I don't know how long he'll be willing to wait. It's already a miracle that he's showed up."

"I think I saw one of the junior lab technicians come back early," Suho wondered out loud. "Let me call him and ask."

Yuri waited as Suho dialed the number on his phone. In the meantime, Jeon had returned, his eyes catching sight of Jimin and temporarily halting him in his tracks.

What followed next was one of the most stressful 3 minutes of Yuri's life. Jeon was speaking to Jimin, when Suho informed her that the junior technician was available to draw a blood sample but would not be able to stay long enough for the sample to be handed over to either his senior or Seulgi herself. This was a definite issue because according to the station's protocol, junior lab technicians were not allowed to officially check in anything related to an ongoing investigation. It seemed like Yuri would have to wait at the lab until Seulgi or a senior technician came back, so that the sample would not be left alone until it had been properly entered into the system. The only problem was, Jeon appeared to be packing his stuff and Yuri's window to grab the 2nd Nov file was closing. This would've been the perfect moment, given that he was slightly distracted due to his conversation with Jimin. Suho seemed to sense the conflict raging within her, and offered to wait at the lab instead.

"Are you sure?" asked Yuri, her attention fixed on the file still on Jeon's desk.

"Yes," said Suho. "But I think you should tell Jimin that I'll be taking him to the lab instead of you. He'll probably take it better if it’s coming from you."

Yuri nodded and walked over to where the two men were having a conversation.

"- a bit annoyed that he didn't know I had been down here." Jimin chuckled and ran a hand through his hair.

"Why didn't you tell him, then?" asked Jeon, frowning. Yuri took this opportunity to swipe the file from his desk.

"Ah! DI Choi, I was beginning to think you had forgotten about me," said Jimin, his eyes falling on Yuri.

"Sorry for making you wait. Unfortunately, I have some urgent matters to attend to. DS Lim will take you to the lab and make sure everything is alright." She hid the file under her coat, and beckoned for Suho to come over. "Thank you once again for your cooperation, Mr. Park."

Jeon raised his eyebrow questioningly, but Yuri was out of the station before he could get a word in. She didn't have much time before he realised his precious file was missing.

Once inside her car, Yuri opened the file and read through every single inch of it. It was a grim case no doubt - a single mother had been stabbed to death by a homeless drunk, who was assumed to be the father of her three year old daughter. The girl had been missing since then, while the man awaited his trial in jail.

The pictures were quite awful. The small nook where she had been living told a rather tragic, almost pathetic, story. A young woman without many choices. Her pale, lifeless body only added to the sense of despair. Yuri wondered why Jeon was so obsessed with this case. Sure, it was terribly sad, but not unlike many other drunken brawls resulting in an unfortunate death. She wondered who was in charge of looking for the girl at this point. According to the file, no body had turned up in over a month. Which meant that she was either alive or her body would probably never be found. If the former was true, there was a high probability that this was a kidnapping. It didn't make much sense. Maybe there was something she was missing...

Staring at the picture of the woman's corpse, her eyes caught sight of a small detail - a ring. A ring which looked very familiar.

Sifting through the pictures, she found a close up of the ring in question. It had been lying near the body and it was assumed that the ring had fallen from her person at some point during the struggle.

Only...

Yuri took out her phone and quickly snapped a shot of the picture of the ring. This was absolutely against protocol, but she was desperate at this point.

It had been 20 minutes since she had run out of the station, and after making sure that Jeon had left, she made her way back in and dropped the file at his desk.

xxx

"Did you clear things up with Taehyung?" asked Yuri, sitting down at the table.

Ahreum picked up some pasta with her tongs and placed it on Yuri's plate. Tonight's dinner was in honor of Namjoon making it home before the clock struck midnight.

"Yeah, he's not one to hold grudges. He was just a little upset that I had lied to him."

"He looked quite betrayed when he realised that we had set them up like that."

"Don't worry about it." Ahreum shrugged while pouring wine into the glasses. "He's fine now."

"Tae can't stay mad at Ahreum for too long." The deep voice sounded familiar yet strange to Yuri, who had barely interacted with Ahreum's older brother when they had all been living in the same city.

"Namjoon!" she stood up, giving him a hug. He was still awkward with any kind of physical affection, though he had grown into his limbs and no longer resembled a gangly teenager. "Took me 4 days but I finally managed to get a glimpse of you."

"Ah," he said, pushing his black-rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Sorry about that, Yuri. I had a major project due last night so I was basically living at the library doing research."

"Well, I hope it's not going to be as difficult to meet you from now on. You and Ahreum are the only people I know here."

"No new friends yet?" asked Namjoon, digging into the pasta. "Ahreum, this is delicious! We should've called Seokjin over. He always appreciates good food."

"Seokjin? As in the guy who runs The Moon's Post Office?" asked Yuri.

"The one and the same. How do you know him?" asked Namjoon.

"Happened to visit the bakery on my first day here. He's got quite a way with shortcrust pastry."

Namjoon laughed at this. "I'm sure he'll be happy to hear that. That place is Seokjin's pride."

"But back to the friends question," he continued, grabbing another helping of pasta. "Detective work not leaving you much time to socialize?"

"Sort of..."

"She's been having trouble with her new partner," piped up Ahreum, her eyes glinting mischievously. "Maybe you can help her out on that front."

"Oh? Who's your partner?"

"Jeon Jeongguk."

"You're not getting along with Jeongguk?!" Namjoon nearly spilled the wine on himself.

"Namjoon, please calm down. It's not that serious," said Ahreum, rolling her eyes.

"Sorry," her brother murmured, placing the glass back on the table. "It's just... I know you both. There's no reason for you to not get along."

"He's being a dick," supplied Ahreum, helpfully. "Not sure why. Doesn't sound like the guy you're always gushing about."

"I don't think 'gushing' is the right word... but I get your point. Has he said anything to you, Yuri?" asked Namjoon.

Yuri didn't hear what Namjoon had said. Her attention was fixed on her phone, specifically on an email from Seulgi. The blood on Eunwoo's sleeve was a match for the sample taken from Park Jimin earlier that day.

xxx

another chapter done!

#jungkook #jungkook fic #jungkook x oc #jimin #taehyung #seokjin #namjoon #hoseok #yoongi #bts fic #btsbookclub #c me write bangtan

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asleepypisces · 5 years ago

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A friend of mine recently shared how loud silence can be, specifically from her white friends following the murder of George Floyd. We might feel inclined to offer sympathy with statements like “I can’t believe this happened” or “this doesn’t feel real,” but it is the very privilege of being white that is causing us to feel shocked while this is an every day reality for black Americans. My heart, thoughts, and prayers go out to the victims of police brutality and racism as well as all black Americans, but that is not enough. Thoughts and prayers are never enough. Now is the time for white Americans to reflect on our privilege and use it. Teach other white people about the barriers in society that exist for black Americans and call them out (this includes friends and family) if they are being racist, even when it’s uncomfortable to do so. Listen to and amplify the voices of black Americans - share their words, posts, work, businesses, art, etc during this time and ALL of the time. Lastly, learn! This is a result of a history of racism in the United States, the oppressive system that is the police, and an unjust justice system. What you shouldn’t do is share videos of these murders (share the graphics of artists instead), photographs of protestors (it can put them at risk), speak over black Americans, or be ignorant for the sake of blocking out negativity. You cannot and should not ignore this reality. What can you do, besides attending a protest (which you should if you are able)? See below!

There is a lot of information about contacting government officials and legislators, places to donate, and petitions to sign. I compiled the information I found. Know the words below are not all my own, with information gathered from a Medium article titled 75 Things White People Can Do for Racial Justice and a USA Today article titled Resources, ways to donate: How you can take action from home after the death of George Floyd as well as information I found on my own.

Contacting legislators, lawmakers, and other officials:

* Google whether your local police department currently requires all on-duty police officers to wear a body camera turned on immediately whenever they respond to a call. If they don’t, email your city or town representative and police chief to advocate for it.

* Google whether your city or town uses evidence-based police de-escalation trainings. If not, again email your city or town representative and police chief to advocate for it.

* Call or email your federal legislators in support of the bipartisan (sponsored by Sen Lee (R-UT)) Smarter Sentencing Act (S. 2850) which reduces the length of federal mandatory minimum drug sentences by half, makes the Fair Sentencing Act’s crack sentencing reforms retroactive, and expands the “safety valve” exception to mandatory drug sentences. This is would reduce mandatory minimum sentences on a federal level! Obviously decriminalization is the goal, but supporting this legislation is a start.

* Call or email your federal legislators in support of the bipartisan(sponsored by Sen Rand (R-KY)) Justice Safety Valve Act (S. 399, H.R. 1097), which would allow judges to give sentences other than the mandatory minimum sentence for any federal crime which should again reduce mandatory minimum sentences! Again, a start.

* Call or email your federal legislators in support of another criminal justice reform bill, the Second Look Act, which would make reduced sentences for crack convictions from the previously passed Fair Sentencing Act retroactive, reduce mandatory minimums for people convicted more than three times for drug crimes from life without parole after the third offense to 25 years, reduce mandatory sentences for drug crimes from 15 to 10 years, limit the use of solitary confinement on juvenile prisoners, etc. Again, it’s a start.

* Call or email your your state legislators and governor to support state-wide criminal justice reform! This includes reducing mandatory minimum sentences, reducing sentences for non-violent drug crimes, passing “safety valve” law to allow judges to depart below a mandatory minimum sentence under certain conditions, passing alternatives to incarceration, etc.

* Call or write to state legislators, federal legislators, and your governor to decriminalize weed.

* Call or write to state legislators to require racial impact statements be required for all criminal justice bills. Most states already require fiscal and environmental impact statements for certain legislation. Racial impact statements evaluate if a bill may create or exacerbate racial disparities should the bill become law. Check out the status of your state’s legislation surrounding these statements here.

* Call or write to state legislators, federal legislators, and your governor to end solitary confinement in excess of 15 days. It is considered torture by the UN, and it is used more frequently on black and Hispanic prisoners.

* Write to the US Sentencing Commission ([email protected]) and ask them to:

* reform the career offender guideline to lessen the length of sentences

* change the guidelines so that more people get probation

* change the criminal history guidelines so that a person’s criminal record counts against them less

* change guidelines to reduce mandatory minimum sentences for non-violent crimes

* conduct a study to review the impact of parental incarceration on minor children. With more data, the Commission could modify the Sentencing Guidelines and allow judges to take this factor into account when sentencing individuals for non-violent crimes.

* conduct a study to review whether the Bureau of Prisons is following the Commission’s encouragement to file a motion for compassionate release whenever “extraordinary and compelling reasons” exist.

* consider amending the guidelines to reduce sentences for first offenders.

* Write to your state legislators to end cash bail. Your wealth should not determine your freedom. Legally innocent people are in jail not because they’re guilty, but because they cannot afford the price of their freedom.

Petitions:

(If you need postal code for non-US people who sign 90015 is Los Angeles, CA; 10001 is New York City, NY; and 75001 is Dallas, TX.)

* Sign the petition here that aims to “reach the attention of Mayor Jacob Frey and DA Mike Freeman to beg to have the officers involved in this disgusting situation fired and for charges to be filed immediately.“ https://www.change.org/p/mayor-jacob-frey-justice-for-george-floyd

* Sign the petition here to “demand the officers who killed George Floyd are charged with murder." So far, the petitions has garnered more than 1 million signatures. You can also sign by texting "Floyd" to 55156. https://act.colorofchange.org/sign/justiceforfloyd_george_floyd_minneapolis

* Sign the petition here “demanding justice for George Floyd and his family by adding your name to our super petition. When you sign, our platform will automatically send your message to County Attorney Michael Freeman, who has the power to arrest and charge these police officers.” All officers must be held responsible. https://www.justiceforbigfloyd.com/#petition

Text:

* Text “Justice” to 668366.

* Text “Floyd to 55156 to sign the petition mentioned above.

Donate money:

* GoFundMe: Organized by Philonise Floyd, George's brother, the fund was created to cover funeral and burial expenses, mental and grief counseling, lodging and travel for all court proceedings and to assist the family in the days to come as they “continue to seek justice for George,” according to the description. A portion of these funds will also go to the Estate of George Floyd, which benefits his children and their educational fund.” https://www.gofundme.com/f/georgefloyd

* NAACP: Donations to the NAACP go toward: helping “win landmark legal battles, protect voters across the nation, and advance the cause of racial justice, equality, and an inclusive society.” https://org2.salsalabs.com/o/6857/p/salsa/donation/common/public/?donate_page_KEY=15780&_ga=2.209233111.496632409.1590767838-1184367471.1590767838

* Black Lives Matter: You can become a "Global Member" by donating $5 to support their campaigns. https://secure.actblue.com/donate/ms_blm_homepage_2019

* Communities United Against Police Brutality: A Minneapolis organization who accepts donations via mail or PayPal for “office costs, copwatch equipment, court filing fees and other expenses." https://www.cuapb.org/

* Minnesota Freedom Fund: An organization that helps pay jail bonds for those who cannot afford to fight discriminatory and coercive jailing. "Every dollar of financial donations to Minnesota Freedom Fund helps us help free people," the website states. https://minnesotafreedomfund.org/

* Reclaim the Block: A grassroots, Minneapolis organization that demands “that Minneapolis invest in real safety solutions like violence prevention, housing, responses to mental health and opioid crises, and protections for workers instead of 14 more cops.” They are focused on building community-led safety solutions. https://www.reclaimtheblock.org/home

* Black Visions Collective: Aims “to shape a political home for Black people across Minnesota.” They are recommenced by the Minnesota Freedom Fund as they are out on the field right now. https://secure.everyaction.com/4omQDAR0oUiUagTu0EG-Ig2

Donate Supplies:

* North Star Health Collective: Recommended by the Minnesota Freedom Fund as they are also out in the field right now. Accepts first-aid supplies. The link will take you to the website for information on what they need and where to send it. https://www.northstarhealthcollective.org/support-north-star-health

Where to shop:

* If you are looking for clothes, I linked Maya Rigby’s (aka @lovlae) Depop. 100% of her proceeds for the next week will be going to Reclaim the Block. If you don’t need clothes, she has cute scrunchies available! https://www.depop.com/mayarigby/

* Philadelphia Printworks “supports local and national organizations doing work in the areas of food security, police brutality, immigrant rights, tlgbq+ rights, mass incarceration, and more. Support is determined by the needs of the organization and may be financial and/or resource based.” For example, 100% of the profits from the National Bail Out shirts goes to the NBO. https://www.philadelphiaprintworks.com/

* @ghosttownusa is donating 100% of Depop proceeds (@ablesistersvillage) to North Star Health Collective.

*Phenomenal Woman Action Campaign is inspired by Maya Angelou’s poem and supports a variety of organizations including Essie Justice Group, Black Futures Lab, and Higher Heights (as well as many others.) https://phenomenalwoman.us/pages/about

Lastly, be politically active and vote in all elections! Following the recent twitter response of Trump towards people protesting police brutality and considering the future of The Supreme Court, this presidential election matters. Local elections matter too and directly impact our community in our everyday lives. They are the ones who can change policing in our communities. Stay informed on candidates and if you want to do more, canvassing and volunteering at the polls on Election Day are two ways you can volunteer. However, remember that the solution to end police brutality is not a simple matter of voting Trump out of office - consider the victims of police brutality before this presidency. This requires supporting the campaigns of black candidates, specifically women, through organizations like Higher Heights which is “the only national organization providing Black women with a political home exclusively dedicated to harnessing their power to expand Black women’s elected representation and voting participation, and advance progressive policies.”

Please feel free to add on or send me any suggestions/corrections, and may George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, Ahmaud Arbery, and all victims of police brutality and racism rest in peace and power. 💕🖤

#important #i am limited on my knowledge of places to shop that are donating #if anyone has any suggestions you can message me or add on to this post #also this information isn’t only for americans! we all can do what we can to combat the racism in every country #black lives matter

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cruecifymesixx · 5 years ago

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Love and Leather /part Sixxty Eight/

Word Count:10.9k

A/N: continuation from 67! Enjoy! Feedback is always appreciated

Warnings: language, extreme angst, intense therapy sessions, SMUT(bear with me. I haven't wrote smut in a hot minute)

Taglist: @brideofdraculana , @xstarryeyesx , @aryssav , @miserablecunt , @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol , @fandomshit6000, @anntheboneless,, @venus-calum, @justjodeye, @hi-my-name-is-riley, @extremesadnerding, @thatbandchick39, @awkwrdcait, @countrygirlswonderland @awesomealmostdopestudent, @romanticvengeance , @tashy-bear, @krazykatkay456, @terror-triplet, @shouttatthedevill @beachystars, @rodriguez025, @kickstart-myheart-sixx, @s-outhie, @anxious-diabetic, @awkwardblackgirls, @rockersbox, @brooklyn-antiques, @shamelessobsessions, @jerseytaint, @lilytalebi, @criminalyetminimal, @motley-queen, @trapt-in-a-dream, @lunamadhatter99, @broke-n-bitchy, @thanks2pete, @slowandangry, @lovesick-heart0, @keepcalm-and-beyou, @miriampraez, @teenwolflover28, @lilyhw1, @motherloovebone, @random-internet-user-4471, @falcon-arrows, @talranocchia2001, @wheresmyvodkabitch, @waywardprincess666, @iluvmesomemarvelndc @zoenicoles, @vamprlestat, @supersoldierballerina, @primal-screamer @electradestiny, @marshbev, @n0-sh0rtage-0f-faults, @cruebaby, @ggorehorror, @valentines-in-london, @miss2001babe, @nassauartist @cmft-jr-winchester, @bokkie92, @notworthyofyou1120 @xrosegoldwolfx, @lauravic, @mgkobsessed, @chaoticvybe, @thoughtsoftheantagonist @marvelismylifffe, @sleepyjunhong @lovemythsworld @sparxx27 @gingerspicetalks @unknownoblivion @siliwanoel @nevergoodenuffbutokaaayyy @sublimeprincesswasteland @kylieinwonderland @haileynicoleseavey17 @lavendersoundbarrier @ijustwanttokiss70srogertaylor @kellysimagines @meetthesixxter, @duffshairdye, @xpoisonousrosesx, @m0rnlngstar, @cranberrirolls, @oskea93, @love-struck-aries, @idumpyourgrass, @minxtruck, @i-want-to-shoot-myself, @cruesixxlover1991, @arianareirg, @fentitrbl, @dogmom2014, @sinningsixx, @motleycrueprincess

*Nikki's POV*

"Nikki, Vanity is in the hospital. She doesnt want you here but im not taking Arianna to the hospital because I dont waknow what kind of condition Van is in. So, I need you to be here for your daughter, or are you actually the asshole I think you are?"

I stared down at the desk, trying to Process waht was going on, "Nikki? Did you hear me?" My stomach was twisting into knots as my heart felt like it was stuck in a vise grip.

"The hospital? Is-is she okay?" I breathed out the words. You know when you have those moments where it feels as if all time is standing still and you are the only person in the univer? Thats how i was feeling.

"I dont know Nikki! All i know is Arianna wasnt picked up from school. I found her waitin ginside when I left. I tried calling Vanity but she didnt answer and I had a voicemail from the hospital saying she was there and im her only emergency contact she has."

I reached for my water, dowing it until the bottle was empty, "Uh...uh...it's gonna take me hours to get there regardless..."

Clementine scoffed, "Unbelievable, do you not fucking hear me? Vanity is in the hospital!! The mother of your child and so called loved of your life needed medical attention!"

"It's gonna take me hours to get there..." I repeated.

"I don't give a shit Nikki. You have the fancy jet, use it."

I shook my head, "Look, im the last person Vanity wants to see right now. Can't you just send Ari to one of her friends or something.? Can't someone else watch her while you go to the hospital? Clementine, I'm across the country..."

She laughed, "As if I would send her to stay with Jason. I'm her only friend here, Nikki."

I felt my bood boil and my body become tense, "Ja-Jason? She's talking to Jason?" My jaw was clenched as I galred at the doorway, seeing Brandi scowling against it.

"Well Nikki, if you had kept your promise Jason wouldnt be an option." I closed my eyes, breathing through my nose as I shook my head, "He's not a fucking option!!" I yelled back in defense, "He aint even a fucking blimp."

