#because i feel like that doesn’t change this - again limited sample but

[alilybit]

[Pokémon DP Cover] Cracked Reflection | Infinity Train: Book Two

I’m Lake.

Hi, I’m back once again. This time I really actually want to get back to regular uploads. Thank you for continuing to watch even when I don’t upload for months or years!

The Song

As you can hear, this is something a little different. I’ve been wanting to expand beyond only 8-bit and only covers for a while. This one actually came to be sort of accidentally. I wanted to just transcribe the song into LMMS to have all the notes and instruments visualised to make it easier to then arrange it into FamiTracker. I love trackers and I find them incredibly comfortable to use, but for planning an arrangement I find it easier to have a fully visual version of all the notes. And I’m not bound by a limited amount of channels. I can transcribe everything I hear (or possibly want to add) to LMMS and then use that as a reference to plan how I want to turn this into a FamiTracker arrangement, and what parts should be in which channel and what parts have to be omitted.

And as I continued transcribing it using the DP “soundfont”, I thought it sounded very interesting and maybe I should not just transcribe the notes but polish it into its own full song. And so I did. I’ve been wanting to make covers with game soundfonts like this for a long time. It was so much fun to do, finding instruments that sounded close enough to be a good representation of the original felt very similar to recreating instruments in FamiTracker. Just like how I use FamiTracker to make faithful 8-bit music, I want to make the game soundfont covers faithful. I don’t know of proper specialised way to do that (althogh I haven’t looked yet), converting the original samples to .sf2 and then just using them in a DAW like LMMS probably doesn’t produce a very faithful result. And this time I’ve taken a creative liberty that I don’t plan on using in other DP covers: I used tons of reverb. Because that’s what the original song is like and that makes it sound much better and more like the original. Playing around with reverb allowed me to make some instruments sound a lot more fitting than they would otherwise be. I’m quite happy with how most things turned out sounding, except for the main chords. I couldn’t find an instrument that sounded satisfactory and I’m not entirely happy with the one I eventually decided was the best. I love how those ascending notes like at 0:20 turned out, though. Although doing the timing of those notes was not easy, I played around with them for a long time and still couldn’t get it to sound exactly like the original. And for that slowly descending sound like at 0:00 I used the sustained crash cymbal (?) sample and made it slowly go down in pitch. The result sounds surprisingly good, I didn’t expect to be able to find something to recreate that sound. What gave me the idea to use the crash cymbal for this was that I found out while analysing the DP Opening Movie that its ending loop also uses that same crash cymbal to make those 3 sounds that to me sound like coal digging in the Oreburgh mines.

I also made more changes to the song than I’ve ever done before. I added a counter melody to the main A D G D F# B and I added 1.5 whole sections. Those sections use a similar saw-like instrument to the aforementioned ascending notes like at 0:20, just a little less sharp (called “off the train” in the project file as can be seen in the video). I think I might have tried both instruments for the ascending notes, decided the sharper one was better and then ended up re-using the other instrument for this additional part. Because I love how these two instruments sound. This additional saw-like melody is meant to represent Lake’s journey through the Train, with its ups and downs, sometimes succeeding in getting closer to defining their own self and destiny but also sometimes feeling hopeless when the world just doesn’t seem to let them.

The secondary instrument playing during the new parts (called “flecs” in the project file as can be seen in the video) is a piano that plays a melody inspired by the motif that plays whenever Mace and Sieve appear and do mirror law enforcement things. It’s meant to represent how the Flecs are a constant threat in Lake’s life, obstacles on their journey through the Train, and the instrument alternating between playing and breaks shows how the Flecs keep coming back, and their echoes stay in Lake’s mind even when they’re temporarily not pursuing Lake.

And then there is the second shorter additional part that ends the main part of the song, with just the “off the train” instrument playing a happy end, and no “flecs” because the Flecs following Lake are gone, Jesse came back for them because he cares about them and sees them as their own unique and equal person, and they got off the train.

The Art

For the art I went through my screenshot collection of the second season. I often take screenshots when important, emotional and/or beautiful stuff happens. I thought about what facial expression and pose would best represent Lake, and I thought that this expression of them looking to the side with a mix of mild amused annoyance would be perfect. Maybe even a little bashful and definitely happy. In that original scene the rest of their body is just stiff and straight and boring, so to make them look more dynamic and even more cool I combined that facial expression with a hands-in-pockets pose. Turned away a little, thinking about their new life.

And of course the background is that absolutely beautiful Bob Ross landscape. I again had trouble drawing the clouds and I don’t like how they turned out, but I like the rest. I definitely had a lot of fun drawing this piece and I really like it.

The Video

I wasn’t sure how to do the visuals for this DP cover, and soundfont covers or LMMS songs in general. The only “dynamic” thing I could record and show is the LMMS overview, but that’s filling the entire screen with no room for art or animations, unlike the Synthesia-like notes I put over the art in 8-bit videos. I initially decided on just recording LMMS and then putting a sprite of Lake somewhere on it, in a DPPt trainer battle pose and style. I drew that sprite and a round in-battle grass platform for them to stand on, but it looked not that good and the sprite itself and the video idea of just showing LMMS with a random out-of-place sprite somewhere covering things up just didn’t resonate with me at all. I wanted to add a DP-like battle-like background to the sprite, those with just a few blurry coloured stripes like I did in the DP Opening animation. I wanted to use the beautiful Bob Ross landscape from the series as a reference for the colours, but I ended up painting the entire scene instead. And unlike the small sprite I liked this painting. And then I drew the Lake pose on top of it. I planned to make multiple versions of the song, definitely also an 8-Bit cover and possibly something fully hand-played too. So I might need multiple different drawings, and I thought about this Bob Ross landscape + Lake pose, the battle sprite and what other things I could do, and which of them I should use for which version. The DP sprite would obviously fit the DP cover best, but since I don’t like how the sprite turned out but love the painting, and I really want to finally upload this song and upload something again, I decided to use this painting for the DP cover.

But the painting fills the entire screen. I had two screen-filling things, the painting and the LMMS recording. Only having a static image for an entire video might be too boring. But I didn’t know what meaningful and useful things I could put on top of the drawing. So I tried to see if maybe just switching to LMMS for a few short times to give viewers a glimpse of the project file in a very slightly Synthesia-like way would look acceptable and make it more interesting. I did a simple fade over to LMMS twice. It looked alright, I guess. But then I thought about how I could make the transitions more interesting, and I had the idea that it would be interesting and fitting to do a digital glitchy transition that makes it look like the artificial image being projected for the viewer is disappearing because the actual machinery behind it all is malfunctioning and revealing the actual mechanisms behind it, just like how removing the orbs reveals the tech stuff behind the train’s illusions. I probably won’t find a way to integrate temporary transitions to LMMS into other DP covers as nicely, but for this one it ended up fitting really well.

And at the end there’s of course the crucial hand reveal scene. I’ll see you on the train!

Oh yeah, and I’m not sure about how to title this series. Right now it’s called “[Pokémon DP Cover] Cracked Reflection | Infinity Train: Book Two”. The thing in brackets is the problem. I want it to be as short as possible, but also as informative as possible to as many people as possible so they easily understand what this song is. It’s not a song from DP, it’s a song from something else played with DP’s instruments. I guess the word “soundfont” is widely used and easily understandable even by people who don’t know much about music, so I considered stuff like [Pokémon DP Soundfont Cover], but that’s way too long. I could leave out the “Pokémon” and the “Cover” parts I guess, but that might cause more people to not understand what this is. And I want to clearly distinguish covers from potential future originals. Let me know if you have any thoughts or suggestions.

PPS: I’ve never interacted with the Infinity Train fandom in any way, but now I’ve seen a little bit for the first time after I posted the video and drawing on Tumblr. As I imagined, there seem to be a lot of people using they/them or he/him for Lake and so on. I initially used she/her for Lake in this post even though I myself have a lot of thoughts about Lake including in the realm of gender, but I didn’t want to assume a part of Lake’s identity and force my own views onto Lake. After all, Lake’s theme is that Lake wants to do Lake’s own thing and not be assigned and told anything by others. Respecting that and only using what Lake lakeself said in the show was important to me. But now that I’ve seen others take the character further than what was depicted in the show I’ve relaxed that mindset a little and thought to myself that while I want to respect Lake which is still very important to me, Lake is a fictional character and I too can continue the version of Lake that’s in my mind into any direction I personally like. So I will personally take Lake into the direction of non-binary and they/them, because I feel like that fits their character’s theme of wanting to be their own person and not being satisfied with predefined binary choices. I feel like this would be something the show and its writers might have done if the show had been done later where this would be more acceptable. So I’ll edit the pronouns I’ve used here to reflect that decision. And of course I’m fine with any other way other people interpret their Lakes.

Lake is just the best, I love them so much. And of course I also love Jesse.

[channiebelly]

chan’s enjoying life with his roommate mingyu since he handles all the cooking and it’s a nice break on him. as he expects he puts on weight but he doesn’t really expect mingyu blowing up similarly and he’s curious as to how much he’ll gain before realizing. sampling the recipes and matching how much chan eats can only accelerate how quickly he grows alongside his roommate unknowingly

i am so sorry this took so long! I hope you like it <3

ship: mingyu/chan

wordcount: .9k

tropes: mutual gaining, unintentional gaining

When Chan and Mingyu moved in together, they set up a chore distribution system. The most important part was that Mingyu would make dinner every night.

Mingyu was famed for being a good cook, and he promised Chan that he would never need to eat out again.

"I need a lot of food," Chan had warned him, jiggling his rounded belly so Mingyu would know exactly what he was referring to.

"Don't worry, I know. I'll keep you well fed."

Mingyu did. Every night there was a delicious meal set out on the table. Mingyu would split the food evenly between them and they would eat. Chan would have to consciously try and avoid moaning at the table due to how good the food was, and how creamy and oily it was. Creamy and oily were Mingyu's specialities. He would always leave the table feeling that comfortable heaviness in his belly, his skin stretching to accommodate the amount of food.

Just three weeks into living together, Chan noticed that he was gaining weight. His pants became harder to button up and his favourite tshirts started becoming skin tight. Chan didn't mind, though. He'd always liked his belly. He thought it was cute and comfortable and very sexy. So what if it got a little bigger? There was just more of him to love.

Mingyu was getting bigger too. Chan was shocked by that. He'd always been an avid gym goer and he was taller than Chan so Chan had thought that Mingyu would be able to handle eating the same amount of food as him. Mingyu's growing muffin top was proof that that wasn't true.

Mingyu liked to walk around the house shirtless, proud of his sculpted gym body, so it was easy for Chan to notice the changes that were happening. Chan didn't mention anything to Mingyu, even though it seemed like Mingyu hadn't noticed this change in his physique.

Chan watches as over the weeks and months, Mingyu's muffin top develops into a pot belly which gets pinched by the waistband of his pants, and then into a round, bloated beer belly which never seems to go away. His chest muscles stop looking so defined and the muscle there morphs into baby moobs.

As Mingyu's weight climbs and climbs, Chan contemplates whether he should mention something to Mingyu. He doesn't want to. Mingyu always looks so happy when he eats and he gets this relaxed vibe to him right after the meal's finished, as if he's enjoying the fullness in the same way that Chan does. No, Chan decides. He won't tell him. Mingyu is happy like this.

Chan decides to test Mingyu's limits, subtly, of course.

"I barely ate today, could you make some extra dinner tonight?" he asks.

"Of course," Mingyu says. Chan knew he would agree.

When Mingyu sits down for dinner, he again evenly splits the dish and they sit down to eat it. Chan celebrates to himself. His plan worked! Mingyu is eating even more of the greasy, buttery food than usual.

Chan repeats this same statement that he barely ate multiple times throughout the coming weeks, claiming that he'd just been really busy lately. Soon, he doesn't even have to ask and Mingyu is making these larger meals without Chan having to ask.

Mingyu's weight piles on even faster. Chan doesn't feel guilty because now Mingyu's after dinner glow lasts even longer. He's happier than ever.

It all comes to a head one day when Mingyu knocks on Chan's door, wearing nothing but his boxers. Chan notices how the waistband is almost stretched out as far and it can go and how Mingyu's thighs are threatening to rip the seams.

"Can I borrow some shorts?" Mingyu asks.

"Sure. Why?" Chan asks. He starts digging in his closet for a pair.

"I don't fit any of my pants anymore. They won't button. I need to go buy some new ones." He sounds miserable. Chan hands him a pair of shorts. "I got so big and I didn't even notice." He pokes a finger into his squishy side and looks sad.

"What's wrong with that?" Chan asks. "You like my belly, don't you?" He places his hand on his belly and gives it a soft shake. Mingyu always used to tell Chan how cute and cosy his belly made him look. He would tell him that under absolutely no circumstances should Chan lose weight. Chan knows that Mingyu likes his belly. Mingyu nods. "So now you have one too."

Mingyu still looks sad.

"You like eating, don't you?" Mingyu nods again, more enthusiastically this time. "And I think you look really good like this. So be happy. Now you can eat even more."

"You think I look good?" Mingyu asks.

"Yes. You're big and soft, just like a giant teddy bear. I want you to give me a big hug."

Mingyu giggles.

"Go buy yourself some new clothes, and for dinner we can get takeout."

Mingyu turns to leave. "I think I need a tshirt too," he says. Chan hands him one.

It was easier to convince Mingyu than Chan had thought. It seems like he didn't need much pushing to accept that his belly was amazing. It seems like that was always the body he was meant to have. Chan is just happy he could help get him there.

[bandedbulbussnarfblat]

Home chapter 4

here is the final chapter of my latest fic in the old maniel gets it series

The next month seems to fly by.  It's filled with paint swatches and wallpaper samples and endless browsing for furniture.  Daniel doesn’t much care how they decorate.  It's a good thing, because Armand prefers making the decisions. (He does at least run everything by Daniel first.) 

They have something of an argument about whether to move in right away, or have decorators prepare the house first.  Daniel wants to move in as soon as possible.  Armand wants to make things perfect first.  Then Daniel reminds him that he is sick, and his time left is limited.  So Armand gives in.

It's the only real time they've argued; besides a bit of mild bickering.  It's been a good month.  Daniel hasn't felt this domestic since he was married.  It feels like being married.  

They sleep in the same bed during the day.  At night, they'll go out sometimes and stay in others.  They've gotten a few odd glances, but Daniel has ignored them.  He gets from the outside it looks like a strange pairing.  

Armand has been biting him nearly every night, as well as giving him the blood.  It's much more frequent than when he was younger.  Daniel asks about it one night, and Armand tells him it's to help with his pain.  Aches and pains are part of old age; Daniel barely notices it anymore.  But it's sweet that Armand worries over him.

They've also been fucking like rabbits.  Daniel’s had more sex in the last month than in the last five years.  It's always as good as the first time.  Everything is good with Armand; Daniel feels happier than he ever has.  

They fly on the private jet to Florida.  The movers have already arrived by the time they get there and have unloaded most of their things.  Daniel oversees them moving the remaining things, and has them put to where he thinks Armand would want them.  He’s almost certain Armand will redo most of it anyway.  

At nightfall, Armand joins him.  

They christen the bed, staining the new sheets with blood and other fluids.  Then they drink champagne and toast to the future.  Daniel feels almost completely content.  

“Are you happy, my love?”  Armand asks.  There’s something in his eyes, some intensity that Daniel can’t understand.  

Daniel lays his head on Armand’s chest and twines their legs together.  Armand’s fingers stroke through his hair.  “Yeah, I’m happy.”

“And is there anything else you would like?  Anything at all?”  That same intensity there again.

Daniel props up on an elbow and peers down at Armand.  “What’s up with you?”

“Nothing, Daniel.  I merely wish to see you happy.”

“Uh-huh,” Daniel says, not buying that for a minute.  “Well, all I need to be happy is you.”

Daniel means to press Armand further, but then Armand pulls him into a kiss and the next thing he knows he’s on his back and Armand is inside him and it can wait.

/

The days slip by, one after the other.  Daniel is happy and content.  He still occasionally thinks of his daughters, and wishes that he could fix things with them.  But he figures they need time.  Maybe once things get bad off with him, they’ll come to patch things up before he dies.

It’s thinking of them that leads him into thoughts of death.  Precisely into thoughts of how he doesn’t want to die.  He was ready to meet death before, when he didn’t have anything to live for.  Now he has Armand.  Now, he’s happy.  He doesn’t want to give all this up.  

Daniel doesn’t say anything to Armand.  He’s made it pretty clear that he has no intention of making Daniel a vampire.  Unless he’s changed his mind in the years between them.  But Daniel is afraid to ask.  

Still, he can’t stop thinking about it.  

It’s on his mind all the time.  So much so that one lazy Sunday, around three weeks after they’ve moved in, Armand pauses Netflix and looks over to him.  “Just ask, Daniel.”

“What?”

“You’ve been thinking so loud you’re practically shouting.”

Daniel frowns; he hates when Armand pokes around his head without permission.  But Armand has explained that when Daniel ‘thinks loudly’ he has to work to block out his thoughts.  It requires effort to do so, and he’s typically relaxed around Daniel.  And Daniel wants him to be comfortable. 

But he’s been mulling over something and Daniel doesn’t know what it is, and it isn’t fair that Armand gets to read his mind.

“Why ask when I already know the answer?”  The bitterness in his voice surprises Daniel.  

Armand just looks at him for a long moment, then sighs.  “You’re dying, beloved.  I can sense it.  And I’m too much of a coward to let you go.”

Daniel’s heart races.  Dying?  Is that what has been on Armand’s mind?  That Daniel is dying?  “How long do I have left?”

Armand shakes his head.  “It doesn’t work like that.  I can sense your death approaching, like an aura.  It isn’t precise.”

He moves across the couch and straddles Daniel’s lap.  His hands cup Daniel’s face.  “I don’t want you to die.”

Daniel swallows and looks into his eyes.  “I don’t want to die.”

“And I love you too much to let you.”

Daniel puts his hands on Armand’s waist.  “Are you actually agreeing to make me like you?”

Armand presses their foreheads together.  “If that’s what you want.  I won’t deny you; we’ll be together in hell, after all.”

Daniel nods and his voice is shaky when he answers “It’s what I want.  I want to live forever with you.”

“Eternity is long, Daniel.  And the world is ever changing.  Who knows what lies ahead for us?”

“I don’t care.  I’ll go towards it with you.”

A tear slips from Armand’s eye and Daniel kisses his cheek, his mouth.  “Don’t cry, baby.  Look, all human decisions are like this.  Do you think a parent knows what will happen to their child?  Everybody is lost.”

“I’ve never done it before.  I’ve done my share of evil, but never this.”

Daniel winds their fingers together.  “ What does it matter if you give it to me and it's wrong?I want it, and I would have it.”

Armand nods.  “Just say the word, my love.  We’ll do it whenever you’re ready.”

Daniel wants to say goodbye to his family first, then he’ll be ready.  “Give me a few days to tie things up.”

Only a few days, and he’ll have Armand forever.

[magicoftelevision]

@ all women: i’ve been thinking about orientation vs own perceived attractiveness and i’m interested in a conversation about it (like is this legit or am i being biased toward my own experience, or like little of column A little of column B)

i think a benefit of being gay is it takes the guesswork out of trying to be attractive and makes me more comfortable in my own skin. like i feel hot because i can look at all the things about me and know that i personally am attracted to those features, you know? this includes like body shape and stuff i guess, but moreso things like how i dress and my hair and makeup and even how i pose in photos, the more fluid day-to-day decisions.

makeup is a big one - i frequently see the debate about the ‘minimum’ amount of makeup women can get away with, the makeup-to-look-like-you’re-not-wearing-makeup thing, women saying that they’re taken less seriously in professional settings and get asked if they’re sick or tired if they dare show up bare faced, etc. i 100% think that’s unacceptable and makeup shouldn’t be a factor in how ‘put together’ we look, but also for me personally i feel like that’s already true. since i don’t typically wear any it isn’t a break from routine, it’s how i always look and no one mentions it. me dressed my most professional does not need to include makeup. i do wear it for fun sometimes, but more like it’s a thing to add if i’m dressing up in not-just-normal clothes, like a drag show or a concert. i feel like my naked face looks complete and people treat me as such. i could for sure see this being tied to butchness, but i’m pretty femme so that isn’t requisite. this isn’t a massive sample but absolutely none of my straight friends say the same, they all experience that negativity when they go without.

and this isn’t to say that same-sex attraction is necessary to feel attractive, for sure straight women can be like feelin’ themselves, but it does seem maybe less consistent? and there’s different uhh versions - like the ‘idgaf what everyone thinks but i like this outfit’ vs like, thirst trap mode (this is not a negative term, i love thirst trap mode, i just mean it’s for an audience). and i think the second one carries a bit of a ‘ok, what are men into..’ where when i do it it’s just ‘hell ya i look hot’ with no real consideration. is this true? also bi women, do you feel maybe some of each? like ‘well i’m certainly into this but idk if he will be’?

last point for now, my attraction to other women also helped me get over specific insecurities about my own body. it was like an epiphany where i went ‘hang on, a lot of the women i think are hot have stretchmarks and the belly pouch shape and acne and hairy legs and squishy arms, and that doesn’t detract from my attraction to them… the same must apply to me???’ which maybe has some overlap in some areas with m/f attraction, like acne or general chubbiness, but there’s also the whole thing about different standards and idk, i don’t know if it would feel as potent and convincing. thoughts?

[plus-size-reader]

Dating Eddie Munson HC

~This boy loves you

~He loves you like he’s never loved another person and that means that there is no limit to what he would do for you

~Always holding hands, no matter what you’re doing or where you are

~Which, of course, leads to you playing with his rings, whether they’re on his fingers or not

~For your first year anniversary, he gave you his favorite ring, which you still wear on a silver chain around your neck to this day

~Eddie smells like weed smoke and cheap cologne. The first of which is because he has a nasty habit of sampling his merchandise, and the second is because he feels like it makes him more of a classy guy for you.

