#but genuinely if someone just said instead of female bodies you should say ______ ill change the post and my everyday language like that

[violentdevotion]

when i said I will not be told im transphobic it was in reference to the asks i had gotten calling me transphobic based off the post alone. maybe it was unfair of me to expect people who only saw one post of mine to know my heart or whatever but i also think you cant expect the greatest reaction after calling someone a terf because they accidentally used non inclusive language (while trying to be inclusive)

I havent been told what the alternative term is. ive repeatedly said if someone says what a better term to use is ill edit the post immediately to use that better term but ive yet (as im writing this post) to be told what term would be more trans inclusive than what i have said. I used the term female bodies because that seemed the most appropriate and inclusive term to use when making the post and its since been pointed out that that's not the case. I have no personal attachment to the phrase if there's something more appropriate to say ill adjust my language appropriately.

idk what part of my og posts but if it's the 'I'm being told because I'm transphobic because I checks note care about misogyny' that was not my intention. my tag refers to the replies in an earlier post where me and mutual discuss how most users that post about feminism get accused of being terfs for no reason other than posting about feminism. my feminism has always been and always will be inclusive of all women and if the language i used suggested otherwise i apologise for that.

no clue what causes pcos. no clue what causes endometriosis. 2 year waiting lists to see a gynecologist. you'd think female bodies only started existing 50 years ago

[honeypiehotchner]

winter love (all i want for Christmas is you) -- Hotch x Fem!Reader

Hi hi hi!! I have literally been writing this on and off since September, and now I finally get to share it!! A few quick things: this fic has very much Hallmark vibes but does have a good dose of angst too; for the sake of this fic, Aaron was born and raised in Virginia; and Jack was never born (sorry buddy!).

I listened to Michael Bublé’s songs “All I Want for Christmas Is You” and “Cold December Night” a lot while writing this, so feel free to play those while you read! xx.

(The gif is from google because once again, my gif search is broken on here because apparently this post is too long?? Rip me)

Summary: You’ve returned back to your hometown after leaving to get your education, but you didn’t expect to run into your childhood best friend (and first love). 

Word count: 9.4k

HOTCH MASTERLIST || MAIN MASTERLIST

If you told yourself a few months ago that you’d be moving back to Virginia, you would’ve scoffed and probably laughed -- loudly. Your mom, on the other hand, would’ve been elated, and swore she knew it.

Like she’s doing now.

“I’m just so excited to have you home again,” she gushes, helping you carry boxes of your clothes up to your old childhood room.

The room needs some work, like taking down all these embarrassing posters and changing the sheets to something not so cringe-worthy (thankfully, it’s a full-size bed instead of the old twin you grew up sleeping on). But it’ll be fine for the time being. It’s not like you’re going to find an apartment right before Christmas, or that you even want to. It’s been a while since you’ve spent a full Christmas season with your mom.

You’ve been studying out of state for the past six years, working to get your masters and doctorate degrees — which you’ve completed. But now you need a job and a new start, which is why you decided to come home.

You’ve missed Virginia a lot more than you’ll admit. It’s hard not to miss your hometown when you’re gone from it for so long.

“We need a Christmas tree,” you say, as you come back down the stairs. “Christmas is next week, how do you not have a tree up yet?”

“I wasn’t going to get one without you,” your mom says like the fact should’ve been obvious to you.

You laugh as you plop down next to her on the couch. “I know. We should go tomorrow.”

“Whenever you want to,” she smiles, squeezing your arm. “Have you been to your coffee shop yet?”

“My coffee shop?” You raise an eyebrow. “Since when has it been mine?”

“Since you practically lived there during high school,” your mom counters.

She has a point. “Well, no, I haven’t. I just got here.”

“You should go.”

You raise both eyebrows this time, turning your entire body to face her. “What are you doing?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why are you trying to get me to go back there?”

“Why don’t you want to?”

You give her a look. “You know why.”

“I don’t.”

She does. She knows exactly what happened there.

“I’m not repeating it,” you mutter. “And I’ll be finding a new coffee shop, thank you very much.”

“Oh, you can’t let one bad experience stop you from going there!”

“So you do remember!”