"Are you coming or not? Arianna has already been so upset and stressed out lately. I don't want her to be upset even more. Trust me, Vanity feels the same way."

I glared at Brandi, "Just give me a few hours." I watched as she threw her arms up and shook her head.

"You fucked up this time. I mean it. You can ignore Vanity, but you dont lie to your kid."

"I know! I know! I just...look I'll explain everything whenI get there, alright?" I retorted as I hung up the phone and looked at Brandi, "You! It's all your fucking fault!"

Brandi was appalled, "Me? I did nothing! You were the one who didnt call and kept saying you were too busy! Don't put that on me!"

"I did nothing." I mocked her voice, walking past her and to my bedroom, "As if you didn't fuckin use coke and your body to make stay with you."

I shook my head, quickly grabbing garments from the closet and throwing them on my bed, "Filled my head with bullshit!" I shouted as I threw the duffle bag on the bed next.

Brandi laughed, "Oh come on Nikki. You know who you really want."

I shook my head, trying to rid my ears of her nasaly voice, "Yeah, now I do! Now that I know my daughter has been crying over me and that Vanity is in the hospital! It takes her getting hurt to make me realize it!" I screamed, watching her flich at the loudness, "It always takes Vanity getting hurt to make me fucking realize how much of an asshole I am!!"

God, I fucking hope she's okay.

"Oh my god, she's probably being dramatic! Nikki, please don't go. I just got you back, stay here with me. Please baby?"

"Why?! So you can keep ruining my fucking life? So you can keep going on the lavish trips and shopping sprees?! Fuck you and fuck off! I'm done. If I get back and your shit is still here, I'm burning this fucking house to the ground with you and your shit in it!" I threatened, grabbing my bag and then my car keys right after.

"I'm serious, Brandi. I am done. I'm signing the papers and giving them back to the lawyers."

*A few hours later*

I got out of the rental car, slamming the door as I parked outside Vanit's apartment building. I went inside, repeatedly pushing the elevator button until it opened,. I stood in the elevator, pushing my hair out of my face as I tried collecting my thoughts. I had called Clementine on the plane and she said she was at Vans house waiting for me. I couldn't wait to see Arianna.

The door slid open on her floor as I speed walked down the hallway before I was face to face with her front door. I knocked and waited until it opened.

"Took you long enough." Clementine answered, a bitchy glare on her face as I sighed, "I'm sorry, okay! I am sorry!" I said, almost out of breath as I looked at her.

"I am not the one you need to apolgize too." She snapped at me as my eyes glanced over to Arianna who was staring at me from across the living room.

"Pumpkin.." I got down on one knee, smiling at her, "I've missed you."I frowned when she completely ignored me and walked straight to Clementine.

"I want Mommy." She whsipered, pulling on Clem's hand and looking up at her.

"I'm gonna go get her babe, okay?" I tried reassuring her, but all i got in return was mean glare.

Clementine smirked as I straightened back up, "Good luck, hope you come back in one piece."

*Vanity's POV*

I glared at the wall, sitting uncomfortable as ever with my arm in a sling, dried blood around my nose and six stitches on my forehead. My glare then went to the nurse who entered my hospital room. "Can I just fucking get something for pain?! I'm dying here!!" I yelled at her, they've ignored my requests three fucking times!!

"Hello! Are you fucking stupid or something?!" I groaned, pushing the bed side table towards the nurse as she was standing at the counter.

"And something other then god damn ice chips?!" I shouted grabbing the pink plastic cup and throwing it out into the hallway.

The nurse turned towards me, "Ma'am, you need to behave. r I will get psych down here to take you to thier side of the hospital. You understand me?" She berated me like a fucking child as I looked away from her and out the window, "I will work on getting you something to drink. Buut I cannot give you any medications." I rolle dmy eyes, pulling my arm away from her touch as she tried to wrap the blood pressure cuff around my bicep.

"Do you have any recollection of what you have put into your system? cocaine and diamorphine were all found in your blood system."

"What the actual fuck is diamorphine?" I qustioned her, rubbing my temples as I felt myself becoming irritated even more.

"Plus, when you came in your blood alcohol contenet was at a point one five and thats three times the legal limit in the state of New York." I looked at the banana bag I was hooked up too, "Diamorhpine is heroin, Vanity."

"Jason..." I mentally cursed him out, "I don't do heroin." I told her as she looked at me with the same look she probably gives other druggies taht tell her the same exact thing.

"Well, we did have difficulty setting up an IV, your veins are shot in both your arms. Luckily, we were able to get the veins in your hands to cooperate or we would have had to do a pick line straight to your heart."

I shook my head, "I don't do heroin. The blow was probably mixed with the heroin. I wouldn't willingly touch heroin. I didn't- I wouldn't."

"You are very lucky the car accident wasn't your fault, but the police will be in touch with you later to get your statement. May I take your vitals now?" The nurse, whose name tag read Margie questioned as I nodded.

"Statement? I don't rember anything. When can I go home? I have a daughter-" I gasped, "I have... i have to call Clementine!" I tried getting out bed but the nused pushed me back gently by my other shoulder.

"Our charge nurse has already conta ted her, now please, relax. I'm sure your child is fine." I took some deep breaths as I relaxed into the stiff bed, "Now, since youre awake and coherent, you dislocated your shoulder and you have a concussion so no blood thinner or it could make it worse. You had a minor laceration on your forehead but the doctor took care of it."

"Sorry to interrupt you Margie, but your patients husband is here." Another female nurse stated.

"I don't have a husband." I told them and right on queue, the blood pressure monitor started beeping eratticaly when I saw Nikki.

"Get out!! I don't want him here!!" I picked up a cup of jello, chucking it as hard as I could at him but he ended up catching it in his hands.

"I thought you said you were her husband?"

"I'd rather fucking kill myself than be married to him!"I shouted at the nurse, her eyes widening at my statement.

"Margie, should I call psych?"

Nikki put the cup of lime green jello on the counter, taking hesitant steps towards me, "I am just here to take you home. Clem called me and I just flew on the jet all the way here. She's with Arianna, she didn't want her to worry."

"You're her ride home?" Nikki nodded, "No! I'm not going anywher with this psycho!" I motioned to Nikki as he frowned.

"Doll, please?"

I pointed my finger at him, "Don't do that to me, Nikki! Don't look at me like that and don't talk to me like that!"

He rolled his eyes, completely ignoring me as he started talking with the nurse, "Can i have her discharge papers, please? She'll be safe with me. She's just a little uh...pissed off at me at the moment. It's nothing new." Nikki tried to laugh as I glared at him and as the jurses looked a bit weary.

"Do you have another ride, Vanity?"

I exhaled in a defeated manenr, "No. I don't."

"Why don't you step outside with our charge nurse while wehelp her get dressed an situated with the sling." Margie explained to Nikki, motioning to the door as he nodded and stepped out.

I pulled up my jeans after they handed them to me followed by my booths. The nurses helped me put my shirt on, with minimal complaints from me about my shoulder hurtinbefore hanging my jacket off my shoulders.

"Van, look, I don't want to be here-"

"You should want to be here, Nikki!" I shouted at him in the middle of the hospital, feeling other doctors and nurses look at us.

"Stop it! Just let me finish! I meant here, in the hospital with you! Clem called and here I am! So i'll take you home and just fucking go back to California if thats's what you want, alright!?" Nikki raised his voice as I stared at him in disbelief.

I vocally let out a "Ugh!" before pushing him to the side, "I can't stand you!"

"Yeah, just keep it coming Vanity. Tell me how much you hate me!" Nikki followed with heavy footsteps as we evenutally made it outside of the hospital, "Fuckin telll me Van! Tell me how horrible I am and how much of an asshole I am! Let's get it out of the way now princess!"

I quickly turned around, shoving him with my free arm repeatedly, "Where were you?!" I yelled, "You bastard! I can't fucking believe you would do this!" I shoved his chest again, forcing him to lean back into the wall as I continued to do so, "i'm so fucking sorry wer're such a bruden to you and your wife!"

"She's not my wife! I was busy!" He defended himself as I shoved him again, "Vanity, knock it off!"

"Busy with what Nikki?! Tommy's been here so don't even tell me it's the band and I highly doubt divorce papers take three months to sign!"

"She tried getting me to stay and-"

"Tried?! Nikki, you did stay! You chose her over me, not even me but your fucking daughter!" I shoved him again, but this time he grabbed my arm and forced it to my side.

"Calm down, now!" He lowered his head, shouting in my face as I fought his grip, "She's getting her shit out while im here! My marriage to her is over! Alright?! Stop acting like a fucking bat out of hell!"

I forced my wrist away from his grasp, "Just take me to my daughter."

"I'm sorry, Vanity. I really am."

I rolled my eyes, opening up his car door before sitting down, "Fucking save it Nikki. You're always sorry."

When we arrived at my apartment door, I unlocked it and tried slamming it in Nikk's face but he stopped it from closing.

"Mommy!" I sighed, trying to keep my tears in check as I picked up Arianna and gave her a hug.

"Oh baby, I'm so sorry. Mom got into a little trouble and she had to go see the doctors, but im okay now." I smothered her cheeks in kisses, "Pizza and cookies? Wow! Did you tell Auntie Clem thank you?"

Arianna giggled, "We made them for you! And we saved some pizza. Auntie said you would be grumpy and hungry when you got home." I smiled, silently thanking Clementine.

"Boo boo?" Arianna frowned as she pulled on the swing a bit.

I nodded and brushed my finger over her cheek, "Yeah angel, a really big boo boo but i'll be better in no time." I smiled as she kissed my cheek. I saw her then look over my shoulder as I sighed and put her down on the floor, "You should go say hi to daddy while he's here..."

Arianna glared at him before she loooked up at me, "I saw him already."

"Nikki took a few steps before crouching down to her height, "I've missed you princess." He smiled at her and fixed a loose strand of her hair, "Dad's been busy.." Arianna wasn't buying his bullshit either as she walked away from him and went to play with the scattered toys in the living room.

Nikki, the six foot and buck seventy five man that he is, got on his hands and knees and crawled over to her, "You got new toys? Those are pretty cool."

"I want to play by myself." Arianna told him, moving all of her toys away from Nikki and putting them in front of her.

I felt Clementines glaring at me, "I am fine."

"Oh really now?" She laughed a bit, "What the hell even happened Vanity?"

I motioned her to come over to the table and sit down with me so our conversation would be out of earshot from both Nikki and Arianna.

"You cannot get mad, alright? But I maybe snorted a bit too much and drank a little, or a lot. I don't remember crashing, and I sure as hell don't remember getting to the hospital-" I laughed, "And get this, heroin was mixed in with the blow I got from Jason. Isn't that hilarious?"

"Vanity..."

"No worries! It's all good!" I reassured Clementine with a pat on the arm, "I'm fine, I mean kinda. My shoulders dislocated and I have a concussion. They flushed my system, I'm good! I'm great!" I shrugged it off like it was nothing as Clem wore an upset look on her face.

She took off her glasses, rubbing her temples before she looked at me, "Good/" Good until Jason gives you more drugs?"

"I'm not. I'm done. I finished off what he had gave me, I told myself that's all I would do. I'm sorry clem."

She scoffed, "Sorry?" Vanity, you could've been seriously injured or worse. You're wasting money on this crap!" Clementine raised her voice just a tad.

"Well, so what if I am? It's not like I'm broke or poor." i retorted, glancing over and seeing Nikki attempt to get into Arianna's good graces.

"Nice, real nice Vanity." I looked back at Clem, seeign her stone cold glare.

"What?!" I gave her a confused expression, "That was not a shot at you if that's what you are thinking. You're not broke or poor. Your paintings sell and I give you money for being her babysitter."

"I said I wanna play alone!!" We both turned our heads when Arianna had yelled at Nikki, "Give me my dolly!" She yelled again, snatching it out of his hands.

"Princess, I am sorry I've been gone." Nikki spoke with hurt in his voice as he stared at her in shock before he glanced at me for guidance.

"Arianna, c'mon. You can't just ignore me." Nikki smiled before ticking her sides.

I watched as she pushed his hands away from her, "Go away."

"She's as stubborn as you are." Clementine mumbled to me as I nodded.

"I don't want to play with you." Arianna muttered as she moved away from Nikki completely, taking her toys with her but he only followed after her.

"Daddy just has stuff to take care of in California, ya know?" Nikki spoke softly as he laid on his side and tinkered with one of her toys.

"Go back to 'fornia!"

Nikki sighed, narrowing his eyes at her, "Arianna, do not yell at me."

"You lied! Mommy said you lied!"

Remind me to stop gossiping with Clementine while Arianna is within the same vicinity.

Nikki side eyed me before turning his attention back to her, “Babe, I-I didn’t lie. I told you I’d be back and I’m here now.”

“You stutter!”

“Arianna, I didn’t lie to you! Stop yelling at me!” Nikki raised his voice, not necessarily yelling at her but he was stern.

“Liar!” Arianna shouted, throwing her doll at Nikki’s face before she ran down the hallway to her bedroom. I heard her attempt to slam her door but since little tiny fingers and door jams don’t mix well, I had put foam at the top of the wooden frame.

Nikki mumbled as he got off the floor, “Just like your mother.”

“I think maybe you should go…” I told him as his eyes darted over to me.

Nikki shook his head, “I flew all the way out here. She can be stubborn all she damn well pleases, but I’m not leaving.”

“Then you should have called. Kids aren’t stupid.”

I closed my eyes, wishing Clementine had not put her two cents in as I felt Nikki’s anger rise even more.

“Stay the fuck out of it! It isn’t any of your god damn business!” He snapped at her quickly as she rolled her eyes before she stood up and started grabbing her things.

“Clem..” I spoke softly as I watched her shake her head, probably plotting how to murder Nikki and get away with it.

“Not a single fucking thank you for making sure your kid doesn’t know you like to come home high and pass out. That she doesn’t know how much of a fucking asshole her father is.”

I glared at Nikki as he rolled his eyes at me and went to sit down on the couch, “Clementine, I’m sorry. But thank you for making sure Arianna is always safe. I love you?”

She sighed, glancing at me as she looked back at Nikki, “I love you too…just call if you need me okay? Maybe take your mutt to go get neutered, he likes pissing on everything.”

I tried to keep my laughter in, “Bye Clementine, Thank you.”

I closed the door, turning around and leaning against it as Nikki stood in the middle of my living room.

“Can we please talk now? Just you and me.” I watched as he fiddled with his thumbs as I went to the fridge and grabbed my bottle of wine and glass from the cupboard.

“I don’t think you should be drinking if you…” Nikki stopped talking as he was met with my death glare. I sat down on the couch as he sat down next to me.

“You were gone for months, Nikki. You didn’t even call! You barely called at first and then it just stopped. How is that suppose to make me feel? To make your daughter feel?” I expressed my grievances as I poured the sweet red into the glass.

“Vanity, I’m sorry.” He placed his hand on my knee, “I fucked up. I really fucked up. She…Brandi gave me coke and it had me going for a minute. I was an idiot.”

“Blow? She gave you blow? I introduced you to your fucking child and you just run back to la la land because of some fucking dust? Prioritize what’s important to you, Nikki!”

Nikki shook his head, “I thought…I just thought maybe you didn’t really want me back, that it was all just a one time thing.”

That alone sent a knife straight through my heart, “A one time thing?” I stared at him, “After the night we spent together before you left, you really thought that was a one time thing? I wouldn’t of said the things I said if it was just a one time thing.”

“Babe, I was just…she fucking cornered me and it was a moment of weakness.”

I laughed in his face, “More like a moment of stupidity. Let me guess, she offered a few lines to you with her mouth wrapped around your dick again?”

Nikki took the glass of wine out of my hand before pulling me towards him, “I am sorry, okay? I messed up. I listened to the wrong person. I made a horrible mistake. I promise darling, I’m not going anywhere. I’m done leaving. I should have never went back there to begin with, should’ve made the lawyers fly out here.”

I felt his hand wrap around mine as his thumb brushed over my bruised knuckles, “How do I know that Nikki? That you just won’t leave again? That I won’t have to think of some bullshit reason to tell Ari why you aren’t here.”

“Because I’m not going anywhere Van, I swear to god I’m not leaving again. I’m not leaving unless you and her come back home with me. Brandi’s gone, princess. It’s done. She used coke because she knows it’s one of my weaknesses right after you.”

“Why does she have such a hold on you Nikki? I saw the pictures in the magazine. You two looked so happy.” I felt my chest get heavy as tears started building up.

Nikki kissed the back of my palm, “Those pictures were a bunch of lies doll, you have to believe me Vanity. I had to stay at a hotel for a few days after cause I felt so…so fake and wrong. I just wanted to hide and disappear from the world.”

Nikki wiped my cheek with a finger, “Why didn’t you come back to me right after that? You could’ve came here Nikki.”

I saw tears in his hazel eyes, “I-I was scared. Scared that the weeks I spent here with you and her was too good to be true. That all of this was happening again. It’s us Vanity, when are the cards ever in our favor?”

“We have some pretty shitty cards dealt for us, huh?” I laugh as I wipe his tears from the corner of his eye, “Please stop hurting me.” I begged him as I cupped his jaw, feeling the muscle relax underneath, “I’d wait forever for you, Sixx. I’m stupid for doing it, but I would do it in every universe.”

Nikki frowned, “I know. I know. I won’t, I promise. Please…please don’t take me out of yours and her lives. I want to be apart of it.”

“Nikki, that’s all based on your behavior. Not mine.”

He nodded, “Okay, fine. Where…where can I start? What do you want me to do.” He was acting like an attentive puppy waiting for his next treat.

“Can you get Arianna ready for bed?”

Nikki laughed, “How hard could that even be?”

*Nikki’s POV*

I had chased Arianna round the house for the past hour, even tripping and almost falling over rugs and her toys that were every where. I chased Arianna into her room as she laughed her ass off. No, this wasn’t a fun game of chase.

“Arianna, time for bed. Now!” I grabbed her as she started laughing more. I carried her to her bedroom before pulling down her blankets and putting her in bed.

“You aren’t the boss of me!” She said, kicking the blankets off and attempting to get out of bed. I’d be willing to let her but it was already nine at night.

I lightly pressed on her shoulders, putting her Back down, “Arianna, do you want me to use my mean voice? Bed, now. Or you won’t like it when you don’t get any cookies or TV tomorrow.”

Her big brown eyes turned to saucers, “You’re being a poo poo head!” She shouted, tugging the blanket away from my hand.

“Yeah, and you’re being a brat. Go to sleep.” I realized that was too harsh when her bottom lip quivered.

“You’re being mean!” She pouted as she grabbed her stuffed animal and turned on her side and faced the wall.

“Goodnight angel.” I muttered before turning off her ceiling light and plugging in her night light, “Or demon.” I whispered as I stepped out of her room and closed the door.

I walked into the kitchen, seeing Vanity downing some whiskey. She had just taken her pain pills not even thirty minutes ago, “Maybe you need help. Rehab or something.” I told her softly as she shook her head and put the bottle back in the fridge

“Van, you got into a car accident. We’re lucky this wasn’t another Razzle incident….” I trailed off as she stared at me in disbelief.

“Nik, it was just a fluke accident. Plus, the person in front of me was driving like an idiot. I’m fine.”

I raised an eyebrow, “Fluke accident? Vanity, I ended up dying and coming back. If I had someone tell me then I wouldn’t have gone through all that. And you especially wouldn’t have had to find me in my closet after.”

Vanity rolled her eyes, “Literally everyone did tell you to slow down…”

“And did I listen? No, I was too late and I was lucky to come back from it. Don’t you get it doll?”

She huffed and puffed, “You’re being dramatic. I’m not going to die. I don’t over do it like you. Jason just had a bad batch that was mixed with…” I waited for her to say it, “He gave me blow that was mixed with smack.”

”Oh, speedballs. Next thing you know you’ll be freebasing.” I retorted as she let out a gasp, “I would never do that! Listening to you and reading those journals you had were scary.”

I chuckled, “Scary? Well, seems like you’ll be looking for something more intense soon enough. It’d be a shame to make Arianna go through what you went through with me.”

Vanity shook her head, “I would never go out looking for something stronger and I would never do that to Arianna.” She defended herself as this argument was now becoming amusing to me.

“That’s what I said too. You know, you act as if I was never a drug addict. She’s not gonna be able to tell you to stop, she’s a kid Van. I had to watch my mom do this shit.”