~It doesn’t matter how many times you tell him that he doesn’t have to, he won’t give it up. He maintains that it’s for you, but at a certain point, you’re sure he just likes the ritual of it

~Spending almost all your time playing D&D, whether you were already a fan of the game or Eddie had to show you the ropes

~It’s basically his favorite hobby, outside of music, and something he is really passionate about sharing with you

~He absolutely calls you “Princess” or “My Lady” because he’s a geek, and it isn’t even close to being a secret

~I 1000% believe you’ve put that boy's mullet up in a ponytail more than once. It’s not nearly as ‘metal’ that way, but at least it isn’t quite as hot

~The Hellfire Club basically regards you as their unofficial leader, and their first lady.

~That means that every bit of girl drama, hot gossip and goings on goes through you, and when Dustin feels like talking, or Lucas and Max get into a spat or disagreement, you have a front row seat to everything.

~...and you’re always ahead of Eddie where the kids are concerned

~”Who is that again?”

~”Jesus Eds, keep up”

~It isn’t his fault. There are just too many of these damn kids, and there is always something new going on with them

~Drawing on the rubber of his sneakers

~Eddie is incredibly sentimental.

~He keeps everything you give him, from little notes with hearts doodled on them to stones you’ve picked up on walks that you like, presenting them to him as if they’re worth more than gold.

~Everything.

~Spending a ton of time together in his room when Uncle Wayne isn’t around, just cuddling, and enjoying each others company until the early hours of the morning

~Eddie thinks of you like a porcelain doll sometimes, making a show of painting your nails, which you leave to dry no matter how messy they are, or putting on your lip gloss just to be a part of every part of your day

~He never fails to brighten your day, with a goofy face or that god awful darth vader impression you couldn’t escape, there’s no limit to what he’d do just to see that smile on your face

~Picnics and romantic lunches outside his trailer at the park, with a blanket and everything.

~Eddie giving you guitar lessons, even if you don’t want them, just to watch you try and learn the skill that he’s already managed to master

~There has never been a bigger softie in the history of the world than Eddie Munson. He plays it all tough and mysterious, but he’s a sweetheart through and through.

~You’re definitely the tougher of the two of you, no matter what the better half of Hawkins may choose to believe

~Eddie is a huge dreamer, and always talks about getting out and doing something better with your lives.

~He wants to go to Hollywood or something, and make a name for himself, so that he can “buy you a big house and an even bigger diamond”

~Because, Eddie LOVES you and that is never going to change.

[mymoodwriting]

5.9k, yandere, manipulation, mind control, deceit, assault, torture, heist, guns, drugs, revelations, kidnapping, guns, character death (@xcharlottemikaelsonx)

“I… I can’t do this…”

     It wasn’t just the fact that you were staring down the man you had tried to hurt before, or the fact that you would have to dive into his head again, it was just you not trusting yourself. Taemin had always been patient with you, but even you were getting annoyed with yourself, so you could only imagine how he felt. He didn’t show it or anything, which made you more concerned. Or maybe he had more patience than you did.

“How about we take a break and try again later.” Taemin suggested. “You’re probably hungry.”

“Yeah…”

     Taemin went with you to get some food, and you were happy to see Taeyong there. You sat with him, and Taemin excused himself to attend to other things.

“How’s your training?”

“I think I’m improving? At least that’s what Taemin says.”

“Do you not think so?”

“I just… I don’t know if I can do what he’s asking.”

“Mind control?

“Yeah…”

“How come? It seems only natural that you should be able to do something like that.”

“But isn’t it… cruel… making people do things against their will…”

“You’re not necessarily making them do anything bad, are you? I can’t see you making someone hurt themselves or others.” 

“Then what could I do?”

“Make them stop hurting themselves or others. You’re seeing your powers only in a negative light because all you’ve seen yourself do is bad things, isn’t it? You never meant to hurt us before, and I know you wouldn’t mean to now.”

“Hmm…”

“Don’t be scared of your powers, and don’t push yourself too much, okay?”

“I’ll do my best. What about you though? How’s your training?”

“One day I’ll be as powerful as you.”

“Me?”

“Yes. Your powers are very cool.”

“So are yours. I can have all the Taeyong’s I want.”

“Aren’t you greedy?”

“Nothing wrong with that.”

     Taeyong stayed with you, doing his best to bring a smile to your face and ease your worries. You did feel better by the time Taemin came to get you, and you certainly had a different mindset too. Taeyong had been right, your powers could do bad things, but also good things, and it was up to you to decide how to use them. Although that meant gaining control, if you couldn’t control yourself, you could hurt people.

“So what exactly… do you want me to do?”

“Huh?”

“What do I make him do?”

“Anything really, that is what you’re capable of.” Taemin explained. “But I guess something simple for starters. Like make him dance to your favorite song.”

“Okay…”

     You still didn’t want to go back into that room, but you felt more determined this time. Your little test subject was tied up and gagged. You were safe, and all you had to do was make him dance. You took a deep breath and focused your thoughts. You thought of your favorite song, thinking of the dance that went along with it. You wanted to see it, you let the idea fill your head, and then thought of sharing it with your friend here. You could already share thoughts with other people, now it was about intentions. 

    You meant no harm, you just wanted something to be done, and in a sense you were asking, just somewhat removing the possibility of rejection. After a moment you saw your friend moving about. Of course their actions were limited but you were actually surprised. You could see the confusion in their eyes as well, but they were responding to what you wanted to do. Perhaps it wasn’t really something to be excited over, but you were. 

“Taemin… am… am I doing it?”

    Besides watching you, Taemin kept a close eye on the monitors he had reading your brainwaves and patterns. He was certainly detecting a change, and Baekhyun had already pulled up your other records to compare.

“It’s different for sure, but we’d need more than one sample to compare.”

“Obviously.” Taemin turned on the comms. “I think so. Why not try something else, maybe make him sing.”

“Sing?”

“Remove the gag, but make sure he doesn’t try anything before you do so.”

“Try anything?”

“If he’s dancing around at your request. I’m sure you can ask him to keep quiet and still.”

“Right…”

    You took a deep breath and refocused your thoughts, wanting him to sit still and relax. Once he stopped moving and you felt it was safe to do so, you reached over and removed the gag. He didn’t speak, which was a good first sign. You kept your thoughts focused and asked him to sing a song for you. Of course you didn’t say anything out loud, feeding him the words and watching in awe as he repeated, in a song voice too.

“Taemin, this is so cool!”

“You’re doing great.”

    Taemin glanced over at the screens, seeing the comparisons. There were minor differences which he could say were the result of different commands given, but overall he could see the base formation.

“Is this what you wanted?” Baekhyun asked. “What are you going to do now?”

“I need to run my own tests first…”

    Taemin didn’t realize that you had started asking questions. You were just asking out of curiosity and didn’t really mean harm by it, but he knew things could spiral in a bad direction if you continued.

“Do you have a family?”

“No.”

“How come?”

“My job wouldn’t allow it.”

“So you’re alone.”

“Yes.”

“Why? Is the job really worth that?”

“I didn’t have a choice.”

“You didn’t? What does that mean?”

“When you get involved with the Organization, you don’t get to leave alive.”

“You must know a lot of secrets…”

“I do.”

“Your job was to look after Taemin, right?”

“Yes.”

“What do you think of him?”

“He’s dangerous, and manipulative.”

“Is he trustworthy?”

“No.”

“Do you think I-”

    The door opening startled you a bit, but it was just Taemin. He offered you a smile and gagged your test subject.

“How do you feel?”

“Good. I did it right?”

“Yes. I’m quite impressed and proud. You should probably rest too, you just did something incredible and new.”

“I can’t wait to tell the others.”

“I’m sure they’ll be excited to hear too. Why don’t you go with Kai and find something sweet as a prize.”

“That sounds good.”

    Kai had been waiting by the door and you happily went along with him. Taemin waited a moment before shutting the door behind him, and taking a seat. He had brought a tablet with him, focusing on it for a moment.

“You know I can hear your thoughts right.” The subject grew stiff. “You’re freaking out cause it’s just me and you now. But you’re mostly concerned about her, because she’s with me.”

“…”

“Now you’re probably wondering how it is that I can read your mind. She can, that’s her power, but that’s not something I’m capable of. I’d agree with you, but given how far I was pushed, it is now something I am very capable of doing. So let’s run some tests, shall we. I’m going to remove this gag and I want you to tell me everything I want to know. I’ll know if you’re lying to me, but if this all goes well, you won’t be able to.”

❤

“Taeyong! I did it!”

    You were so overjoyed to see one of your boys, and you couldn’t contain your excitement. You had been running around looking for someone and found Taeyong in the gym. You didn’t care he was covered in sweat, just running up to him and hugging him.

���Woah, woah, where’s the party?”

“I did it! I used my powers like you said I could.”

“Oh, really? What did you do?”

“I had them dance and sing for me.”

“Wow, see, that’s not bad at all.”

“Taemin was so proud of me!”

“I am too. And I’m sure the others will be when they hear about this.”

“We should go find them and tell them.”

“I think they’re a bit busy, so we can let them know later.”

“Oh, okay.”

“How about I clean up first and then you can show me what you can do.”

“I don’t wanna use my powers on you…”

“You’re not gonna hurt me? Maybe just make me do a silly dance, right?”

“Still…”

“I trust you, and it’s important to practice, isn’t it.”

“Yes.”

“Alright then.”

    You were still nervous about using your powers, you only barely discovered your new powers, but Taeyong’s confidence and trust in you put you at ease. You found a quiet room for the both of you to use. At first you had Taeyong dance with you, having him follow your steps, and then sing nonsense. Although you weren’t entirely sure he wasn’t just amusing you.

“Taeyong…”

“Hm?”

“If I ask you to be honest with me… will you?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“Have you… lied to me before?”

“… I… why…”

“Answer me… please.”

“Why would you ask…” Taeyong was speaking through his teeth, feeling something in the back of his head telling him not to lie. “Y/n… what…”

“Something’s been… different lately… with you at least… and I want to know what.”

“Y/n…”

“I know you all want to keep me safe, but I hate being left out like this. I don’t want you guys keeping secrets or doing dangerous things because of me. I also don’t want to force an answer out of you, but if I can do that…”

“Stop it… you’re not like this…”

“Then just tell me without making me-”

“What’s going on here?”

    Taemin entering the room interrupted everything. Taeyong jumped to his feet, as did you, suddenly feeling shameful over your actions. You couldn’t even raise your head up.

“We were just practicing.” Taeyong explained. “She’s really improved a lot.”

“Ah, were you making him dance and sing too?”

“Yeah…”

“Why are you looking down though? Did you do something wrong?”

“I…”

“Nothing happened, we were just-”

“Quiet.”

“…”

“I was just practicing and might have gotten carried away…”

“Ah, I see. No one can lie to you anymore, power like that is tempting, isn’t it?”

“Yes…”

“So what is it you want to know?”

“Taeyong… is different… something…”

“Dangerous.”

“Huh?”

“I told you she would be dangerous.” Taemin commented, looking over at Taeyong. “Didn’t I?”

“Taemin, what-”

“Shall you use your power on me?”

“Uh…”

“Anything you want to know?”

“I can’t… my powers don’t work on you…”

“What powers?”

“Huh?”

    Taemin gently pet your head, smiling down at you. He seemed genuine, but there was something in his eyes you couldn’t quite make out.

“How fortunate of you to have such lovely boys around you, to look after you, and protect you.”

“I…”

“And now you have us as well.”

“Taemin… what…”

“Just breathe… this is for your own good.”

“Taemin…”

    You reached up to push Taemin away from you, your head getting fuzzy. This was an unfamiliar feeling, and you didn’t like it.

“Sh, just listen to my words. You know I speak the truth. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“Tae…”

“Easy now, easy…”

“Taeyong! It hurts…”

“Taemin, what are you doing!” Taeyong got you away from him. “What the hell!”

“I told you what my plan was from the start. You agreed with me.”

“You’re hurting her!”

“And was she not causing you pain just now? Trying to pry whatever truth out of you.”

“That’s different!”

“Are you going back on your words now? Because I can send you back to your creator if you’d prefer that.”

“There has to be another-”

    Taeyong flew across the room, crashing against the wall and being held against it. He tried to move, but he was pinned. Even if you were out of it, you were vaguely aware of the confrontation. You wanted to go to Taeyong, but Taemin pulled your focus back to him, staring you down. You felt a pressure in your head, but it slowly began to ease up.

“We are all here to protect you. We were blessed with such gifts, and we use them for you. It’s fortunate you weren’t cursed the way we were, you get to remain perfect as you are.”

“Me…”

“You don’t have any powers to burden you.”

“I don’t… I don’t have any powers…”

“You have us. That’s all you need, right?”

“That’s all… I need…”

“You don’t have to worry about us. We’ve got you.”

“You’ve got me…”

“Why don’t you get some rest, it’s been a long day.”

“I do… I…” You yawned. “I’m tired…”

    Taemin pulled you into his arms, gently rubbing your back. He glanced over at Taeyong who was glaring daggers at him. He dropped the other, picking you up in his arms. Taeyong scrambled over to stop Taemin.

“So this was what you meant?”

“Did you think I was gonna drug her?”

“Just making her forget she has powers is gonna work? Seriously?”

“As long as no one brings it up. I’ll make sure things go well.”

“What if she finds out, or uses them by accident.”

“I do have something to make sure she doesn’t use her powers anyway. Now, get out of my way.”

“She’ll be fine, right?”

“Yes.”

“Do the others know yet?”

“I’ll inform them when I return. I need to deal with y/n and then something else. Keep an eye on her for me once she wakes. Is that manageable?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. Glad you’re still in my corner.”

❤

    Taeyong had been at your bed side, anxious. He felt guilty despite knowing he had done much worse himself. Still, he would just wait until you woke up and make sure you were still you. He remembered what you were like before all this nonsense, and this was a way for you to go back to all that. Taemin had been alone with you for a while before he was allowed to be with you. So he had no idea what else you had been told. As long as you were okay he could deal with whatever came next.

“Hm… Taeyong?”

“There you are… how do you feel?”

“Uh… my head is fuzzy, but I guess I slept more than I meant to.”

“Yeah, Taemin told me… where’s Taemin?”

“I believe he went out for a moment. He’ll be back soon.”

“Okay… and where are the others?”

“Busy. I’m sure they’re around somewhere.”

“Let’s go find them.”

“I think-”

    Before Taeyong could come up with some excuse you had gotten out of bed and were out the door. He quickly followed behind you, making sure you didn’t wander off and get lost. You still seemed to know your way around the base, and you didn’t seem completely lost. You were still yourself, as far as he knew, so he was glad about that.

“Ten!”

    You ran up to Ten when you saw him exit a room, embracing him in a hug. He was surprised to see you, but very happy as well.

“Y/n, hi, hi, what are you doing here?”

“I was just looking for you. Feels like forever since I’ve seen you all.”

“Cute, I feel the same.”

“How’s your training going? Taemin tells me you’ve all been doing well.”

“Of course, would you like to see?”

“Yes.”

    Ten led you down the hall where you saw a beautiful painting. You weren’t sure what he intended to show you since there was nothing else here.

“You were training in here?”

“Yup. I know it’s weird, but… I think it’s better to show you.”

    You watched as Ten put his hand on the painting, and it slowly began to fall apart. The colors melted off the canvas, the frame breaking apart. Your eyes went wide, somewhat horrified to see such a thing.

“What… how…”

“I know. I always thought my power was healing, but Taemin helped me realize it goes beyond that, it goes beyond what we thought was living.”

“But you didn’t… heal that painting… you destroyed it…”

“Not quite. I did heal it…”

“How?”

“Healing is like reversing time. When I’ve healed injuries before, I’ve stopped after a certain amount, but I could keep going… I could turn a flower back into a seed… and in this case… I’ve returned this painting to the basics. The canvas has been made blank again, the frame is back to the original wood it was, the colors are separate once again on the floor.”

“Oh…”

“It’s crazy, I know. I would never have imagined I could do something like this.”

“But can you put it back?”

“I wasn’t sure that was possible at first, but if my healing is really manipulating time, then it should go both ways. It seems impossible considering the paint on the floor, but even if I’ve deconstructed this all, all these pieces are connected.”

    Ten reached down and dipped his hands into the paint, mixing it all together again with his fingers. He then pressed his hand against the blank canvas, and slowly the color began to move on its own, what was left on the floor climbing up the wall and over the frame to return to where it once was, where it belonged. You watched this painting come back to life, restored to all its glory. Ten stepped back when he was done, looking at you with a smile.

“See.”

“Wow… that is pretty crazy.”

“And what about you? How’s your training?”

“Good. I bet I can take you in a fight.”

Ten chuckled. “I’m sure you could, but I meant the other training.”

“Other?”

    Taeyong had been quietly observing everything, well aware the conversation would eventually go down this path.

“Ten, there’s something we need to talk about.”

“What?”

“It’s complicated but-”

“Y/n, how’s your training with Taemin.”

“Ten!”

“He’s a good teacher. A lot of combat training.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about.”

“Huh?”

    Taeyong grabbed Ten and dragged him out of the room, leaving you confused, but that was probably for the best. He wound up taking the other into the nearest room over and locking the door behind him for good measures.

“Look, there’s something you need to know.”

“Is she messing with me or something?”

“It’s complicated.”

“You said that already so explain.”

“Just, listen, you’re not gonna like it.”

“Like what?”

“Y/n did it…”

“Did what? Can you just say it!”

“She figured out how to control other people.”

“So? What does that have to do with any of this?”

“She did it, and Taemin figured out how to do it too.”

“I’m sorry, what? Do it too? Are you saying Taemin can control people now?”

“Yes…”

“And… I…”

“Y/n’s untrained and undisciplined, so for her safety, and ours, he made her… forget…”

“Forget? Forget what?”

“That she has powers…”

“What?”

“It’s just a precaution and-”

“He used her own powers against her! To make her forget?!”

“She’s dangerous with mind control abilities, you know-”

“How! She’s not some monster or-”

“She was using her powers on me, Ten!”

“What?”

“She was interrogating me! What if I told her about what we did? How do you think she’d take that?”

“I… we can’t do this to her, it’s not fair.”

“It’s for her own sake. How are any of us supposed to handle someone with mind control powers? When we all have secrets to keep from her.”

“But why does he make that call? He told none of us about this! But you… you knew, didn’t you?”

“I…”

“He told you his plan from the start and you said nothing! You went along with it!”

“It’s for all our benefits!”

“How! What about her?”

“She’s fine, she’s safe.”

“Where the hell is Taemin, I need to talk to him.”

“He went out on a mission.”

“Then I know where he’ll be when he returns.”

❤

“That was a disaster.”

“The mission was a success.” Baekhyun countered. “We were in and out without-”

“It could have gone a lot better.” Kai said. “We got lucky this mission was simple, but we can’t possibly do something bigger like this.”

“But-”

“He’s right, Baekhyun.” Taemin interrupted. “I can’t do both, let alone when one is just an imitation. Trying to control multiple minds, while being able to watch my back and yours, it’s too much.”

“So then… that means we need her…”

“Yes.”

“The agreement was she wouldn’t be on the field.” Kai reminded. “That’s what you promised them.”

“Not like they can argue with me anymore.”

“You took care of it before we left?”

“To a degree.”

“Of course you did.”

“I need a few hours to recover, but we need to move fast. I want a plan ready within the hour, incorporating every asset we have.”

“Does that include-”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

“They won’t be happy.” Baekhyun added. “You know that.”

“They don’t really need to know.”

“Right.”

    The three went their separate ways, Taemin heading to his office. As soon as he opened the door he found Ten sitting on his desk, glaring. He was gone for a good amount of time, and this attitude was expected.

“Where is y/n?”

“Fine. I didn’t pry into what you did to her.” Ten hissed. “Now explain yourself, what the fuck were you thinking!”

Taemin scoffed. “You have a lot of nerve talking to me that way.”

“You going to force me to bend the knee like you did her? Like Taeyong?”

“Just like you, Taeyong, knows my intentions from the start. He’s on my side, what about you?”

“Why didn’t you tell me about your plans with y/n? Unless you don’t trust me.”

“Apologies, but I never could truly trust you. Your priorities lie with your brothers and protecting y/n, my plans go beyond that.”

“Which is why you’ve been torturing us all?”

“Helping you. Do you think your powers would be at their level without me?”

“What about the others?”

“I’ve given Mark some words of motivation. Do I need to give them to you?”

“Are you threatening me?”

“Yes. I don’t have much time to build trust with all of you at the moment. It’s much easier to have you think for yourself and not be programmed like some machine, but I don’t have time to argue. Now are you on my side, or not.”

“She’ll be safe, right?”

“Of course.”

“And you do intend to undo what you’ve done at some point, right?”

“When the time comes.”

“… if she gets hurt, we’re done, and you’re dead.”

“I’ll keep you to your words.”

    Ten got up, still glaring at Taemin. He couldn’t really trust him, not anymore, but if he wanted to keep his mind he’d have to play along.

“By the way.” Taemin added. “We’ll all be going out on a mission later, so I’ll see you at the brief.”

“Sure.”

❤

    Of course now would be the time they’d all actually work together, when mostly everyone was under Taemin’s control, to a degree or another. Still, there wasn’t much Ten could do to oppose him, not now anyway. The mission was kind of like a heist, their specialty. The building they were hitting, on the outside seemed like a normal business office, but was actually a secret headquarters of the organization. It was intel they had just received, and they had to move fast before they lost their chance. The plan was to break in, get their hands on confidential intel and get out.

    Because of the time crunch proper recon couldn’t be done, so they’d be approaching the building, gathering information, and executing their plan. They had a rough idea on how things would go, given Taemin and his boys’ knowledge, but it was best to believe it was outdated. Normally a plan like this was dangerous, but this time around there were two exit strategies in play, so it wouldn’t be so difficult. Ten and his boys would be in charge of dealing with the people in the building, the other three would get the intel.