“How could I forget? When you were a wreck for months after. I still never forgave him for that, you know.”

You shake your head, settling back against the couch pillows. “It’s been long enough now that I think forgiveness won’t hurt anyone.”

You say that, and yet you don’t want to step foot in that shop ever again.

+++

It was the summer before your junior year. Aaron was a rising senior, so there was the weight of it being his last year already hanging in the air. Especially when he was already looking at a pre-law track for college — meaning he’d be insanely busy after graduation with not much time for you.

Unfortunately, you didn’t realize that his being too busy for you would start before then.

You were a year younger — technically almost two, but the way your birthday fell, you were only one grade younger — but that didn’t stop Aaron from being your friend. At first you thought he had ill intentions (as most older boys in high school did), but he didn’t. He genuinely enjoyed your company, and you genuinely enjoyed his.

More than genuinely. You say now that you don’t believe in love at first sight, but you know that’s because it already happened for you, and you believe it to be a one-time deal.

That one time was when Aaron sat across from you at the lunch table.

You were alone and reading a book. You were a freshman then, and being an extra year younger didn’t exactly help in the whole making friends department. Especially when a lot of your peers were already aware of your age.

But Aaron wasn’t aware, nor did he even care.

He saw that you were alone, and reading, and he decided to sit with you. He wanted to read too, anyway, but he knew he didn’t always like being alone when he read. Something told him you were the same way.

He was correct.

It took almost the entire fall semester before either of you said one word to each other. Sometimes you’d be too engrossed in the book you were reading to even notice he’d sat down in front of you. And when you would finally notice, he would be the one with his nose too deep in the book to notice.

But eventually, you started sharing book recommendations.

Which eventually turned into helping each other with homework. You were always better at math and Spanish than he was (you were already in the sophomore levels of these classes as a freshman), but he was always good with history and English. He must’ve noticed you were in freshman English and history, but he never commented on it — at least not in a way that said he was bullying you.

That winter break was when you started going to the coffee shop together. It was within walking distance of the high school, so the two of you would go at the end of the day until your parents could pick you up. Sometimes your mom would drive him home, or vice versa.

And when Aaron got his license, he’d drive you both there and drop you off at home.

The two of you were inseparable. Almost literally.

Until Aaron met Haley.

Haley was in theatre. She was everything you weren’t. Aaron’s age, pretty, funny, outgoing, and worst of all: popular.

You watched your best friend fall in love.

And that wouldn’t have hurt as bad as it did if it wasn’t Haley he was falling for.

You kept your feelings for Aaron quiet, even to your mom — though you found out later that she always knew. You had almost thought he felt the same, or that he might be beginning to, and then suddenly he was talking about some girl named Haley.

Only she wasn’t just “some girl” to him, or even to you. Everyone knew Haley Brooks.

Slowly, your lunch table conversations were less about what the two of you were going to do the coming weekend, and more about Haley. How he was going to get her to notice him (join theatre, even though he never liked theatre before her). How he was going to ask her on a date (it wouldn’t be a date at first, just dinner after theatre rehearsal, that ended up being with the entire cast, but he sat next to her). How he was going to win her over (he brought flowers to the first performance and surprised her backstage). How he was going to ask her to be his girlfriend (that was the same night as the flowers, completely unplanned, but she said yes).

How he thought he might want to marry her one day.

The last hurt most of all. He confessed it to you one night out of the blue as he was driving you home after school. You knew you could handle him being in love with someone else. Some sick part of you knew — or hoped, rather — that the relationship wouldn’t last. What high school relationship lasts longer than a few months, anyway?

But when Aaron fell for Haley, he fell completely. And hard.

He started cancelling plans with you to spend time with Haley — before they were even dating. When they were dating, he stopped making plans with you altogether.

Then came the summer before his senior year.

It had been months since you saw him last. You had a new lunch period the second half of the year because one of your favorite teachers asked for help during the period, which meant you didn’t have lunch with Aaron — but you don’t even think he noticed.

June came and went. The two of you barely saw one another, barely talked when you did. But when you did, you clung to those moments like they were your only lifeline. In a way, they were.