She glared at me, “Because I’m not an addict like you Nikki. I’m not hiding in closets and I never do this stuff around her. Yeah, Jason comes over but we don’t do drugs here.”

I shook my head, “A guy you shouldn’t even be associating with in the first place! He’s bad fucking news, Van.”

“What are you? My fucking dad?” Vanity snapped quickly as we stared at one another.

“Fine, do whatever the hell you want. I’m gonna go find a hotel and I’ll be back in the morning.” I grabbed my jacket off the chair as I walked past her, “Goodnight V.” I spat out hastily as I opened up the front door.

I felt her hand wrap around my wrist as I hung my head down low and exhaled, “What? We’re just pissing each other off. You’re on edge because you were forced to detox at the hospital and not thinking rationally. You really want to argue more, Vanity?”

She shook her head as her hand moved to mine, holding it tightly, “I want you to stay with me, please?”

My eyes met hers, seeing the pain and vulnerability in them, “I’ll relax, okay? I’m fine. I just want you to stay with us. You’ve been gone way to long.”

She pulled me inside, walking backwards as she played with the rings on my fingers, “You relax too. I can tell you’re upset.”

I pulled my hand away from her, “Van, why do you think I’m upset? Clementine called me saying you were in the hospital? Do you even have a clue what I thought was wrong? That maybe Arianna would be without a mother and I wouldn’t have you anymore? Do you know how terrifying that is for me? You’ve been the only constant, besides the band in my life. You’re all I have Vanity…and I already had to experience life without you and I don’t want to do it again.” I sat down on the couch as she sat down next to me, her back resting against the arm as she looked at me.

“I’m fine Nikki.” I shook my head, “No you are not. You aren’t fine and you haven’t been fine for a while. Is this…is this because of me? You doing this to yourself. The drugs? The drinking? Hanging around Jason?”

Vanity played with the ends of her hair, picking off dry blood as she looked at me, “I don’t know…” I rested my hand on her knee, brushing my thumb across her skin, “It’s…it’s not because of you. It’s because of the hurt and the pain you cause. I’m high and I don’t think or feel it. It numbs it..”

I laid my head against the back of the couch, “Have you gone to your therapist lately? If you don’t want to go to rehab then you need to be going to therapy.”

“No, I haven’t.” She mumbled as I groaned.

“Vanity, you need too! I’ll make an appointment for you.” I looked at her, seeing her staring down at her nails until I put my hand under her chin to make her look at me, “I think you need to come back home. You live where there’s a dealer around every corner and back alley. You’ll never get clean here.”

Her eyebrows tightened together, “I’m not leaving New York.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want too!” She quietly shouted, “Arianna was born here, this is all she’s known, Nikki.” She expressed her concerns as I listened.

“I understand that, but don’t you think she’d love to see the ocean? Be near me instead of only flying out when I can? She’s a kid Van, she can adjust. I think it’s only you who doesn’t want to come back home.” Vanity looked away from me, wiping her cheeks as I kissed the top of her knee before resting my chin against it.

“Then I’ll fly her out to see you or something. There’s an ocean here too, ya know? You moved around so many times as a kid and look what it did to you. I don’t want that for her.”

“I’m move here, then.”

Her lips parted, “You can’t move here. Everything for you is in Los Angeles, the band, the music. Not New York Nikki, no. I won’t let you do that.”

“Fuck the band, Vanity! I have enough money to not need the band for a while. I want you and I want our daughter, nothing else. I want you.” I told her as she wiped her tears away again and looked at me, “I want you the only way I know you. I want you to be okay again, to be a good mom and to be my best friend. If you don’t want to be my girl just yet, fine. Arianna can just take your place.”

Vanity broke out into a beautiful smile, “The only girl that’s ever allowed to to take my place.” She rested her hand against my jaw, thumb grazing over my cheek, “I still love you Nikki.”

“I still love you more.”

I let out a sigh, I guess we'll save the coming back home argument for another day.

*A few days later, Vanity’s POV*

“Mommy..” I opened up my eyes, glancing over at the clock and saw that it was seven in the morning, “Daddy’s making breakfast and I don’t want to eat it.”

I chuckled, sitting up carefully and resting my shoulder against the pillow, “And whys that?”

She shrugged, “Cause he’s a poo poo head and he’s being mean to me.”

I stared at her, brushing her messy hair out of her face “Quit calling him that Ari. You know, you’re probably hurting his feelings. He said he was sorry, you’re being stubborn like me.”

“I am not stu-stubborn!” She defended herself as she crossed her arms over her chest and gave me the stink eye.

I grabbed her and put her off to the side as I got out of bed, “Let’s go get ready for school and then you’re eating whatever your dad made.” Arianna crawled out of my bed as she started running to her room, “Am not!!” I followed her and went to her closet to pick out an outfit.

“Get dressed and I’ll do your hair after you eat breakfast.” I repeated myself, “No!!!” I chuckled as her tiny hands pushed me out of her bedroom.

I walked down the hallway and into the kitchen seeing Chef Sixx attempting to flip pancakes, “Ow! Fucking piece of shit!” He shouted as the bacon popped oil onto him as he turned it.

“Need some help?” I asked him as he turned around to look at me, laughing as he did so

“Ha! Yeah right! I’m not letting you anywhere near this until it’s done. I’m not eating burnt bacon or doughy pancakes.” He continued to laugh as he started cracking eggs in a bowl before whisking them.

“I’ve learned to cook.” I mumbled as I sat down on the barstool, Nikki handing me a cup of coffee right after.

“Two sugars and a lot of creamer, right?” He questioned a smile on his face as he held up the spatula. I nodded and took a sip.

“How was the couch?” My lips tugged in a crooked smile as he had an unamused expression on his face.

“It was fine. Would prefer to keep your bed warm. But…it was fine.” Nikki exasperated, “I had Arianna’s fairy blanket to keep me warm since you didn’t give me a blanket or a pillow.”

I looked at Nikki, taking another sip of coffee “You didn’t ask for anything last night. So how am I suppose to know?”

Nikki scoffed as he turned towards the stove and continued cooking, “Keep it up and you won’t get any of this.”

I shook my head, “Not hungry anyways.” I smiled when Arianna came out into the kitchen, glaring at Nikki as she climbed up on the barstool next to me.

“Well too bad, you’re gonna eat. You’re too skinny still.” Nikki stares as he put a plate of mini blueberry pancakes, eggs and bacon in front of Arianna.

“Am not.” I told him as I watched Arianna push the plate away from her, “Are too. Your ass is getting smaller.”

Jeez, thanks asshole. As if I can’t see the weight loss when I look in the mirror.

I bit down on the inside of my cheek, “Eat your breakfast Ari so we can finish getting ready.”

She stuck her nose up, turning her head away, “I’m not eating that. It’s gross.”

I sighed, “How would you know that? You haven’t even taken a bite yet. Eat, now.”

“It’s gross cause he made it.” She spoke in a matter of fact type of tone, sticking her tongue out at Nikki, “Can I have cereal? I don’t want it.”

Nikki put a plate in front of me, “Look, I’ll eat mine if you eat yours.” I took a bite of the pancakes, moaning as they were good, “Holy crap.” I started shoveling them into my mouth. We’re they that good? Probably not. But I can’t remember the last time I ate something sufficient.

“Can I have yours?” I looked at Ari as she tried reaching for my bacon until I handed it to her, “Babe, you’re eating the same thing as me.” I chuckled as she took her own little pink fork and took a bite from my pancakes.

“I’m gonna go freshen up.” Nikki muttered as he tried smiling at Arianna who still returned a mean little glare towards him. He frowned before leaving the kitchen.

“You know…you can’t be mad at him forever.” I told Arianna as she started eating off her own plate.

“Yes I can.” She stared at me, “…not nice.” She said, mouth full of sugary syrup and pancakes as I shook my head.

“Daddy’s nice and you know it. You’re not being nice to him, calling daddy mean names and not talking to him. He loves you Ari and he’s sorry for what he did.”

“Fine. No more poo poo head.” She giggled before she continued eating. I kissed her forehead before hopping off the chair. I walked down the hallway, yawing as I headed to my bedroom to straighten up and get dressed for the day.

After the morning routine was over and Arianna was ready for the day, she wanted her hair braided with one of her pink bows at the end of it. I slipped on a pair of shoes and slipped a jacket over my shoulders, wincing at the discomfort of putting my arm back in the sling.

“You could ask for help..�� Nikki said, watching me struggle before coming over and helping anyways.

“Thanks.” I muttered, “Ari, you ready to go?” I asked her as she climbed off the couch and grabbed her backpack.

Arianna looked up at me and Nikki, “Will you walk me to my class?” She asked Nikki as he smiled at her before patting the top of her head, “Of course I will.”

When we arrived at her school a little while later, Arianna gave me a big kiss goodbye handing her a pink lunchbox right after, “I’ll pick you up later, okay?” I told her as she nodded and grabbed Nikki’s hand, tugging him towards the doors. I got back in the car, sitting down as I listened to the radio.

I glanced over seeing Nikki’s wallet was dropped on the floorboard. I reached down and grabbed it. I looked towards the doors and chuckled to myself. His wallet was stuffed full of cash. He’s such a hypocrite sometimes. He use to give me crap for always carrying around a lot of loose bills. I looked through his credit cards, he’s gotten two new ones that were a nice shiny black. I smiled at his goofy identification card, seeing him try to force a half assed smile. Nikki also had a guitar pick tucked inside the folds. A piece of paper was sticking out, but I realized it wasn’t a paper it was a picture. A picture of me and Arianna that Nikki had took when we spent the day at the boardwalk.

Through the tinted windows, I saw him coming back outside as I quickly stuffed the picture back in and tossed his wallet onto the seat, “Oh there it is. Thought I forgot it at your place.” Nikki grinned as he put his wallet in his back pocket.

“We have some where to be.” Nikki explained as he started driving away from the school.

I briefly glanced over, “Oh yeah? Where are we going?”

Nikki smiled at me, “You, Vanity Blackwood, have an appointment with your therapist.”

The smile fell from my face, turning into a scowl as I contemplated opening the door and jumping out, “You’re joking, right? Nikki c’mon.” I whined as I slumped back into the chair.

“Told you I was making you an appointment sweets. Did you think I was lying? You’re going and I’m gonna sit in there with you.”

*a little while later*

We sat side by side, knees resting against each other as we waited for my therapist to come in. I had my elbow perched up on the arm of the leather couch as I rested my cheek against my fist, watching the clock tick by slowly.

Nikki’s arm was wrapped around the back of the couch, his hand lightly rubbing my shoulder, “What time does Ari get out of school?”

With a monotone voice, “Three.”

I could heard the deep breath of annoyance as he took his arm and hand away from me and places his hands on his knees as he leaned over and grabbed some candy.

My ears perked up when I heard the door open, “Oh! I didn’t know we’d be having guests today. I’m Dr. Lilian Watson. Vanity, it is so nice to see you.”

“Yep, I’m here.” My voice oozed sarcastic cheer as I rolled my eyes, “This is Nikki.” I motioned to him as they shook each other’s hands.

“Oh…the Nikki. Vanity, I see there’s been some progress. What brings you in? It’s been a while since I’ve talked to you.”

I rolled my eyes at both the therapist and at Nikki, “He’s forcing me to be here

“She needed to come and see you.” Nikki butted in as I shook my head, growing more and more irritated.

Dr Watson adjusted in her chair, pushing her glasses up her nose, “Well Nikki, can you tell me why you think she needs to be here?”

Nikki chuckled, “She dislocated her shoulder last week due to driving under the influence of booze and narcotics. Busted her head open and had a bloody nose as well which is why I’m in New York to help her out but she’s not being appreciative of it.”

“Yeah, I see the sling.” She wrote some things down as I side eyed Nikki, “So, were still using?”

I reached for the bowl of candy on the table, “Not since the accident.” I shrugged and stuffed some m&ms into my mouth, “Incase you can’t tell, I’m being watched like a hawk. But I did stop for a while before then and then continued once I started hanging out with Jason again.”

“Who you shouldn’t even be hanging out with after last time.” Nikki butted in as I glared at him.

“I’m sorry? Are you my fucking husband?” I snapped, watching his eyebrows raise in surprise before turning away from me with a light shake of the head in disbelief.

“What happened last time?”

I groaned, “This was a bad idea.” I mumbled, eyes rolling as I sighed, “Jason got physical with me at the bar and Nikki beat him up for it. But Nikki doesn’t have room to talk when he was off getting high with the wife he was suppose to be divorcing when he should have been with his daughter.”

“I’ve gone to meetings in my free time, Vanity. Unlike you who just sits on this guys dick and gets fucking high!” Nikki fought back as he glared at me.

“I don’t do that!” I yelled at Nikki, feeling myself get worked up and by the smirk on his face, he knew it too.

“Okay, okay. Let’s just relax?” Dr Watson took off her glasses and pinched the bridge of her nose, “I don’t specialize in couples therapy, so Nikki in your opinion, can you tell me where the issues root from?”

Before Nikki could respond, “We’re not a couple actually so you don’t need to use that phrase.” I pointed out, my tone was extremely bitchy as Nikki let out a hushed Wow.

“Oh yeah? So I’ve just been hanging out here and taking care of you and making sure you’re good for no reason?” Nikki looked at me, “Seriously, not a couple?!?”

“Well we aren’t!!!” I fought back, “How could you even think we’re together?! Because we almost fucked that night?! You aren’t my boyfriend and you for sure aren’t my damn husband!”

In a raucous tone, “You and your fucking ten million reasons why! I had to go back! How many times do I have to explain myself?! I didn’t want to go back!”

“Uh maybe you could of told her to fuck off like the countless times you’ve told me to fuck off!” I continued to argue, my voice becoming hoarse from all the yelling, “Cause it’s all about me and Arianna.” I mocked his voice before rolling my eyes

“Because it is!”

I scoffed, “What? For a few more weeks until you find some new ditzy playboy?!”

Dr Watson cleared her throat as I sunk back into the leather couch, “Okay, let’s take a few breaths to get rid of some of this anger.”

Nikki reached for a handful of candy, stuffing his cheeks until they turned pink, “I’m not angry.” He mumbled as I scooted away from him.

“How is Arianna?” The therapist exhaled deeply as she looked at us with a forced smile.

“She’s fine, trying to get used to someone-“ I glanced over at Nikki “being around again. She’s in kindergarten now and is doing wonderful.”

Nikki piped up, “She’s a great kid, takes after her mother so wonderfully well.” He shook his head as he glared at me. I attempted to speak but he continued, “Coke angry Vanity and all of her fuckin tantrums don’t need to show up when Arianna is around. I grew up with a mother who used so I know what it’s like.”

“Yeah Vanitys mentioned a thing or two about you and your own addictions.”

“I am still trying to over come them everyday. I go to meetings, talk to my sponsor. I actually try.”

“And here comes the sob story.”

If Nikki wasn’t angry before I said that, then he sure as hell was now, “Sob story?! Are you fucking kidding me!?” Nikki grabbed the pillow I was holding onto and flung it across the room, “Me almost killing myself is a god damn sob story to you?! Fuck you, Vanity! You should know better than that! Christ sake, you’re apart of that sob story!”

“Nikki, I didn’t-“

“Didn’t mean it?! You never mean anything because you never fuckin do anything wrong, right?! Little miss princess Vanity with all her millions and millions of oil money can do no harm because everything about you is so god damn perfect, right?!” Nikki shouted, making me flinch at his loudness.

“What have I ever done to you? Except fuck Tommy more than once? Fucked Slash? What have I ever done to hurt you?” I questioned him as he stared at me.

“More than once?!”

“You had intercourse with Slash?” Dr Watson seemed genuinely surprised.

Through gritted teeth and a clenched jaw, “You fucked Tommy? Again?! When! You said it was only one time!”

“I-I didnt… I didn’t…”

He arched an eyebrow, “Now you’re gonna lie about it?! Did you fuck him again or not? Tell me right now Vanity.”

“Vanity, it’s alright. Just be honest about it with Nikki. It’s always a smart thing to share your past sexual partners with your current one.”

“I’m not fucking him!” I pointed at Nikki, “I don’t want to touch him and I don’t want him touching me! He probably got some fucking disease from his little wife.”

Nikki was more outraged at the fact I would call him dirty then anything else I’ve been saying, “I am clean, Vanity! Unlike you since you like to hop from dick to fucking dick!”

I smacked his arm, “Don’t talk to me like that!”

“Hit me again Vanity. I promise you won’t like what I do.” Nikki threatened as I almost took him up on it.

“Okay! Okay, stop it!” Lillian raised her voice a tad before clearing her throat, “Vanity, just be honest with Nikki. Nobody is hitting anyone."

“I slept with Tommy when he first came to New York, when he found me. I was emotional and he was there for me. You should be happy he was there for me Nikki!”

He laughed, “Happy?! Happy that my best friend stuck his cock in you?! Why should I be happy that you opened your fucking legs for him again?!”

“So clearly the issues run deep..” The doctor mumbled as I stared at Nikki with tears in my eyes, “I am sorry!”

“Sorry for what exactly?! Sleeping with my best friend? Running from me because of what I did? Sticking a needle into your god damn arm? Or keeping Arianna from me out of spite?!”

“Out of spite? None of this is out of spite, Sixx! None of it!” I cried to him as he shook his head, running a ringed hand over this face.

“Really?! So five years you just couldn’t call or write or fuckin mention we have a kid! Had to find out from coming back here and bumping into you out of luck!”

I looked away from him and at the therapist, “It wouldn’t be hard if he stopped fucking up! Do you know how many times I’ve had to deal with his shit! To pick up the pieces of what he’s done!! Maybe instead of shoving shit up your nose and crying over me like Tommy said you were, you should’ve tried a bit harder!”

Nikki was at his wits end with me, “Tried?! I fucking called your mother every god damn day! I wrote a fucking letter to you only for it to be sent back to the house! Don’t tell me I didn’t try! I would’ve gotten on my god damn knees for you! You were the one that didn’t try! You say I tossed you to the side, no! You fucking tossed me to the side! You left me! You fucking left without a trace! Left everything behind! Everything we had together like I was fucking nothing to you!” I watched him as I saw tears falling down his reddened cheek as he continued yelling his frustrations at me.

“You left me, Vanity. I wanted to fix it. You said it would have been better for us if I had just fucking died when I overdosed. Do you have any clue how that made me felt? How that simple sentence ripped my heart to shreds. I would’ve been satisfied with just your siblings or your mom telling me I was going to be a father. You knew how bad I wanted to be a dad, to have a family with you, to watch you carry my child. You chose to be selfish, Vanity.”

Our eyes stayed locked on one another as we sat in a silence that was choking me, “I’m not selfish.”

“Bullshit Vanity.” Nikki croaked as his tongue stuck out to lick away salty tears at the corner of his lips, “It’s always about you and what you want. You wanted to keep her away from me, you said you could keep going as a single parent not that long ago but I’m sure you would just keep paying Clementine to babysit her.”

“I never wanted to keep her from you!” My soft expression quickly turned into a scowl, “Do not bring Clem into this! She’s done nothing but help me!”

“Clementine practically takes care of her half the time while you’re off doing god knows what, Van! Don’t you see that?! I’d love to see how to it would’ve went if you didn’t find anyone.”

My eyes narrowed at him, “I’d be able to do it by myself! I don’t need you or anyone.”

My eyes stayed glued to his before I looked away when Dr Watson had put her notebook down, “I think we might be done with this session…”

“Yeah. That’s enough.” Nikki muttered as he fixed his shirt and grabbed his jacket from the table.

“Like I said, I’m not a couples therapist. But I think there’s a lot that needs to be uh, mended.”

He laughed, “No shit.” I quickly swatted his side, “Don’t be a dick. Thank you Dr Watson."

“Yeah, Thanks Watson.” Nikki spoke gruffly as we both started walking to the door, the therapist closing it right after us.

Nikki quickly grabbed my hand as he pulled me down the hallway. I saw his head shaking as he mumbled my name and profanities under his breath, “Ow, Sixx.” I winced as his rings were pinching my skin, “You’re hurting my hand.” I attempted to pull away from his grasp, he looked at me before opening up a door and shoving me inside, “What the fuck is your issue?!” I yelled as he flipped on the switch and slammed the door shut, blocking me from leaving even if I wanted too.