    Even with a rather hollow plan, it was one nonetheless. After the brief they made their way out, and Ten could finally take a good look at his brothers. Taeyong was the same, more or less, but he could definitely tell something was off when it came to Mark. A slight dim in his eyes, how intently he’d been listening to Taemin, and how quiet he was compared to before. Ten would keep his mouth shut for now. The first part of recon involved figuring out the layout of the building, and finding a good entry point.

    With that a better plan of action was set out, and the heist began. Upon arrival, Kai managed to disable the security system. The whole building was on high alert now, but without visuals, they didn’t really know what they were up against. Now they split off into their separate groups. At most thirty minutes would be needed, maybe an hour. The hard part was getting the information, but once they had that it’d be easy to leave, so it was a matter of maintaining their control of the building until then. It wasn’t what they usually did, but they could deal with whoever got in their way.

“Ten.”

“Hm?”

“I need to tell you something.”

“What now? More secrets to divulge?”

“Ten, I’m being serious and you need to listen to me.”

“Okay, what?”

“I’m not Taeyong.”

“What!”

“I don’t have time to explain, but I’m just a copy of him.”

“A copy… what? How?”

“Taemin’s training but that’s not-”

“Where’s the real Taeyong? The original?”

“Somewhere back in the base, he’s fine.”

“How long?”

“That doesn’t-”

“How long!?”

“Y/n’s here!”

“Wa… what?”

“You think coming to a big place like this, to gather a lot of intel, will work if Taemin is mimicking her powers?”

“I… are you sure?”

“I saw her earlier… and I overheard Taemin talking too… giving her orders…”

“That motherfucker. The deal was-”

“Ten.” Taeyong grabbed the other. “This is your chance, get y/n and the others, and get out.”

“Huh?”

“If Taemin gets what he wants, then what’s the use in the rest of us? Everything he’s done has been because of y/n. Heck, he could abandon us all today.”

“What about you? The real Taeyong?”

“We could deal with whatever as long as y/n’s okay. You need to get her and get away.”

“But Mark-”

“Snap him out of it. Taemin mimics her powers, they can’t be as strong, and if not, as long as we get Mark back we can go wherever.”

“Fuck…”

“I can cause a distraction, get y/n, and get her out.”

    This was a lot to process, but you being in danger was enough motivation to get his head on straight. First he needed to figure out where you were, and Taeyong said he’d look into that, given that at the moment he was more trustworthy than Ten. Meanwhile Ten found Mark, immediately shoving him into a room and slapping him.

“I don’t know what Taemin told you, but snap out of it.”

    It may have taken a few physical actions, but Ten managed to get his old Mark back to himself. There wasn’t much time to explain, especially since Ten didn’t fully grasp the situation, but saving you made sense. Now it was a matter of waiting on Taeyong with the information, at least that was the plan. When Taeyong found them again the lights went red, the building now entering lock down.

“What the hell is going on?” Ten asked.

“They know.”

“What?”

“The Organization knows we are here. They’ll be sending special reinforcements to deal with us specifically.”

“And y/n is here. Where is she? We need to leave, now.”

“Taemin is not leaving without what he came for.”

“He’s putting her in danger! Where is he!”

    Ten didn’t wait for an answer, running down the way Taeyong came. This wasn’t his mission, this wasn’t something he was going to risk anyone’s life for, especially yours. Taeyong shouted directions, and soon enough they found you and the others.

“Ten, how fit-”

“Liar!”

    Ten immediately went in for a punch, but Taemin stopped him, knocking him against the wall and pinning him there. He saw Taeyong and Mark enter soon after.

“I see I can’t trust anyone.”

“We need to leave.” Taeyong said. “You know they’re coming, and they have the means to take us down.”

“We’re close.”

“And what about y/n!” Mark yelled. “What are you doing with her!”

“She’s fine.”

“Bullshit.”

“You don’t-”

    Ten suddenly collapsed to the floor. He quickly got up, finishing what he started, landing a blow on Taemin. Although the other didn’t seem to care, looking down at his hands and then at his partners.

“They’re here.” Kai hissed. “And they’ve already blocked us.”

“Y/n.”

    A moment after that all seemed to register, you collapsed to your knees screaming. With Taemin’s powers gone, it meant his mimicry was gone too. You grabbed your head, everything hidden hitting you all at once. Taemin tried to reach you, but Ten shoved him away, Taeyong coming to your side.

“Y/n, deep breaths, just breath. It’s-”

“Get away from me.”

    You pushed Taeyong back, looking around at everyone in the room and stepping back. You didn’t know who to believe anymore, or what was real. Everything was foreign to you, and you knew you needed space. You ran towards the nearest door and bolted down the hall. You could hear their voices chasing after you, but you focused more on your own feelings, trying to see through the tears. You felt more alone than ever in the moment, losing the trust with the only people you ever cared for. You kept running without thinking, rounding a corner and coming face to face with a group of armed men. They did not hesitate to shoot, a bullet grazing your head as you ducked out of the way.

    You caught your breath for a moment, feeling the blood dripping down your face. They would kill you if they found you, but then you remembered you weren’t completely helpless, not anymore. As you heard them approach you took a deep breath, then you revealed yourself and ordered them all to put their weapons down. They listened without hesitation, and you felt relieved, realizing maybe you could get out of this place on your own. Although the thought didn’t last long before the boys found you.

“Y/n!”

“Stop!”

“Please… please just listen to us.” Ten pleaded. “We-”

“Shut up! I don’t know what any of you are doing anymore! I don’t… I don’t even know you…”

“Let us explain. You know we can do it without lying…”

“Yeah, but I don’t wanna hear it right now.”

“Y/n, we need to leave this place now.” Taemin explained. “If they-”

“Quiet… you… you…”

    Taemin immediately lost his voice, and he knew there wasn’t time for this. He glanced over at Kai and nodded at him. You didn’t really know what any of that meant, all you knew was that Kai said something about a fail safe, and then the necklace you had, which you hadn’t realized, electrocuted you. It wasn’t enough to knock you out, but you collapsed to the ground, screaming and then dizzy from the whole ordeal. That was enough for the others to regain their sense.

“Taemin, what the hell!”

“Grab her and let’s leave. Mark you-”

     Gunfire startled them all, realizing they were being surrounded. You were grabbed by some men, being dragged off. Taeyong ran after you, separating himself from the group. Things had gotten bad, and fast. Either they escaped, or they’d all lose. Taemin yelled at Mark once more, startling the boy into creating their exit portal. Baekhyun grabbed Ten, going through the portal. Kai was waiting for Taemin, but his eyes were focused on you and Taeyong. The both of you were out of reach, so Taemin had to make a choice. He quickly managed to get a gun from a guard passed out near him, shooting at Taeyong, before grabbing Mark and Kai and getting them both through the portal. Taemin kept his gun aimed at the portal until it closed, dropping the weapon and then falling to his knees, catching his breath.

“… y/n…” Mark was in disbelief. “What did you do! We have to-”

“You are forbidden to use your powers.” Taemin ordered, having his own powers back now. “Understand.”

“Yes.”

“Kai, get us back to our place.”

“All of us?”

“Yes.”

“Hold on.” Ten yelled. “What the fuck was that back there? You said y/n wouldn’t be in danger, and yet you-”

“She was not in any danger! The cameras were down, Kai and Baekhyun were with me as well. All three of us-”

“You promised!”

“With Baekyhun there, no one would even perceive her presence. And Kai made sure she’d be taken somewhere safe the second her job was done.”

“That’s not the point! She was not meant to be on the field, you promised me!”

“You coddle her too much.”

“And now look where we are! She’s fucken gone! She’s… she’s gone…”

“You shot Taeyong…” Mark mumbled. “You shot…”

“I’m sorry what?”

“That wasn’t the real Taeyong anyway.”

“I thought y/n had him but you fucken-”

“Not the real Taeyong, and it’s better no one is with her.”

“You fucken liar.” Ten growled. “Ever since we met you’ve lied. You’ve hurt y/n, you’ve hurt us. And now you basically handed her over to that organization. Do you really think we’ll trust anything you say? If not for you, we’d all be with her right now!”

“And then what?” Taemin spat back. “What do you think will happen next? They’re gonna do to her what they did to me and my boys. If any of us, if any of you, were there, they’d use you against her. Torture you and hurt you just to make her push herself. Making sure none of us got taken was a mercy.”

“You’re fucken delusional if you believe that.”

“Look in the mirror first and realize this was your mess. I should have done this without any of you. I should have taken her from you instead of inviting you all along. You’ve proven to be completely useless.”

“Try that then. See if you can take us.”

“Have you forgotten what happened on the train? And that I have no issue making all of you bend the knee right now.” Taemin sighed. “Kai, to our base. I need to speak with Taeyong. The original that is.”

“What about y/n?” Mark asked. “Are we just supposed to leave her?”

“It hasn’t hit you has it? She’s gone, because of you. I asked for your trust, even if I couldn’t trust you back. She is everything that damn organization wants, and now they have her. So she’s gone, they’ll happily sacrifice anyone to keep her.”

“We have to rescue her!”

“Well, I have intel to go over, see if any of that gives us answers, but don’t get your hopes up. They have what they’ve always wanted. They’re gonna break her, like they did me, and that takes time. Will we rescue her? I will, I promise you that, but don’t expect it to be anytime soon. She’s gonna be locked up tight.”

“You… you…”

“Enough! Kai, take us home. I’ve had enough of these children.”

(Previous // Next)

[spanishskulduggery]

I'm not sure if you answered this already, but what are some common verbs/words in spanish that have multiple uses/meanings?

Okay, so the basics that everyone will experience in one way shape or form that have so many meanings depending on context and use:

ser = to be (permanently) | has extremely wide usage with multiple things, also used for telling time, passive voice; it basically gets used for existence in general

estar = to be (temporary) | also used very widely, though typically with the same general idea of a static location or temporary feeling, I'm including it because it's used widely and has different applications including the gerund forms

dar = to give | has so many applications and idiomatic expressions, and also in some contexts means "to hit/strike" which is often used for starting music, clocks striking, or just hitting something... even I don't know all the applications for dar and I'm always stumbling upon it and being momentarily confused

tener = to have | while it does mean "to physically have" or "possess" you will see it very widely in tener expressions with hunger, thirst, birthdays, feeling warm or cold, being funny, have to do something etc etc. These are more clearly documented than dar but tener can trip up a lot of people

ir / andar = to go | both verbs here mean "to go", but they also get used very widely, and andar which is sometimes “to wander/roam” in particular is frequently used in idiomatic expressions, or used colloquially [it’s hard to explain in limited space, so ask me if you need more concrete examples of andar]... so you always want to be aware of it

haber = there is/there are | in general you won't get very far in Spanish before you see haber in some iteration, whether it's hay as "there is/are" or in past había "there was/were", haber also has some other expressions; in Spain you might see haber de which is "to need to do (something)", in universal Spanish hay que "one must (do something)", and just the entire set of perfect tenses relies on haber + past participles

poner = to put | poner is a weird one because it's more regular than the above, but still irregular... it's "to put", but also "to set" a table, and ponerse can be "to get (emotion)" or it can be "to put on (clothes)" or it might be "for the sun to set"... poner has a lot of range but you can definitely intuit the general meaning most of the time

ver = to see | usually it’s just “to see”, but verse is “to look (appearance)” or “to see oneself (as)”, or in context it can be “to face (someone)”... it has some other applications but it’s less irregular

hacer = to do/make | extremely versatile, you’ll definitely see hacer being used for all kinds of things like the weather, or hacerse “to become”... it’s a lot that hacer can do

echar = to throw | normally you see echar as “to throw/fling”, but it also means “to give off”... and it gets used in lots of idiomatic expressions, as well as in Spain as echar de menos “to miss (someone/something)” which is different for Latin America [Note: In Latin America, extrañar is “to miss (someone/something)”, though it is often “to be surprised” in other contexts especially in Spain, no me extraña is “it doesn’t surprise me”... literally “it doesn’t estrange me” or “it doesn’t come across as strange to me”]

Just some other verbs that I’m just going to list as they come to me that have multiple meanings or multiple contextual meanings:

esperar = to hope, to desire esperar = to wait / to await

querer = to want querer = to love

llevar = to carry / to bring, to transport llevar a alguien = to give someone a ride, to take someone (somewhere) llevar = to include, to contain [used in food; este plato lleva frutos secos “this dish contains nuts” for example] llevar = to take [as in lleva tilde / lleva acento “it has an accent mark”]

tomar = to take tomar agua/medicina = to drink water / to take medicine tomar el sol = to sunbathe tomar el aire = to get some air, to get some fresh air tomar una decisión = to make a decision

volar = to fly volar = to blow up volar(se) = to get high, to take drugs

alterar = to alter, to change alterar = to upset, to make someone angry/upset

dudar = to doubt dudar = to hesitate

agitar = to agitate, to bother, to annoy agitar = to shake, to stir

abandonar = to abandon abandonar = to leave (a place)

solicitar = to request, to solicit, to petition solicitar = to apply for, to fill out an application for

sonar = to ring (a phone/bell/alarm) sonar(le) = “to ring a bell”, to sound familiar sonar a = to sound like

llorar = to cry llorar (a alguien) = to mourn (someone)

sentir = to sense, to hear or feel / to notice sentir = to feel regret/sorry [as in lo siento or siento tu pérdida which are “I’m sorry” and “sorry for your loss”] sentirse + emociones = to feel (an emotion)

sentar = to settle / to set / to establish sentar (a alguien) = to seat, to give someone a seat or to put someone in a chair sentarse = to sit down

explotar = to explode, to blow up explotar = to exploit, to take advantage up [also “to mine” in some cases]

quedar = to remain / to be left [used in subtraction as well] quedar(le) bien/mal = to fit (clothes), to suit (someone) quedarse con = to inherit quedarse = to become quedarse = to stay behind

apuntar = to make notes, to note apuntar = to indicate, to point at apuntar = to aim, to aim at apuntarse = to sign up

pensar = to think pensar = to plan, to intend

suponer = to suppose, to guess suponer = to pose, to signify [eg. supone un riesgo “it poses a risk”]

volver = to return volver (a hacer) algo = to (do something) again volverse = to become / to go [as in volverse loco/a “to go crazy”

pasar = to pass pasar = to occur, to come to pass pasar de (algo/alguien) = to be done with (something/someone), to give up (something/someone) pasar por alto = to overlook

perseguir = to chase, to pursue perseguir = to persecute

marcar = to mark, to make a mark marcar = to press (a button)

tirar = to throw tirar = to pull, to attract tirar = to shoot, to fire tirar = to waste, to throw away, to squander [also tirarse can be “to have sex with” in a vulgar way]

gastar = to spend (money/energy) gastar = to wear out

conocer = to know (people/places) conocer(se) = to meet (someone)

saber = to know (facts/things) saber = to taste saber a algo = to taste like something

velar = to stay awake, to stay up velar = to keep watch, to watch over / to stand vigil

elaborar = to elaborate, to add detail elaborar = to brew (alcohol/soup/potions etc; something that requires time and effort and balancing flavors) elaborar = to develop, to devise, to come up with, to produce

manifestar = to manifest manifestar(se) = to protest

conducir = to guide, to conduct conducir = to drive a car [some countries, often Spain]

manejar = to manage manejar = “to manage”, to manipulate, to coerce manejar = to drive a car [some countries, often Latin America]

bajar = to lower / to drop bajar = to go downstairs bajar = to descend, to go down, to get (down) off (of a vehicle)

desplegar(se) = to unfurl, to open up, to unravel desplegar = to deploy, to send (troops/supplies etc)

guardar = to guard / to watch over guardar = to keep / to keep safe

enseñar = to show enseñar = to point, to point out enseñar = to teach

mandar = to give orders / to be in charge mandar = to send

probar = to try probar = to sample, to try (food) probar = to prove

montar = to ride (a horse/bike) montar = to set up, to stage

escapar = to escape escapar(se) = to leak

ganar = to win / to beat someone at something ganar(se) = to earn ganarse el pan = to earn a living [lit. “to earn bread”]

pedir = to request pedir = to order (food)

sacar = to take out, to remove sacar una buena nota = to get a good grade sacar ventaja = to take advantage sacar(le) el quicio = to drive someone nuts [lit. “to take the sense/sanity out of someone”]

encantar(le) = to delight / to really enjoy encantar = to enchant, to bewitch, to hex

pegar(se) = to stick, to stick to pegar = to hit, to strike, to punch

doblar = to double doblar(se) = to fold (paper/things) / to curve, to bend doblar(se) = to bend over / to bow

tocar = to touch tocar = to play (an instrument) tocar(le) = to be someone’s turn [indirect objects]

subir = to go up, to rise / to climb subir = to get into (a vehicle or ride) subir (algo) = to upload (something) [also has some other uses]

Also not including verbs that take on secondary meanings with technology like cargar is “to carry” but also “to load” or “to charge”... or iniciar is “to iniciate” or “to log in”, or navegar is “to sail/navigate” but is also used as “to surf (the web)” things like that

But some common ones you’ll want to know are encender which is “to light” as in “to set on fire” but it also means “to turn on (electronics)” because it used to mean something like to light a candle but that became turning on light switches etc. Similarly, apagar is “to extinguish” but is also ‘to turn off (electronics)” 

Additionally be aware of arrancar “to yank” or “to pull out” but also means “to start up (machinery)”. The way I was taught to remember it is to think of a lawn mower or chainsaw, pulling a chain to start something up

There are also some verbs that are technically related but mean different things. Some of them are on that list but as an example - agotar is “to drain”, since it’s related to la gota “drop (of liquid)”... but agotar can also be “to run out of” or it can be “to exhaust (someone)”, so they’re connected in the same idea, but they are technically different contexts. Another one would be pulir which is “to polish”, but it can mean “to improve” or “to brush up on” in the same way we say “to polish your skills”

Some are more contextual; cantar is “to sing” but in a lot of crime scenarios, cantar is “to confess”. Another one is admitir which (like English) could be “to admit/confess” or “to admit/allow” or “to admit/let enter”

I’m also not going to include certain verbs that change meaning based on reflexive or not reflexive in general aside from those above, because that gets into some complicated linguistics territory but just be aware that occasionally things get complicated when you see reflexives

*Note: There are lots of verbs that mean “to become” and that is an entirely separate issue

[ivy-loves-chocolate]

Note: this was a commission I got from a supporter on ko-fi. I hope that you’ll read it with the same enjoyment I had while writing it. If you want to commission or support me check the pinned post or the hyperlink, you’ll find all the details there. If you have questions, my DM is open 🤗. Also, your comments are always welcomed.

Promt: Wesker forgets about the reader’s birthday.

Pairing: Wesker x F!Reader

Word count: 2K

Type: fluff.

Wesker placed the samples with care on the table, starting his day as usual. He’s been spending his last few years, stuck in the lab researching all over again in order to achieve the wanted results. Since Uroborus is a high importance plan, he’s very meticulous about his schedule, respecting every minute precisely. Not a minute early, not a minute late. The only thing that he tries to put outside his schedule is you because he doesn’t like limiting the time he spends with his sweetheart. He cares so much about you that over the years he sees you as his equal, so he plans to inject you with the progenitor virus, a weaker strand because he can’t risk killing you. Because of this, he wants to do it on a special day, but the many opportunities that arrived didn’t fit in his schedule. The greatest gift he ever received was the power he got after breaking the confines of humanity, so he wants you to experience the same joy. Wesker kept thinking about it but he would get distracted by his work, so his present would always be in the planning stage. He doesn’t want to do it suddenly, he wants to introduce the idea slowly to you because he respects your boundaries.

Once you earned his respect, Wesker can be a very carrying partner, human even. He knows every little detail about his sweetheart, from her birthday to what she last ate. It can seem creepy when you put it like this, but this is nothing more than a lover who deeply cares about his partner and seeks to make her happy. Wesker is not the greatest at showing it though because of his work life. He has little to no time to show his affection. He still shows you that he is there for you, but not as much as he wants, making him more frustrated. Sometimes when he comes home from work he is so tired he barely sees you, let alone talk with you. He either collapses on the couch or bed and falls asleep as you talk with him because he is just too exhausted to carry the conversation. This doesn’t sit right with him because he gives all of his attention and energy to his work and doesn’t have any left for the only person that matters to him, making him wonder if it’s all worth it.

The relationship didn’t have a great start, since you expected Albert to be with you at least 8 hours a day but you’re lucky if you catch him once a week. He’s not the type to express himself and constantly expects others to read his mind, so you two would end up fighting. You have mistaken the lack of presence as rudeness and indifference, basing your reasoning on all the rumors you heard until you realized they were all stupid. Wesker proved to be the contrary, talking so nicely to you and not belittling you at all even if you piss him off. The amount of respect this man offered you even from the beginning is astonishing. He was so transparent with you and with all he does and he had so much patience until you understood. He was just a working man with probably burnout syndrome, so you took the responsibility to take care of him.

His phone buzzed since he started his work. Calls, messages, idiots without brains, as he calls them, needed help doing their job. When he had enough he picked up his phone and started to scroll down through notifications. Some of these people make him curse like a sailor, especially the one who texted him the most. As useful as Excella is in helping with his projects, as annoying she can be. Hundreds of messages and calls, some related to work some not. A particular question caught his attention.

“Do you think y/n would like this?” A picture of a purse was attached. Excella can’t stand you for obvious reasons, but out of respect for Albert, she tries to be friends with you. Still, why would Excella buy something for you out of the blue?

“Is something special today?” He thought.

The horrifying grimace when the realization hit cannot be described. Today is indeed a special day, your birthday. To be honest, he doesn’t care about birthdays. He despises them because they are a reminder of our mortality, but he knows how much you care about such occasions. Every year you got him something even if he insisted not to buy anything for him. Seeing you care and how much you enjoy receiving gifts he changed his mindset. Usually, he would give you something common, just as others would, but then he began to put more effort until there wasn’t anything material in this world to give. That’s how the progenitor virus gift arises in his head. However, he’s been so caught up with his research on Uroborus that he completely forgot to make the preparations. You don’t feel the days pass when you’re stuck in a lab all the time. He puts the phone aside, grabs his coat, and rushes out of the building ignoring the people that are trying to talk with him. If not the virus, he will have to find something common.