July finally came and he actually made plans to see you. He said he wanted to get coffee again, catch up, hang out for a few hours, sit in silence, even, whatever you wanted. You were excited.

Some part of you thought that he had broken up with Haley — wishful thinking, but you were sixteen and in love, what else were you supposed to think?

But he hadn’t broken up with her. They were very much in love. You know. You witnessed it.

Apparently, Haley didn’t like the idea of Aaron getting coffee and lunch alone with a female friend. So, she took it upon herself to tag along.

You saw them sharing a kiss through the window, Aaron’s back facing you. When they pulled away, Haley’s eyes caught yours, but she said nothing to Aaron, just pulled him back in for another kiss.

You didn’t go into the shop that day. And you haven’t since.

The last time you saw Aaron was the day before he moved to college. He was stopping by to say goodbye to you.

You were reading a book in your room, and your eyes caught the movement on the driveway. You told your mom to say you weren’t home.

You watched him leave from your bedroom window, hands stuffed in his pockets.

+++

You heard that Aaron and Haley got married. Not because you wanted to hear, but because your mom told you. She probably meant well, but you drank an entire bottle of wine that night. You weren’t even 21 yet at the time.

Of course, it’s been years since then. You’re all fine now, and you’ve got the student loan debt to prove it.

But even with three degrees, job hunting can be a bitch. Especially this time of year.

You need coffee.

You blame the fact that this coffee shop is the best one around. And the fact that it’s Christmas season, meaning they have your favorite drink again.  

Dark chocolate peppermint mocha. It’s a godsend. And you haven’t had one in years.

Well, you have. But they haven’t been from here. They haven’t had this shop’s specially made peppermint whipped cream, or the peppermint stick that can be used to stir.

You hate how much you have to psych yourself up before you walk inside. You don’t even know where Aaron is these days or what he’s doing. He could be halfway across the country for all you know.

So, with that fact in mind, you walk inside. You embrace the familiar sight and smells, remembering what it felt like the last time you were here.

You move toward the counter, falling in the short line to the register. And your stomach flips when you see a familiar face standing in front of you.

Well, his back is facing you, so you don’t see his face, but you know it’s him. There’s this thing about first loves. It doesn’t matter how long it’s been since the last time you’ve seen them. You’ll always recognize everything about them. The back of their head, their shoulders, their hands, the way they walk.

Their voice. Even if it’s deeper than the last time you heard it.

Maybe he won’t recognize me.

But what you don’t know is that no amount of time could pass to make you unrecognizable to Aaron.

Or that he saw your reflection in the glass case next to him when you got in line, and he’s been internally trying to figure out what the hell to say to you since.

If it hadn’t been for his voice, you wouldn’t have recognized Aaron at all. A black coffee? That’s it?

The barista pours it and slides it over to him before he’s even done paying. He’s at a coffee shop -- this coffee shop, and he orders a black coffee?

Who is he?

You step up to the register as he steps away, and you swear you see him looking at you through the corner of your eyes. But you must be seeing things because why would he do that?

You focus on ordering -- a medium peppermint mocha, complete with the whipped cream and peppermint stick. After paying, you step to the side to wait for your coffee.

You nearly knock right into Aaron, but you stop yourself, well aware of his presence.

Another thing about first loves: you’re always painfully aware of their presence.

“Hi,” he says, awkward and fumbling even though it’s only one word. He’s wearing a stuffy suit and tie, which seems odd, but you’re positive that’s just normal lawyer attire. He probably lives in a suit these days. His hair is shorter than it used to be and he looks older, but so do you. Despite all of this, he’s still Aaron. He’s still the same Aaron Hotchner you fell in love with at sixteen.

“Hi,” you return the awkward smile, tugging on the strap of your purse. After a beat, you nod toward his drink. “Black coffee, huh?” You try to tease. “Who hurt you?”

He laughs loudly then, shoulders and head shaking. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you, too, Hotchner,” you murmur, wrapping your arms around yourself.

The conversation dies for a moment, so you busy yourself by looking at the different cakes and pastries in the glass case. You probably should’ve gotten one, but maybe another time.