Nikki stepped closer to me, “You have a lot of fucking nerve acting like that in there.” I took a step back and bumped into the trash can Before I grabbed the counter of the bathroom to balance myself, “Just sitting there talking shit about Nikki and all the bad things he’s done to you.”

“I wasn’t talking shit!” I argued back, “And you started it! I was ready to have a nice peaceful session but no, you had to go and open your fucking-“ I instantly stopped talking when he closed the distance between us, roughly grasping my chin in the palm of his hand.

“There you go again! Blaming everything on me! Maybe if you weren’t such a fucking bitch I wouldn’t have to be an asshole to you! You ever think of that one, princess!?” Nikki forcefully pressed his lips to mine causing me to wince against the friction. Teeth scraping against my skin as I soon tasted a drop of blood on our lips, with a breath being deprived from my lungs as Nikki wrapped his hand around my throat, lightly squeezing as he did so.

I tried reaching for a fistful of his hair, on instinct alone his free hand captured mine in his as he held it behind my back. My nails scratched and pinched at his hand only for him to tighten his grip around my neck. A shaky, girly moan escaped through my lips as he took a step back, hand still wrapped around my throat as he broke out in an arrogant grin. His thumb traced over my bottom lip, wiping away the blood before he took it away and sucked it off himself.

I wrapped my fingers into his hair, roughly yanking his head down to continue the heated kiss. My tongue ran over his lip, before gently tugging on it with pearly whites. Nikki groaned as he placed his hands on my hips before his fingers found the button and zipper of my jeans. I pulled away from him, shoving his hands from me as I attempted to push my pants down. I let out a yelp before slapping my hand over my mouth when Nikki roughly grabbed me by my hair and dragged me to him, holding brunette strands by the root as he tilted my head back and pressed soft simple pecks to the front of my neck, “Let’s see if you remember who the fuck you belong too.”

The deep baritone of his voice sent chills down my spine as well as heat straight to my core. I tried to kiss him again but he refused to let me. His hand found my throat again, needy whimpers escaping. I followed his lips, mere inches from one another as his nose brushed against mine, “Nikki…” a pleading moan came from me as he chuckled darkly in return. His sage colored eyes were making my skin crawl in the best kinda way, knowing he was planning, thinking some of the most dirtiest things. I let my hands wander, landing on a silver buckle as I undid it and let it hang loosely on his hips.

Nikki backed me up until I hit the sink counter. He towered over me. one hand at the base of my neck, forcing me to keep eyes on him. I felt cold rings running down my body as he pulled the thin blue fabric down from between my legs.. An attempt to squeeze my thighs together due to the coolness failed when Nikki brought an open palm down on my ass. I closed my eyes before looking back up at him.

“Look at those pretty eyes just begging for me. Thought you didn’t need me, Princess?” I frowned at his words only for him to let out a laugh. His middle finger traced over my lip as I welcomed it, letting my tongue roll over the rough pad before sucking on the tip. Nikki added another finger to the mix, middle and ring now as I gave it the same treatment, “Dirty fucking girl.” He smirked in my face as he took his fingers from my mouth and placed them between my legs. My head tried dropping to watch what he was doing only for him to yank me by my hair, “Eyes on me. Only me.”

My lips parted when his fingers skillfully invaded my body, knuckle fucking deep. It was abrupt and sudden when his fingers began moving at a fast pace inside of me, fingers curling at just the right spot. The vulgarity of the sound of his palm slapping against my body bounced off the tranquil and zen picture frames that hanged on the wall.

“O-oh my god.” My voice was reduced to a whimper as he finally let his lips meet mine. I rested my hand on his shoulder, fingers gripping the hem of his shirt as I broke the kiss, “Nikki!! Fu-fuck!” I cried out for him, feeling him push another finger inside of me as he poked and prodded at the bundle of nerves inside of me. My eyes screwed shut, feeling them roll into the back of my head behind closed lids as I felt myself fall off the edge of pleasure.

“That’s it baby. Come apart for me, let me get a fucking taste.” Nikki relentlessly abused my insides until his hand was drenched with sticky wetness. I attempted to regain composure, pushing hair out of my face as I watched him suck and lick his fingers clean. Tattooed fingers engulfed themselves around chocolate strands of hair as he pulled my face towards his, warm and soft lips finding mine.

“Still taste so god damn sweet baby girl.” Nikki moaned as he grabbed me by my hips, roughly pulling me away from him before bending me over the counter, hair tangled in a fist as my cheek laid against the cool tile.

I closed my eyes, attempting to catch my breath as I listened to the sound of a zipper being pulled down followed by a sickening slap against my skin. I chewed on my bottom lip as I brought my head up, “Watch me.” Nikki growled as he yanked my head up a bit more. His free hand was wrapped around the base of his cock, giving long and slow strokes to himself.

My lips parted with a silent moan that never tumbled out as I felt Nikki press the tip to my entrance before pushing in. I breathed out a sigh of relief as I felt him fill me, completely. I noticed his bangs covering his eyes, but I could tell he was looking down at the intrusion of my body.

“O-oh fuck, Van.” Nikki moaned, sliding his cock out slowly slowly before sliding back into me “Fuck me.” He groaned, taking his hand away from my hair and digging his fingers into my hip His pace started increasing as his hips smacked against my bottom, fucking me harder and deeper.

Tattooed fingers found themselves curled over my shoulder, nails roughly scraping at my skin. My hips naturally started rocking into each of his thrusts, feeling my insides clench around his throbbing length. I closed my eyes, moans of his names falling off my tongue. An arm of his snaked around my body with a hand dipping underneath my shirt as he grabbed my tits, finger tips pinching and twisting my nipples.

“You feel so good, Nikki.” I breathed out, feeling his hand twist into my hair again. My neck crained back, his lips press against my forehead as he thrusted into me hilt deep. He moved my hair to the side, pressing rough and wet opened mouth kisses to my shoulder before nipping at the soft and delicate skin.

“You still take my cock so well, Princess. So fucking tight and wet for me. So…fuckin perfect.” Nikki breathed into my ear, nibbling gently as he did so. I turned my head just a bit, letting my lips find his before he broke the kiss and pulled out of me.

Nikki dragged me into a stall, making the door bang against the hinges as he sat down and pulled me over his hips.

“This isn’t sanitary.” I mumbled, “Ow!” A rude and sharp slap against my ass cheek ended all complaints I had.

“…don’t give a fucking shit.” Nikki stated in a husky tone as he gripped my hips, fingers digging into the skin roughly. I wrapped my hand around his throbbing member as I hovered over him, slowly sliding down onto it before I gripped his shoulder.

Pornographic moans fell from both of our lips as he buried himself inside of me. I started grinding my hips into his, feeling Nikki accommodate himself in the most delicious way. Nikki Sixx being the only man to ever do so.

Nikki cupped my jaw, pulling my face towards his as our lips touched in a slow and deliberate kiss. His tongue found mine as I tasted the fruity gum he was chewing on. His hips started thrusting up into me at a slow pace, “You feel that baby?” Nikki broke the kiss, his bright green eyes borrowing holes into mine. I nodded my head in a sheepish manner, “That’s all yours.”

I wrapped my free arm around his shoulder, leaning into his chest as I focused on his movements inside of me. He reached between our bodies, fingers dancing around my clit at a rapid pace. I closed my eyes, feeling myself clench around him. I knew he was close too by the way he twitched inside of me.

“Go on baby, cum all over this fuckin cock. Let me have it.” Nikki’s voice was strained as he tried holding off to let me hit my peak first.

“Nik-“ I moaned loudly, only for Nikki to put his hand over my mouth when the bathroom door opened up. My eyes rolled as he continued to thrust into me at a slower pace, smirking at me when I felt myself cum as I moaned into his hand.

“Shit..” Nikki whispered as he pulled out of me, taking his cock into his hand and giving himself a few rough pumps before he hit his end. I sat in his lap still, watching him jack himself off for a few more minutes until he relaxed onto the toilet he was perched up on.

We both heard the water start running as whoever came into the bathroom was singing to themselves, “Look.” Nikki whispered as he wrote ‘V&N’ on the stall with his own cum. I covered my mouth to keep my laughter in as I shoved his shoulder playfully.

“So romantic.” I mouthed before getting off his lap and pulling up my jeans and panties. I stepped out of the stall, the other woman smiling at me through the mirror as I washed my hands and fixed my unruly hair, wincing when my fingers brushed past my scalp. The women was taking her sweet time as she started checking her make up and fixing her own hair so I decided to leave the bathroom and waited out in the hallway.

My eyes went wide when I heard yelling coming from the bathroom, “Sorry!” Nikki yelled back as he stepped out of the bathroom, glaring at me, “I thought she left! Not you!” He shook his head at me as he reached for my hand.

“So, you wanna grab some food?” He questioned as he held the office door open for me and we stepped outside.

I wrapped my hand around his bicep as we walked to my car, "Yeah, I would like that." I smiled up at him, Nikki lowering his head down to give me a quick peck on the lips.

Nikki helped me into the car, closing it as I was situated. He started driving to wherever he decided to take us. He rested his hand on my thigh as I intertwined our fingers together.

I hope this meant good things were coming for us.

122 notes · View notes

weightlessau · 4 years ago

Text

Illegal Dreams [ateez; ot8]

after a very very long time i’m finally back (hopefully for good) please enjoy this story!

this was my entry for the ateez writing competition. i used all the prompts that were published by ateez.

4.7k words

no ships nor ateez x reader this time sorry :(

Member One

Big hands reach towards a black fedora and secure it on a man’s head. His face is covered with an equally as black mask, leaving only his sharp eyes on display. A long, dark coat swishes after him when he makes his way to the door, necklaces clinking against each other, making clear sounds echo through the empty, abandoned building. He lifts his hands up again and gestures towards the door. These gestures seem a bit foreign to him, fingers hesitating, arms getting tired quickly.

The effort pays off as a bright, golden light shines where the door was before, as if it was painted over. Suppressing the delight that he is feeling, the man quickly makes his way towards the dazzling light, stepping through, because he knows he does not have much time left before his amateur portal closes.

An unusual feeling spreads through his body. It is not uncomfortable, just very foreign. Before he even has the time to get his eyes used to the brightness, it subsides and the masked man can make out the faint outline of a man lying on a couch. He knows this man; he has been searching for this man for quite a long time. Not specifically him, but someone who could bring hope to the hopeless. And this man sleeping on the couch had the potential.

Hongjoong may seem like an ordinary man, but behind that facade hides a determined man, ready to take on the whole world at once just to fulfill the dreams that he is not allowed to have.

Dreams may be expensive in this world, but that never stopped Hongjoong. Even as a little boy, growing up less fortunate than his peers, he allowed himself a few sneak peeks into the world of the others. The others were not his peers; no, they treasured their expensive dreams too much; the others were the multiple versions of himself. The small boy did not know how he was able to breach the wall that the higher ups put up around dreams, but he never stopped climbing that wall over and over again, never telling anyone of his discovery.

They always say a child’s mind is the most creative; untainted and innocent. Hongjoong was one of the very few in this universe that was able to keep this child alive and turn into a creative adult. He kept this spirit alive, even though it came with many consequences.

Pens and several ripped pieces of paper are strewn on the coffee table in front of the sleeping man; cursed to never see the light of day, locked in the four walls of Hongjoong’s small apartment. If the government ever found out that he was being creative and conjuring up an illusion without buying any dreams, they would have his head. It is illegal and forbidden.

Just like the visit by the tall man cloaked in his dark suit. Forbidden in all the worlds. Slipping into a dimension you have no permission to visit. Mendling with time and space is dangerous and could lead to devastating situations. But the shadowed figure did not care. He has endured this hopeless torture for too long and he wants, no, he needs Hongjoong to bring light to the world again. To stop this exploitation of the desperate. To stop the selling of dreams, something that should be free to all in every universe.

His world has already progressed past the possibility of any hope. Hongjoong’s world, set in a time behind his own, still has a tiny glimmer of hope; or rather, eight glimmers of hope.

Picking up his hands again, he tries to remember what he has to do now. He learned everything he could before coming on to this important mission.

Drawing shapes and mumbling incantations, a light erupts again from the tips and the man seems to become almost transparent. There is no change of surroundings this time. The only thing that changes is the now stirring man on the couch, Hongjoong. The darkly dressed figure has done it, he has entered Hongjoong’s illegal dream.

Hongjoong does not notice the strange man looming over him, nor does he notice that he is still in his dream as he swipes his vibrant blue hair away from his eyes sleepily. Sitting up, he stretches his arms as far and as wide as he can.

“Kim Hongjoong,” the deep voice startles him, makes him draw in a shocked breath to repress the scream crawling up his throat, arms drawn in front of him. He cannot get caught directly after a dream, if the neighbours decide to call the police to investigate.

Before Hongjoong can come to his senses and question him, the man continues, “I don’t have much time, so you have to listen carefully.” The voice suits the tall man, dark and deep.

“There are countless dimensions in the world. You are just one of many. Hope remains for you that is why i need your help. Seven men, all from different backgrounds, are forlorn, waiting for your call. Help them see the illusion and you can change the world together, forever.”

Hongjoong has no time to ask, to even observe the man as the near transparency fades more and more.

“Remember, it’s not the reality that makes you lose your dream. It is your decision,” his voice is getting more muffled with every word he utters, “So I advise you to make the right one.” And he is gone.

Hongjoong startles awake, suddenly realizing that he had been asleep the whole time the masked man talked to him. Before he can doubt the words that were relied to him, he sees it. Next to him he sees an hourglass for the first time, and the sand begins to flow from the bottom up.

His mission has begun.

Tender hands carefully picks up the glowing hourglass. Gingerly Hongjoong tilts the hourglass from side to side, slightly, curiously watching as the sand keeps flowing up, up, up. Corn by corn the sand floats against gravitation, breaking the laws of physics.

Tilting the hourglass more steeply, Hongjoong suddenly realizes that the sandcorns all point towards one direction, no matter how he turns the figure in his hands. A compass, Hongjoong deducts.

To the next member.

Member Two

When he was younger his parents told him to stop. Stop dreaming, stop talking about his friend, stop trying to dress like him, stop trying to get into the large black fedora of his grandfather, stop dragging the long dark coat onto his small young shoulders.

Eventually he did stop. He stopped dreaming and even suppressed the visits of his friend, turned away from accidental daydreams and lost sleep at night, violently waking himself up whenever he saw the dark silhouette of his older lookalike.

Now Jongho has grown up from a boy to a man; from a happy, hopeful boy to a forlorn young man.

He made new friends, real friends that do not look like an older replica of himself. Friends that can show their hair and their faces.

Year after year Jongho tries to forget his friend; and with him the happiness he felt back then. If he does not know that feeling he would not miss it, right? With no luck.

Every day he asks himself the same two questions.

“Where am I now?”

“Where should I go?”

Without any hope Jongho just wanders through life, trying to distract himself by playing basketball with his friends on the weekends.

“Jongho! Do you want to walk back home together?” one of his friends asks him after a basketball game, ready to go back home.

“No, man, you can go ahead without me, I want to chill some more,” Jongho smiles up at him from his seat on the side bench.

After all his friends are gone, the basketball court turns quiet and empty, people passing by occasionally. The sun starts setting, but Jongho cannot bring himself to look up, his arms resting on his thighs and his head bowed down.

Hopelessness is starting to spread once again.

Jongho’s murmur breaks the silence, “Where am I now?” A heavy sigh follows. He does not know. Physically he is at the court, but where is he really? At what point of his life is he? What has he achieved and what does he want to achieve? It is not like he has the luxury to buy himself some dreams from the shop and he is forbidden from ever accessing the part of himself that can dream naturally. Showing signs of an illusion can be dangerous in this world, if it is not registered and controlled by the government.

Not being able to imagine where he is in his mind, Jongho is also unable to allow himself to imagine where he wants to go next.

Exhaustion engulfs Jongho, mentally and physically, making him close his eyes for a second. Or more. He drifts off for a short while, bodyweight slightly slumping more onto his thighs.

The only thing Jongho can hear is his own breathing and even is in his focus less in less. His breathing slows down and he allows himself to calm his heartbeat even more after just running around for the past hour or two.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

“Kim Hongjoong.”

Jongho instinctively jumps up, immediately standing pin straight after hearing that whisper echo dangerously close to his ear.

“Find Kim Hongjoong and end your sorrow,” the whisper sounds again.

Frantically Jongho looks around the court, trying to find a figure that could have said these words, but he sees no one, not even outside the gate.

“It is not reality that makes you lose your dream, Jongho.” His heart is beating in his throat and his hands are sweating profusely. He still cannot see anyone, but the voice is ringing a bell in his mind.

“It is not reality, but your decision, Jongho.”

It can not be. There is no way. He is awake, and not dreaming.

“Find Kim Hongjoong. Make the right decision.”

It is his own voice. Jongho recognizes his own whisper echoing to him on the court.

“Dream again,” his own voice whispers to him and then silence returns to the court and Jongho wakes up with a startle.

So he was asleep without even realizing it. Jongho dreamt again after a long time.

He heard from his friend, his dear friend that he so desperately tries to forget. But there is no doubt that it was him, even after more than a decade of avoiding him, Jongho is sure that it was his lookalike from another universe. A universe a little more advanced in time than Jongho’s is, the other told him when they were younger.

Tales of multiple universes each a little bit different than the other, each unique in their own way but yet so similar. These tales always fascinated the little Jongho when he was growing up. What he did not realize back then was that not everyone could see what he could. No other friend of his could see his older friend from another universe, nor could they dream like him without taking the expensive potion from the shop. Jongho became an outcast, doing illegal things at the young age of five, maybe even younger he cannot remember. Thankfully no one ever told on him. His innocent, hopeful mind filling the empty hearts of many discouraged adults, who just wanted to give a little boy a piece of happiness.

“Kim Hongjoong,” Jongho repeats the name he learned out loud, “who are you, Kim Hongjoong?”

Taking fast steps Jongho makes his way home the second he shakes himself out of his shock. He does not doubt that what he experienced was not real. A dream can be more than just an illusion and he has to find the reason why his friend came back over a decade later, just to tell him these few words and vanish immediately after. The internet can help him on his search. The name is an unusual one so he should be able to find an answer.

Jongho’s fingers fly over the keyboard as he types.

“Kim Hongjoong, Kim Hongjoong, Kim Hongjoong,” he repeatedly mumbles under his breath as he skims the first page of Google. Nothing. His hands glide the cursor to the second page and he clicks through that one.

“No, no, not that one either.” The silence in the room is filled with the clicking of the mouse and Jongho’s grumbling.

“Who are you, Kim Hong-” He stops dead in his tracks. There it is.

“Kim Hongjoong,” Jongho starts reading out loud, feeling like he has already uttered that man’s name for the nth time, “looking for another individual, who saw a dark concealed man in a black fedora and black mask, wearing a long black coat.”

His contact number is posted under his post and without giving himself a second to reconsider, Jongho has already picked up the phone and pressed the numbers in.

He has made his decision.

Member Three

At one point in life you have to make a decision that can change your entire world. Wooyoung realized that after the man with the black fedora visited him in an unexpected dream.

As someone who has never before experienced a thing such as a dream, Wooyoung has to say it was a little bit disappointing. It was nothing like his richer classmates had told him it would be. No crazy things he could never imagine, no, instead he got the same place where he fell asleep, on his desk at school, just with the not so mind blowing addition of a man in black. It felt like a joke to him. Wooyoung had not even realized that he was in a dream until after he woke up.

But even if it was underwhelming, two things significantly stood out to Wooyoung, leaving him with questions.

What did the man with the exact same voice as him mean with “making a decision”? How is he supposed to lose a dream if he never even bought one?

He thinks back to the decision a good friend of his made a long time ago.

San, Choi San. His lost friend, who vanished from one day to the other with no warning whatsoever. He had made his decision.

But could Wooyoung make one?

He gave up on the easy way out to find his friend. He searched and searched all he could, but after months of waiting for San to come back to school Wooyoung gave up. Evidently he did not want to be found.

But maybe he is wrong. Maybe he should not have given up and taken the easy way out of his problem. Maybe that is what the masked man meant.

“Look for your friend and do not stop until you have found him.”

Maybe then they can find a way together to finally dream their first dream.