He’s not a fan of last minutes gifts but he has no choice. The guilt crushed him further as he remember he hasn’t talked with you all day. The ride to the jewels store felt like ages, even if it was relatively close. Luck was on his side since he found the store open.

None of the jewelry in front of him caught his attention because it wasn’t something he hopes of giving you. He already buried you in gold. You have the finest, unique, and expensive jewels in the world. He wouldn’t have been injected you in a lab of course. He wanted a special place for your rebirth. All of his ideas were put on paper, but probably got lost in the pile of reports. All he wanted was to see you smile on the most important day of your life, perhaps looking at him with the same eyes as his. He wanted to make you feel as you were the center of his universe, his queen, but he failed miserably. Maybe if he had gotten any outstanding results today he wouldn’t be so upset, but it was just another ordinary day. The lady tried talking with him but he was lost in his thoughts. Knowing it’s late and that you’re waiting for him, he bought a pearl necklace and left in hurry. On his way home he tried thinking of what to say, what excuse would be the best but he concluded that all of them were outdated.

Before opening the door, he hid the small package in the inner pocket of his coat. That lady was in hurry to close the store and didn't want to wrap the necklace if gift wrap. Wesker will remember that.

“I’m home!” He shouted once he entered. He may screw up, but he is not a man who runs away from conflict or a man who doesn’t own his mistakes.

“I thought you’d spend the night in your lab.” She said while giving him a peck on his cheek. “You need a vacation dear, you’ll be worn out before your time”

You were so carrying with him, so kind, but he couldn’t enjoy it. He didn’t deserve your kindness.

“There is something I need to tell you.”

“About?” You were starting to get worried. He left in hurry this morning and you didn’t hear anything from him all day. Excella told you briefly about him, but she talked more about the purse she bought for you which was more for her taste, not yours. Judging by his face you realized he had something on his mind, but you would never think it was because he forgot about your birthday. You expected him to talk about an outbreak rather than your forgotten birthday. To your surprise, he started apologizing.

“I was so caught up in my work I-“ he considers apologies a waste of time since we could do better things with our mortality and limited time, but for a reason, humans care about these.

“It’s alright my love.” You caress his face as a reassuring sign. “I understand.” You’re not upset at him. He genuinely cares about you and you can’t judge him, not after all the good things he has done for you. And besides, you know he doesn’t fully mean it, but you appreciate that he still does it for the sake of your feelings.

You began to caress his cheeks, to place small kisses all over his face. You see him rarely so you make sure to show him how much you love him as well. You hug him and he instantly hugged you back. After a while, you broke the hug and lead him to the couch so you can talk about each other’s day. He’s thankful you both moved on.

Eventually, you two got more comfortable. You let all your weight fall over his body as his strong arms were wrapped around your torso. His big hands were caressing your back while you found your peace in that small, almost suffocating, clasp. You almost fell asleep when a gentle squeeze woke you.

“I almost forgot.” He said, almost whispering, before handing you your gift. “It’s not what I had planned, but I hope you’ll find it enjoyable.”

Hazily, you took the small box Albert handled to you. It was a normal, jewelry box with the logo of the store on it. Inside there was a beautiful, shiny pearl necklace. Your delicate fingers touched the pearls with care, feeling their gritty texture and small bumps here and there. It weighs heavy in your hands. You fell in love instantly with the accessory. Seeing how happy you are, Albert offered to put it at your neck. Its elegance enhanced your natural beauty. It looks like it was made solely for you, like an extension of your body.

“I bet it was a lot.” You said with a somehow sorrow in your voice. You don’t want Albert to spend heavy money on you, because it’s his presence that you enjoy and value the most.

“Don’t worry about it, I like spending money on you.” And it was true, he loves dressing you in the most expensive clothing to flatter your body. You’re a goddess to him. Not to mention it strokes his ego to know that he’s able to provide such beautiful things to you. “At least this is what I can do.”

“And it’s perfect this way.” You can see him relax a little.

“I’ll make it up to you, I just need some time.” Time, mortality, death. Once again he was reminded of his plan that was supposed to fix humanity's greatest flaw, and his expression suddenly changed. That didn’t get past Y/N’s attention.

“Albert sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, some problems I need to solve.”

“Are they urgent?”

“Yes, very.”

“I’m sure they can wait until tomorrow.”

He scanned your body carefully. You weren’t getting any younger. Time left its mark on you. Not in an unpleasant way, but still noticeable.

“There something I need to tell you.” He said while sitting on the edge of the bed, watching you how you admire your new necklace. In the lights of the vanity mirror the pearls shine brighter, being more appealing than before making it impossible to take your eyes off them.

“What is it?” You said while gazing at your own reflection.

He choose his words carefully, but no matter how he put them, it could scare you. It’s not the time or the place. He doesn’t want to ruin your happiness. His actual surprise might not sit well with you, but it’s not your choice after all. If he considers it the best option for you he will do it regardless of your opinion. Still, this day came out better than he expected.

“Maybe tomorrow.”

Tags: @xx-sectumsempra-xx @residentzero2028 @heisentitties (dm if you wanna be in the tag list)

[impostoradult]

Media Market Research (and why its undermining all the things you love)

Trying to understand what is dysfunctional about Hollywood is an epic task, and the answers are like the stars – arguably infinite. Hollywood is dysfunctional for literally more reasons than I could count.

But market research plays a fairly heavy role in its dysfunction (IMO) and the time has finally come for me to add my professional two cents about this issue. (This rant of mine has been building for a while, FYI. Hence why it is so...comprehensive. There is a tl;dr section towards the bottom, if you want the high level summary)

*** For the last 4+ years I’ve worked in the field of market research, almost exclusively with major media makers like Warner Bros., NBCU, AMC/BBCA, Viacom, FOX (before Disney acquired them), A+E, etc. (this past year I quit the job where I was doing this work for a variety of reasons, many of which will become clear as you keep reading, but I am still listed as a consultant on the company website):   https://www.kresnickaresearch.com/who/ (Rachel)

And just for comparison, here is a Halloween selfie I took 4 years ago and posted on my blog, so you can see I am who I say I am. 

I know a fair amount about how market research on major media franchises is conducted and how it influences production, and a lot of these choices can also be at least somewhat tied back to the massive flaws in the market research industry and its impact. *** First, at the highest level, you need to understand market research in general is not well-conducted much of the time. Even the people doing a reasonably good job at it are VERY limited in doing it well because of financial constraints (clients don’t want to spend more than they have to), time constraints (clients want everything done as fast as humanely possible) and just the inherent problems within the industry that are decades old and difficult to fix. For example, all market research ‘screens’ participants to make sure they qualify to participate (whether it is a mass survey, a focus group, a one-on-one interview, etc.). So, we screen people based on demographics like race, gender, age, household income, to get representative samples. But people are also screened based on their consumption habits. You don’t want to bring someone into a focus group about reality TV if they don’t watch reality TV. They aren’t going to have anything useful to say. 

However, a lot of the people who participate in market research have made a ‘side-gig’ out of it and they know how to finesse the process. Basically, they’ve learned how to lie to get into studies that they aren’t a good match for because most market research is paid, and they want the money. So, a lot of TV and film market research is being done on people who don’t actually (or at least don’t regularly) watch those shows or movies or whatever but have learned how to lie well enough in these screening processes to make it through. And because of the aforementioned time and money issue, clients don’t want to spend the time or money to actually find GOOD participants. They just accept that as an inevitable part of the market research process and decide not to let it bother them too much. So, a fair number of the people representing YOU as a media consumer are people who may not be watching Supernatural (for example) at all or who watch a rerun occasionally on TNT but haven’t been watching consistently or with ANY amount of investment whatsoever. You can see why that creates very skewed data. But that’s just the tip of the skewed iceberg. *** Second, media market research is conducted in line with the norms of market research more broadly, and this is a huge problem because media is a very atypical product. How people engage with media is far more complex and in depth than how they engage with a pair of jeans, a car, or a coffee maker. There are only so many things that matter to people when it comes to liking or not liking a coffee maker, for example. Is it easy/intuitive to use? How much space does it take it on my counter? How expensive is it? Does it brew the coffee well? Maybe does it match my décor/kitchen aesthetic? Can I make my preferred brand of coffee in it? The things you as a consumer are going to care about when it comes to a coffee maker are limited, fairly easy to anticipate in advance, and also easy to interpret (usually). How people mentally and emotionally approach MEDIA? Whole other universe of thing. Infinitely more complex. And yet it is studied (more or less) as if it is also a coffee maker. This is one of the many reasons I decided to leave the media market research field despite my desire to have some ability to positively influence the process. As so often seems to be the case, I fought the law and the law won. I could never make the other people I worked with in the industry understand that the questions they were asking were not all that useful a lot of the time and they weren’t getting to the heart of the matter. They were just following industry standards because they didn’t know any better and none of them want to admit they don’t REALLY know what they’re doing. Which leads me to point 3. *** Most of the people doing this research don’t have any expertise in media or storytelling specifically. They are typically trained as social scientists in the fields of psychology, anthropology, sociology, or math/statistics. And many of them do not have any kind of specialization or education in media/storytelling beyond the English classes they took in high school and the one Media Studies course they took as an elective in college. Most of them have a very unsophisticated understanding of narrative structure, thematics, tropes, subtext, etc. They mainly think in terms of genres at the VERY broadest level. Also, not infrequently, they don’t watch or have much knowledge of the shows they are supposed to be doing research on, beyond what they’ve read on IMDb or Wikipedia or what is generally common knowledge. Unless they by chance happen to watch the shows themselves (which often they don’t) they often know very little about the shows they are crafting these questions about. Again, partly because they think it is like the coffee maker, and you don’t need to understand it in any depth to research it. (I know this must sound insane to you as avid media consumers, but that is the general attitude among those who do market research) There is such a lack of sophistication in how people in the business side of the industry understand media and storytelling. Most of them are either MBAs or social scientists and their training has not prepared them to examine fictional works with the kind of depth that people in the Humanities (who are specifically trained to study texts) have. Somehow, despite the fact that the Humanities is all about understanding texts, that is the one discipline they make almost no use of in the business side of Hollywood. And boy howdy does it show. *** Point 4 – average consumers CANNOT ARTICULATE WHY THEY LIKE THINGS. Particularly media things. I know this sounds condescending, but it is my honest observation. It is unbelievably hard to get people to have enough self-awareness to explain why they actually like things, especially things as mentally and emotionally complex as media. What typically happens when you ask people why they like a TV show or movie, for example? They will tell you what they most NOTICE about the TV show or movie, or what is distinctive to them about it (which may or may not have anything to do with what they actually LIKE about it). They will say things like “I like the genre”, “I think it’s funny”, “The car chases are exciting”, “I want to see the detective solve the puzzle.” Sometimes you can get them to talk about what they find relatable about it, if you push them a little. But often they leave it at either the level of literal identity (young black woman), basic personality traits (she’s a social butterfly and so am I) or situations they’ve personally experienced (I relate to this story of a man losing his father to cancer because I lost a close family member to cancer). But the vast, vast, vast majority of them can’t go to the deeper level of: a) Why X representation of a young black woman feels accurate/authentic/relatable and Y representation doesn’t b) Why it matters to me that X,Y,Z aspects of my personality, identity, experience get reflected in media whereas I don’t really care about seeing A,B,C aspects of my personality, identity, or experience reflected in media c) How and why they are relating to characters when they can’t see the literal connection between their identity/experience and the character’s identity/experience. (For example, many people have argued that women often relate to Dean Winchester because a lot of his struggles and past negative experiences are more stereotypical of women – being forced to raise a younger sibling on behalf of an actual parent, being seen and treated as beautiful/sexually desirable but vacuous/unintelligent, his body being treated as an instrument for a more powerful group to quite literally possess, etc. Part of the reason Supernatural has always been such a mystery/problem for the CW and Warner Bros is they could never crack the code at this level. Never.) Part of the reason they can’t crack these codes is average people CANNOT give you that kind of feedback in a survey or a focus group, or even an in-depth interview (much of the time). They just don’t have the self-awareness or the vocabulary to get it at that level. Let alone asking them to articulate why Game of Thrones is compelling to them in an era where wealth disparity is creating a ruling class that is fundamentally incompetent at maintaining a just/functional society, which is especially concerning at this particular moment, given the existential threat we face due to climate change. And the truth is, that IS part of what people – even average people – are responding to in Game of Thrones. But what they’ll tell you when you do market research on it is: they like the dragons, they like the violence, they relate to Tyrion Lannister being a smart mouth, maybe they’ll say they like the moral ambiguity of many of the conflicts (if they are more sophisticated than average). But the ‘Dean Winchester is heavily female coded despite his veneer of ultra-masculinity’ or the ‘Game of Thrones is a prescient metaphor for the current political dynamics and fissures of modern western society’ is the level you ACTUALLY need to get to. And most market research can’t get you that because the people ASKING the questions don’t know what to ask to get to this level, and most of the respondents couldn’t give you the answers even IF you were asking them the right questions (which usually you are not) And I’m not saying average people are dumb because they can’t do this. But it requires practice, it requires giving the matter a great deal of in-depth thought, and most people just don’t care enough about it to do that while taking a market research survey. (I know this is going to feel counter-intuitive to people on Tumblr. But you have to remember, you are NOT average media consumers. You are highly atypical media consumers who have far more self-awareness and a much more sophisticated engagement with media than the average person watching TV. If you didn’t, you probably wouldn’t be here talking about it in the first place) Point 4.1 – People also lie/misrepresent their own experiences to market researchers because they want to maintain certain self-narratives. You have no idea how many people would get disqualified from our surveys for saying they watched less than 5 hours of TV a week. And sure, that might actually be true for a few of them. But if you watch TV with any regularity at all (which most people in modern America do) you probably watch more than 5 hours a week. The problem is, people think it makes them sound lazy to say they watch 15-20 hours a week, even though that’s about 2-3 hours a day (which actually isn’t THAT high). People lie and misrepresent their behaviors, thoughts and feelings because it can be socially uncomfortable to admit you do what you actually do or feel how you actually feel, even in the context of an anonymous survey, let alone a focus group or a one-on-one interview. People want to make themselves look good to THEMSELVES and to the researchers asking them questions. But that makes the market research data on media (and lots of other things) very questionable. For example, one finding we saw more than once in the surveys I was involved in conducting was people would radically downplay how much the romance elements of a story mattered to them, even large portions of female respondents. When we would ask people in surveys what parts of the story they were most invested in, romances ALWAYS came out among the lowest ranked elements. And yet, any passing familiarity with fandom would tell you that finding is just WRONG. It’s wrong. People are just flat out lying about how much that matters to them because of the negative connotations we have around being invested in romance. And never mind the issue of erotic/sexual content. (I don’t mean sexual identity here, I mean sexy content). The only people who will occasionally cop to wanting the erotic fan service is young men (and even they are hesitant to do so in market research) and women frequently REFUSE to admit that stuff in market research, or they radically downplay how much it matters to them and in what ways. There is still so much stigma towards women expressing sexuality in that way. Not to mention, you have to fight tooth and nail to even include question about erotic/sexual content because oftentimes the clients don’t even want to go there at all, partly because it is awkward for everyone involved to sit around crafting market research questions to interrogate what makes people hot and bothered. That’s socially awkward for the researchers doing the research and the businesspeople who have to sit in rooms and listen to presentations about why more women find Spock sexier than Kirk. (Which was a real thing that happened with the original Star Trek, and the network couldn’t figure out why) Aside from people not have enough deeper level self-awareness to get at what they really like about media content, they also will lie or misrepresent certain things to you because they are trying to maintain certain self-narratives and are socially performing that version of themselves to researchers. *** Point 5 – Qualitative data is way more useful for understanding people’s relationships to media. However, quantitative data is way more valued and relied upon both due to larger market research industry standards and because quantitative data is just seen as harder/more factual than qualitative data. A lot of media market research involves gathering both qualitative and quantitative data and reporting jointly on both. (Sometimes you only do one or the other, depending on your objectives, but doing both is considered ‘standard’ and higher quality). However, quantitative data is heavily prioritized in reporting and when there is a conflict between what they see in qualitative versus quantitative data, the quant data is usually relied upon to be the more accurate of the two. This is understandable to an extent, because quantitative surveys usually involve responses from a couple thousand participants, whereas qualitative data involves typically a few dozen participants at most, depending on whether you did focus groups, individual interviews, or ‘diaries’/ethnography. The larger sample is considered more reliable and more reflective of ‘the audience’ as a whole. However, quantitative surveys usually have the flattest, least nuanced data, and they can only ever reflect what questions and choices people in the survey were given. In something like focus groups or individual interviews or ethnographies, you still structure what you ask people, but they can go “off script.” They can say things you never anticipated (as a researcher) and can explain themselves and their answers with more depth. In a survey, participants can only “say” what they survey lets them say based on the questions and question responses that are pre-baked for them. And as I’ve already explained, a lot of times these quantitative surveys are written by people with no expertise in media, fiction, or textual analysis, and so they often are asking very basic, not very useful questions. In sum, the data that is the most relied upon is the least informative, least nuanced data. It is also the MOST likely to reflect the responses of people who don’t actually qualify for the research but have become good at scamming the system to make extra money. With qualitative research, they are usually a little more careful screening people (poorly qualified participants still make it through, but not as often as with mass surveys, where I suspect a good 35% of participants, at least, probably do not actually qualify for the research and are just working the system). 