Another time. Fifteen minutes ago you wouldn’t be caught dead in this shop and now you’re already thinking about another time.

“Are you busy?” Aaron suddenly asks, prompting you to look at him with furrowed brows. “Do you mind if I join you?”

“Not at all,” you smile gently, knowing you might regret this later. But it’s been over a decade since you’ve seen him last. One coffee won’t hurt.

And I’m over him, you remind yourself, no matter how untrue it might be.

Once you have your peppermint mocha -- finally, you think, it’s been too long -- you walk with Aaron to find a table. A lot has changed about this shop, but one thing that hasn’t (because there isn’t much that can be changed) is the seating.

Aaron leads you to your old table. The table the two of you practically lived at.

It makes your heart warm and ache all at once. The drink you decided to order isn’t helping matters either.

“So…” You pause, shifting in your seat. “What are you up to these days?”

“You stole my question,” he jokes.

“Tough,” you smile into your drink. “I asked it first.”

He chuckles, but answers anyway. “I’m working for the BAU now.”

“The B-A-What?”

“The-- FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit.”

Your eyes widen. “Did you… Did you really just say you’re working for the FBI?”

“I think so,” he says. “I’m the unit chief.”

“You’re the-- Okay. So, you don’t work for the...the BAU, they work for you.”

“We’re a team,” he offers.

“Said every boss ever,” you quip, taking a long drink of your mocha. You take the peppermint stick in between your fingers and stir, eyebrows furrowing down at the swirl of coffee and whipped cream. “So...what do you do exactly?”

He opens his mouth to answer, then stops, hesitating. “Do you really want to know?”

You give him a look. “Of course I do.”

“It’s not great.”

“Aaron, just tell me, or I’ll start reciting my dissertation word for word.” Your statement stuns him to silence, so badly that you almost laugh. “That’s boring. Working for the FBI can’t possibly be boring.”

“Oh, it’s never boring, that’s for sure,” he mutters. “We profile serial killers.”

“You what?”

He laughs. “We look at their behaviors and crimes and build a profile, what they might look like, their age, that stuff.”

“Intriguing.”

“I can’t believe you’re interested.”

“I can’t believe you thought I wouldn’t be,” you counter. “You know I thrive off this stuff.”

“I remember,” he says quietly.

And just like that, you remember, too.

It’s so easy to forget about all the hurt he caused, all the pain he left behind. Especially because you know he never intended to hurt you. He would never do that, not to you, not on purpose. You never told him how you felt. It’s not his fault he couldn’t read your mind.

“Well, you’ve got a doctorate,” he says, shifting the conversation. “What else are you up to?”

“How did you know it’s a doctorate?” You raise an eyebrow. “Are you profiling me? Did I use that correctly?”

“Yes,” he smiles. “And no, not intentionally. You said you’d recite your dissertation. Those are normally written to get doctorate degrees. You always wanted one, I assumed you met your goal.”

“You assume correct,” you nod. “I’m back to start job and apartment hunting, but after the new year. I wanted to spend some time with my mom.”

“How is she doing?”

“She’s good, she--” You pause, shaking your head with a laugh. “She actually brought you up yesterday.”

“Me?” Aaron looks genuinely shocked.

“Yeah, you,” you knock your foot against his leg without thinking, but you pay no mind, not wanting to draw unnecessary attention to it. “She’s actually the one who put the bug in my ear to come here.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I haven’t been back here since…”

It takes him a moment, but he nods slowly. “Right.”

“Yeah,” you draw your legs closer to you on instinct. “But that was a long time ago. How are you and Haley?”

You don’t expect the way his face falls. You glance down at his left hand. No ring.

“We got a divorce a few years ago, split up about a good year before that,” Aaron explains. “She’s good, last I heard. Remarried already.”

“Wow,” you murmur, not knowing what else to say. “What-- I mean, what happened?” When he hesitates, you backpedal. “Sorry, I shouldn’t even ask, it’s probably a sensitive question.”

“It’s okay,” Aaron chuckles. “I don’t mind talking about it with you.”

That sends a dangerous flutter through your stomach. “Okay. Well I’m all ears.”