Wooyoung is not going to give up this time. He stands up, determined, and rushes out of the classroom, away from the startled teacher.

He is only going to think about one thing now.

Member Four

Living without dreaming is a normal thing for a guy like Mingi. Dreams are too lavish for the poor. Mingi’s innocence was lost at a young age as he had to start working early due to extreme poverty. There was no time, much less money, for Mingi to stop and dream. In a world where dreams, a way to escape reality, are highly valuable, legalized drugs, Mingi has to work hard to get by. There is no time for him to be hopeful, to think about a world where he has everything he could ever want. Even if everything he wants is just a permanent home, not an old furnished warehouse where the social worker, Hongjoong, would drop by every once in awhile to check on him.

Speaking of the devil, Hongjoong barges into his temporary home very uncharacteristically. In his delicate hands he holds an hourglass. There is something off about it, but Mingi cannot pinpoint what it is.

“The sand kept flowing faster the closer I got,” Hongjoong pants the second he enters through the doorway, “and it pointed towards your direction and, Mingi,” he takes another deep breath, “I think you may be the next one to the puzzle,” he points his shaky finger at Mingi, who just stands there, perplex, “ and I can’t believe it’s actually someone I know! I can’t comprehend it! This thing is just so strange, one day I’m dreaming illegally and now I’m supposed to bring together seven more people and spread hope?” Hongjoong gestures around wildly, talking with his hands, now that he has regulated his breathing.

Before he can get even more animated, Mingi grabs Hongjoong’s shoulders and looks him deep in the eyes, “Hongjoong, calm down.” He shakes him lightly, just enough to make it clear that he is present. “Now tell me what you are talking about, I have no idea what you’re even saying.”

“I need to find more people for my team! The man with the black fedora told me,” Hongjoong says while looking up into the confused eyes of his friend, Mingi.

“What man with a fedora?”

“He visited me in my dream and gave me this compass, I’m supposed to help you dream.”

“Hongjoong,” Mingi’s shoulders are slumped forward, head hanging low, “you know that I can’t dream. Why would you try?”

“Why would I try?” Hongjoong’s loud outburst echoes through the empty warehouse. “The government steals our hope! Don’t you see it, Mingi? We’ve been given the opportunity to change that! Just imagine it!” This time Hongjoong is the one gripping Mingi’s shoulders tightly. “Just imagine a world full of dreams! And hope!” Excitedly, Hongjoong shakes Mingi, while Mingi just looks down at the other and endures it, indulges in this ridiculous idea of free dreams for a few seconds before reality will come crashing down on Hongjoong.

“It’s not possible, Hongjoong. At least not for many people. You may be an exception, but you don’t even know anyone else that is like you. Stop getting your head up to the clouds and return to reality.” Mingi is starting to get a little angry the more he thinks about it. As if he does not suffer enough from hopelessness. Hongjoong does not have to rub it in that he can dream naturally.

“That’s the thing!” Hongjoong paces back and forth and raises his voice again. “It’s not reality that makes you lose your dream, it’s your decision! Your decision of listening like a good little marionette or actually do something against the stolen desires!” He stops in his tracks and abruptly turns towards Mingi again. One finger pointing at his tall figure and the other hand on his hips, he continues his rant, “and I did find someone else that can dream freely. His name is Choi Jongho, he contacted me just an hour ago and has agreed to meet up with us in two hours at the city center, so get ready, because you’re coming with me.”

Member Five

Moving, moving, moving and, once again, moving. San is sick of his life. The life of a nomad.

He had wished that they would stay in this town a little bit longer. He had found friends here and was happier than he had ever been. But of course his happiness was crushed when he was told that they had to move again. Over night, he had to pack his bags and leave the city abruptly, as if he is a criminal on the run from the police. Which he technically was, dabbling in the very illegal art of recreating the dream potion.

He throws his two bags onto the moving car. After years upon years of moving he only has two bags full of valuables left now. One for his clothes, the other one for his little amateur chemist lab.

San is so sick of his life. Every day he wishes he could just escape. Just leave and never come back.

“Why can’t I?” he mumbles to himself, swinging his legs on the side of the moving truck, “what is holding me back from leaving?”

The car stops at a light, San grabs his bags and jumps out of the car.

Nothing is holding him back from leaving.

Member Six

Adults always tell Yeosang “look up at the stars in the night sky. That should be enough dreaming for you. Buying dreams is useless.”

But whenever Yeosang looks up at the sky, he sees darkness. Not a light shines through the thick blanket of hopelessness, no rip, no gleam of change.

The stars are not enough of a replacement for dreams. They are not meant for that. And Yeosang realizes that, which is why he walks around, not with his head in the clouds but with his eyes on the ground.

Just like he is doing it now, head down he walks around in the crisp night. His bleached hair falls into his eyes, but Yeosang does not bother pushing the strands back. There is no use. Like everything in life.

He is ripped out of his thoughts when he suddenly feels a sharp pain in his shoulder and falls on his back.

“I’m so sorry,” a voice gasps. As Yeosang looks up he can see a young boy reaching out to him on the floor, unsure if he can touch him and help him up or not. Yeosang makes the decision easy for him and takes the offered hand, heaving himself up.

“It’s alright,” Yeosang mumbles in a monotone voice. He does not have the energy to actually reassure the other guy right now.

“No, no! It’s not! I can tell that you’re in pain,” the other points at the sagging left shoulder that Yeosang is still rubbing, “I’m meeting up with someone in half an hour, but I can buy you ice cream as an apology if you want!”

Yeosang looks around. He must have walked all the way to the city center while he was lost in his thoughts.

“Alright,” he accepts. What is the harm? He does not have anything to do anyways.

With that they now walk side by side, looking for the next ice cream shop.

“I really am sorry.”

“Stop apologizing, you’re buying me ice cream already.”

“Alright, alright. My name is Jongho,” he introduces himself, as if he is trying to make a new friend.

“I’m Yeosang.” And they are back to silence.

“You know,” Jongho carefully starts, “I saw that you were a bit dejected and I just want to tell you to not give up.” A kind smile stretches his full lips, but Yeosang can only scoff as he takes the ice cream that Jongho is holding out to him.

“Dreams are useless,�� is all Yeosang says to Jongho before he walks away.

Jongho does not relent and comes back, jogging to the position next to Yeosang again.

“It’s not the reality that makes you lose your dream, it’s your decision.”

“But what decision can I make that makes me dream?”

“You can come with me and I can show you.”

Member Seven

Running. Running until his legs cannot carry him anymore. Cars beep at him, cursing him out as he rushes past red lights and green light alike.

His whole life he has been dreaming with Seonghwa. Showing up in each other’s dreams, playing around, having fun, but now he is just gone. Seonghwa disappeared and never came back to Yunho’s dreams again.

Night after night he takes his dream potion and waits for Seonghwa’s return, but no luck. Even less luck now, because Yunho ran out of potions and he only realized when he wanted to go to bed.

Now he is sprinting towards the dream shop before it closes for the night. He has to get at least one potion. What if tonight is the night Seonghwa comes back and Yunho is not there to greet him?

But luck has left him. The shop is closed. He is too late.

A group of four men are standing in front of the shop too, so he asks them for help.

Maybe he is addicted, but he cannot think straight, he has to find his friend and if that is only by dreaming every single night, then so be it.

“Do you guys maybe have a potion that I could buy off of you?” Yunho pants, “I really need one just for tonight, I’m willing to pay extra, my friend, I need to find my friend.”

The four men just look at him in confusion before the smallest of the group speaks up, “I'm sorry, but we don’t have any potions.”

He says this loud enough for another man, standing a few steps away to hear.

“You’re looking for potions? I have some, if you want?” his whole face is sharp and the smile pulling at his lips, make Yunho question the man's intentions, but he does not care for now.

There is no need to be extra cautious as the man immediately clears why he is so suspicious, “I made them myself and tested them. They work just as well as the one’s sold by the government.”

This seems to make the quartett perk up as well.

“How much are you selling them for?” the tallest one, as tall as Yunho, asks.

And with that the six of them come to an agreement to form a little group. Hopeless achievers that just want to reach an illusion.

“I may know someone else that would agree to do this with us,” San, the an with the sharp face, says and pulls out his phone. Yunho catches a glance of him unblocking a number belonging to a “Woo”.

Member Eight

Everyone left, but only her scent remains. No name or address to be known. As if Seonghwa was dreaming within his own dream, it all faded away.

She only left behind the ocean waves that used to crash against her walls. Her woody smell does not leave Seonghwa’s mind. And Yunho, too. He, too, never came back. No friend to accompany him on his adventure within a dream.

Seonghwa cannot fathom what happened. It is as if he is having a nightmare within his dream.

Where is everyone?

That is what the newly formed group of seven wonder as well. What happened to Seonghwa and where is the hourglass pointing towards?

With no clue as to where to go next, they go to sleep in the warehouse.

“Open your eyes.”

It is the masked man again, except there are eight of him.

Hongjoong rubs his eyes and notices that, no, that is not the same man eight time, but rather a group of men.

“Open your eyes,” Hongjoong’s voice echoes through the warehouse again, but his own mouth is closed.

“Find Seonghwa and fulfill dreams. Find him and you will find your treasure. Follow the hourglass.”

And with that the seven jump awake all at once. Looking around San tries to find the eight men that just visited their dreams.

“Those were,” Yeosang starts, eyes wide, “those were us?”

“Yes, us from another dimension,” Jongho answers him.

“And the eighth was Seonghwa!” Yunho excitedly tells them.

Quickly they pack up their things and follow any direction the sand corns point at. The sand flowing faster and faster the closer they get to Seonghwa. Until they find him at the seashore, sitting on the sand, head in his hands.

From another universe, the masked people watch as the last corn floats up, leaving the bottom empty.

But not for long. Now that they are together, the mission has just begun.

Eight Makes One Team

And just like that eight men came together as one team.

As adventurers, pirates, criminals, delinquents or whatever you want to call them.

They call themselves

ATEEZ

And they have a mission.

Spread hope and happiness and make people dream again freely. No matter at what cost.

Will you join them?

#feedback and requests are welcome #ateez #ateez au #ateez imagines #kpop imagines #masterlist #weightlessau #weightlessau masterlist #ateez writing #ateez one shot #ateez oneshot #kpop oneshots

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kytcordell · 4 years ago

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Why Do I Create?

Compulsion

I cannot stop creating.

In fact, I’ve tried--multiple times. There have been so many occasions on which the frustration and self-loathing associated with creative pursuits was psychologically crippling to the point where I did try and stop. But I never stopped inventing stories in my mind. I never stopped creating characters. I never stopped following artists I liked, basking in distant envy at the skills I believed I could never attain.

It has taken me a lifetime to really distill the true reason behind why I create. As much I would like to say that I’ve “always just loved drawing and expressing myself,” this simply wouldn’t be true nor an accurate representation of the relationship I have with art. At this point, I’m not sure if the word “passion” or “love” quite captures why I create. I would describe it more as a feverish need--a compulsion. I actually don’t even quite see myself as the “owner” of my works or ideas, but rather, as the vessel which serves them. Every ounce effort I put toward creative endeavors is a means of honing myself into a more suitable vehicle for delivering ideas into being.

For most of my life, I had an extremely pathological and maladaptive sense of self that resulted from nearly 26 years of physical and psychological abuse. It took me a long time to even recognize that what happened to me was in fact abuse. I used to shy away from the word because it seemed too self-pitying and dramatic. It still sometimes feels that way, despite the fact I objectively know that if anyone (let alone a parent) ever pulled a knife on me now, I would call the police without a second thought.

I won’t go too much into the details of what happened because it isn’t really worth delving into. But I was essentially raised as if I were an investment fund and not a person. My entire purpose was to be useful so my mother could stop having responsibilities of any kind. I was not raised with own personal well-being and future stability in mind. This meant that a non-lucrative career was unacceptable. My art was ever only appreciated in the context of bragging rights or winning awards. This of course, manifested in my relationship with creative pursuits.

Narcissism

My adolescent motivations for drawing were fueled mostly by pure, unadulterated narcissism.

I drew semi-seriously throughout high school. By that, I mean I quickly figured out what kinds of skills were considered impressive for that age group and did well at shows and competitions. I wanted to feel superior and adored at any cost, and while I embodied the external talking points of “being humble, always learning, etc.” deep down, I clung to the idea that I was better than everyone else. I couldn’t handle critique emotionally, despite acting receptive. I was completely consumed by the idea of being some kind of perfect, “talented” golden child.

I managed to get very good at copying photos and rendering, while neglecting all the skills that contribute to being able to design characters or draw from imagination. I didn’t really pursue art with any real level of personalized focus. I just liked feeling like I was better than people and knew more than the other kids. Honestly, every single aspect of my life revolved around this mentality.

I held onto the idea of “being good” as a trophy because that was the only mode of thought that my psyche could accept. It was easier to embrace narcissism and even just accept being a shallow social climber than to face the far more harrowing truth:

That I was afraid I’d never have the skills to manifest my ideas.

In fact, I talked myself into believing for ages that I didn’t care that much about my ideas. They would never amount to anything. And having self-indulgent, non-utilitarian attachments to my stories and OCs felt like a weakness. I needed to rationalize my own shortcomings with a guise of indifference.

Revererence

I stopped drawing for about seven years after high school. And even during high school, I didn’t do anything that remotely resembles the kind of ‘grind’ that I’ve put myself through the last 2.5 years. Frankly, I’m amazed I got as far as I did even with being a human copy machine that produced lifeless 1:1 images of candles. With each year I passed, I grew increasingly uncomfortable with the fact I always knew deep down--I just wasn’t that good. I mean, I was pretty good for a guy in high school. But my holistic sense of composition, invention, and execution was near non-existent. I went through a few attempts of returning to art, only to be so overwhelmed with my own incompetence that I would just go back to the “I don’t care that much about art” script I had gotten so good at conning myself into.

It was not until I had a complete mental breakdown due to my psychotic cunt of a mother threatening my safety and sanity that my long-con finally broke. I had a moment where I just accepted that I had no fundamentals, my skills were trash, and most of all--I was not okay with them being trash. From that point, I started desperately seeking out resources and practicing to improve. Receiving criticism (while I really appreciated it objectively) was psychologically devastating to me. Every single imperfection was a reminder of “lost time” and the years I had spent lying to myself.

It wasn’t until I discovered Loomis, Hampton, Draw-a-Box, Proko, and many other reputable art resources that I managed to start hitting the pavement and making the kind of gains I wanted. I drew sometimes for 12-16 hours a day even while I was homeless and living on a friend’s couch due to having to flee my home at the time. Through all of this, I shed all my notions of “being talented” or needing to delude myself into feeling like I was good. No, I was dogshit and I needed to do something about. I think the biggest hurdle people face when trying to get good at anything is accepting that they are bad. You cannot improve until you fully and wholeheartedly accept that you have problems that need fixing.

I went from approaching things from a place of narcissism to a place of reverence. A lot of what instilled this change in me was observing people that I admire. Those that are highly competent (in any craft) tend to be realistic and humble about their shortcomings. The very process of attaining mastery forces you to realize that there is an infinite scale of improvement. This isn’t to say that people who are good can’t also get full of themselves. But at least among the individuals I gravitate towards, there is a general sense of reverence and genuine modesty. On the other hand, people who are mediocre frequently have very large egos. Unfortunately, there is a lot egotistical, irrational, whiny-bitch anti-progress behavior that is prevalent in art circles. I realized just how cancerous conceit and ego could be. It had destroyed my progress for years and I was watching complete hacks insist they were gods atop mount stupid. It was truly the Dunning-Krueger effect in action.

Many of the people I encountered in the art community early on were pretty mediocre and had a terrible sense of fundamentals. Again, this would be fine if they didn’t insist on acting like experts on the topic. (Plenty of people draw for fun and don’t care about being good and there is nothing wrong with purely pursuing something for leisure.) However, I unfortunately ran into quite a few extremely petty people had no idea of how to actually get good at anything, and were annoyed at the fact I had prioritized working on fundamentals. People that I engaged in good faith soon attempted to derail conversations and questions I had about technique and improvement. Crabs in a bucket bullshit, really.

Anyone knows me also knows that I have no tolerance for bullshit or “UwU bitches” making “it’s my style” excuses for being technically incompetent. (Which isn’t to say accuracy is always more important than style, but using “style” or “aesthetic” as an excuse for a lack of skill or competence is extremely common among mediocre artists). Likewise, I also encountered people who manifested narcissism in the opposite direction. The opposite of the “it’s muh style” camp were people who endlessly liked to talk about theoretical technical knowledge. Sometimes they were good at one skillset or another, but generally lack any kind of concept or actual artistic vision. It was like they had lost sight of expression goals in favor of shit talking and dropping advanced art vocabulary.

I realized that no amount of shit-talk, posturing, or external validation was going to make me good at art. I always knew that, but watching people descend into the abyss of self-sabotage just reminded me what was at stake. I would rather never “feel” like I was superior than run the risk of delusional overconfidence. Likewise, I broke out of the trap of thinking technical skill could somehow compensate for a lack of good ideas or artistic vision. Nothing matters more than the clarity of expression, and skill is but a conduit for said expression. I would rather feel eternally small and striving for a forlorn dream than run the risk of being 10 years down the road cranking out trashy, vapid content while thinking I’m some kind of omnipotent art god.

I draw because I cannot stop. It’s like being touched by fire that you cannot quell or erase. I work to improve because I want to depict my stories and characters with the finesse, nuance, and artistry that I admire in so many others. I truly feel there is no point in pursuing art seriously if you do not have a voice, a “vision” for why you create. Looking back, the motivation that kept me going through the hardest struggles was the desire to succeed in communicating my stories and concepts. I am but an acolyte eternally striving for even a brief glimpse of an ephemeral muse.

#Art #Art Philosophy #Why I Draw #Personal

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spacegaywritings · 5 years ago

Text

Communication of Silence - Chapter 11 Spi(c)es

Logan and Virgil are at work together but have different shifts at the library. Virgil gets to leave earlier and grabs some food with Remy. Roman makes interesting discoveries and does not know what to feel about it but he is sure Virgil is shadier than he lets on at first glance.

TW: food mentions/eating, working, watching other people, therapy talks, implications of insomnia/ED etc, Roman being a bit radical and protective, slightly stalkerish? and creepy roman, Virgil being shady af (aka dealing drugs, implied)

Tell me if you need me to tag any more than this!

Virgil uses he/they pronouns (for the day) in that chapter so the pronoun use is split for a reason. Yes, they do that for a reason. Just read on, it should be a topic later ao3 link *clicky* read under the cut:

A yawn could be heard and Virgil rubbed the sleepy tears from his eyes. Work was almost over for him and he had barely gotten any sleep after whatever this shitty thing had been with Logan.

The nerd was in the break room working on some project for one of his classes while Virgil had to take the front desk. One of their colleagues had just arrived and was getting ready in the back so they would be able to take Virgil’s part.

Only a few more minutes and Virgil would be on his way to leave. Today was one of the rare days during which he could not even relax with the smell of books surrounding him. A book on folklores from all over the globe was on his lap but he had not bothered turning the page in a long time. By now, it was more decoration than anything else. It was a comforting weight on top of that.

Another yawn caught him and he squeezed his eyes shut and covered his mouth for he was in public and attempted to maintain proper behaviour. However, it did not seem to be enough for some people.

“Dear gosh, this is so rude! Do you greet every costumer like that?”

Ah, that sound. It was the all too familiar noise of annoyance embodied by an actual person. He would have wished to call her a boomer but she was not. She looked like a woman in her uh.... late 30s, maybe fourties. Someone who decided to re-evaluate her life and start studying again even though it was lat. Nothing wrong with that but some people forgot that this was literally a bunch of tired student helping over tired students during the phase of upcoming deadlines for finals, assignments and other kinds of projects.

And there was a slender woman. Taller than him, rather fair skinned in nature but seemingly tanned by artificial help. Wasn’t tan actual damage to the skin? Why would that look healthy to anyone? Society was so weird and he was sure Logan had taught him that shit when they compared their skin colours at some point when working together on putting books into their respective places. (Nobody thought it was fair that Virgil would not put books away since he was small and he did not mean getting some help if it meant not sitting at the help desk and interact with people who smelled of desperation or entitlement at worst.) Virgil barely got to forcefully shut his own jaw and stop the yawn. Uncomfortable.