Most commonly, when market research gets reported to business decision-makers, it highlights the quantitative data, and uses the qualitative data to simply ‘color in’ the quantitative data. Give it a face, so to speak. Qualitative data is usually supplemental to quant data and used more to make the reports ‘fun’ and ‘warm’ because graphs and charts and stats by themselves are boring to look at in a meeting. (I’m not making this up, I can’t tell you how many times I was told to make adjustments on how things were reported on because they didn’t want to bore people in the meeting). (Sub-point – it is also worth noting that you can’t report on anything that doesn’t fit easily on a power point slide and isn’t easily digestible to any random person who might pick it up and read it. The amount of times I was told to simplify points and dumb things down so it could be made ‘digestible’ for a business audience, I can’t even tell you. It was soul crushing and another reason I stopped doing this job full time. I had to make things VERY dumb for these business audiences, which often meant losing a lot of the point I was actually trying to make) Point 5.1 – Because of the way that representative sampling works, quantitative data can be very misleading, particularly in understanding audience/fandom sentiments about media. As I’m sure most of you know, sampling is typically designed to be representative of the population, broadly speaking. So, unless a media company is specifically out to understand LGBTQ consumers or Hispanic/Latinx consumers, it will typically sample using census data as a template and represent populations that way. Roughly 50/50 male/female. Roughly even numbers in different age brackets, roughly representative samplings of the racial make-up of the country, etc. (FYI, they do often include a non-binary option in the gender category these days, but it usually ends up being like 5 people out of 2000, which is not enough of a sample to get statistical significance for them as a distinct group)   There is a good reason to do this, even when a show or movie has a disproportionately female audience, or young audience. Because they need enough sample in all of the “breaks” (gender, race, age, household income, etc.) to be able to make statistically sound statements about each subgroup. If you only have 35 African American people in your sample of 1000, you can’t make any statistically sound statements about that African American cohort. The sample is just too small. So, they force minimums/quotas in a lot of the samples, to ensure they can make statistically sound statements about all the subgroups they care about. They use ratings data to understand what their audience make up actually is. (Which also has major failings, but I’ll leave that alone for the minute) With market research, they are not usually looking to proportionately represent their audience, or their fandom; they are looking to have data they can break in the ways they want to break it and still have statistically significant subgroups represented. But that means that when you report on the data as a whole sample – which you often do – it can be very skewed towards groups who don’t make up as large a portion of the show’s actual audience, or even if they do, they don’t tend to be the most invested, loyal, active fans. Men get weighted equally to women, even when women make up 65% of the audience, and 80% of the active fandom. Granted, they DO break the data by gender, and race, and age, etc. and if there are major differences in how women versus men respond, or younger people versus older people, they want to know that...sometimes. But here’s where things get complex. So, if you are doing a sample of Supernatural viewers. And you do the standard (US census-based) sampling on a group of 2000 respondents (a pretty normal sample size in market research). ~1000 are going to be female. But with something they call “interlocking quotas” the female sample is going to be representative of the other groupings to a degree. So, the female sample will have roughly equal numbers of all the age brackets (13-17, 18-24, 25-34, etc.). And it will have roughly 10% non-heterosexual respondents, and so on. They do this to ensure that these breaks aren’t too conflated with each other. (For example, if your female sample is mostly younger and your male sample is mostly older, how do you know whether it is the gender or the age that is creating differences in their responses? You don’t. So, you have to make sure that all the individual breaks (gender, race, age) have a good mix of the other breaks within them, so groups aren’t getting conflated) But what that means is, Supernatural, whose core fandom is (at a conservative guess) 65% younger, queer, women, gets represented in a lot of statistical market research sampling as maybe 50-100 people, in a 2000-person survey. 50-100 people can barely move the needle on anything in a 2000-person survey. Furthermore, usually in the analysis of data like this, you don’t go beyond looking at 2 breaks simultaneously. So you may look at young female respondents as a group, or high income male respondents, or older white respondents, but you rarely do more than 2 breaks combined. And the reason for that is, by the time you get down to 3 breaks or more (young, Hispanic, women) you usually don’t have enough sample to make statistically significant claims. (It also just takes longer to do those analyses and as I explained in the beginning, they are always rushing this stuff). To do several breaks at a time you’d have to get MUCH larger samples, and that’s too expensive for them. And again, I want to stress, this type of sampling isn’t intended to sinisterly erase anyone. Kind of the opposite. It is intended to make sure most groups have enough representation in the data that you can make sound claims about them on the subgroup level. The problem is that it can create a very skewed sense of their overall audience sentiment when they take the data at ‘face value’ so to speak, and don’t weight segments based on viewership proportion, or fandom engagement, etc. Point 5.2 – Which leads me to my next point, which is that fandom activity that doesn’t have a dollar amount attached to it doesn’t make you a ‘valuable’ segment in their minds. One of the breaks they ALWAYS ask for in data like this is high income people, and people who spend a lot of MONEY on their media consumption. And they do prioritize those people’s responses and data quite a bit.   And guess what – young women aren’t usually high-income earners, and although some of them are high spenders on media, high spending on media and media related merch skews toward higher income people just because they HAVE more disposable income. Older white men are usually the highest income earners (absolutely no surprise) and they are more likely in a lot of cases to report spending a lot on the media they care about. Having expendable income makes you more important in the eyes of people doing market research than if you’ve spent every day for the last 10 years blogging excessively about Supernatural. They don’t (really) care about how much you care. They care about how much money you can generate for them. And given that young audiences don’t watch TV live anymore, and they give all their (minimal) expendable income to Netflix and Hulu, you with your Supernatural blog and your 101 essays about Destiel is all but meaningless to many of them (from a business standpoint) Now, some of them kind of understand that online fandom matters to the degree that fandom spreads. Fandom creates fandom. But if the fandom you are helping to create is other young, queer women with minimal income who only watch Supernatural via Netflix, well, that’s of very limited value to them as well. I don’t want to suggest they don’t care about you at ALL. Nor do I want to suggest that the “they” we are talking about is even a cohesive “they.” Different people in the industry have different approaches to thinking about fandom, consumer engagement and strategy, market research and how it ought to be understood/used, and so on. They aren’t a monolith. BUT, they are, at the end of the day, a business trying to make money. And they are never going to place the value of your blogging ahead of the concrete income you can generate for them. (Also, highly related to my point about people lying, men are more likely to SAY they have higher incomes than they do, because it’s an ego thing for them. And women are more likely to downplay how much money they spend on ‘frivolous’ things like fandom because of the social judgement involved. Some of the money gender disparity you see in media market research is real, but some of it is being generated by the gender norms people are falsely enacting in market research– men being breadwinners, women wanting to avoid the stereotype of being frivolous with money) *** In sum/tl;dr: Point 1 – Market research in general is not well conducted because of a variety of constraints including time, money, and the historical norms of how the industry operates (e.g., there being a large subsection of almost professionalized respondents who know how to game the system for the financial incentives) Point 2 – Media is a highly atypical kind of product being studied more or less as if it were equivalent to a coffeemaker or a pair of jeans. Point 3 – Most of the people studying media consumption in the market research field have no expertise or background in media, film, narrative, storytelling, etc. They are primarily people who were trained as social scientists and statisticians, and they aren’t well equipped to research media properties and people’s deeper emotional attachment and meaning-making processes related to media properties. Point 4(etc.) – Average consumers typically don’t have enough self-awareness or the vocabulary to explain the deep, underlying reasons they like pieces of media. Furthermore, when participating in market research, people lie and misrepresent their thoughts, behaviors, and emotional responses for a variety of reasons including social awkwardness and preserving certain self-narratives like “I’m above caring about dumb, low-brow things like romance.” Point 5 (etc.) – Quantitative data is treated as way more meaningful, valuable, and ‘accurate’ than qualitative data, and this is a particular problem with media market research because of how varied and complex people’s reactions to media can be. Also, the nature of statistical sampling, and how it is done, can massively misrepresent audience sentiments toward media and fail to apprehend deeper fandom sentiments and dynamics. There is also a strong bias towards the responses of high income/high spending segments, which tend to be older and male and white. Side but important point – Research reports are written to be as entertaining and digestible as possible, which sounds nice in theory, but in practice it often means you lose much of the substance you are trying to communicate for the sake of not boring people or making them feel stupid/out of their depth. (Because god forbid you make some high-level corporate suit feel stupid) *** What can be done about this? Well, the most primary thing I would recommend is for you to participate in market research, particularly if you are American (there’s a lot of American bias in researching these properties, even when they have large international fanbases). However, some international market research is done and I recommend looking into local resources for participation, where ever you are. If you are American, there are now several market research apps you can download to your smart phone and participate in paid market research through (typically paid via PayPal). Things like dscout and Surveys On the Go. And I know there are more. You should also look into becoming panelists for focus groups, particularly if you live near a large metropolitan area (another bias in market research). Just Google it and you should be able to figure it out fairly easily. Again, it is PAID, and your perspective will carry a lot more weight when it is communicated via a focus group or a dscout project, versus when it is shouted on Twitter. However, that’s merely a Band-Aid on the bigger issue, which I consider to be the fact that businesspeople think the Humanities is garbage, even when they make their living off it. There is virtually no respect for the expertise of fictional textual analysis, or how it could help Hollywood make better content. And I don’t know what the fix is for that. I spent 4 years of my life trying to get these people to understand what the Humanities has to offer them, and I got shouted down and dismissed so many times I stopped banging my head against that wall. I gave up. They don’t listen, mostly because conceding to the value of deep-reading textual analysis as a way to make better content would threaten the whole system of how they do business. And I mean that literally. So many people’s jobs, from the market researchers to the corporate strategists to the marketing departments to the writers/creatives to the C-level executives, would have to radically shift both their thinking and their modes of business operation and the inertia of ‘that’s the way it’s always been done’ is JUST SO POWERFUL. I have no earthly idea how to stop that train, let alone shift it to an entirely different track. BTW, if you want the deeper level of analysis of why I can’t stop rewatching Moneyball now that it’s been added to Netflix, the above paragraph should give you a good hint

[szallejhscorner]

Connect the Dots

The Human Heart - Part 23

How fascinating it is to watch a mute person die in sheer agony. Where desperate cries and shouts would have usually filled the room, the only noises escaping her mouth are creaks and guttural sounds indicating that she would be screaming if only she had been able to.

It was wrong to shake the tube and hold it so carelessly. The content, quickly turning into dark blue foam, has taken mere seconds to cover her face and eat away whatever lies between the surface and the bare bone underneath. That she tries to get rid of the substance with her hands is foolish considering that it only spreads over to the rest of her body as well, but her situation is helpless anyway. Figuring out what kind of acid this is would take too long, and it’s unlikely a counterpart to cure its effects can be found here.

Michael, too dull to understand the chemical process that has lead to this incident, blames it on the blood and frantically waves around the stained knife in his hands, and his face turns uglier with every second that he bears his stupid grin. “Anyway. Who wants to try next? Our mute here was too stupid obviously. Mr. Clever here! Why won’t you show us how to do it better, eh?”

Considering their time limit, it might actually be about time for him to end the kindergarten. Careful not to step into the dark foam that has spread on the ground where the mute has dropped the tube in her death struggles, Chishiya heads to the other side of the table and opens the drawers.

Esterase-lipase tests, dipsticks for peroxide, chloride, lyphan-stripes… Everything that a chemist could dream off. All Chishiya needs to define water, though, is a simple pH test strip. The tricky thing about acids is that they don’t necessarily have a certain scent, and that was all the mute had done to eliminate some samples.

“She was not completely wrong, but she didn’t think it through.” He puts the test strip into the jar, and it turns deep red the moment it touches the substance. “This liquid here isn’t water at all. It’s highly acrid. Only because it is colorless and doesn’t smell, it can be easily mistaken with water. But the pH test tells us otherwise.”

Most of the other players are still eyeing the mute’s body, and his stubborn is the only one to avert her gaze from the acid’s massacre on the floor. She seems to have recovered from the shock of being cut, although she doesn’t feel comfortable with what happened afterwards either. Compared to the peaceful solution of the first room, the laboratory came along with quite an amount of blood.

“So upon mixing the acid and the blood, she caused a chemical reaction that killed her?”

Her voice is still trembling, but at least her mind isn’t too clouded from the most current events. Chishiya doesn’t know how blood would cause acrid substances to turn into such deadly foam though, and the remaining time is not enough to find out. However the mixture didn’t turn blue immediately, it happened after the mute had shaken the tube for the contents to diffuse properly. “I can’t tell exactly how the blood came into play; it rather seems like a chemical reaction has been highly affected by the concussion.”

A reaction that Chishiya won’t allow to happen again as long as he’s the one holding the jar. Taking out the remaining test stripes, he turns towards the other translucent liquids and tests them one by one. The one leading to the mute’s death has been the most acid one; the other liquids are either lightly acid with a pH-value between 3 and 6 or alkaline, turning the test stripe blue. One of them results in a 7, neutral, and given that it has neither a scent nor color, this is most likely to be the water. Chishiya pours a bit of it into another tube and adds some of the blood. It mixes perfectly when he sways the tube slightly, and it doesn’t change the color to anything other than pink.

Convinced that he has created the right mixture, Chishiya takes one last look down at the floor. The mute has been a handsome woman, fascinating with her sharp wit and incapability to speak, but now she’s a disgusting mess of protruding bone and eaten away flesh. Such a shame that one of the useful players was imprudent enough to die like this.

“Let’s get this over with”, he mutters while he heads to the door. One drop of the emulsion is enough to cover the whole slide of the sensor, and the analyzing process doesn’t last longer than a couple of seconds before a small light turns green, stopping the timer and simultaneously opening the door to the next room.

The tube shatters on the ground when Chishiya let’s go of it, since he has no use for it any further. And with the floor of this room already ruined, whoever is responsible for cleaning up afterwards won’t mind a few more shards for sure. Those still alive hurry through the door, most of them appearing to be sick from the mute’s sight, except Michael who instead seems to enjoy the spectacle. What a satisfying move it would have been for the mute to throw her tube into this idiot’s face as a last act of wisdom.

Chishiya examines the third room stretching out in front of him while the computer voice announces ten minutes for them to clear it. Whoever designed this obviously didn’t have any idea of what they were doing, since the medieval atmosphere – tried to create with electric fake-flickering candles – is heavily disrupted by a fuse panel huge enough to almost cover an entire wall. Chishiya has always disliked electric candles. What use is there to copy something real, but bad enough to make it obvious that it’s fake, instead of simply using the real version? Why create candles that might look like candles from across the other side of the earth when everything that comes along with real ones is missing – the warmth, the flickering noises, the scent? One could simply use a lamp then and would have more light anyway.

His eyes make out the key to the door on the wall opposite to the fuse panel, secured by a hutch that stands under high voltage, at least that’s what the warning sign above stands for. Shut off the energy for the hatch and retrieve the key. Doesn’t sound too hard, but of course the fuse panel is closed and won’t open just by force.

Just like the last room, this one has a hidden message too, giving hints about how to solve it. It is smeared onto the stone wall, barely visible to someone who doesn’t look at it directly, and Chishiya has been standing close enough to see it immediately. No red crayon this time, but the same handwriting.

When he turns to his stubborn, he finds her clinging to the collar around her neck, forcing herself to breathe calmly to avoid a panic attack. Holding the collar like that is no use; the metal won’t bend away and she only puts more pressure on her throat with her fingers in between.

Michael, who still finds way too much fun in bullying the other players, shoves Hibiki towards the slowly panicking woman. “”Now look who’s scared! Our tiny mouse here wants their mommy, eh? How about you join the sewer rat here!”

Chishiya wouldn’t have cared at all for how the boy stumbles to the ground from the impact of the punch, for when he really is the Jack, he won’t live much longer anyway. It doesn’t leave him unfazed however how his stubborn helps the boy back on his feet and even pulls him into a short hug before Hibiki heads to the fuse panel, trying half-heartedly to open it while he knows that he won’t succeed.

Put a child into a game and make it appear frightened and helpless to gain people’s trust. Ridiculous. But of course it worked for the one person Chishiya wants to make it out alive.

Speaking of which, she must have gotten over with her panic attack and now steps towards him, throwing hateful glares towards Michael who is staring at the key with a mind as blank as the inside of his head.

“I wish he’d touch it and die from an electric shock”, his stubborn mutters while nudging his shoulder. Does the hate make her so oblivious of the true danger inside this room?

“I know he has hurt you, but this is not the time to be angry. Focus on the important things for now.”

She seems to be searching for something, a smile or a reassuring nod maybe. “Did… did you know she had chosen the acid?”

“I had a feeling about it.” Since Chishiya didn’t watch the mute’s process of choosing the jar, he couldn’t tell for sure. His answer doesn’t seem to be what the woman next to him wanted to hear though.

“Why didn’t you tell her she was wrong?”

This is not focusing on the important things, this is stalling for time they don’t have. A conversation they could easily have outside of the game area. Besides, Chishiya came here to keep his stubborn from doing stupid things, not to babysit everyone else too. “Because I’m not responsible for others.”

She’s getting angry again, only that this time Michael is not the reason.

“You could have saved her life!”

“But I don’t care about that.” I was too busy caring about you and bandaging your injury to watch the mute too, silly. Her hand is placed over his chest, and for a tiny moment, Chishiya is positive that she understands. A moment that is quickly smashed by her next words.

“What about me, then? Would you have saved me?” She doesn’t get it. Chishiya would have never let her go that far in the first place. Everyone else in this game is free to die, but this woman? As soon as she would have reached for those liquids, Chishiya would have stopped her. He wouldn’t do that with any other person inside the Borderlands. How can this make her angry?

He places his hand above hers, a weak attempt to reach through her since that doesn’t seem to be able with words right now. “Let’s adjourn this argument and focus on clearing the game for now.” Which means to focus on the message on the wall, and his stubborn is at least focused enough to spot it as well.

“Co… connect the… the what?”

Most of the others are watching them now since they seem to be the only ones who have found a useful hint, and Chishiya speaks loud enough for everyone to hear. “Connect the dots.”

“Like a puzzle or what? And we’re supposed to find each part and put it together?” It’s the first time the fourth male player speaks up, although it wouldn’t have made a difference if he had chosen to stay silent.

“Like that child’s game, where you connect several dots with a pen to get a full picture?” Hibiki throws in, “but what does it have to do with the key?”

Chishiya has to admit that it is surprising to hear the boy give an actual hint after all the useless things he did. Probably just another try not to appear suspicious, although it doesn’t change Chishiya’s opinion on who the Jack of the game is.

Michael laughs out and ruffles the boy’s hair, causing him to screech and flee to the other side of the room. “Actually something smart coming from the mouth of that kid! We do have dots that we can connect after all.”

And you do have a brain, surprisingly. While Michael knocks against a dark badge on the stone, it seems that this room comes along with the most surprises. A similar badge can be found at the opposite wall, and Hibiki is one of the first to touch it, or rather he tries to tear it down from the wall. “…haven’t seen a rope or something that could be used for that…”

“We don’t have time to search for something.” This time, his stubborn seems to listen to him. Focus.

“Oh?” Michael reveals his ugly teeth in a grin again, “so what do you suggest, little mouse?”

“I… I thought about a human chain. We could try to connect those things by touching our hands. This room has something to do with electricity, so maybe it’s some kind of impulse that needs to be passed through?”

A hilarious thought, and it could actually work. It could get all of them killed at once, which would be a brilliant move on the side of the game masters to execute a whole room full of players. Considered that nothing happened when individuals touched the badges though, such a dark outcome is unlikely.

“Wow, this will be so embarrassing if it doesn’t work. Come on, guys, let’s hold hands like toddlers on hiking day!”

Chishiya doesn’t pay attention to Michael’s comments as he reaches for his stubborn’s hand. He doesn’t like the fact that Hibiki is standing on her other side, which only adds to the annoyingly sweaty touch of Michael on his free hand.

“What… what if we all get electrocuted?” Hibiki throws in, but no one reacts to him. If the game masters are actually watching this game, maybe they’ll take this thought and put it into another game as soon as the next cycle begins.

Someone counts from three to zero, and both ends of the human chain reach for the badges. Chishiya can see on their surprised faces that something happens even before he feels the light tingle himself, wandering through his body from one side to the other before it passes on to his stubborn. He almost expects Hibiki to break the chain, to prevent the signal from arriving at the other side, but the fuse panel opens with a beeping sound, revealing a total of ten fuses.

Turns out that the carpet they stand on has a certain pattern knotted on it, one that could reflect the order in which the fuses have to be tripped. Chishiya doesn’t doubt that this is the right hint they’re looking at, and yet it feels impossible to decide which side is the right one to read it, since the sequence varies when read from both sides.

Since the timer doesn’t allow any waste of time, Michael takes care of the fuses in the sequence that can be seen when facing the door, and everyone waits expectantly for a sign that they did it right. Only that voltage can’t be seen, and of course there’s no other indicator that it worked. This is still a face card game, after all.

It would be smart though to get close to the hatch and listen for a buzzing sound, but with all the noise they’re currently making, even that would be impossible to hear. Not that they’d give him time to suggest this idea anyway, because one of the sisters is already heading to the hatch.

“It’s trial and error, right?”

In her case, it’s error. She dies within a mere heartbeat, no fascinating and disgusting spectacle to watch, no death struggle this time. If only her remaining counterpart would stop crying like this. The shrill sound hurts his ears, and it really is unnecessary. She didn’t prevent her sister from going to the hatch, so why cry now and search for someone else to blame?

“Apparently, it has to be the other sequence”, Chishiya mutters and steps to the panel to do it himself. Hell has broken loose behind him; the sister won’t stop whimpering and begging the dead body to move, while Hibiki and Michael have returned to shouting at each other. The other man next to him is the only sane mind left, and he gives through the sequence so Chishiya can trap the right fuses this time. Just like before, nothing happens, which means that someone has to try again.

Within all the shouting and crying, one person stands in the middle of the room, frozen and staring into nothingness. It doesn’t surprise Chishiya that his stubborn would be shocked by another death, although she looks even worse than after the mute died. He has to call her name twice to get her attention, but she doesn’t really seem to see him.

Only Michael grabbing the boy at his collar is enough to bring her back from wherever she has been, and she shouts at him to stop this. Of course he doesn’t. In a swift move, Hibiki is being thrown against the hatch, and Chishiya almost feels pity for a moment that the boy isn’t electrocuted as well. The impact has been enough to hurt him without the voltage, and now they know that the second sequence has been right.

Michael claps his hands. “There we go! No voltage.”

His stubborn, not in a state of shock anymore but with clear worry on her face, wants to hurry and help that child, but Chishiya stops her by reaching for her arm. “Don’t.”

She hisses as an answer and he feels the fabric of the bandages under his grip in the same moment, causing him to move down to her wrist. “What the-? Let go!”

“No.” Since she still doesn’t understand, it might be the time to finally explain to her why she shouldn’t trust this boy. Why Chishiya is sure that he’s the Jack, and why spending too much time with him could endanger her. Besides, the noises coming from the hatch indicate that Michael is still in the mood for violence, and his woman has already been injured, she doesn’t need more.

“You can’t stop me from helping her friend.”

Her voice is so cold, so angry, that Chishiya wants to shake her and shout some sense into her. Her naivety is turning her blind to all the obvious hints, but if she really loves him, shouldn’t she trust him in such a situation? Shouldn’t she give more credit to his opinion than the one of an obscure child?

He steps closer to her, hoping that it will help her focus on him instead of the scene in the back. “He’s not your friend.” He’s the enemy trying to kill us all. He’s-

“What would you know about friendship?”

For some reason, those words actually hurt, although they’re true. He doesn’t care about friends, so why should he know anything about that matter? Because it has been said by her, he realizes. Because those words are spoken by the one woman he has begun caring for, the woman he agreed to share a caravan with, even share his last strawberry bars.

He releases her arm and watches how his stubborn storms to the hatch, where Hibiki remains slumped against the wall. She remains stubborn after all. Stubborn and naïve. There’s no use in trying to convince her now – she will have to learn it the hard way. Chishiya just hopes that it won’t be too late for her then.

At least the game seems to be coming to an end with Michael grabbing the key out of the now open hatch, and if Chishiya is right that the last room’s time limit will only be five minutes, it leaves no time for anything other than focus.

It becomes even clearer when the door opens and reveals the last room already being lit with nothing else inside. Chishiya leans against the blank wall, but he doesn’t need to search for any hidden advices. He won’t find them.

Sometimes, the truth should remain hidden in the dark.

The exit out of this game is locked by a code lock, with a clear message that they’ll only have one try to open it. And above his head lingers a single light bulb without a shade. Could the end really be that easy?

From his crunched position below the hatch, Hibiki asks what’s inside this room. As if he doesn’t know already. His stubborn, eyeing the walls with a frown, calls back to him, telling him that there’s nothing except the lock asking for a total of six digits.

The boy groans and pants, and the pain doesn’t seem to be acted. Useless to care, since he will be dead soon enough one way or another. “What about… trying out common combinations? Like 1-2-3-4-5-6 or… 0-0-0-0-0-0?”

What about you shut up and stop trying to fool us with suggestions that are obviously wrong? With only one try possible, it’d be more than foolish, even suicidal to go for such common combinations. Luckily, Chishiya doesn’t have to tell the woman next to him, because despite her trust for Hibiki, she’s still clever enough to realize this. “We don’t have more than one try”, she shouts back through the door.

“It’s no use”, mutters the fourth man, “we have to search the other rooms for a clue.”

While he and Michael leave the empty cell, Chishiya doesn’t call them back. They won’t find a clue, not within the couple of minutes remaining, but it’s good to be alone and have some silence. His eyes meet his stubborn, and realization doesn’t take long.

“You know how to solve this, don’t you?”

Funny how now she seems to be completely confident in his skills while she didn’t want to believe a single word of what he said just mere minutes ago. When it comes to game mechanics and general knowledge he’s a trustworthy source, but being right about other people? Apparently not.

Chishiya sighs. “The answer is indeed hidden in one of the other rooms. The first one, to be exact.”

He can see how she tries to recall any hint that he could be talking about, but she had been too busy digging through the chest to notice the map. “How can you be so sure of that?”

“Back in the first room, I took a closer look on the map while you searched for the second key.” And despite his stubborn’s inquiry, it doesn’t have to do anything with the circled countries. “There was in fact something else written on the back of it. A quote. I didn’t understand the context back then, but I do now.”

Somewhere in the other rooms, a table is being thrown over and glass shatters. Most likely Michael causing mayhem in the laboratory, and maybe he’ll get in touch with some highly acid liquid. Chishiya wouldn’t mind the slightest.