“Oh, it’s not a long story, it was just my job,” he shrugs. “I took the unit chief position and she was happy at first. But then, there was a period of time where we had what felt like case after case after case.” He shakes his head. “I was barely home, but I was barely in one state for long, anyway. It was a stressful time. We were everywhere at once.”

“That does sound stressful,” you frown. “Has it slowed down now?”

“Kind of, it has its moments,” he admits. “But being gone so much, it took a toll on her. She wanted to start a family, but said she couldn’t do that if I was never there.”

“But I mean she had to have known how your schedule would be with the new job, right?”

“Yeah,” he says, then shrugs. “It’s been so long now that I stopped trying to understand her thought process.”

“I get that,” you say sincerely. You understand not wanting to waste energy on something like that anymore. Sometimes you just have to give it up and have peace with the fact that you’ll never understand.

“What about you?” He asks suddenly, catching you off guard. “Seeing anyone?” He adds it quietly, like he’s shy.

Aaron Hotchner. Shy. Around you.

“Oh,” you nearly laugh at the prospect. “No. No, I’m not. Do you really think I would be if I was moving back in with my mom?”

He laughs, bringing his coffee to his lips. “You have a point there.”

A comforting silence settles over the two of you after that.

You shouldn’t feel slightly giddy that his and Haley’s relationship didn’t work out in the end. You’re over him by now, anyway. But something about being right has you fighting a smile. You smother the urge, though, knowing he probably doesn’t want to hear anyone, let alone you, say, “I told you so.”

You do feel bad for him, genuinely. Divorce is never easy for anyone, and you hate he went through that. Especially like that. Haley knew his work schedule would change. Why would she act supportive if she knew this in advance? Just sits uneasy with you, that’s all.

Of course, you feel that overprotective-best-friend nature coming back to you.

“What plans do you have now that you’re back?” He asks, keeping the conversation up, but you can tell he’s earnest — which makes you smile.

“Nothing, really. My mom and I are getting a Christmas tree later, but that’s all I have on my schedule.” You pause, giving him another look. “We both know you were my only friend in high school. Who do you think I’m going to see while I’m here?”

“Hopefully a lot of me,” he replies easily, smiling around his coffee.

And for once, you don’t hesitate to reply. “I hope so, too, actually. I didn’t think you were still around here. And I really didn’t expect you to be working for the FBI.”

“This might be presumptuous of me, but what are you doing this weekend?” He asks, quickly adding on, “A good friend of mine is hosting a Christmas party for the team, and I’ve basically been threatened to bring a plus one.”

“Threatened, huh?” You raise an eyebrow.

He nods seriously. “They won’t let me inside without one.”

You gasp comically, keeping up the act. “Well you can’t miss the party!”

“I know,” he sighs, propping his head in his hand.

“Well, I guess I’ll just have to come with,” you say, still deadly serious.

But Aaron’s lips split into a grin the same time yours does. “It’s this Saturday.”

“Lucky for you, I’m free.”

He doesn’t stop grinning. “I can pick you up, if you want.”

“Yeah, I’d love that,” you say. “I should probably give you my number, shouldn’t I?”

“I was going to ask,” he admits.

You roll your eyes playfully. “I figured.”

After exchanging numbers, the two of you return to your idle conversations. Only, they’re less idle than they ever have been before.

He vents about still not understanding how people can be capable of the things he sees. How he knows that everyone is capable of unspeakable things, but it’s how they do it that still makes him stumble sometimes. And you try to sympathize, though you know you can’t. But still you tell him not to try to understand.

“You’re a good man,” you say. “You’re not going to understand it because you’re not like them.”

“Thank you,” he whispers. “I know that, consciously. Sometimes it’s good to hear it from someone else.”

Then he tells you it’s your turn, and again, you don’t feel the need to hesitate.

You tell him how you weren’t planning on moving back here at all. But the job market where you were didn’t...fit you, for some reason. You never felt like you belonged, and so maybe that’s why you wanted to come back here.

Because even though you left this place heartbroken, you still felt like you belonged when you were here. You felt like you belonged when you were with him, but you don’t tell him that.

Something tells you he heard it anyway, though. Being a profiler and all. Which you still don’t quite understand, but you’re sure he’ll have plenty of time to tell you in the coming future.