The woman was already ranting. For the sake of it, the emo just named her Karen. If he had to deal with her, he might as well try to mentally make it a bit more humorous.

He leaned back. On the outside, he seemed okay, awfully calm and probably just sleepy. The woman seemed to hate it and her head was already red as she demanded some book. He could not even ask which one it was because she rapidly blabbered herself into rage.

Did she even want help?

“Um, like.. What do you want?”

Karen had taken one moment to breathe in and Virgil was quick to slip a bookmark between the pages he had long given up on. He had spoken now and taken the wind out of her sails.

Her glossy, empty cans of eyes stared into him without any sense of understanding.

“Excuse me?”

Virgil supported his arm on his elbow and let his chin rest on his outstretched palm. He was not made for costumer interaction. Was it even a costumer? He did not exactly get money from them unless they had to pay overdue loan fees for keeping books for too long.

“I asked you what you want. You kinda talked for like”, he moved his left hand in a circle as if to show that it was an estimate rather than an actual calculation, “two minutes or something.” He shrugged. “Keep it short, it is 2 in the afternoon and I have no attention span for people yelling at me in a library.”

His voice sharpened at the end as to give an extra emphasis to the word library because it was a place of being silent. She was anything but silent.

The woman let out an unholy shriek and her angry eyes narrowed as she tried to eat his poor unfortunate soul.

“You are not listening to me and then you even dare to be this rude to me, a costumer? The costumer is always right and you suck at your job! If you keep up your shitty attitude, I will tell your manager and get you fired.”

Virgil sighed.

“I still do not know what you want. Do you want to return a book, request the library to get a special book or do you want to loan anything? Do you need help finding a book? You know, there is a computer that does not talk back at you, if you want to try with that.”

He pointed towards a row of computers, some of them having special signs to indicate that they were without internet access but only served as means to navigate around the library and find certain books.

Somehow, that must have been the most offensive couple of words ever used around the woman. She seemed to puff up in anger, her hair curling a bit and her face tinting a reddish shade.

“How dare you! You are being so rude! I thought student knew better than to disrespect their elders!”

She went on saying that she wanted to see his manager, had never been mistreated like this before and found it to be an “audacity” to be disregarded like that. Suddenly she started dashing out claims of having been insulted and discriminated against.

Virgil sighed and checked the clock. Yeah, two minutes. It was time to go and he was sure Tiara was gonna be there any second now. He rose to his feet and picked up his bag.

“Where are you going, young man?”

Ugh.. that card... He barely spared her a glance and pocketed his book.

“My shift is over and you are my colleague’s problem now.”

The small student put his bag on and blinked at her before he left his desk. His sass sparked the explosion.

“I want to speak to your manager right now! I am going to get your little ass kicked you stupid -”

She never got around to finishing this sentence but he was sure she was going to say something racist, funnily enough. But glory had it, someone behind her cleared his throat and adjusted his sunglasses.

“Ma’am”, the taller man spoke. He was probably taller because of his hair standing up.

“I am the manager and I am afraid I need you to leave. If you resist, I will ban you from this location and inform campus security about your disturbing presence.”

The woman turned around. Upon seeing the man in a leather jacket and sunglasses, she frowned.

“You are the manager?”

Her words sounded like the hiss of a snake that just met their worst enemy. Eyes narrowed, she focused on the slightly smaller man than him who just nodded towards Virgil.

“Ma’am, I asked you to leave the property. Virgil, I think you need to inform security and help this lady out”, he started and leaned in a bit, his voice just turning a bit sharper than his words already were. “Tell them to inform the police for resistance.”

By now, her head was redder than a glowing fire. She was smoking about as much. Virgil tried to look as nonchalant as ever when he picked up the phone, face unbiased as if he had never picked a side in his life.

The woman let out another screech of fury. It sounded a bit like an angry Chihuahua, ready to eat your fingercap off your hand without hesitation. She was dead serious but so was the manager. Virgil started dialing and clicked his tongue, his dark eyes looking past her raging form.

When he opened his mouth, she stomped her foot and hurried off, he gloomy eyes shooting daggers at the leather-clad man for another moment before she stomped through the library and back outside again.

Virgil immediately dropped the phone and put everything away, his hands rushed as if he was handling hot potatoes.

“Fuckfuckfuck, what if she gets me fired!?”

He ran his hands through his hair, calming the heat and dissipating the energy in his sudden kick of anxiety. The man with the sunglasses walked over and pouted at him.

“Really, you are going to panic before you even greet me? I expected better from you”, he whined and stretched out his arms to take Virgil’s bag. “That bitch cannot do shit and she totally believed I am the manager. Did you see her panic when I mentioned the police? I fucking broker her, like, TBH she will not come back when you are around again.”

His shoulders flexed under the black fabric of his heavy jacket. Eyes rolled under his sunglasses that he wore despite the rather cozy dimness within the building. Outside, it was cloudy and horridly white but there was no sun to illuminate the day. Still, looking up into the sky would hurt worse than looking into the warmth of the sun for just a moment.

“Come on, you don’t need that job anyway and you can get other jobs if she really gets through with this”, he nudged the other who just looked up at him, eyes swollen in worry and decidedly looking at the other, then past him. He made the impression there was something to look out for. “Also, I fucking killed that performance. I want a bit of recognition here.”

He sing-sang his latter sentence, the words and notes wrapping around Virgil and softly pushing him closer to the taller person.

The emo caved.

“Ri, I swear you are going to be the death of me.”

He stepped into the other and just threw his hands around him.

“Whatever the fuck. You are right or whatever. I don’t care. Fuck work, fuck Karen.”

Virgil nudged Remy’s shoulder and started walking towards the exit.

“Karen? That was her name? You know why she was here? Did she come before? She sounded gosh-fucking-awful.”

The younger of the two chuckled and walked them out.

“Do I need to teach you memes, too? Am I obligated to explain every bit of Gen Z culture to you?”

The taller one inhaled the air in offence, one hand on his chest as he slowly craned his head to look at Virgil, his mouth agape in utter shock at the rude betrayal. He got as far as to slide his shades up to his head where it rested in his dark brown hair.

“Gurl, did you just fucking straight up and murder me after I saved your ass from that suburban super mom-monster?”

The student pushed the door open for them and took the time to shoot Remy an arrogant glare.

“Thank you, oh holy knight but I do not need to be saved by some random dude. Believe it or not, I would have handled that. It is the end of my shift and I was about to stall for time.”

Remy shook his head. Before he could try and bite back another comment, Virgil was already speaking again.

“Anyway, your performance did NOT suck, so I guess you are still allowed to call yourself a thespian or actress or whatever you wanna use... “, his voice dropped from high amusement down to sincere interest, “do you feel the actor today? Or, like, just Remy?”

The actor hugged Virgil’s side and blinked slowly as they walked back to his office.

“I am gonna be your brother today. What about you? Are you feeling a sister in you? A sibling or are you my brother as usual?”

This time, he stretched out his hands to open the door.

“Uh.. I mean, .. “, the other started but broke off as he quickly ducked down and walked into the office without missing another beat. Once inside, he shrugged and sat down onto the less cluttered side of Remy’s highly professional desk. “I dunno, man. I am just a thing, I guess”

Remy nodded and gave his sibling their things.

“Ah, alright, thank you for these clear words, Misc “I can stand up for myself” Lee.”

The other reacted with nothing more than a scoff.

“Whatever, just get lunch with me. Any suggestions?”

They pulled out their phone and started typing away on it, pulling up the email app he needed to compute a text to his therapist. If he was lucky, he would get some dismissed appointment and during winter time, maybe he was actually that lucky.

“I talked to your boyfriend, you know”, Remy started and Virgil waved him off.

“I am literally messaging her right now, can you calm down? I am about to go eat with you and you can take a picture if that makes you happy. Don’t get on my ass, I am.. I am trying..”

Virgil sighed and pressed “send” without reading over it or adding these funky “sincerely, yours” words and all that shit. They were not exactly in the mood to discuss the whole thing again. Their mood was already sore enough from everything that had happened before.

“Then she probably told you that I am okay and panicked enough over that. I am trying, okay? Just leave me be and get stupid food with me.” They sighed and threw their phone over. “Please.”

Remy caught the flying device with coordinated hands and skilled fingers. With one simple motion, he fastened his grip around the phone and glared back at Virgil.

“Don’t throw your shit, kid”, he warned them but did not intend to go any further than this. His eyes glanced over the shiny display. With how they used their things and just threw them around, it was a miracle this thing was still intact - at least from what it looked like on the outside. Then again, water damage was more likely than cracking the display, seeing that Virgil was almost constantly on their phone and texting him or other people.

The display was shining brightly into Remy’s face in the unlit office of his.

“Why do you need to have such a high brightness when you work in a library?”

Remy sighed and squinted before letting his shades return to the bridge of his nose. The tinted glasses did their job in making sight a bit more bearable and less painful. It was almost as if looking at bright things did not make his eyes sting dully and his head contract in pain.

In front of his eyes was a white bunch of nothing and some meek, black letters. An email to Virgil’s therapist. Well, it was not the therapist directly but it was the receptionist who was to plan and manage their therapist’s schedule.

“The library is not a dark cave, stop pretending the world is as dark as it looks from watching it through your dumb shades”, Virgil shot back casually as they fidgeted with their hands, fingers pushing together for no reason and curling up together. If they were longer, they would definitely get tied up like wild, cooked noodles. “Also, I am literally sitting right underneath a bigass lamp at the front desk. The shelves are a bit better when you are in the section with that fuckton of heavy books nobody wants to touch unless they are forced to.”

Ah, yes.

“You don’t have to show me. You are an adult and I trust you to do the right thing.”

They scoffed but left the comment unreviewed safe for a quick glance at Remy over their brow for less than a split moment. He almost thought it was nothing but imagined because he would expect them to do that.

The smaller of the two took their phone back and scrolled through it. Their fingers seemed a bit more at rest but they still rubbed over the display as if an apocalypse of message had just exploded in their notification feed. For sure, it was unlikely to get so many messages at once but Remy did not mind the quirks too much.

“Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii”

The student finally put their phone aside and let their nickname for Remy be stretched longer than wet and sugary sweet gum for kids. The one you would use to make really big bubbles before popping them in one wet and lazy sound. Feet swung forward and fell back against the side of the desk with a dull ‘clung’.

The addressed person angled his shades. His eyes were spitting salt at the other.

“Bitch, now you are going all sweet on me -”

“I will get food without you, hoe, I just want to get it done, come ooooon!”

He could not exactly argue with that. Considering Virgil sucked at eating food, at least they seemed to get this issue together around Remy. Possibly, their body just registered that being around him meant eating anyway so there was no faking it away and skipping meals and missing carbs and minerals.

It felt funny to think about it in this way. Honestly, he would not mind it if it was that way. At least then Virgil at properly at regularly.

But threatening to throw off their lunch tradition? Unbelievable.

Virgil took a threatening step down and stood by their words. They were getting their bag.

“If ya don’t hurry, I can get you something - preferences? Disgusting food? Fake Asian food fusion imitation? Weird fruits? Vegan healthy smoothie shit?”

Remy clicked his tongue but held up his hand for a moment to signal his need of time. Then he bent over to get his purse.

“Shut up, it is my treat. I might have eaten your job after all.”

The professor clicked a turn into the ground with his vocal heels and strove for the exit of his office. Virgil was quick to follow behind. When he opened the door and closed it again, he did not notice Roman just a bit away, on the staircase. He had come to find Professor Archimeda after all.

***

”Got it all?”

Virgil’s eyes rolled behind Remy, nearly turning back into the back of their head but they stayed put - as loyal and reliable as always.

“Yeah, just fucking chill for one moment in your existence”

They trailed behind him with the bags of food in their annoyed hands. Remy kept turning around to look at them, checking whether they were there, whether the food was there.

“Like you have to be talking, honestly”

Remy’s voice was so flat, it could barely be taken as more than a joke despite it being drier than any sand-dominated desert could ever be. Virgil snorted at the familiar salty flavour of his response.

“I am not going to disappear and neither is the food, seriously, I mean, you can hear me walking behind you. It is not that much of a big deal. I am just carrying the bags, calm your protective instincts, princess.”

The professor wanted to award that comment with a snarky glare but found his shades to be in the way as always. The brightly lit hallway had the stinging LEDs that would tear into his brain if he dared to even as much as consider taking off his shades and he had done this mistakes enough already.

Sweet relief was nothing compared to the satisfaction of reaching his office once more and finally opening the door to allow the unlit room to swallow them into the dim atmosphere of his beloved office.

“Finally”, the professor announced, clutching his tea tighter and kicking the door shut without glory nor car. One might have thought he just finished a whole day of work and extra chores but no, the dude just felt the pain of migraines and rubbed his temples as soon as he crashed into his chair and got to put his tea down.

On the other side of the desk, Virgil put the food down and looked at his miserable brother.

“You know what?”

Remy sighed and slowly brought his lips to his stupid straw. It was one of these funky things that was made of biodegradable something. No idea what it was but it was something and it was not paper, probably. It kinda felt different but yeah, whatever.

He sipped his tea. Decaffeinated cinnamon winter whatever tea. It was as spicy as the tea around the theatre department. Which was pretty much a lot. To indicate his attention, one of his eyebrows rose and Remy craned his neck a bit to lean towards Virgil who just got around to opening a window yet pull the curtains shut so it would continue to be dark and private. As always.

“You look like a VSCO girl”, Virgil stated with tired eyes as he moved his chair closer to the suffering blob of leather and black. “I am kinda disappointed I noticed only know but you really really do look like one and I actually think you might be the bitch of all VSCO girls. Like, the superior boss bitch.”

Remy snorted his tea back into his straw and decided to stop hugging it and just put it back onto his desk again. Tea spilled everywhere. His pants, his jacket, a bit of floor and a whole bunch of Remy face got a big load the gulp he had meant to swallow rather than spontaneously blow back into his straw (which did not have the capacity to take it all in.

Yeah, he should have never touched it after getting into the chair…. The feeling of drinking just made the migraines a little less worse most of the time. No, before and after was just as miserable. Fuck hydration. But drinking? Drinking was the cure for migraine pains for some weird, magical reason.

At least to him.

He smacked his lips and clicked his tongue. Another sigh flew from his lips as Virgil curled into a ball of laughter at the horrible image before him. It was too good not to. Remy’s lips were slightly apart as he seemed to growl the tea away from him with intimidation skills he definitely did not have on tea.

He looked.. genuinely offended at the liquid for deciding to do any of this to him and jut ruin his jacket.

“Fuck you, Virgil, just fuck you, little hate crab.”

The professor got up and shrugged his jacket off his shoulders. At least it had time to dry before lunch was over.

“You know, you could be helpful and give me something to, like, help and stuff.”

Remy stuck his tongue out at Virgil who finally uncurled but was still grinning as they reached for the napkins and gave them to their sibling.

“Alright, princess”, Virgil commented with a smirk in their voice.

The professor rolled his eyes but refused to thank him. He patted his jacket dry but accepted the loss on his clothing. It was not much, it was not really wet or anything, just damp - if any.

Remy put his jacket over the chair and settled back into his seat.

“Just hand over the food”, he muttered in defeat and Virgil seemed to comply.

They distributed the food by giving Remy some of the boxes and just push some of his stuff aside so the desk was providing some more space for them to clutter it in food items. Not to be a bitch but this was his food space now.

“Mind me, Ri”, Virgil warned before he rose his knees as a first gesture. Remy took the hint and kindly turned his chair a bit so his sibling could access his lap properly. Their feet settled on his lap and got out some bamboo cutlery.

“Yeah, whatever.”

Virgil smiled and put the cutlery between them before he started opening basically any bit of food. No box was left closed (safe for the ones in the bags, still. They were to be spared for another few minutes until it was time for them).

The next minutes were just spent with the two starting to eat, Virgil picking a playlist of Queen songs to play in the background so Remy would be a bit happier with them.

“Hey”, Virgil mumbled and grabbed their bag. Remy hummed in acknowledgment.

“Got some more trash for you and you bet you will love it~”

Virgil whispered and moved their legs so they could pull Remy’s chair closer to him. Because OF COURSE this was an office chair with wheels and movement.This was an office and this was Remy and he would definitely have these kinds of things. The student reached into their bag and handed Remy a little brown bag. It looked like one of these lunch bags.

“Yeah, so, you know.. Met my friend again and they made you something.” They shrugged, deposing the bag in Remy’s lap, right between his feet.

“Well, this just perfect here”, he commented with a sly smile but he took the bag anyway and put it away carefully. “Thank you. How much?”

Virgil rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“Just hand me those fucking honey batches, Ri, I am gonna eat them all on my own and we are even.”

Remy did not try to argue with that and silently shoved the box of dessert over to the other. They did not do much more. The rest of their lunch break was filled with some jokes and Virgil eating about as much as two people would. The two would cuddle and talk until time came for the professor to pack up and get ready to be a good teacher for his acting classes.

They parted with a warming hug right before the door, still in the safety of the dimly-lit office. Remy leaned down to press a kiss to the top of Virgil’s head.

”You take care of yourself. See you later - tomorrow? You can sleep at my place if you want to. You look like you need it.”

He touched the darkened circles under their slightly swollen eyes. They looked a bit puffy as is from crying but it was so usual, Remy barely noticed it - that is how they met after all. It was not out of the ordinary. Sadly, that was exactly the point. Insomnia should not be the new normal (especially for a growing zygote like Virgil).

They just shrugged their shoulders.

“Yeah.. I mean, maybe, I guess. I w-”, they started but a notification sound interrupted them.

The emo pulled out their phone and unlocked it with practiced movements, barely looking at the display at all. Once unlocked, they checked for messages.

“Well, time for me to go get some stupid therapy - I mean.. get therapy. You know.. whatever. I gotta get going or I will be late. I uh..” They stopped and shuffled their feet a bit, black boots clacking together. “I will text you, I guess? Thanks for the food and the...um, all the stuff..”

Remy shrugged and nudged them, warmth quickly seeping into their shoulder. He gave the student a genuine smile, even his eyes were radiating warmth.

“No problem. Now go before any of us is going to be late, Virg.”

The smaller of the two flinched as if hit by the realisation that time was still a and they, in fact, were on a clock to get to their spontaneous appointment. They quickly jumped into another hug before dashing out of the door and disappearing down the hallway with quick steps.

Their feet were walking fast until they picked up further so they would run as the storm, dark jacket flaring out and making them look like an actual storm cloud. Their steps echoing through the halls were the thunder rolling in the sky and scaring your eardrums.

Remy smiled after the figuring shrinking in size and volume before he came to his senses and reminded himself of locking up his office and walking over to his course. Roman was waiting for him and he made a bad example of himself when he was late to his own course.

Little did he know that he would probably be there first because Roman was still struck by seeing his boss and roommate interact so closely, so intimately. He turned his back on the window and hurried away, remembering there was a place he had to be.

He really needed to talk to Patton about this. The thespian was not sure what was going on but it looked shady and he could not tolerate it any longer. Someone needed to make sure that Logan would not fall for some dangerous asshole. Logan was too emotion-dumb for that. Not to talk about putting Patton at danger in his currently still rather fragile state...

Just..

No, he would not take this any longer. As he hurried through the extensive building and the majestic pieces of architectural beauty, he reminded himself to address the issue. He would try his best to convince Logan and Patton to just kick that guy out. Roman had no patience nor understanding left for someone who would constantly snap at him. He was not ready to risk his friends’ well-being for the sake of being fair. Virgil had played all his chances and lost already.

His time was over.

Just you wait, Virgil. Roman knew his friends and come time, they would realise that this stranger was nothing but trouble and needed to leave. No matter the nice benefits of him staying around.

He better watch out. Roman was coming for him.

#fanfiction #fanfic #fanficion #fanf #multichapter #mutlichap #ongoing #virgil sanders #joey writes #sanders sides virgil #virgil anxiety #roman sanders #Prince Roman #Remy sleep #remy sanders #ts remy sanders

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purewhitepages · 5 years ago

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La Retour de Foi Chapter 7

A/N: This is the end of Arc I but I could go on. If you have any suggestions, replies and asks are open. Thank you so much for all your continued support. I wrote the first draft of this fic in Feb. and I was sure it was something nobody would want to read. I’ve never been more happy to be wrong.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 6

Claire woke earlier in the morning than usual. She went about her routine as she would any other day, to be sure. Today was going to be a long day of preparation for the Reunion the next day. There was the tent to put up and food to cook, decoration and set up. She was definitely going to need some coffee.