“So?” Visibly uncomfortable with the lack of time in the last room, the woman close to him doesn’t even try to hide the nervousness in her voice. “What did it say?”

The letters are still clear in his mind, the uneven handwriting and the red crayon. “Sometimes, the truth should remain hidden in the dark.”

No further explanation is needed, and his stubborn grins when it becomes clear to her why Chishiya doesn’t worry about the time limit at all. Their faces both turn to the plain light bulb.

“The reason why the light was already turned on when the door opened…” she pauses, as if she wants Chishiya to end her thought.

He does. “… is because whatever we need to see can only be seen in the dark.”

Judging by the heavy sounds coming from the lab, they would have never been able to make it in time, had Chishiya not found the quote right at the beginning. This is the exact reason why it’s always a good thing to be extra-cautious and make sure to observe everything around not to miss anything that could become important later on. Now the only thing they need to do is to darken the room for the truth to be revealed.

“There is no switch for the light.”

Chishiya nods. No switch, no ladder, no way to shut off the electricity in this room. “We have to find another way.” Something huge enough to reach the bulb when standing on it, and a piece of cloth to wrap around the bulb-

“What… what are you doing?” Hibiki shouts now that his ‘friend’ is closing the door with only a gap left.

“Don’t worry, Hibiki. I’m sure we found it. I won’t shut the door completely; we’re just trying something out.”

While her voice sounds reassuring, this is the last thing the boy wants to hear. Now begging to keep the door open, Hibiki tries to convince the woman, but she’s stubborn for a reason. And then, when it’s sure that almost no light will come through the door now, she wraps herself out of her hoodie, leaving Chishiya confused for a short moment, even more since it’s obvious that the movement causes her pain in both the hurt shoulder and the fresh injury.

Then she explains what he has already begun to apprehend. “Give me a piggyback.”

He would really prefer a ladder or a table. A piggyback… how irksome.

“Oh, come on. We’re about to die in less than three minutes; don’t tell me you’re afraid that I’ll ruin your hair?”

Neither are they going to die, nor does Chishiya intend to ruin his hair in any way. A piggyback simply seems to be the fastest and most convenient solution in their situation, and he goes into his knees, allowing her to climb onto his back. Which is not easy at all considering how much she moves up there, and even getting back up is hard for him with all the shifting weight on his shoulders.

“Can’t you try to be a bit more still?” She mutters just when Chishiya wants to ask the same, and he can feel the way her fingers dig into his clothes to find some balance. Maybe they are going to die, simply because this woman is not able to hold her position for a single minute.

He wants to move his head, but she’s clenching so hard around his shoulders that his hair is stuck in between. “I would, if you’d stop scampering around up there.”

When she feels safe enough not to fall down immediately, she releases her death grip on his hoodie and reaches for the light bulb with her own jacket, which causes them both to sway dangerously until she manages to hold onto the bulb. Judging by the suppressed hiss, it must be hot to the touch, although the hoodie will save her from most of it for the time being. What is more important now is that the moment the fabric wraps around the heated glass, the entire room turns dark. Not pitch-black, but dark enough for luminescent digits to become visible on the ceiling. Six digits, in the same messy handwriting that Chishiya has seen on the map and on the walls of the previous room.

“Chishiya! Can you see it too?”

Of course he can. 9-6-1-4-5-4. The code that will open the very last door of this game.

Maybe even a message?

There’s no time to muse about a hidden meaning behind the code, and Chishiya doesn’t intend to wait longer when his stubborn cries out in pain as the heat of the bulb becomes too strong. Suddenly blinded by the returning light, they both stagger and Chishiya lets her back down, which doesn’t turn out as smoothly as planned. They hurry to the code lock, and a delicate finger rests over the 9, waiting for Chishiya to disagree. She presses down when no dissent comes, and she repeats this with all the other digits.

“Hibiki! We’re about to clear this game!”

Her voice sounds excited when her finger presses down the 4 a second time, and she’s not even aware of the irony in it. That she, although hoping to share her joy with the boy, only makes it worse for him with the reminder that he has lost. He didn’t try too hard to manipulate them, after all – probably he had been sure that they would fail in the last room, that the hint at the back of the map had been hidden good enough for anyone to spot.

CONGRATULATIONS, GAME CLEAR. TIME LEFT TO LEAVE THE GAME AREA: 1 MINUTE.

“We did it!” With an euphoric exclaim, his stubborn almost jumps into Chishiya’s hug and kisses him. It has a bitter taste this time with what has been said throughout the game, but at least she seems to have forgotten about it already. “We did it! We-… Hibiki.”

Of course.

The game is over and she’s still about to do something stupid that might get her killed. One minute can be a short time to leave the area when someone tries to hold her down, even if it’s just a small kid. A kid that she’s now supporting in an attempt to help him out of this room.

Hibiki doesn’t look too happy about the turn of events, and Chishiya doesn’t even blame him. That boy looks exactly like a child that lost a game and only now realizes what consequences come along with that: tired and frustrated. “You… you cleared the game?”

With the thin arm wrapped around her shoulder, the stubborn woman halts next to the sister still mourning over the dead body on the ground and tries to get her out as well. Chishiya had completely pushed both of them out of his mind, and one glance is enough to tell him that any attempt to help will be fruitless.

“It’s no use. Look at her; she’s dead already.” Wasting her own life because someone dear to her has died. How pathetic.  

His stubborn, compassionate as always, visibly struggles with the choice to leave that other woman to die or drag her outside as well, however she must have realized that the time won’t suffice for the latter and will only result in getting all of them killed. It is stupid enough to help Hibiki out into a broad and light-flooded lobby, and Chishiya is tired of trying to tell her. He is surprised to find that the boy’s collar doesn’t explode immediately when exiting the last room, and it doesn’t explode when the door closes after the minute runs out although that’s what happens to all the collars still left inside the game area.

No, his collar opens just like the others, and Chishiya opens the piece of metal around his neck while keeping an eye on the other two. Michael and the fourth man disappear out of the modern lobby, and the broad windows and neutral design of this room makes it hard to believe that they’re still in the old ramshackle mansion. It seems more likely that the rooms connected two buildings and they’re now at the backside of the original entrance.

Just as his stubborn is about to leave as well, Hibiki drops to the floor, his fingers still loosely closed around the collar now resting next to his body, causing the woman to turn around in worry.

“Hey, is everything alright? You look quite pale, to be honest.”

How can she be so oblivious to the truth? How can she not realize even now, who the boy really is? She never even cared to bother who the Jack of the game might be as long as she made it through. Chishiya doesn’t like to see her kneeling next to Hibiki at all, even touching his shoulder. If he’s being honest to himself, he is scared that something might happen to her – that whatever will eliminate the boy will hurt or even kill her too.

Just tell her and leave. “We have to go.”

“Don’t you see he’s not feeling well?” she glares at him accusingly, as if she has to protect the boy from Chishiya. “We could at least stay with him until he’s better. He is hurt, I can’t leave him like this now.”

Stubborn as she is, she probably wouldn’t even listen when he told her that Hibiki will never get better again, because he’ll be dead within a matter of seconds or minutes. And that staying here will only make it worse for her than it already is.

“He’s right”, mutters Hibiki with a breaking voice, “you better go.”

“Listen to me. There is nothing we can do.” Chishiya wonders if the boy reciprocates her sympathy or if this too has been nothing but acted. It sounds honest, although it doesn’t make anything better. Hibiki looks scared now, maybe scared of death and maybe scared of disappointing the only person that has been nice to him during the game. Does he know how he will die, if there’s a chance it will hurt her as well? “I really wish I could have met you in the real world.”

Chishiya should have left here and there when she spreads her arms around the child and pulls him into a tight hug. He should finally turn around and leave behind the woman who does not want to accept the truth, who now makes silly promises to a goner that everything will be all right and that they will meet again. He shouldn’t care for the fact that she will break down as soon as she realizes, should be indifferent to her feelings like he’s indifferent to everyone else.

But he stays.

He stays and calls her name, a sound that he has become so used to within just a couple of days. And finally, she listens to him, getting up from the floor and reaching out to take Chishiya’s hand, beginning to complain about his outrageous and inhuman behavior and how he could possibly be so mean to that boy.

They don’t even make it out of the lobby until the laser comes down.

[scriptlgbt]

TW: Talk of dead trans bodies

Question

I heard that skulls can have a facial reconstruction done. But how can that be done with trans people? Because if they check the DNA, they’ll find agab DNA and if the ME can’t match that they’ll reconstruct a face and do facial recognition. How would they even know the person was trans? What are other options that could indicate someone was trans and spur more accurate reconstructions, like for example any FFS/FMS? Another thing, how likely could facial recognition still work with the wrong gender done? After all, it’s still the same bone structure, and shape of facial features, even though the fat is distributed differently. I mean, reconstructions must account for skinny and fat people, which again a skull won’t be much an indicator. Also, what if the rest of the skeleton was also available, what more could be possible? (ps - there’s several trans characters in my story, not just the dead ones. and there’s plenty more dead non trans characters too.)

First want to note that the following advice doesn’t go into any of the morality of writing this. I feel like it takes a lot of care to write these stories in a way that is not-traumatizing, and I don’t have the capacity to address both that and actually answer your questions (which is what I try to do here). I’ll leave it up to followers if they want to add anything.

Answer

Re: DNA

Typically you need to collect a viable sample in order to even test. There are a lot of things that can interfere with how testing works. For example, if someone is buried in a place with other human remains, the DNA may get mixed up. This is more common in places outside North America where a specific gravesite may be up “for rent” for only the amount of time it takes a corpse to decay, in order to make room for more bodies in a limited amount of space. If you’re interested in learning more about how these things work in different places, I recommend Ask A Mortician on YouTube.

Re: Evidence of FFS/FMS, other changes in face.

This one is going to be all over the place due to variables like:

how long after the death people are looking at the body, and how it is treated post-mortem (level of decay, weather it was in, if the body was embalmed, mummified, etc)

who it is who is doing the identifying (a professional facial recognition expert, or the general public through a police sketch)

if the people looking for this person know the deceased is trans, and know to look for sketches that may show only a vague family resemblance

There are things that FFS does that would show up in various states of decay. (NOTE: FFS is a series of procedures that people consult with surgeons about regarding what is done and what isn’t. NOT everyone gets everything, and not everyone CAN get everything due to anatomy variance.) I would look specifically through the Wikipedia article for FFS to learn this. But FFS can definitely involve work on bone structure, and often does, as does FMS. This would usually be something a ME may be able to figure out though, at least if they are familiar with these procedures and what they entail (which I’m going to assume is rare). They may just notice that there’s been surgery done, and the specifics of what was broken or shaved down, and if it is healed by then. (Heal lines are a thing on bones.)

I do need to note though, that FMS is very rarely done as much as FFS is. I’m not wholly sure why this is. I’m guessing people look a lot more closely at women than men, and are held to different standards, but I’m sure there are other reasons.

If you’re talking specifically about fat/weight redistribution, that’s more of a hormone thing. FFS & FMS are more about things that hormones can’t do on their own - more like what someone may feel the need to if they went through a first puberty that they did not want.

Things that may indicate whether someone was on hormones are things like skin texture (testosterone makes skin a tad “rougher” and can increase sweat, body hair, stuff like that, and estrogen often makes skin smoother and clearer), and hormones showing up in drug analysis. Sometimes folks will carry medications with them when they are going places, so that may be found with the person. This is more likely for those who take daily pills, which skews towards those on antiandrogens and estrogen. There is no universal way people take hormones when they do but this is what’s most common with the people I know personally. Testosterone is more common in gel, patches, or injection. I know people who take estrogen via injection as well but I think more folks opt to not deal with needles. Unfortunately, testosterone injections are the cheapest form of testosterone, so it’s harder to get insurance to approve the non-needle options.

Other forms of surgeries and medical history stuff may be identifiable in other ways in remains. For example, if they have a hip replacement or had their wisdom teeth removed.

But with accurately gendered reconstructions (sketches, or pictures of aged-up missing people, etc)... I think an investigative team who is genuinely knowledgeable and well-versed in trans issues would probably be able to figure it out at some point, *if* the deceased trans person went through surgery, cut their hair, or otherwise presented in a way that might clock them. Hair length is often still used to gender remains. Skulls and hip bone appearance also may influence that. But investigators rarely account for intersex bodies or bodies that are trans. And if they account for trans bodies, they probably aren’t going to account for the body of a trans person who did not undergo surgery or dress in a way that may be coded as their AGAB, unless they are given some other reason to believe that, and happen to be people who take GNC trans people seriously for who they are.

I’m going to tell you that it is incredibly, incredibly difficult to find anybody in the policing profession who understands these things.

With all that said, I also want to address that trans people do not necessarily look any which way. Trans men have long hair sometimes and trans women have short hair sometimes. What someone is wearing or whatever does not necessarily indicate their gender and these aren’t always clues enough that help this person to be gendered correctly.

How I would suggest finding more accurate clues

In a grave that’s like, ancient, or otherwise was given a “proper” funeral of some kind (rather than dumped in a ravine or whatever), there’s generally grave goods through which we can get clues about who the person was in life. Things like looms buried with weavers, combs, swords, and such. Another thing to note is that linen was more common than cotton in ancient times, and linen does not rot. (Rotting off the non-textile parts of flax is actually how linen is made.) So if the person was wearing linen, you can get other clues based on their wardrobe. (This goes for modern folks wearing linen too I guess.) None of those things alone necessarily indicate identity, but neither does someone’s skull. What someone is wearing when they are found is probably the largest indicator of identity.

Depending on the resources available and invested in research on remains found, there are a lot of other helpful means of identification. Isotope testing on their hair can indicate where the person spent a lot of time in life, for how long even, and at different points. Testing the soil in the area the stomach decayed can give clues to what the person ate and if there was any heavy metal poisoning. Bones can be tested for certain nutritional deficiencies and you can see heal lines where someone has broken bones in the past. You can also tell a lot from teeth - dental records are often a huge thing used these days to identify remains.

There’s also the possibility of an identity of the person being found through them having ID on their person. Many trans people do not have an ID which matches their identity in their wallet. BUT sometimes there are other ways to get contact info (like our actual name) by looking in a wallet.

For example, this is what I did when I used to have a wallet:

Picture of a brown leather wallet with an ID slot peeking out of it. A white hand with chipped gray nail polish on the thumb is holding it. The ID slot has the edges of a green Ontario Health Card visible. In front of it is a folded lined paper with "IF FOUND (contact info) (open)" handwritten on it.

I wrote down my contact info on a piece of paper I put in my ID slot. If I do this again sometime I’ll probably make a wee booklet with some emergency medical info in it. Technically, all the medical institutions in my city will have my preferred name on log though, as well as my identity (at least the places that allowed me to make that clear in my file).

Depending on where you go, there may be ways to access this information in the systems the deceased navigated. Maybe they have a student ID card somewhere or are wearing a souvenir shirt from a venue they frequent. I lost my wallet like 8 years ago once and the person who found it contacted my school to let me know, since my student ID was in there.

If the deceased has living biological family, especially people who may have reported them missing, it is possible they may volunteer their DNA for matching in case anyone comes up.

I’m sure there’s more on this I could come up with, but this is already quite a long post so I will leave it at that for now.

- mod nat

[bloody-bee-tea]

JC Love Month 2020 Day 2

Power and Pride

Day 2 of JC Love Month brings some fluff where the kids (mostly JL) tell JC that they admire him a whole lot, and even WWX is not exempt from that. Thankfully, that admiration goes both way. 

Jiang Cheng isn’t quite sure how he came to feel like an outsider in his own home, but it’s happening, and his otherwise empty table is probably playing a big part in it.

Especially compared to the cramped one, where Wei Wuxian and his gaggle of ducklings are seated.

It’s not often that Wei Wuxian brings them around after a night hunt, but they were close to Lotus Pier and Wei Wuxian at least knows that Jiang Cheng would skin him alive if he did a job in Jiang Cheng’s territory and then didn’t even have the good grace to drop by.

It’s just a bonus that he brought the kids with him, because Jiang Cheng would never admit it, but he missed Jin Ling. It’s not often that he gets to see him anymore, not with how he’s now Sect Leader himself, and it’s good to see that Jin Ling still takes the time to do something educational but at the same time gets to spend an night with his friends.

And it only stings the tiniest bit that Jin Ling didn’t come to visit Lotus Pier before, but Jiang Cheng pushes that thought far, far away. It’s important for Jin Ling to spend some time with people his age, and not just his family.

There’s an especially loud laugh from Wei Wuxian to something Lan Jingyi said and Jiang Cheng almost feels the urge to go over there and sit with them instead of a few tables further away, but he guesses he would ruin the mood.

He’s not pleasant company, he knows it, and he would hate to ruin the good mood of the kids. They deserve some time to celebrate after their successful night hunt.

So Jiang Cheng sits alone with his tea, and keeps half an ear on the rambunctious group. It has to be enough.

“So, let’s say,” Wei Wuxian’s voice carries over and Jiang Cheng might listen in a bit more closely at that, because he still remembers that tone of voice and it promises mischief.

“Let’s say what, Senior Wei?” Ouyang Zizhen asks, leaning expectantly over the table.

“Let’s say you’d have to choose the most powerful cultivator,” Wei Wuxian says, a laugh playing around his mouth. “Who would you choose?”

“Easy,” Lan Jingyi immediately says and Jiang Cheng has to hide his snort in his tea.

He would always bet his entire fortune on the loudmouthed Lan to be the first to answer a question.

“Zewu-Jun,” Lan Jingyi then says, full of conviction, though he only gets surprised glances at that.

“Why him?” Wei Wuxian wants to know, and Jiang Cheng is unsure if he has a higher goal in mind with this question or if he is just playing around with them.

“Because he’s ranked first, of course,” Lan Jingyi confidently says, and Jiang Cheng has to admit it’s solid reasoning.

Zewu-Jun is still ranked first, despite the fact that he went into seclusion, and the list is not only about looks. It’s also about the level of cultivation after all, so Lan Jingyi made the easy, obvious choice.

“But I don’t think he’s the most powerful,” Lan Sizhui carefully says, clearly trying to not offend his friend and while Jiang Cheng admires the effort, he thinks it’s entirely impossible to offend Lan Jingyi.

“Then who do you think, huh?” Lan Jingyi wants to know, clearly more curious than offended and Lan Sizhui shrugs.

“Hanguang-Jun,” he says, very predictably if you ask Jiang Cheng.

Not that anyone seems to be even thinking of Jiang Cheng.

“How come?” Wei Wuxian questions and then he gets that dreamy look on his face that Jiang Cheng learned to abhor so much. “I mean, you’re right of course, there is no one with more power in this world than my Lan Zhan, but explain it?”

“No one with more power over your already limited awareness, maybe,” Jin Ling mutters under his breath and Jiang Cheng almost chokes on his tea when Wei Wuxian lets out an enraged yell.

There’s chaos for a while at the other table, because it seems like the kids are entirely too comfortable to roast Wei Wuxian over his sickeningly sweet feelings for Lan Wangji and Jiang Cheng is very content to stay out of that train wreck.

They do settle down eventually, and they even get back on track with the question.

“It should be kind of obvious,” Lan Sizhui says finally. “He is the Chief Cultivator after all, and that means he holds the most powerful position.”

It’s just as solid reasoning as Lan Jingyi’s pick had been but Ouyang Zizhen shakes his head.

“You all got it wrong,” he says and leans a little bit closer to them as if he’s going to tell them a secret. “The most powerful cultivator is of course the Ghost General!”

“He doesn’t even count!” Lan Jingyi cries out. “He’s a ferocious corpse, and not a cultivator anymore!”

“But you have to admit that he is more powerful than both of your picks,” Ouyang Zizhen says and Jiang Cheng forces to unclench his hand.

He is still repairing his relationship with Wei Wuxian, he gave up entirely on every reaching anything but polite distance with Lan Wangji, but he will probably forever have some animosity for Wen Ning.

In the very darkest hours of the night Jiang Cheng can admit that it’s unfair to hate Wen Ning like that, that he wasn’t wrong about what he said to Jiang Cheng during that cursed reveal of just whose golden core is inside of Jiang Cheng, but that is only in the dead of the night.

During the day, Jiang Cheng reserves the right to still be fucking mad at Wen Ning for accusing him like that when it was him, Wen Qing and Wei Wuxian who decided to go along with the medical procedure without even so much as asking Jiang Cheng about it.

It doesn’t change the fact that Wen Ning is a rather powerful being and Jiang Cheng would hate to have to go up against him if he’s really furious. Jiang Cheng is aware enough of his own strength to know that it would be a damn difficult fight; and he couldn’t even confidently say that he’d win.

“You all don’t know anything,” Jin Ling suddenly speaks up, and Jiang Cheng is moderately curious, he’s not going to lie about that.

Jin Ling doesn’t like Lan Wangji—Jiang Cheng is more than aware that it’s his fault—but he admires Zewu-Jun and he is starting to build something of a friendship with Wen Ning, so Jiang Cheng is honestly curious to hear who Jin Ling thinks of as the most powerful cultivator.

Not to mention that Wei Wuxian is sitting right there, and for all that Jiang Cheng wishes it would be different, he doubts that there is anyone who could match Wei Wuxian at his Yiling Patriarch high.

“Who is it then?” Lan Jingyi asks, chin stubbornly set and Jin Ling glares at him.

“The most powerful cultivator is of course my jiu-jiu,” Jin Ling says, absolute certainty in his voice and everyone goes very quiet as they dart glances at Jiang Cheng.

“Why do you think so?” Wei Wuxian asks yet again, but his voice is soft in a way that Jiang Cheng can hardly stand and he has half a mind just getting up and fleeing.

But then Jin Ling turns around to him and pins him with his look and Jiang Cheng stays right where he is.

He didn’t know his nephew had already perfected that glare.

“Because he survived,” Jin Ling says. “Because he lost his parents and his home, and then his siblings. He had a destroyed Sect and a tiny baby to look after and he did it,” Jin Ling says and Jiang Cheng can’t hold his gaze any longer, but Jin Ling mercilessly goes on.