+++

After an hour or two, you decide it’s time for you to head back home. Partly because you need to make some lunch for yourself, and partly because you’ve watched Aaron dismiss at least three phone calls in the last twenty minutes.

But he didn’t say a word each time, so you know he won’t tell you who it is or if he needs to go. It makes your heart warm at the thought that he wants to spend more time with you, but if it’s his job, then he needs to go.

He walks you to your car and you hug him around his neck, unashamedly taking a deep breath of his cologne when you stretch up to wrap your arms around him. He didn’t wear cologne back in high school. But this one smells good.

You mentally prepare yourself on the way home for the amount of questions your mom is no doubt going to ask.

You’re supposed to be going to pick out a tree with her today, which means you were supposed to be home a little earlier than this, which means your mom probably already knows what happened and you won’t even get a chance to explain yourself.

In the end, your prediction was correct.

“How was your peppermint mocha?” You glance over to the couch and find your mom sitting there, idly reading a book.

The question is as directly indirect as they come. You raise an eyebrow and kick the front door closed (yes, she asked before you even stepped foot inside the house). “It was good,” you reply, shrugging your jacket off your shoulders. “Why?”

“Oh, you enjoyed it for almost two hours, so I was just wondering.” Your mom fights back a grin, but she’s not doing a very good job.

You sigh. “Just go ahead and ask.”

She closes her book. “Alright, fine, I will. How is Aaron?”

There it is.

“He’s good,” you answer rather pointedly, making your way into the living room. “He’s working for the FBI now.”

“Oh, I knew that already.”

You plop down next to her on the couch. “Seriously?”

“Of course!” She cries, like it should be obvious. “Small talk happens when you see someone in the store.”

“Right,” you scoff. “Anyway, thanks for not telling me him and Haley divorced.”

She grimaces.

“Yeah, exactly,” you nod at her expression. “That’s how I felt. I bet it was just awesome of me to ask about how him and his ex-wife are doing.”

“I’m sorry,” your mom says. “It completely slipped my mind. It’s been so long since those two split.”

“Why didn’t you tell me when it happened?”

“Because I didn’t want to bring him up,” she answers sincerely. “You seemed like you had really moved on. I figured it didn’t matter, and I didn’t want to make you start thinking about him again when you had finally gotten over it all.”

“Oh,” you murmur. “Well, thank you, then, but...still. I feel like an idiot.”

“Did he seem angry when you asked?”

“No, the opposite,” you sigh. “He explained what happened and I let him talk about it for a second, but he seems mostly moved on from it.”

“I don’t know how he can be,” your mom scoffs. “She’s already remarried, you know.”

“Yeah, he told me.”

Your mom shakes her head. “I should’ve shook some sense into that boy when he came to say goodbye that day.” Then she pauses, poking your leg. “And I should’ve made you say goodbye to him. I’ll never forgive myself for that.”

“I didn’t wanna talk to him,” you shrug. “We barely had all year, anyway. And one goodbye would not have stopped him from going to college and marrying Haley, you know that.”

“Yeah, I know.” She sighs. “It’s fun to think about, though.”

“Well stop thinking about it,” you mutter. “We are friends and he’s probably seeing someone by now. I don’t even know how long I’ll be here, so.”

Your mom raises her eyebrows. “I never said anything about what you guys are now.”

Damn. Caught. “I know, but I’m just...catching you before you do.”

“Mmm, more like catching yourself.”

“Shut up.”

She lightly hits you with a pillow. “Don’t say that to your mother,” she jokes. “Especially not when I’m right and you know it.”

“Yeah, yeah. Are you ready to pick out a tree?”

“Of course,” she replies. “Just let me find my shoes.”

While she’s getting ready -- because “finding her shoes” really means fixing her hair and makeup and changing outfits a couple times -- you get a text from Aaron.

Aaron: It was nice catching up with you today

You smile and type your reply. Ditto. We should do it again sometime.

He doesn’t reply, but you figure he’s busy at work, anyway. And you’ve got a tree to pick out and decorate, so you’re technically busy, too.

You try not to think too much about it.