She made her way down the stairs and towards the kitchen. She noticed voices and the smell of eggs and coffee wafting through the air from the open door. She smiled and stepped over the threshold to witness a scene that made tears well up in her eyes.

“And he was sore because you did so well?” Her husband was at the stove, cooking, his whole body was turned towards the person seated on the counter near him.

Faith’s eyes sparkled and the sunlight beamed through the window beside her. Her dark brown, curly hair was piled on-top of her head and she wore earrings with a white peasant blouse and jean shorts. She seemed to positively radiate light, banishing the shadows from her perch next to the sink.

She nodded to Jamie’s question. “I became president of the chess club when I was a senior, and we ended up going to States. Which, who’s to say wouldn’t’ve happened if he hadn’t taught me, but I wouldn’t have gone, and that’s the important part, I think.”

Jamie nodded, sliding the omelet onto a plate and handing it out to her. “No doubt.”

A small sound came from Claire’s throat, making them both look up to see her standing in the doorway, staring at them. She covered her mouth and shook her head.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “Don’t get up, just stay there.”

Her husband smiled at her and nodded. “I’ll make ye an egg, Sassenach, and ye can sit with wee Faith and let her regale ye with stories of her youth.” Jamie seemed to have grown a foot taller, as if the weight of the last few weeks had rolled off him in the night.

The two women sat at the table as Jamie whistled a tune to the sound which Claire was sure was supposed to be “Garden Grow” but sounded more like a very confused bird. She smiled.

“So, tell me, what were you doing in London?” She asked Faith, bringing the young woman out of her thoughts.

She smiled at Claire. “I have some friends living there, Denny Hunter and I went to medical school together.”

Claire smiled. “Where did you go for medical school?”

“I went to Appalachia State in North Carolina for my pre-med, but then Harvard for med school.”

Claire smiled. “What did you specialize in?”

“General Surgery, I graduated a little over a year ago.”

They chatted very broadly for a few minutes. Faith told her parents about growing up in Maine and about her travels. Eventually, after their breakfast was complete, they ran into a lull in the conversation. Claire eyed her daughter as she chewed her lip. Jamie had always teased Claire for her glass face, and she finally knew the true meaning of that statement. It was clear that Faith had only one question on her mind: how did such a loving and supporting family have a child taken away from them? And when Claire asked, her suspicion turned out to be true.

“I know you probably think I’ll be upset by whatever you tell me,” Faith said. “But I’d like to know all the same.”

There was an uncomfortable silence for a moment and Faith held her breath.

“Do you want to go first or should I?” Claire asked.

“I’ll go first.” Jamie cleared his throat. “Yer mam and I met at University, at St. Andrews. At the time we were both very involved with the Scottish Independence Movement-” With this, Jamie paused a moment, gathering his words.

“A cause we both support to this day,” Claire stepped in.

“O’ course, o’ course. Well, yer mam and I, we got married just a year later. We were verra young, Faith, verra young. In our movement, ye have to understand, we met some of the best men and women to have ever walked this earth. But there were some-- let’s say, not quite as bright as the rest.” The tone of his voice made Faith’s heart skip a beat. “When yer mam was pregnant with ye, I attended a protest in Edinburgh that went verra badly. The police came, and a woman was trampled to death in the ensuing riot.” Bree held back her gasp as she pressed further against the wall. “I was arrested, and tried under conspiracy to commit terrorism.”

“But you’re not a terrorist!” Faith insisted.

“Aye, a leannan.” There was a smile in his voice and Faith bit her lip. “The charge was reduced, but I still went to prison. And yer mam-...”

“I-” Claire’s voice cut through Jamie’s somber words but then she cut herself off. “You have to understand, Faith, that I was very young and very pregnant, and, quite suddenly, very alone. They investigated all of us, and I was very scared.” She took another breath. “I started to have problems with my pregnancy on top of all this stress, and I had to be placed in the hospital.” She took a deep breath as if preparing herself for the next bit. “During your birth, there were many complications, and the doctors were very concerned that you wouldn’t survive. They kept you under observation as we both recovered, but I wasn’t allowed to see you. It was this that was the straw that broke the camel’s back. My husband was in jail, as were most of my close friends, the police were at my home, I hadn’t slept in my own bed in weeks, I almost died in childbirth on top of the pregnancy hormones and, to top it all off, I couldn’t even see my newborn daughter. I had a complete mental breakdown and your aunt and uncle checked me into a mental hospital.” Jamie hand embraced Claire’s and she smiled sadly at him as she sniffed.

“And they took me away?” Faith asked.

Jamie nodded. “Ye were placed with the McTavishes while yer mam was recovering. I was released after a year and we fought for the next several years to get ye back, but- ‘twas not to be. The crime of association cost us everything but each other.” Jamie sighed and held his wife closer. Faith reached out and took his hand. He smiled at her. “But, ‘twas not long after that, Fergus came to us, needing a home, and we had Brianna and William. And we were able to restore my father’s old home, Lallybroch. Life went on, though a small piece of us was missing until now.” He squeezed her hand and she smiled back at him.

“Yes, we have so much,” Claire said. “But what we lost-...it wasn’t worth it, in the end. Faith, you are our blood, but not our daughter. What we could’ve had is gone.”

Faith reached out her other hand to take Claire’s. “I cannot say what could have been, and there isn’t a lot of use for it.” She took Claire’s hand in both of hers and gripped it tightly. “I am here now, I am alive, I am so glad to know you, and I am thankful for everything you have done for me. I will be here for you all, no matter what. I know I haven’t been here long. But I know, in my heart of hearts, that this is where I belong.”

Brianna stepped away from the kitchen doorway and went back up to her room. Roger was still on the phone in the hallway with the head professor. She touched his shoulder on the way back to her bed. Her parents had never kept the story from the children of what happened to them in their youth, but she had never heard it in such detail before. How much pain had they carried all these years and never spoke of?

It was 8:30 am and Bree was already exhausted. She hadn’t been able to sleep well after the events of the day before, and then Roger was woken up by a call from the lead professor on his team. It was looking like he would have to go home early. There was so much on her mind and she just wanted a damn cup of coffee for heaven’s sake. What she’d gotten was a lot more information than she was sure her parents wanted her to hear.

A part of her wanted to be mad at Faith, blame her for disrupting the status quo, but she couldn’t find it in her to do so. What would she have done in her shoes? Probably something much dafter, Bree thought ruefully to herself.

“Did ye get some breakfast?” Roger asked, poking his head into the door. Bree shook her head. “Well, best head down, don’t you think? Lots to do today so I hear.”

Epilogue

‘“Good morning to you all,” Jamie began and there was a chorus of greetings in response. “It is a great honor to have ye all here today at what will hopefully be the First Annual Fraser-Murray Reunion at Lallybroch.” He paused for applause and cheering. “As many of ye know, it has been a dream of our family’s to restore our ancestral home of Broch Turach, more affectionately known as Lallybroch, to its former glory. I stand here today, proud to announce that this goal, which has been a dream of my father, and his mother before him, has been completed.” Another round of cheering and whooping accompanied this and Jamie himself grinned at the smiling faces before him. “Yes, it is a very great honor to stand here today, to say those words, and to welcome my family home.” He paused a moment.

“Though most of the hard labor has been completed, there is still much work to be done in regards to upkeep and running of this once mighty estate. This task is not something one person can bear, but I have every faith that we can bear it, together.” His eyes sought out his wife and each one of his children as he spoke. “Today, however, we celebrate our success, our bond, and the chance to be a whole family, for the first time in history.” His voice broke at the end but he swallowed and soon recovered, wiping his nose quickly on his sleeve. “I would like to propose a toast-” A cacophony of sounds occurred as everyone stood and raised their glasses with Jamie. “-to Lallybroch and to Family.”

“To Lallybroch and to Family,” everyone echoed and fell silent as they drank.

“Let the festivities begin!”

A cheer erupted. Kitty wrapped an arm around Faith and the two girls embraced. She held up her glass of Mrs. Bug’s famous lemonade and cleared her throat. “To you, Faith, and the long winding journey ye took to get here. Better late than never.”

Faith laughed and linked her arm through her cousin’s, drinking from her own glass.

Though the party was to celebrate Lallybroch and the family, most of the activities centered around Faith. Everyone wanted to talk to her, but most just settled on being near her. She never faltered under the attention she was receiving, only showed love to everyone.

She met Murtagh properly, along with his fiance, Jocasta--who embraced Faith and promised to tell her all about the MacKenzies and the Frasers at a later time. Murtagh was clutching a package that was hastily wrapped in Christmas paper and presented it to Faith. She thanked him and grinned at the scrawled

“Welcome home, Faith” on the front as she undid the ribbon. Inside the package was a knitted blanket of forest green. It smelled freshly washed, but was very old, from what Faith could tell.

“I made that blanket with my own two hands,” Murtagh told her, jabbing the yarn with his fingers. “As I did for all of yer parent’s bairns afore they were born. Never got the chance to give it to ye, and I guess I could’ve given it to yer sister, but, it didna feel right to give a bairn a blanket meant for another child.” He shrugged. “Must’ve been intuition, for I’m giving it to ye now. ‘Tis a wee bit small- oh!” Murtagh gasped as the young woman threw her full weight against him in a tight hug. “There, there now, lass,” he said as she sobbed into his shoulder.

“Thank you.” The words were muffled by his shoulder but they made him smile all the same.

There were games to play and food to eat. As the day turned into night, the young people had all gathered at a table and were talking and laughing. After a song from Young Jamie (who was about one whisky away from proper drunk), Young Ian asked Faith about her tattoos. With a wary eye to the older people not far away, Faith stripped off her flannel shirt to stand in her tank top, exposing most of her tattoos.

“I got each of them after something important in my life,” she explained, pointing to some writing on her bicep. “My mom used to always write me notes on my lunch box, so I got it tattooed. ‘Tha gaol agam ort, a nighean.’ The thistle is for my dad.” She pulled the neck of the garment down to expose the single stalk of thistle placed right over her heart. “He died of cancer five years ago. The foxglove is a matching one I got with a girl in MSF in South Africa. The first one I got when I applied to school when I was 17,” She pointed to caduceus on her opposite shoulder. “I was really nervous about getting it.”

“Scared it would hurt?” Ian asked and Faith shook her head.

“Nah, I can stand pain no problem. I was worried because I was still waiting to hear if I’d gotten into the pre-med program, and if I hadn’t then it would’ve been very embarrassing for me.” There was a laugh as Faith put her shirt back on and sat down.

“Were you thinking of getting one, Ian?” she asked.

Ian’s ears turned pink but he nodded. “Aye.” He fished his phone out of his pocket and pulled up a picture to show Faith. “I was thinking of getting this.”

“Did you draw this?” Faith asked. “Kitty, look at this.” She took Ian’s phone to show it to Kitty beside her. Kitty looked to see a minimalistic drawing of purple heather with the words “Je suis prest” in black in.

“Prêt is spelled wrong though, just so you know, before you get that on you.”

Ian let out a laugh. “Ye dinna ken yer own family motto, lass. That’s how it’s supposed to be spelled.”

“What?” Faith grabbed the phone back from Kitty to look back at it again. She stared at it for a long while, before giving it back to Ian.”

“Who were you planning on getting it from?”

“There’s a lad in the village who says he can do it for me.”

“Do you mind if I get it too?”

Ian’s eyes lit up and he nodded ecstatically.

“Me too?” Kitty asked.

“Oh, I dinna ken, Kitty-”

“Och, shut up, I’m getting it and that’s that.”

Bree sat forward in her seat and held out her hand. “Let me see it.” Ian passed her the phone and she scrutinized the drawing. “I think I’ll get it to.”

At Bree’s approval, most of the younger generation all had a look at the drawing and decided to get it done as well. Even Jamie, who had hitherto been unapproving of tattoos said he would be willing to consider it, but that Willie was not allowed to get one until he was 18. They made a plan to go the next day to Ian’s friend and see about getting the tattoos done.

Claire stayed out of the discussion mostly. She didn’t feel comfortable butting in on the young people’s plans and passed on the opportunity to get a tattoo. She smiled as Faith sat beside her and brushed their shoulders together.

“Mam,” Faith said, softly.

“What is it, my darling?” She pushed a bit of hair out of her daughter’s face and tucked it behind her ear.

“I’d like to get a tattoo for you, if that’s alright.” Claire blinked a bit and nodded.

“What did you have in mind?”

“Well, actually, I had an idea about matching one for the two of us, if you’d like.” Claire listened as she told about her plan and agreed with a small tear in her eye.

The next day, she was holding the hand of her husband and watching as Ian’s friend worked. Though the words would now be permanently visible on her skin, the idea had always existed in her heart. When they were done, she placed her right hand, wrist up, next to her daughter’s for a picture.

When placed together, the tattoos made up the first law of thermodynamics: “Nothing is lost...Only changed.”

Fin

#outlander #outlander fanfiction #outlander fanfic #outlander fic #jamie/claire #jamie x claire #jamie fraser #jamie/claire fic #jamie/claire fanfiction #jamie/claire fanfic #faith fraser #claire beauchamp #claire fraser #faith lives #return of faith #outlander modern au #jamie/claire modern au

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fire-fira · 4 years ago

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Nonbinary Awareness Week Day 2: Coming To Terms

(This is probably going to get wordy as heck.)

First time I heard terms around being nonbinary or about there being more than two genders:

Whoooooo boy. Okay, so the first time I heard terms for it was sometime in my teens (because yay, the now dated af documentary [Middle Sexes]-- dear gods, I had to be around 18 or 19 even though it feels like I saw it when I was way younger, more around 13, smh). First time I was aware of there being more than two genders though... That was back when I was 4. I didn’t have the words for it back then beyond ‘I know I’m not a girl. So does that make me a boy? ...Noooooo, I’m not that either.’ (Not that I was saying that to anyone around me, because no one asked.)

When and how I realized I was nonbinary:

LOL

Like I said with the first question, I knew I was nonbinary when I was 4. (I’m an allistic hyperlexic and I was WAY too smart for my own good as a little kid. I was thinking through cause-and-effect when I was 4 and reading at a college level in first grade. So me going through that whole ‘Why are they calling me that? That’s weird and isn’t right, I’m not a girl. Okay, if I’m not a girl does that mean I’m a boy? ...Noooooo, I’m not that either’ string of logic at that age was entirely on brand for me.)

Something else that was entirely on brand for me at that age was looking at the world around me and not seeing any examples of what I knew I was and immediately coming to the conclusion that if I told anyone I wasn’t a girl or a boy that they’d think I was insane and have me committed to an asylum and I’d never be let out. Not fun times. (Though hilariously enough, that same logic I had as a kid also came to the conclusion that since I wasn’t a girl or a boy that it was impossible for me to be straight. Yes, I seriously thought out that sort of crud and came to that conclusion as a kid. And considering I’m aroace turns out I was right-- though obviously not for the reasons I thought back then. lol)

Though the first time I saw an example of anything in fiction that said ‘that’s what I am’ in terms of my gender to little me was when I was 5 and saw the anime Dominion Tank Police for the first time. (The character didn’t even have any lines and was unconscious in a sort of stasis, and then wasn’t even on screen for long. Pretty sad if you think about it, but 5-year-old me was enthralled by the idea of seeing a character like me when I didn’t think that was possible.)

Second example of a character in fiction that read as nonbinary to me was way back in 1st grade and it was a book on tape. I can’t remember the title or the author (infuriatingly enough), but I do remember that the main character (named X) was able to mentally jump from one person to another and ‘inhabit’ them without anyone knowing they were there ‘controlling’ the person’s actions, and that X’s pronouns shifted with whoever they were temporarily inhabiting. (Little me both was and wasn’t envious of the idea. On one hand, being able to switch around like that would have been nice; on the other hand, never being seen as me and only as other people is something that I found unnerving, and still do.)

Did I ever consider being a label other than the one I identify with, and what was the process of finding my gender like?:

From ages 4 to 18 there was a TON of me not saying outright what I was, but also trying to be read as nonbinary as possible. I was so painfully obvious about being nonbinary that it was like a rhinoceros wearing a tutu and a tiara and trying to hide behind a 1 ft tall bush and claim it was a ballerina. No one was buying it. But since most people around me didn’t have the mental framework to even conceive of anyone nonbinary, there was a lot of me freaking people out because they could tell I was ‘weird’ but they couldn’t put into words or place how I was ‘weird’.

I tried to figure out terms back in junior high to early high school, but the ones back then didn’t really stick. (They were way too caught up in my aroace-ness too, and just didn’t feel right. I let go of the two terms I thought up back then because they also felt kind of pretentious to me and I didn’t like that feeling.)

I came to third-gender as the term that just felt right when I was 22 or 23 thanks to self-education and finding Will Roscoe’s [Changing Ones]. (And damned if my mixed-race Native ass wasn’t relieved to know that a lot of NDN cultures recognize(d) people like me for who we are/were. And yeah, I know there are some things in that book that are questionable, but at the time it was what I needed.)

For a while in my early-to-mid 20s I considered identifying as genderqueer, but I couldn’t pin down the definition for it in my head and that made me uncomfortable-- and with the fact that one of the possible definitions is ‘a person not identifying with socially constructed gender roles’ (which can apply to some cis people), I felt like it wasn’t clear enough in stating that I am not a woman or man. So I ditched it pretty quickly.

I also had a brief stint in my early 20s of wondering if I was intersex and had been operated on before I fully grasped the concept that anatomy =/= gender. (I might or might not be, genetics and biology is weird and complicated and I don’t really care, though as far as I’m aware I’m not.)

Calling myself nonbinary more generally clicked into place when I was about 25.

I’ve vaguely considered Two Spirit, but 1) I don’t feel like I have a right to that term without someone else Native saying that I am (for complicated personal reasons), and 2) part of me feels it’s not quite as specific as I’d prefer for my own self-description.

Have I come out to anyone else? Who?:

AHAHAHAHAAAAAA-- I started coming out more openly in my early 20s and I never freaking looked back.

First person I actually came out to (in that complicated ‘I’m not a girl or guy’ way) was the school counselor for my grade on the last day of my senior year of high school. Talk about dropping an info bomb and running.

First person in my family I came out to was a cousin who I’m not close to (and has serious issues, which I’m hoping she’ll eventually get better from), and even though I haven’t seen her in years (she kind of burned all bridges with our family) my fiance’s seen her around recently and has told me that my cousin used the right pronouns for me. Honestly didn’t expect that when at least two (loud) members of my family won’t even give me that respect.

My family knows, all my friends know, back when I was in college I made it a point to come out on the first day of classes every class, and I make it a point to come out if I’m going to be interacting with anyone for an extended period of time rather than just a few minutes. Why? Because I am still PAINFULLY FREAKING OBVIOUS, and if I tell people right off the bat then they’re able to get over the internal ‘OMG THAT PERSON’S WEIRD! BUT HOWWWW????????’ pretty quickly instead of freaking out over trying to pick apart why I trip their sense of ‘this person is strange’.

If you’re not out, are you planning to come out? Is being out important to you?:

I am SO thoroughly out.

I cannot and WILL NOT go back to lying about who I am. I was so damn miserable before I stopped lying and trying to hide that I’m an enby. No one can pay me enough to ever willingly go back to that.

And again, I’m painfully obvious. I can’t hide, even if people have the biggest cis-normative goggles on, because my behavior, personality, intonation, and body language-- everything of who I am-- gives me away. It’s honestly safer for me to be upfront about my gender than it is to try to hide it, because if I’m going to be tripping wires for people anyway then I may as well give them the framework to understand it so they don’t stress and obsess over it to the point of either ostracizing me or being outright hostile. (Yes, that’s happened to me a lot in my life.)

Plus my being so blatantly out has helped a bunch of other people where I live come to terms with the fact that they’re enbies too. And there is no way in hell I will ever regret having helped others have the confidence to be who they are.