“He rebuild his Sect; and not only that, but he made it the most powerful of the Great Four. He raised the kid, that wasn’t even his own, and all the while he still managed to get the respect of the people he leads.”

“Jin Ling, you are my pride and joy, but would you please shut the fuck up?” Jiang Cheng bites out, feeling just a little bit choked up, but no one is listening to him.

“And he did it all without his own golden core,” Wei Wuxian chimes in, voice still so horribly soft, “because he even survived losing it.”

“He did a decent job at raising the little mistress, too,” Lan Jingyi says and even though Jin Ling turns to glare at him, it’s clearly meant as very high praise.

“He doesn’t just have the respect of his people,” Lan Sizhui suddenly says and shrinks in on himself, just a little bit when Jiang Cheng starts to glare at him.

It’s still not enough to shut them all up, but Jiang Cheng has to try at least.

“They adore him; they love him so much, all of them, and it’s so easy to see, too.”

Jiang Cheng doesn’t think it’s easy to see at all, but Ouyang Zizhen speaks before Jiang Cheng can get a word in otherwise.

“Oh, yeah, did you see how they all practically light up when he walks through the market? And they all give him samples of their stuff for free, too, and not because they are afraid of him or they want to show off. They just genuinely want to show him their appreciation!”

“Ah, but that’s not a new thing,” Wei Wuxian says and smiles slightly. “People always fell over themselves to make Jiang Cheng smile.”

“That’s not true,” Jiang Cheng says, because he remembers the times he and Wei Wuxian went to the market.

The people fell all over themselves to please Wei Wuxian, not him.

“Don’t be stupid,” Jin Ling bites out, and Jiang Cheng is taken aback at how mad he suddenly seems. “Do you even know how often people ask me where you are when I go to the market alone? No one cares about me, they only want to see you. I bet it was the same with Wei Wuxian.”

“He’s right,” Wei Wuxian nods immediately. “I couldn’t take two steps without people crowding me in, asking where their favourite was.”

“Shut up!” Jiang Cheng gets out, though he’s aware that he’s blushing bright red.

He knows he has the respect of his people, but their love? He never dared to hope for that.

“So, yes. My jiu-jiu is the most powerful, because he survived all kinds of tragedies and still came out on top.”

“You’re right,” Lan Jingyi nods and then everyone is suddenly agreeing with Jin Ling.

Much to Jiang Cheng’s embarrassment.

“Shut up, all of you,” he snaps out, “you’re all wrong.”

“Get over here then, and tell us why,” Wei Wuxian very eagerly says and winks him over.

The kids make space for him immediately, and they are all looking expectantly at Jiang Cheng, too, so really. What else can he do but go over there and join them.

He refuses to think about the warm, fluttering feeling in his chest at the thought that he gets included in this.

“Tell us who you think is the most powerful,” Wei Wuxian says, excited like a little kid, and when he leans forward, Jiang Cheng pushes him away with a hand to his face.

“Hey,” Wei Wuxian protest, but the kids all laugh and even Jiang Cheng has to bite back a smile.

“If you think I’m going to name you, you’re mistaken,” he tells Wei Wuxian who gives him an almost devastating pout.

“But I was so powerful back in the day,” Wei Wuxian whines and Jiang Cheng rolls his eyes.

“And then you died, so really, how powerful can you be?” he wants to know. “And don’t even get me started on the fact that you made it back, because you had nothing to do with that! That was all Mo Xuanyu.”

Jiang Cheng is aware that the kids are staring at him and Wei Wuxian and it occurs to Jiang Cheng that they have never seen them banter like this.

Like they used to do before everything went to shit, and it gives Jiang Cheng hope that they can repair their relationship.

“But who else could it be?” Wei Wuxian whines as he slumps over the table and Jiang Cheng flips his forehead.

“Sect Leader Yao, of course,” Jiang Cheng says, smug as anything when he sees dropped jaws all around the table and then he laughs.

“No, no, you have to explain,” Jin Ling suddenly says and Jiang Cheng calms down just long enough to do so.

“Think about it. He’s mediocre at best but he’s still around. It’s been almost twenty years and he still aggravates everyone at the Cultivation Conferences. No one killed him yet and he still didn’t die. Clearly, he is more powerful than any of us.”

“That’s right,” Wei Wuxian gasps. “He survived the Sunshot Campaign, and I remember he was amongst those who called for my blood, too.”

“And then he survived all of Jin Guangyao’s scheming, and every fight that happened since,” Jiang Cheng adds and it’s only then that Jin Ling smacks his arm.

“Stop this, you hate Sect Leader Yao, you would never vote for him,” Jin Ling says and Jiang Cheng has half a mind to ruffle his hair.

“But I mean it!” Jiang Cheng says but now Wei Wuxian also caught on to the fact that he was just fucking with them, and he narrows his eyes at Jiang Cheng.

“No. Tell us the truth.”

“Fine,” Jiang Cheng says and rolls his eyes at him, mostly so that he doesn’t have to look when he says his next words. “I always thought that my brother was the most powerful,” he mutters and this time the silence that falls over the table is a very expectant one.

When Jiang Cheng finally does lift his gaze again, he sees that all of the kids are looking at Wei Wuxian instead of him, and so Jiang Cheng does the same.

“A-Cheng,” Wei Wuxian says and Jiang Cheng is startled to see tears in his eyes. “I love you, too,” Wei Wuxian cries out and then throws himself over the table to hug Jiang Cheng.

“Let go of me, you gremlin,” Jiang Cheng complaints, but he doesn’t push Wei Wuxian away as hard as he maybe could.

“I always thought my brother was the strongest, too,” Wei Wuxian then mutters and Jiang Cheng has to close his eyes against the sting of tears.

“Ah, fuck,” Jiang Cheng whispers.

“No swear words at the table,” Jin Ling says, clearly out of habit but also way too late, and Jiang Cheng is thankful for it, because it breaks the weird tension.

“There,” Ouyang Zizhen says with great satisfaction. “He did a very good job raising the little mistress.”

It sets off a new round of roughhousing, this time between the kids, mostly, and Jiang Cheng takes the break to compose himself again.

But when he catches Wei Wuxian’s still somewhat misty eyes over the table, he figures it’s not entirely necessary to be his usually grumpy self.

He can let loose a little bit, with his family around.

Link to my ko-fi on the sidebar!

[kumeko]

A/N: For the @knyfutureauzine! I’m grumpy we didn’t get any aftermath whump or hurt/comfort in the series.

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…

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i.

Someone knocked on the door. It was a quiet sound, barely audible in the yard. The rough scrubbing of dirty clothes drowned out any other noise. Arms deep in soapy water, Aoi wasn’t even entirely certain she hadn’t imagined it. No one else seemed to have heard it. Not Kanao as she diligently hung every cleaned shirt. Not Sumi, Kiyo, or Naho as they swept the house, the soft pitter-patter of their feet echoing through the hallways.

Just as Aoi went back to work, she heard a second sharp rap. This time Kanao noticed as well, her blank eyes turning toward the entrance. “Someone’s there,” she murmured, halfway to hanging a pair of pants.

“I’ll get it,” Aoi replied quickly, before Kanao could move. While her now-blind sister could navigate the butterfly estate without help, Aoi didn’t want her to exert herself more than she had to. “It’s probably a pillar.”

Leaping to her feet, she left a trail of droplets as she hurried to the front door. They used to guess, before it all went down, just who’d dropped by. Nine times out of ten, the answer would have been Mitsuri. She had liked to appear for no other reason than to hug and spread her love. Obanai had lurked in her shadow, begrudgingly taking a cup of tea whenever a nervous Kiyo gave it to him. A rarer visit had been a clueless Giyu, who never understood why Shinobu only offered terse replies and sharp smiles.

Aoi’s favourite had been Rengoku, with his sunny smiles and even sunnier disposition. Part of her still expected his golden hair as she yanked open the door.

Instead, a beaming Tanjirou stood at the entrance, and Aoi tried not to let her disappointment show on her face. It had been at least a year since they’d all died. She should have known better than to expect a ghost. “You’re late,” she huffed, letting the irritation wash over her and mask her emotions.

“Sorry about that.” He didn’t look the least bit contrite for that. In his hands was a bouquet of sunflowers and he gently held them out. “Nezuko picked these.”

“It couldn’t have been you,” she muttered half-heartedly, carefully taking the bundle. There’s no flowery scent when she sniffs, just the usual weak smell of leaves and plants. “They’re pretty. Is she coming later?”

“Yep, with Sanemi!” Tanjirou lightly stepped inside, slipping off his shoes and putting on the slippers she pointed at. They were the same ones from when he’d trained here. “He’s really nice to her, but he still doesn’t seem to like me. I wonder if I did something to him?”

“Who knows?” Scratching her chin, Aoi thought about the scarred wind pillar. They didn’t cross paths often, no reason to outside of funerals and memorials, but his sharp edges seemed to have softened. Whatever bark was left in him was brittle, easily cracked. Rumour had it that it was because of his brother’s death. She could believe that. Aoi didn’t feel like the same person she had been before Shinobu’s death, before Kanae’s or her parent’s loss.

Grief had a way of changing a person.

“Inosuke and Zenitsu are coming soon, they’re just getting some more flowers,” Tanjirou added, not sounding too bothered by it. Maybe he knew more than he let on. His burn mark was bright in the morning light and maybe, limited time had a way of making problems less important.

“Then they’ll be on time for once,” she snipped, resting a hand on her hip. Aoi frowned up at him. “Though they weren’t the ones who promised to help clean up.”

“Right, right.” Tanjirou laughed awkwardly, rubbing his neck. His smile was disarming. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry—just don’t do it again.” With that resolved, she led Tanjirou toward the yard, her arm still laden with sunflowers. The bright yellows contrasted with the dreary walls of the compound, their footsteps loud against the silent backdrop. Everything felt unusually muted and the rooms utterly depressing. It was irrational; the décor hadn’t changed since Shinobu’s death and the estate had always been some flavour of quiet. With Shinobu and Kanao often out for missions, Aoi had gotten used to a certain level of absence. Though, there had been one exception, one time that the halls had been filled with noise. The time that those three had studied here, when rooms had been filled with Zenitsu’s cries, Tanjirou’s laughter, and Inosuke’s overconfident roars.

The estate had been full those days. Hopeful, even. Aoi remembered believing that they could make it through with a minimal amount of casualties. Now she had more deaths than she had fingers.

“It’s quiet,” Tanjirou murmured, startling her out of her thoughts.

She glanced at him. Was he thinking of those far gone days too? “Yeah, it is.”

“And peaceful,” he added, smiling fondly. “I’ve always liked that about here. I can just sit and think, without worrying.”

It was strange, really, how the same thing could appear in two different ways at once. How the same observation could lead to two different conclusions. He wasn’t wrong. Neither was she. Before she could reply, they reached the veranda.

“Tanjirou?” Kanao guessed from the clothesline, slowly turning around to greet them.

“Yeah.” His expression softened to the same degree that hers brightened, his voice catching slightly. Aoi wondered if he realized just how much his love showed through him, that love that powered him through to save his sister’s life and now was focused on the single girl in front of him. Even if Kanao couldn’t see it, she must have felt it.

Aoi knew when she was the third wheel. Gently, she pushed him toward her sister. “You two, finish the laundry! We don’t have much time before the others get here!”

“Okay, okay, got it.” Over his shoulder, Tanjirou smiled at her as bright as the sun, as bright as Rengoku, and she felt a familiar lump in her throat.

ii.

Someone knocked on the door. Aoi heard it at the same second Naho walked past, her arms full of blankets. “Someone’s at the door.”

‘Yeah.” Naho nodded.

Aoi rested her hands on her hips. Standing on a stool, she felt marginally tall, though she just made Naho’s height now. Everyone had to grow taller but her. “Is someone going to get it?”

“How?” Nahro gestured at the blankets with her head.

“And the others…” Aoi trailed off, her cheeks puffing slightly. If they hadn’t responded to the door by now, they were either too busy or didn’t hear it, and it’d take longer for her to find them than it would to just open the door herself. Hopping off the stool, she grumbled, “Fine, fine, I got it.”

With Sanemi, Nezuko, and Uzui already in the house, it wasn’t too hard to guess who it was. There were only three people left, after all. Yanking the door open, Aoi wasn’t surprised to find a stoic Giyu on the other side, several white lilies in his hand. “Sorry about the wait.”

As usual, his countenance was as tranquil as a still lake, his mood impossible to read. Was he irritated she’d taken so long? Did he not care at all? She had known him for several years now and was no closer to the answer than she’d been when they’d first met.

“It’s okay,” he answered politely. His expression didn’t change.

After a few minutes, when it was clear he wasn’t going to move, Aoi stepped back and gestured. “You can come in, you know.”

Giyu looked at her, then at the entrance. Hesitantly, he stepped inside, as though he wasn’t certain if he could come. It had been months since she’d last seen him and she’d forgotten how annoying he could be. Even now, as he pulled off his shoes and placed them, they were a whole space away from the others.

“You can put them right next to the others, you know.” When he didn’t move them, Aoi sighed and nudged them closer to the others. Things would get messy enough when Inosuke arrived; she didn’t need more to clean up. Turning around, she led the way to the kitchen now. “The incense sticks are too high for me to grab. Could you help me with those?”

“Yes,” he replied, another monosyllabic response.

“We’ll visit Shinobu after lunch.” Aoi was proud she made it through that entire sentence without wanting to cry. “We just need to finish cleaning up. You can help.”

From the corner of her eyes, she watched him nod silently. Aoi had the urge to apologize—it was insane, that she was giving a pillar an order. But with no demons, there were no pillars, and the people she’d idolized were now just ordinary citizens like her. The thought wasn’t as comforting as she’d hoped. Part of her still expected demons every night, that Shinobu would stumble through the door in the middle of the night, tired and bloody.

Maybe she’d never shake of this feeling of unease whenever the sun set. Forcing herself out of her thoughts, she added, “I think it’s just moping…”

Giyu wasn’t beside her anymore. She spun on her heel. “Giyu?”

Three doors down, he stood at the entrance to Shinobu’s workroom. When he didn’t reply, she quietly approached him. “Is something wrong?”

Still, he kept quiet. Aoi followed his gaze into the room. The blinds were pulled back, letting sunlight in. Shinobu used to keep them drawn, preferring utter darkness for her experiments. Despite her strict organization of her samples, her books had always been scattered around haphazardly, an accident waiting to happen.

“It’s all gone,” Giyu murmured.

“Yeah…” Aoi rubbed her arms awkwardly. She had scrubbed the room clean of Shinobu’s presence, shelved the books, tossed the samples. It was a simple office now.

“She’s gone.” His voice was soft, almost too soft to hear. Despite his teary eyes, Giyu didn’t break down, just stared into the room with the same emotion she had when she’d finally forced herself to clean it.

Resignation. Acceptance. Aoi had always thought of him as a doll, but that hadn’t been fair. Despite how Shinobu ragged on him, she’d often drag him into her workroom. The candles would flicker well into the morning, the two of them quietly sharing a drink as they watched the moon. Whenever Giyu would visit, his shoes used to be on the far end, neatly tucked next to Shinobu’s.

Her throat burned, remembering the sight of Shinobu’s shoes next to his. She’d almost forgotten what they’d look like, what that space used to be for. Reaching down, Aoi grabbed his hand. His skin was warm. “She is.”

Aoi hoped Shinobu had done this once too, reached out and clasped his hand. That she had done something for herself before she died. That Giyu would remember this long after Aoi had forgotten what Shinobu sounded or felt like.

Maybe some part of Shinobu could linger, long after her presence disappeared from the house.

iii.

Someone knocked on the door.

“Got it,” Aoi yelled automatically, used to the drill by now. She yanked open the door. “Everyone’s here already, Shinobu—”

There was no one at the door. Of course, there wasn’t, because Shinobu was dead, because this was Shinobu’s one year anniversary and Aoi should have remembered that by now. It was irrational, really, the way she kept doing that, the way she kept expecting Shinobu whenever candlelight crept out of a room in the middle of the night.

It had been a year. Only a year. As long as a year. It hurt and Aoi thought she knew how it felt to miss someone. She’d forgotten how much it hurt at first, how dull that pain could get. Behind her, she could hear Tanjirou’s laugh, Sanemi’s angry growl, Giyu’s confused squawk. It wouldn’t be long before she lost them too, before she had to go through this all over again.

Death was the constant companion of demon hunters. She didn’t know how she’d forgotten that.

As she stared blankly out onto the dirt pathway, a bright purple butterfly lazily floated by. Shinobu, she thought irrationally. It made no sense. That was a butterfly. Shinobu was happy in the afterlife. Yet Aoi couldn’t stop herself from chasing after it. Its wings looked like Shinobu’s cloak, delicate and ethereal.

What would she do if she caught it? If she didn’t catch it? I miss you, I’m sorry, and are you happy ran through her head in a loop.

Yet the butterfly stayed out of reach, away from her questions. As she ran around the corner, she almost ran into Inosuke as he charged past her.

“I made it first,” he roared, heading straight for the door.

“S-sorry…we’re…late…” Zenitsu panted and she turned back to find him standing in front of her, winded and half-collapsed. He smiled.

“I-it’s fine.” Aoi glanced around but the butterfly was gone.

“W-we got flowers,” Zenitsu gasped, holding out a hand before realizing it was empty. “A-and we dropped them…” He glared over her shoulder at the long-gone Inosuke. “Because someone had to have a race.”

It was utterly like them and Aoi laughed. God, it felt good to let it all out, to just feel without remembering anything else. Maybe this was what she’d needed all this time. As usual, Aoi had been over thinking things.

Her present could be shattered in a blink of an eye. Most of her friends wouldn’t make it past five more years. But she’d lived through loss before, and she’d learned the most important lesson: there was an after.

There was no need to dwell on the past, to chase after ghosts. Better to just embrace what she had, for as long as she could, and prepare herself for the future.

Aoi could almost hear Shinobu’s approving hum.

Shaking herself out of it, Aoi offered Zenitsu an arm. “Come on, let’s get going. There’s plenty of work left.”

[fannishcodex]

Interesting meta from cruelfeline and others inspired my idea for a role swap AU where the main swap is between Hordak and Adora! There are other character swaps in the AU too, or swap variations.

Hordak is the latest Prim-Al, a living weapon that a First Ones faction clones over and over again each time one perishes in battle. FO created Prim-Al in response to their magitech AI Light Hope going rogue and constructing her own army of androids she calls the She-Ra. 

More under the cut, including Queen Adora, leader of the Etherian Alliance and stranded android still loyal to her creator, and her discovery of a baby Hordak (Content Warnings: ableism; child abuse; Catra is a villain and completes her transformation into a Shadow Weaver-like figure, and the implications of that):

But first, a little more summed up detail on Prim-Al’s deal, because there’s more to it:

-Hordak’s genetic template is a mysterious Subject A. The FO took preserved samples of Subject A to continually make clones of him for Prim-Al. 

-FO also made a digital copy of Subject A’s mind, a magitech AI named Prime. As a digital clone of an organic mind, much of him acts like an organic mind. Though FO has added some heavy programming and other alterations, they’ve tried to leave much of the organic-based behavior intact for multiple reasons--as an ongoing experiment in digital clones of minds, as an attempt to deter another rogue AI by trying to make this AI more aligned with organics (in contrast, RS!Light Hope was generally not based on an individual’s organic mind, she is not a digital clone like RS!Prime).

(Magitech is what it sounds like--a typically powerful fusion of magic and technology.)

-AI Prime is contained in the RS!Sword of Protection, and is actually the key to its power.

-The clones are actually vessels that channel magitech AI Prime through the sword. When a clone holds the sword, they sync with AI Prime inside, and together they essentially fuse and transform into Prim-Al.

-Prim-Al occurs in two stages. The first stage has some boost in power, some physical changes in body and clothes. The last stage has a greater boost in power and more physical changes--aged up (to a certain point), more muscular, longer hair, clothes, etc.

-AI Prime will only grant power to the clones/can only sync with the clones because they share a blood connection to the organic mind he was based on. This reaction is largely rooted in AI Prime’s magitech nature.

-Despite the death of Subject A, FO was able to preserve his mind and DNA to continue weaponizing him via biological and digital cloning. (The reasons for the FO’s focus on Subject A are also classified, though one can infer that Subject A possessed a power FO wanted to preserve and control....)

-AI Prime/the Sword of Protection is passed down through multiple iterations of Prim-Al.

-One of AI Prime’s functions is to also serve as a living archive of information, and so AI Prime remembers every Prim-Al. He is supposed to have this information available for new clone vessels to access.

-The clones do get names, but as they mature FO generally uses them less and refers to them as Prim-Al more. FO generally mistreat Prim-Al/clone vessels/AI Prime, seeing them as just weapons to keep under control.

FO doesn’t create a clone army because they’re honestly paranoid about creating another powerful enemy; they think that just one Prim-Al under selective limitations will grant them better control and avoid another Light Hope debacle. There are other classified reasons for this too. Also a FO faction created Prim-Al; the entirety of FO are embroiled in a civil war among each other as well as the war with Light Hope and other enemies.

The FO also put limitations on AI Prime for similar reasons, and all the more so because he’s an AI--they don’t want AI Prime to be another rogue AI like Light Hope.

Feel like sharing some design/tone notes:

Besides playing around with fusing traits from both Hordak and Horde Prime, I was also influenced by Link and the Master Sword in Breath of the Wild, as well as the Drifter in Hyper Light Drifter.

(Above: Base Form!RS!Adora is partly a drawover of a show image.)

The She-Ra units are magitech androids with a base form and a more powerful form they can transform into. This transformation is rooted in their magitech nature.

Gonna try to keep these notes on the art as more of a summary for now, and may reveal more specific details about the role swap AU later in separate text posts or even just keep it to later fic--also, still brainstorming, so material in the sketches and the text may change later; and also just felt like this art needed more context/clarification/background info:

(Baby!RS!Hordak is supposed to resemble canon!Imp, thanks to fic from/talking with @revasnaslan​. More info on that is below. Also yes, RS!Adora wrapped baby!RS!Hordak in her cape. :3)

FO preferred raising/training/indoctrinating the Prim-Al clone vessels from infancy, thinking this would give them greater control. They also thought it would make Prim-Al feel even more connected to organics and avoid sympathizing with any rogue AI like Light Hope.