+++

And truthfully, you don’t think much about it, until Aaron finally replies. It’s hours later when you’re decorating the freshly-cut Christmas tree in the living room, with Michael Bublé’s Christmas album playing through the stereo speakers. It’s just like when you were younger.

You check your phone and see that it’s Aaron texting you back, but you pocket it before reading the message. You’re busy.

Your mom notices the change on your face. “Everything alright?” She asks as she places a snowflake ornament on one of the smaller branches.

You nod without thinking, hating yourself for even feeling what you’re feeling right now. A glittery red ornament hangs from your index finger as you try to find the right branch to hang it on -- and while your mind wanders all over the place.

“Clearly not,” your mom replies. “But alright.” She turns and reaches into a different box, picking up one of the golden jingle bells that she always hides deep within the tree each year. When you were younger, she’d hide them without you seeing, and then on Christmas Eve you’d have to search the tree for them before you could open one present before going to sleep.

You snort a laugh, always loving her way of getting you to open up: sarcasm. “It’s just Aaron.”

“Aaron?”

“Texting me,” you explain, looking down at the glitter coating your fingertips from the ornaments.

“Aren’t you going to reply?” She asks, grabbing another jingle bell.

“Technically he’s the one replying from earlier today.”

“Okay…”

You sigh. Time to cave. “He invited me to a Christmas party this weekend.”

Your mom doesn’t even try to hide her excitement or her wide grin. “Really? That’s great!”

Is it? You want to ask, but you stop yourself. “Yeah,” you shrug. “I guess so. It’ll be nice to hang out with him more.” You pause, finally hanging the small glittery red ornament on the tree that you’ve been idly holding for the past two minutes. “Apparently a friend of his is hosting it and basically told him he wouldn’t be allowed inside without a plus one.” You chuckle quietly, knowing Aaron had to have rolled his eyes when his friend told him that.

“So it’s...a date, then?”

“What? No,” you shake your head. “No, no. Not a date. He didn’t phrase it that way.”

“Sweetheart, plus one implies date.”

“Who says?”

“Everyone!” Your mom laughs. “Bringing a plus one to a wedding is usually a casual date, if not bringing your significant other along.”

“This isn’t a wedding, it’s just a Christmas get together.”

“Same difference.”

“Well, I think you’re doing that thing again where you try to plant seeds in my brain for things that are unnecessary,” you raise an eyebrow at her when she avoids eye contact, so you know you’ve caught her red-handed. “All that aside,” you sigh. “I’m over him. It’s been so long. If something was going to happen, it would have already.”

“Whatever you say,” she shrugs indifferently, grabbing the final jingle bell to hide in the top of the tree. For a brief moment, you wish you hadn’t been watching where she hid them, so you could do the search on Christmas Eve one more time.

+++

You bump into Aaron one more time, two days later, at the same coffee shop.

“Back for more?” He teases as he slides into the seat across from you, another black coffee in his right hand.

You’re sitting at the table the two of you call home with yet another peppermint mocha sitting in front of you and your laptop. More job hunting is the task for today, even though you’re ready to give up and just pick it back up after the New Year. It’s not like your mom is making you pay rent, and you have enough in savings to help with groceries (without her knowledge, of course, because she refuses to let you pay for anything) and buy your own coffees. But, you decided to give it one last go today.

That is, until Aaron slid into the seat in front of you. Now, you close your laptop and place it back in your bag. “Just needed some fuel for more job hunting,” you grin. “What are you doing here?”

“I took off for lunch for once and thought I might find you here.”

“Oh?” You raise your eyebrows. “Were you seeking me out, Hotchner?”

“Maybe a little,” he admits with a shy smile. “Are you still good for tomorrow?”

“As long as you are,” you nod. “What time?”

“I’ll pick you up at five, if that’s good?”

“Perfect,” you smile. “Are you ready to introduce me to your friends?”

“Depends,” he exhales exasperatedly. “Are you ready to meet them?”

“They can’t be that bad.”

“They might be. If you aren’t used to them.” He pauses. “They don’t know you’re coming, by the way.”

“What?” You almost laugh. “Why not?”