#NBWeek #Nonbinary Awareness Week #NonbinaryAwarenessWeek #nonbinary #non-binary #my life #long post #I need to reblog the prompt thing again #and probably the individual prompt posts

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trying-write-fanfics · 5 years ago

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AsheXReader price of war part 10

Catherine was able to track down the Western Church. Though still recovering, Ashe insisted he joined his professor and brother’s executor. The fog was hard to navigate through, but Ashe knew he had to do this.They had to make Lonato rebel against the church against his will or manipulate him. They had to of twisted Chrisphoer’s death in order to get Lonato to raise a rebellion. It wasn’t his fault. He would right the wrongs, and erase Lonato’s shame on his name.

“ Lord Lonato’s blood is on your hands!”

Catherine and Byleth tried talking to Ashe after the battle, but he was mentally exhausted to form a real conversation. He found more evidence that Lord Lonato was a mere tool in something much greater, but it only left him with more questions.

Returning to the monastery, he found Y/n returning too. She didn’t go on the mission because she had family matters to attend to on her day off. He didn’t tell her the details of the mission he was going on before she left because if she knew, she would have dropped her family matters for him. It was nice of Catherine and Byleth to let him wander back alone, it gave him time to evaluate his emotions. Yes, he helped take down the western church and avenged Lord Lonato, but it was just a small piece in a larger system he cannot let take over.

“Look at the knight returning from his mission!” Y/n called out from the arena area.

“Yeah, took all weekend.” he called out.

Y/n had a different problem. Her family matters were getting called a talentless warrior, and her father does not even know why he agreed to send his daughter to the officer’s academy. Her father thought he was saying that with care, but no one in the room felt that. She was invited back home to see what progress was made, but when her scarred shoulder was revealed her father exploded in rage. If she was strong, she wouldn’t have gotten hurt, and now someone might not even want to marry her because of her torn up body. Her mother did defend her daughter saying she could open up a clinic if she didn’t want to be a knight or go husband hunting. That didn’t help much, profiting off of the injured and the ill made her father sick to his stomach because the goddess should decide who lives and dies.Her father told her that their sister-in-law is a single male cousin who might be interested in her, but that did not brighten the mood. Y/n was disgusted and full of shame. Her mother told her father to let Y/n graduate because so much can change, they are investing in the possibility of their daughter becoming a knight, maybe even a retainer for prince Dimitri...or wife. It tore down some self-esteem for Y/n. She thought she had made a ton of progress, and she hasn’t died, but that’s not enough, she has to be better than everyone else.

“How was your mission? You look exhausted.” She asked him.

“It was a lot of labor, I’m glad to be back.” he told her. “How were your parent’s?”

“Oh they just missed me, wanted to get a bite to eat together.” she lied. “Oh but I have something for you!” she sang pulling books from her bag. “They’re some fantasy novels I know my family hasn’t touched in years. They were just lying in the house, they all have knight’s tales in them. I figured you would like ‘em.”

It was such a grand gesture.

“Thank you Y/n, but I gotta confess something.”

Her eyes lit up at the words. Maybe he was still uneasy around her and was going to tell her they can’t be friends, she’s a try hard loser, and she’s a terrible student here at the whole academy.

“Ever since my concussion, I’ve been having a hard time reading.” he told her.

“I can read them to you!” she spat not thinking at all, but was just so happy their friendship wasn’t terminated.

“You will?”

“Yeah it’s not a problem! I’ve already read these books a million times, and my voice is charming.” She said trying to take the flirting down a notch but ended up flirting with herself!

Ashe sighed, which only worried Y/n more.

“Will you sit on the bench with me?” he asked her.

“Yeah, of course, what’s up?”

Her heart was pounding a million miles an hour.

“I was hiding what my mission was about. I went with Catherine and Byleth to take down the western church.” he told her. “I killed some people today, and they used Lord Lonato for something bigger that I don’t even understand yet.”

“Ashe...are you okay?”

“I don’t know. The academy is seeming to be a lot more dangerous than I thought.” he told her.

Y/n didn’t come clean about her secret. It was so much more little and pointless compared to his. She just wanted to help her friend in any way shape or form.

“We’ll have each other’s backs, I promise.” she told him. “It’s not like we’re front lines people anyway.”

“I’ve also been thinking about trying to become a wyvern rider. The professor says I have a real talent for it.” He told her.

“Oh that's pretty great, will you take me for a ride sometime?” she asked.

“You can be the first.” he said without thinking, and then realized what he told her.

It was just so easy to slip and say something like that with her. But she didn’t push away.

“Alright that’s a promise Ashe.” she laughed.

It was just easy to talk to her. She didn’t take things the wrong way, but she also didn’t take his flirting like on a deeper level he would hope.

Jealous eyes watched the duo, and wanted to intervene, but decided not to for it would only make a embarrassing fool. The jealous feelings thought they were coming from a place of concern, but there was a deeper meaning that hadn’t been understood yet by the brain of the eyes.

Ashe laid in bed thinking of the western church. It twisted his stomach into knots. Who else are they capable of corrupting? Is it just the western church or a group even bigger with access to all the weakness of nobles and commoners? He worried for Y/n and her family, they’re not a major house in the kingdom, if they fell to that evil group’s will, the church would kill them all. What side would Y/n take? Would they use magic to manipulate her? He looked at the books she gifted him and felt a little relief. He did like her, and wanted to protect her from such dangers. They will have each other’s back won’t they. No doubt. He didn’t fall for her for her looks, she was gorgeous, but he didn’t fall for her first sight. It would be silly, a noble he knew nothing about other than how pretty she is. No he fell for her with everything that had happened. The time she held his hand when professor Jerizta was being a total demon ghost, their late night training sessions. He thought back at the moment she held him when he was injured. How she hummed and told him things were going to be okay. Her hand pressed against his cheek. It was too much to think about in bed, he rolled over, tossed and turned.

“What are you doing out so late?” Felix asked Y/n as she snuck out of her room.

“Why do you care? Are you the dorm police?” She asked.

“Normally I have to yell at Sylvain for this kind of behavior, but you-”

“Well if I never do this maybe you shouldn’t scold me, it’s a one time thing.” She cut him off.

“You should really leave the monastery, go and find a husband.”

“First Ingrid and now me, what the hell Felix? What is your issue?” she asked him.

“Things are looking bad here and I don’t see them getting any better anytime soon. It’s best if you don’t get caught up in all of that. You’re not one who can stand bloodshed.”

“And how do you get to judge that?”

“I’m there on the battlefield with you. Save yourself the trouble.” He told her. “I already know what your father is up to.”

“Well, I can only get better with time Felix.” She told him. “Good night.”

“Your room is the-” “I’m sleeping with the wolves tonight. They’ll devour any fears I have about the battlefield. Wouldn’t that be nice so you won’t have to spend your nights telling me and Ingrid to go find a husband!” she yelled from the stairs.

She made her way to Ashe’s door in her long nightgown and candle. She didn’t let Felix’s words haunt her, but she can only assume that Felix got a letter from her parents telling him it would be a good idea to take their daughter out on a date. She grimaced at the thought of more embarrassing letters from her parents floating around, waiting to be used as black mail. She knocked on the door a couple times, and Ashe was surprised to find her so late in the night.

“What are you doing here so late?”

“I told you I was gonna read to you.”

“This late.”

“You don’t even sleep!”

He let her in. She wasn’t wrong. He picked out a book for her to read to him. She told him once more she read that one enough times, she knows the story by heart. She set the candle on the nightstand. He laid in bed wondering where she was going to sit.

“Scoot over.” She told him, sitting right next to him in his own single person bed.

But he complied. It was awkward as first listening to her read since they were both sitting up. He noticed she was cold, so he put the blanket over both of them which only made his heart beat faster. She kept reading to him though. She would make silly voices for merchants and ogrs that came into the story. He relaxed more as the situation seemed to normal itself out. Without thinking he placed his head on her stomach, and even had his arm over her waist. When he realized what he had done, it was too late to really react. She was still enjoying reading to him and he wouldn't want to dwindle the spark she had going on. She also didn’t stop him or seemed uncomfortable. His actions did make him hyper aware of the situation. She adjusted her arm, and placed her hand on his back. It was all so much. He didn’t know if he thought of the word in his head he would be able to handle it. They were cuddling! In HIS BED. IN THE EYES OF SOTHIS. He tried staying as still as he possibly could to draw attention to himself. She smelled nice, the fabric of her nightgown was soft, it was all intoxicating, she was right there! She can’t see how he’s internally reacting to the situation! He wouldn’t be able to talk without sounding like a banshee.

At some point he realized she’d stopped reading. He propped himself up on his hands, removing himself off her stomach. She’d fell asleep, IN HIS BED! WITH HER ARM WRAPPED AROUND HIM! His mind raced with what to do? Does he sleep in her bed? Does he wake her up? What if she gets caught leaving his room, surely she would get in trouble. He laid back in the bed, facing her, unable to come to a conclusion. She rolled over, and her face landed in his chest. Maybe his next action was selfish, but he blew out the candle and put the book on the floor. He let Y/n sleep in his chest, because she let him use her stomach as a pillow.

The next morning the duo woke up around the same time. Ashe jolted away from her realizing what he did, but she awoke casually.

“Sorry I didn’t mean to fall asleep.” she yawned.

“No, no, it's fine, you were doing something nice for me.” he told her.

“How am I supposed to leave though? I’m in my pajamas, and my dorm is on the second floor.” she whined.

“I have an idea.”

The idea was he would give her his spare academy uniform so she could go back to his dorm. If anyone asks why she was there, she would say she was stopping by early in the morning to study together before the library opened. The plan did end up succeeding.

“Here are your clothes back good sir” she was being dramatic.

“Thanks.” he laughed.

“I should be thanking you, you really saved my ass.” she told him.

“You were just taking care of me.” he told her.

“Well, I had fun too. I haven’t read those stories in awhile.” she told him

She also had fun? This crush was going to be the death of him.

#ashe ubert #ashe ubert x reader #fe3h #fire emblem #Fire Emblem Three Houses #imagines #xreader

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kingofthewilderwest · 5 years ago

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I totally get what you're saying about fandom and canon (or at least I think I do) and that what's really important is a love of the material, and I agree to that respect, but personally, reading the words "canon doesn't matter" kind of rustles my jimmies, because for some people (like me) and in some spaces, canon is extremely important. 1/?

People will find importance in canon for whatever reasons that are individual to them, and I think it’s important to consider that. There are also spaces where discussion of canon IS important, like when it comes to issues of representation. I think you’ve read my post about the phrase “there is no heterosexual explanation for this” and my rebuttal of “not every emotionally intimate relationship between two characters of the same gender is inherently gay” in response to people claiming that 2/

certain same gender pairings are “obviously” “gay for each other”, when there’s nothing in the canon that points to anything beyond an emotionally intimate relationship. One of the people who commented on it made a really good point that while it’s fine to ship something regardless of canon, it’s a different thing entirely to claim that something IS canon when there’s no evidence for it, or evidence that’s up to too much interpretation, because claiming that such a relationship IS canon 3/?

when in fact it’s barely hinted at and interpretable at best, it means that it’s much more difficult to call for better representation, when someone who is against representation can go “see? look at all the people who say [interpretable pairing] is canon. they don’t need anything more explicit!” 4/?

I think that there ARE spaces in fandom where that’s an important discussion to have. So I disagree with you that canon doesn’t matter, because there are places for it, and for individual people, it’s very important. But I agree entirely that there shouldn’t be arguments in fandom about what is or is not canon that basically involves gatekeeping “canon” or being mean to others because of what they think is or is not canon. 5/?

In a perfect world, people would be willing to agree to disagree about what is or is not canon and accept that other people have different opinions of how far canon goes. Unfortunately, that’s not the case, so I definitely agree that it’s bad for people to assert that their view of canon is the “correct” view, and - if I may be so audacious as to assume intent - is really the point you’re trying to make. 6/? (I think?)

I think that not caring about canon has its place in certain fandom contexts, but not all of them. It’s kind of like it’s a different analytical framework, one that’s useful sometimes but not other times. 7/?

And certainly, I think canon has importance in places that exist at the boundaries of fandom, like when canon is considered in historical studies or in literature reviews. Though that’s also getting into discussions of where fandom ends and other disciplines begin, so it’s probably a moot point, and probably depends on someone’s perspective and intent. 9/? (or 8?)

I’m gonna stop myself here from going into literary theory/criticism/whatever about when and where canon matters, but I think I’ve made my point that while I agree with the sentiment of what you’re saying, I disagree with the statement that “canon doesn’t matter” in fandom. Because I think it does, but just not in every context. 10/10 (or whatever number)

From this.

As always, you’ve got a wealth of thoughtful and well-worded discussion here. You’re a brilliant human being, and one of the reasons I love talking to you is because of your deep analytical perspectives. I think another reason I jive with you as a friend is because we tend to hold similar perspectives. It’s fun, because we both entertain creative or emotional discussions extrapolated from source materials, and we both acknowledge what canon objectively contains.

I apologize: I thought I’d been more clear with the context of what I was criticizing regarding fandom’s relationship with canon. I think I also banked on followers knowing I’m a logically centered individual who cares deeply about facts and not just heart. I suppose not, and I’m sorry if I were misleading. My mistake! How you disagree with my phrase “canon doesn’t matter” is not what I was intending to suggest and it’s not the values I have regarding canon. That one sentence wasn’t meant to stand on its own that much. We do in truth consider canon’s importance the same way!

My critique intended to be about the discussion of “What are the canon materials?” rather than “What information is in the canon?” As I read it, your response goes through both, and where you say you disagreed is mostly when you looked at the latter (but I was intentionally honing in only on the former). Maybe it’s a good idea for us to separate these concepts rather than conflate it into a large debate of “what is canon?” from too broad an angle.

My critique was about how fans police others’ engagement for things like Watsonian interpretations, headcanons, speculative meta, and fanfiction writing. If people want to analyze Edward Elric’s personality only from FMAB, or if they want to include minor tie-ins (ex: Prince of the Dawn, Sacred Star of Milos, omake, etc.), either perspective provides interesting analytical angles. They’re both valid ways of handling the character’s personality.

Especially since I experience the “What is canon materials?” conversation with the HTTYD fandom, I tend to see the debate centered on continuity and OOC/IC interactions. Also, at times, how “big” a material is - like video games being “less authoritative” than the films. These conversations are more about how people do or don’t emotionally reject RTTE for their personal headcanon/discussion space. These are people who acknowledge the show’s implications rather than deny RTTE’s existence or the implications of the content. It’s exactly because people engage and examine its contents, that some people might like to talk about Hiccup through RTTE lenses, and others will never entertain such speculations.

(You know this stuff, I’m sure, but I’m spelling it all out to be clear, and for other readers to follow.)

What I’m saying is that in angles like these, what is or is not canon doesn’t matter, because we have the right to recreationally interact with Hiccup through some of the officially licensed materials, or through all of them. We have the right to completely ignore ALL canon and imagine him as something else, too!

That discussion that I focused on is about what people accept as “the most official materials” versus “unofficial materials.” Your focus for the majority of your message looks to me like a nuanced angle on something else - the other “spaces,” “places,” “frameworks” you bring up. That’s about whether or not people acknowledge what’s inside those materials. It’s about whether or not people are able to acknowledge that things happen in official materials, or are able to correctly discern objective versus subjective information within that media. That’s not something I was covering in that conversation because it wasn’t contextually relevant, but yes, you’re absolutely right that these distinctions are important!

The viral post you mentioned is one I’ll never forget from you, because I agree with it 100%. It’s the same frustration I hold, so it was so enthralling to see it put to words. It’s poor thinking for fans to subjectively interpret canon materials and try to push it as The One Truth… when it is not objectively what the source material contains. Feel free to tie things together how you want for funsies, that doesn’t make it what the source ACTUALLY says.

This is why I mentioned, at the start of my discussion, that I get uncomfortable when people dismiss officially licensed materials as “fanfiction” or “not real.” These exist whether we like them to or not. The reason it’s important to distinguish fandom from canon is because canon is what feeds us, and is what provides authority for what the franchise is. Whether or not you like the materials or engage with them for things like headcanoning, they’re there, and you have to be able to acknowledge: these materials exist. The companies gave them to us.

Because a product exists, you can’t say “bye” to the consequences of its existence. You have to know it exists, and what it does/doesn’t contain. It’s poor thinking for individuals to extrapolate materials from canon that were objectively not intended by the creators, but fans still try to push it as “the true story.” What the source material objectively contains cannot be replaced by emotional wants or denials. That’s where things like representation or romance come into play, as you mentioned: it’s (usually) fine to relate to and interpret the characters as you want, so long as you can separate that from the objective reality of the source material. You have to be able to acknowledge what the source material contains.

I want to make it very clear:

There’s an enormous difference between emotionally deciding which canonical materials you engage with for your creative frameworking…

…versus denying the existence of what officially licensed products contain, or insisting that your subjective interpretation is objectively true.

For the former: canon doesn’t matter. That’s my discussion of the previous post. Policing fans by telling them one source is canon and one isn’t… when it’s all licensed materials… is forcing people to engage with canon a certain way. We all have the right to engage with all licensed materials to the depth we want. If I want to accept RTTE and analyze Hiccup from RTTE to GOTNF to THW… let me enjoy that! Don’t tell me to quit analyzing RTTE!Hiccup because it doesn’t feel like he’s IC to you (and ergo, outside of your own mental “canon”). It’s fiiiiine! I can write analyses about RTTE!Hiccup!

For something like the “what is canon materials?” discussion you mentioned as far as academic documentation of a body of works, that is a REALLY interesting discussion, but yeah, as you pointed out, a little outside the boundaries of this current conversation. But I’d love to talk to you sometime about it!!!

For the latter: you better be able to know what the licensed materials actually contain. You shouldn’t deny something exists. Whether or not you call it “canon,” you should be able to acknowledge it’s an official product and not something a fan put on AO3. You should be able to objectively understand what’s in officially released products. If the books have problematic elements, if a show lacks explicit queer representation, if there’s a racial stereotype that’s handled poorly, that’s a truth that you can’t imagine your way out of! You can reinterpret characters for fun in your fandom discussions, but you can’t deny the reality of what the creators produced. Ignoring the truth of these issues, or making your interpretations “reality” you force on others… is dangerous illogical thought that has severe consequences for how you interact with the world and its issues.

As you say, there’s value in all these discussions. We’ve known each other a long time, so I know you know I’m a logic-oriented individual, someone who isn’t going to say “everything is okay!” and let subjectivity fly over objective information in source materials. When I say “canon doesn’t matter,” it’s not about subjectively letting our feelings erase what is objectively presented on screen / on paper. When I say “canon doesn’t matter,” it’s about whether or not someone wants to talk about tie-ins, or only select portions of officially released products. But when I say “canon doesn’t matter,” it is also with the assumption people are smart enough to distinguish subjective interpretation from objective observation, the angle which you brought up with the nuanced discussion we’ve seen. Thanks for speaking with such finesse again on why we can’t lets fans’ desires get in the way of what they call “truth.”

I love to both discuss things from a creative speculative angle and let my imagination wander or reinterpret characters… or discuss materials from a Doylist acknowledgement of how something gets sociologically presented. Hell, I hold such a huge value to official products and canon materials that I engage with almost no fandom content (fanfictions, comics, etc.). So yeah! I also believe that canon is very, very important, and is something to be talked about!

I think it’s important to understand the impacts that official materials have, and I get frustrated when people pretend something DreamWorks or Disney officially sanctioned is “fanfiction.” I think it’s important for fans to discuss back and forth about what they think objectively happened when there’s a lack of clarity. For the romance thing, again, as you said, it’s a good discussion to have of “what is WITHIN canon?” when looking at whether or not it’s obviously queer, or if you’re reading into it.

I also love to create synthesized interpretations for what characters are like and I get frustrated when people try to police me on what I can/can’t include into my canon analyses.

I just have no patience for laypersons who debate “what is canon MATERIAL?” when looking at whether or not a video game should be considered “okay” to synthesize with a movie, and gatekeeping in the sense of what fans can include in our creative engagements. Whether or not X is “as canon” as Y doesn’t matter at the end of the day if you disagree with [insert username here]. It’s your recreation. It’s still a franchise product. Know it exists, know the objective materials, and move on. Do with it as you will and let your friends do with it as they will.

#peachdoxie #long post #it's getting way too late so I'll call this response good enough XD #hope that clarifies #fandom #analysis #my analysis #ask #ask me

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