RS!Adora finds the alien baby stranded on Etheria due to a wayward portal (like her situation), and she names him “Hordak” based on the little data she gets from the wrecked escape pod she finds him in. The data had only been text that read “Predecessor: Kadroh,” and she just reversed that name for the boy. RS!Adora names him as part of his paperwork, intending to have him sent to the infirmary with the other orphans, she can’t spend anymore time on him.

RS!Adora fought the Prim-Al before Hordak, but never knew his name was Kadroh. She doesn’t immediately see a resemblance between Hordak and Prim-Al because Hordak is a baby and she’s never really thought about Prim-Al being an organic infant before. Another significant thing is that like in @revasnaslan ‘s Where One Fell-verse fic, infants/children of Hordak’s species start completely blue, and then their faces turn white as they mature; also as @revasnaslan pointed out to me, there’s Imp, baby/child-like clone of Hordak without a white face. So RS!Adora slowly starts seeing the resemblance between Hordak and Prim-Al as Hordak’s growing up and his face starts turning white, and she honestly starts internally freaking out because by this point, between having to provide him medical assistance for his defect and having to spend more time with him than intended and watching him grow up more closely than she planned, RS!Adora is attached enough that the implications of Hordak somehow being the latest Prim-Al is distressing for her and provides a serious conflict with her loyalty to RS!Light Hope...

(Also just feel like saying that while I’m brainstorming that RS!Adora is kind of an android that’s been around for a while/like 1000+ years, I’m more in the camp that thinks that canon Hordak is actually quite young/not centuries old, even though he might have the potential for that/he can get that old later.)

There are more details on how baby RS!Hordak ends up on Etheria and the unique situation behind his birth, but that’s for another text post or fic.

RS!Adora passes herself off as an organic (even a native) while on Etheria. One metal arm is left exposed due to a minor glitch there that messes up the regen protocol for her synthetic skin; she pretends it’s just armor mainly for aesthetic/ceremonial purposes. But this is equivalent to a superficial scar, and it does not hinder or cause RS!Adora any great pain. Before Etheria she was considered one of RS!Light Hope’s perfect androids, and a random portal just plucked her from routine combat duty. (Light Hope didn’t really notice; any missing She-Ra units were assumed to be casualties of battle, and she had plenty more She-Ra units to replace any losses.) 

RS!Catra is a commander in RS!Adora’s Etherian Alliance. RS!Adora and RS!Catra have grown estranged while nominally on the same side. (I’ve been brainstorming RS!Adora/RS!Scorpia down the line after quite a few things go down.)

RS!Catra learned magic in Mystacor and RS!Light Spinner was her most influential mentor. RS!Catra’s specialty was transforming into a large predatory feline and other spells to strengthen her body. (I just keep getting more intrigued by original ‘80s Catra.)

When RS!Light Spinner roped RS!Catra into helping her with the Spell of Obtainment, things turned disastrous. The spell backfire warped RS!Catra, scarring her with a shadowy substance and granting her new shadow-like powers that made her vastly stronger, but the abrupt and traumatic change wrought by magic led to an initial period of insatiability and loss of control that resulted in RS!Catra transforming into an even larger, shadow-constructed feline that killed/devoured Light Spinner and other sorcerers investigating the commotion. RS!Catra flees Mystacor after this and eventually gains control over her new power, but grows more corrupt with it too, and is also left with a new hunger. Years later RS!Catra throws her lot in with the Alliance of monarchs and RS!Adora to solidify/take control of Etheria. (At the moment there’s tentatively another complicating factor with the Spell of Obtainment in this AU, but gonna leave that for another post or fic while I spend more time privately brainstorming it first.)

(Also RS!Catra’s design is very much based on her S3 finale corrupted form because I thought that was neat and that it could work in this AU. I also liked the idea of just using shadow magic to wrap around her and transform her into a large predatory shadow feline as a callback of her original ‘80s incarnation.)

Though RS!Adora is at the head of the Etherian Alliance with RS!Catra as her commander and essentially right hand, most of its high command is made of princesses and other monarchs/nobles who wished to tighten their control over Etheria. However, the Scorpion kingdom, Bright Moon, and Dryl resisted this agenda, and the Alliance considered them enemies and part of the rebels.

RS!Catra actually does just drop RS!Hordak off at the infirmary with the other orphans, complying with RS!Adora’s orders. Despite sensing some strong magic from RS!Hordak, RS!Catra’s content to leave him with the other orphans and just keep an eye on him for now.

(The magic RS!Catra’s sensing from RS!Hordak is something that can only be really triggered once he has the Sword of Protection.)

But when Hordak’s around four years old, his body starts breaking down/his defect becomes apparent. Many in the Alliance give up on the boy’s use as a soldier-in-training (or even use as a servant) and consider casting him out, despite RS!Adora’s insistence that they have enough resources to spare on providing the boy with ongoing medical assistance. (RS!Adora is motivated by a variety of things, including honoring Light Hope’s precept that all creatures have a place under her reign (until she orders otherwise); and at this point RS!Adora still feels some connection to her fellow portal traveler stranded on Etheria and feels compelled to try to help in this situation.) It’s then that RS!Catra steps in and takes in RS!Hordak as her ward. She still thinks he has use (she can still sense great magic from him) and sees this as an opportunity to position herself as the boy’s “savior” and really secure his loyalty.

Though the relationship between RS!Adora and RS!Catra is gradually deteriorating, the nature of RS!Catra’s true motives for taking in RS!Hordak is essentially lost on RS!Adora. While largely everyone in the Alliance had spurned the idea of keeping RS!Hordak around any longer now that he was defective--something RS!Adora found rather discouraging--RS!Catra’s the only one other than RS!Adora to express some interest in the boy. In the face of that much rejection, RS!Adora thinks that if RS!Catra wants to take RS!Hordak as her ward, she should have him.

RS!Adora constructs RS!Hordak’s first set of assistive armor. This eventually includes surgery and giving him ports for a closer/better connection to the armor. RS!Adora continues to treat RS!Hordak and maintain his armor, and helps educate him on how it works when he expresses interest in it and science/technology in general.

RS!Catra is not a good adoptive mother to RS!Hordak. She trains him brutally, pushes him as far as his defect will allow, telling him he needs to work harder to make up for his defect and keep up with everyone else. Her harsh words encourage his self-loathing, and she does aim to break him down to keep him compliant. She’s basically partly swapped with Shadow Weaver in this AU (partly since RS!Light Spinner isn’t really swapped, she’s partially in a “what if she was really on the wrong end of the Spell of Obtainment and was killed by its backfire like those Mystacor sorcerers were,” and also “what if Catra was her student at Mystacor instead of Micah.”)

For a long time RS!Hordak believes he deserves RS!Catra’s harsh treatment, and is afraid that she’ll cast him out if he’s not good enough. He’s aware that there’s no one else in the Alliance that would really take him in. He worries that RS!Adora would just withdraw her mercy and assistance if she realized how weak he really was, so he often tries to hide as much of that as he can from her, including signs of RS!Catra’s abusive treatment. RS!Catra sometimes softens with RS!Hordak--for example, she taught him how to drive a skiff and those were calm lessons, with RS!Catra less demanding and less harsh than when she trains him in combat--but she does not provide him with consistent care and continues to emotionally/verbally/mentally/physically abuse him.   

(Above: Definitely referenced a screenshot from the show. Not pictured: Probably RS!Prime losing his shit immediately after this and cursing RS!Catra out and maybe breaking out a recording of one of RS!Adora’s tongue-lashings to unsettle her.)

RS!Catra is furious when RS!Hordak finally runs away in his teens. Her relationship with him has become somewhat less business and more dangerously personal; she has developed a twisted affection for him as her adopted son, and that makes her reactions even more volatile and harsh when he runs away. RS!Catra does not react well to RS!Hordak’s attempts to escape her.

(When RS!Hordak leaves the Etherian Alliance, he’s a little younger than canon!Adora when she leaves the Etherian Horde due to some reasons that’ll be saved for another text post or fic.)

RS!Hordak isn’t used to getting encouragement from an authority figure/older adult, it always startles him whenever it happens.

(Playing around with role swap AU--also felt like having RS!AI Prime be softer than both canon!Light Hope and canon!Horde Prime, and that’s included him being more supportive/encouraging and even more snarky/playful as another sketch comic indicated above [though part of his humor is just like a result of--he’s pretty old, some inhibitions have just dropped over time and he’s seen quite a few things just repeat over and over, and part of his response to that is to sometimes act more flippant].)

While previous Prim-Al have had some slight variations in appearance depending on the individual clone vessel’s clothing/scars/etc., Hordak’s Prim-Al transformation is the most drastically different. All of his older clone-brothers have had white hair and yellow eyes, and so their Prim-Al transformations have had long white hair and one yellow eye, while the rest turned green and gained visible pupils. Hordak has blue hair and red eyes, and so his Prim-Al transformation reflects that more--the red eye stays, and Prim-Al now has blue hair with a few streaks of white. He has clothes with a primary color scheme of black-and-red instead of black-and-white. Hordak’s Prim-Al is slightly shorter than previous Prim-Al. Hordak’s Prim-Al has more armor, since they shield his defect--which Prim-Al now has since Hordak has it. Due to this, Hordak’s Prim-Al, while gaining a significant boost in power/etc., is typically not as strong as his brothers’ Prim-Al transformations. (However, Hordak’s determination and tolerance for pain is regularly equal to his older brothers’ own determination and tolerance for pain.)

Though the defect remains, the use of AI Prime to trigger the Prim-Al transformation again provides greater power. It also does have some effect on appearance and structure. A closer examination of Prim-Al should show this: Prim-Al looks more like someone recently scarred/mutilated/afflicted with a defect, rather than someone who’s grown up with it. And so, though defective, Prim-Al’s arms look less withered and retain more muscle, and generally look better than Hordak’s usual arms. (And again, they still have a magitech boost going on.)

While FO did program AI Prime to have some regard for the clone vessels, he started caring more than they had planned. AI Prime grew to genuinely care for every clone vessel for Prim-Al, and saw them more as brothers. This now includes Hordak. And though he values his brothers and means well, AI Prime’s cynicism and (remnant) programming can sometimes get in the way of his attempts to help. His own deep-seated trauma can be a factor too. 

With every new clone, AI Prime initially tries to distance himself to avoid further pain, because he grieves the loss of every clone--but he ultimately always admits to seeing them as brothers. (With his long life and the FO and Light Hope and other external factors trapping him in this cycle, AI Prime somewhat copes by comparing the whole thing to the passing of seasons. He’ll be passed down to a new clone-brother, he’ll try to resist caring about the clone-brother, he’ll grow to care about the clone-brother anyway, clone-brother dies, he’s alone until the next clone-brother comes, and then the whole thing starts again.) 

Though AI Prime is a digital clone of Subject A’s mind, he doesn’t have complete access to his mental template’s memories due to FO intervention. The FO also did not tell AI Prime everything.

Yep the LUVD crystal is there, RS!Entrapta should be another sketch post or fic. She’s gone from like the oldest princess to the youngest princess in this AU, and is around the same age as RS!Hordak.

Thanks for checking this out, hope you enjoyed this AU! Hope to have more about this up later.

Forgot to add: Yep RS!Kadroh is that Kadroh, he’s RS!Wrong Hordak in this AU.

[stilljuverose]

Boggart Masterlist

Boggarts shift into a character's deepest fear which make them great development for Wizarding World OCs. The problem is, the boggarts featured in the series are, more or less, rather simple fears. Spiders, Mummies, Snape, etc. This makes it a bit hard to choose a boggart and figure how it would manifest, and since I've never seen a masterlist of sorts for this, I figured I'd try it out! Below is a list of sample fears and possible manifestations; as well as a step-by-step process into creating some of your own!

Commitment - a boggart that shifts into a person offering them a wedding ring for example, to symbolize a fear of settling down or making a big step in a relation OR if your character is currently in a relationship, their partner, themselves, doing so or otherwise manifesting.

Yourself - a character who's afraid of themselves can easily have their boggart shift into a mirror version of themselves- it's a simple fear in writing, but there are a million and one reasons your character might be afraid of themselves.

A simple fear (bees, spiders, black cats, untied shoelaces, etc.) - if your character's deepest fears is somewhat straightforward; then perhaps the boggart simply shifts into that thing, for example, a black cat which stalks towards them. a fear doesn't have to be heavy to be significant.

A Person - The people in your character's lives are usually going to have a deep impact on your character; it's almost inevitable. Use that! If your character's mother died and your character didn't get to say goodbye, and they fear making that mistake again (or fear what their mother's last thoughts about them), maybe that's character's boggart is their mom. If you have a character who's sibling traumatized them, it's as simple as can be for your character's boggart to be that sibling. If your character fears letting people down, but let down a very close friend once, make their boggart that friend.

Extraordinary Circumstances - Say your character is a werewolf- like Lupin, if they're ashamed of or otherwise fear what they are, their boggart is likely to manifest in something regarding their circumstance. For Lupin, it was the full moon - for another character, it may be a wolf (or themselves, specifically, in werewolf form). Try considering how this might change for a character with family tied to the Death Eaters or those who can speak Parseltongue (and are afraid or aren't proud of it), etc.

Broader Fears - There are some fears that are hard to envision a manifestation for. For example, drowning or heights or the dark. There's not much information on the limitations of a boggart- can it multiply, can it change an environment, etc. So, that's where it'd be up to you decide if you want to exist within the thin diameters given for boggarts, or expand. If you think the boggart can multiply and your character is afraid of being made fun of (or humiliated, etc) than perhaps your character's boggart becomes a crowd of laughing people. If you think it can affect the surrounding environment, then a fear of the dark could be a boggart plunging a room into darkness. Similarly, in that instance, a fear of heights could be a boggart giving a character the illusion that they are standing at the top of a very tall building or such and are about to fall. Creating boggarts will likely continue to be a difficult task as long as there is so little information on what they can and cannot do; but creativity can take you a long way and there are always interesting ways to manipulate a fear into a less in-your-face manifestation! STEP BY STEP i. Choose a deepest fear relevant to your character's backstory, persona, or in general, one you feel connects to them. If you're having trouble, fear masterlists are a great jumping off place. ii. Think about ways that you could connect the fear to a person, situation, or visual. If you can think of one, great! iii. If not, maybe consider pushing the boundaries of the boggart's abilities and delve into what it might do to scare your character. The great thing about OCs is that they aren't canon, which means headcanons can make your character creation unique and easier! iv. One last thing that is a lot of fun - and important in a sense- to think about? What happens when your character casts Riddukulus on the Boggart? What makes the form funny and helps your character defeat the thing? Hope this helps a bit next time you have to consider the Boggart of your OC! I'd love to hear other's ideas on this subject as well because it's a pretty interesting debate!

[griffxnnage]

home || r.w

pairing: ron weasley x fem!malfoy!reader

word count: 1.5k

warnings: angst, draco being annoying, favouritism, being disowned, swearing, violence, injury

Being a Malfoy has its perks; the money, the fame, the status. But then again, there's the hate, the rumors, and the twat twin brother, Draco. Sure, we're siblings, but he's an entitled little git, who doesn't know when to shut his gob. Another downside is having your parents critique everything, including (but not limited to) your choice in friends; they hated that I was friends with Harry, Ron and Hermione, not only because of their house, but the fact that they were 'blood traitors' and 'mudbloods'. They also disliked me because I was also sorted into Gryffindor on that first day. I couldn't be prouder of my house, but it always stung whenever they dismissed me, focusing all their attention on Draco; the perfect child in every way.

I'd been friends with the trio since first year, and things certainly were never boring. Things really took a turn when Ron asked me to be his girlfriend in 2nd year. I, having had a crush on him since I'd laid eyes on him, said yes right away, and we've been together for almost 2 years; 2 years of heaven. He is anything and everything a girl could ask for; he's handsome, he's very caring, affectionate and protective, and his family members are the sweetest people you'll ever meet. The thing was, Mum and Dad didn't know that I was dating Ron; in fact, they didn't know anything about my life. They hardly asked, and they sure as hell didn't care. Draco didn't know either, he was too busy making people's lives a living hell (Or so I thought, but back to the story).

Anyways, the day of the Yule Ball had finally arrived, and Hermione and I, who shared a dorm, were very excited, and very prepared. There was makeup strewn across the vanity in our bathroom, and different sample perfumes in the cabinets, along with multiple dresses in both of our closets. We both found our dresses, and Hermione looked absolutely stunning in her rose coloured gown. My dress fell to the ground in yards of cream-coloured tulle, and hundreds of little crystals concentrated at my waist, making it look thinner, cascading down the skirt, and making their way up the bodice, with some on the long puffy sleeves. It was absolutely gorgeous, and I knew Ron was going to love it. He loved me in anything, really, (mostly nothing) but it was nice to dress up for once; wearing those uniforms can really get boring.

We both made our way down the grand staircase to meet our dates; Hermione was asked by Viktor Krum, and I'd asked Ron to be my date, just as a formality. I could see him in the crowd of excited students, and we locked eyes, love and admiration filling my heart. It wasn't until I made it to the bottom of the stairs when I noticed his attire, and then snorted. "Oh, lay off it Y/N, they're old. Mum didn't want to send new ones." He groaned, embarrassment evident in his face. "Ron, you look lovely," I smiled, shaking my head, and kissing his cheek. McGonagall came over to fetch Harry and Pavarti to open the ball, and upon seeing Ron, she had to do a double-take. I couldn't hold back my snickering, and McGonagall just looked away, not knowing what to say.

After the formal ball was over, The Weird Sisters came and changed the whole mood of the ball; it actually started to feel like a dance. Harry, Ron, Hermione and I all danced together like madpeople, jumping up and down, screaming, just having a grand old time. We'd been dancing for a couple hours when the first slow song came on, and all the people without dates walked off the dance floor to catch their breath. Harry left as well, even though he had a date; 'I guess he's just having a bad night,' I thought to myself.

I felt a timid tap on my shoulder, and turned to see my boyfriend, clad in his colourful robes, holding out his hand, bowing slightly. "Might I have this dance, m'lady?" He purred, making my heart flutter. "Yes, of course, kind sir," I played along with his act, breaking character when he pulled me into him by my waist. I put my chin on his shoulder, and he nestled his face into my neck. "You look amazing, love," I could feel his breath on my neck, and his hair tickled my cheek, the intimacy making me blush. "You look ridiculous, Ron," I laughed against him, and he chuckled, playfully nipping at my neck.

We danced and talked for a few more slow songs, until Draco decided to make an appearance. "What the hell, Y/N?? Why are you dancing with the blood traitor? Don't you have any shame? Father will hear about this!" He sneered, looking back at the people who started to watch. "Draco, please, don't do this here. Let's go outside." I pleaded, anxious to get out of there. Ron instinctively moved in front of me, protectiveness in his nature. "Well, actually, Mother and Father have heard about it; they won't let you come home. They disclosed it all here, in this letter." The fact that he was happy when he handed me the parchment sent a shiver down my spine. "Please tell me he's lying, Y/N." Ron sounded helpless, something I wasn't used to hearing.

As I read the letter, my heart sank as I found that Draco had been telling the truth, and that I was 'no longer a Malfoy' according to my parents. Draco smiled, satisfied with my defeated expression. Ron looked at me, hopeful, but I just shook my head and looked at my high heels. Draco started laughing and teasing me, other people jeering him on. It was all I could do not to cry then and there, until Ron took me by surprise, taking a swing at Draco, socking him right in the jaw, making Draco drop to the floor, clutching his face. The fact that Ron would throw the first punch took me by surprise, and I stole him away before Draco or any of his goons could retaliate, with Harry and Hermione in hot pursuit.

"Ron, what were you thinking?!" I yelled, worrying like crazy. "He was talking shit, what do you expect? I broke my bloody wrist, for Merlin's sake!" He held his arm, and my whole mood changed; he really did that for me? I made him go to the Hospital Wing and see Madam Pomfrey, which left me with Harry and Hermione. "Y/N, don't worry, we’ll always have your back," Harry put his arm around me, and Hermione grabbed my hand, patting it and giving me a kind look. They led me back to the common room, for us all to get ready for bed. Once we were all calmed down for the night and relaxing on the couches, Ron decided to show up, all fixed up by Madam Pomfrey.

He gave Harry and Hermione a look that said, 'Get the hell outta here!'. I waved goodbye, and opened my arms for Ron to come cuddle. As he was playing with my hair with his unbroken hand, he was whispering in my ear, "Y/N, you know I'm always here for you right? I'm always here, darling," I sat up from lying on his chest, and looked him in the eyes, "Of course I do, Ron. I'm here for you too, love. Do you know that?" I held his face gently, encouraging eye contact. He looked at me with those gorgeous blue-green eyes, and promised, "Of course, Y/N." With that, he took my chin, looked at my lips, and kissed me gently. The kiss was short, but he immediately went back in for another, this one longer and full of love, and understanding.

"Y/N, I have a question," He asked when we both came air, panting. I nodded, beckoning him to ask. "So I sent an owl to my mum when I was getting fixed up by Pomfrey, and she responded right away. Since, you know, you won't be staying at Malfoy Manor anymore, do you want to come live with me and my family at The Burrow?" Tears welled in my eyes; this gesture was too kind, too selfless. I'd never experienced anything like it before. I nodded my head like crazy, wanting nothing more than to live with him, and actually have a place where I feel safe, where I feel free. I flung my arms around his neck and pulled him into a tight hug, which he gladly returned, whispering to me how proud he was, and how excited he was to start a new chapter with me. When he kissed me for the millionth time, I knew that I made the right decision of having him in my life; he just made it so much better, so much brighter. I finally felt hopeful of a future where I'll be happy, and I knew he was going to be in it for the long haul.