“I told them I was bringing someone, but I didn’t feel like hearing it all week about who I was bringing.” He pauses again, like he’s holding something back, and then he lets it out. “They know all about you.”

You blink. “They do?”

“Yeah,” he smiles gently. “I talk about you all the time.”

“No,” you shake your head. “No you don’t. There’s no way.”

“You’ll believe it tomorrow,” he chuckles. “I’m sure they’ll try to embarrass me.”

“I-I mean...what do you even say about me?”

He shrugs. “That you were my best friend in high school and...that I missed you and wondered what you were up to these days, and how we used to hang out here.” He looks around the shop, then back to you and your bewildered expression. “What?” He laughs. “You didn’t talk to your friends about me?”

“No, I did,” you laugh quietly. But I said different things. And most of the time I was crying because I missed you, especially my first year of college when my roommate tried to get me to go on a double date with her boyfriend and his roommate, but I refused and had to confess that I wasn’t over you and that you broke my heart, and I was such a mess that she brought ice cream and chocolate back after their date.

But you don’t say any of that. Obviously.

“I just didn’t expect you to even...think about me, I guess,” you finally spit out, still shaking your head. “I mean...we haven’t talked since high school, I figured you’d forgotten or moved on, at least. Especially since you had Haley.”

Aaron’s expression softens and turns sad, quickly. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I didn’t know you thought any of that.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” you wave his worry away. “It’s years ago. Water under the bridge.”

“Yeah,” he agrees. Then, he says, “Haley was jealous of you, you know.”

You immediately look up from your mocha, your eyes wide in shock. “She was what?”

“Oh yeah,” Aaron laughs. “Devastatingly jealous of you. She swore we were dating or that I was in love with you or something.”

Or something. “Wow,” you chuckle, trying to mask your hurt as much as possible. “Why did she even think that?”

You know why. You know exactly why. Because before her, you and Aaron were attached at the hip. You sat together during lunch, walked each other home, hung out at the coffee shop, went to school functions together (well, you’d actually go with a big group, but you two always ended up together anyway), and so on and so forth. Anyone would’ve been an idiot to not assume you two were dating.

“We were so close,” he shrugs. “She said she was so surprised when I asked her to be my girlfriend because she swore I was dating you. She actually asked me that, when I gave her the flowers. She said, “What about Y/N?” And I said, “Y/N? She’s just my best friend.” And she didn’t believe me.”

“That’s so crazy,” you say, but you’re really thinking back to that day you and Aaron had decided to meet up here and hang out after so long. When Haley crashed the hangout. When she locked eyes with you and smirked before pulling him back in for another kiss.

She was jealous. She was jealous and she knew exactly what she was doing that day.

Aaron’s phone starts ringing and he sighs heavily, pulling it out. He almost declines it, but then stops himself. “It’s the boss,” he says. “My boss. I’ve gotta take this. I’ll text you later?”

“Sure,” you smile, knowing he might forget or get too busy to think about it. But that’s okay. “Good luck with the phone call.”

“Thanks,” he chuckles. “I’ll need it.” And then he brings his phone up to his ear. “Agent Hotchner,” he says, and you hate that you find it so hot.

+++

You almost cancel with Aaron a dozen times before 2p.m.

You blame the conversation the two of you had yesterday. For some reason, the thought of Haley being jealous of you had never crossed your mind. Because to you, it was so obviously the other way around. Of course, you weren’t vocal about your jealousy, but you were certain she knew. Not that it was the other way around.

Old feelings have already resurfaced, which is bad enough, but the talk about Haley and about how Aaron’s friends know all about you made things worse. Especially the latter.

Why would he talk about you so much if the two of you hadn’t spoken in years? Not even years, but like an entire decade. Why would he still talk about you and think about you that much?

You have dwelled over those questions since he left the coffee shop yesterday.

But now, you have no idea what to wear, and Aaron will be here any minute. You’re assuming the attire is casual, not fancy, since it’s just a get together with his friends -- who all happen to be his team of agents. FBI agents. Because he’s just casually the Unit Chief of the BAU.

It still baffles you. He wanted to be a lawyer. Not in the FBI. God.

He’s still your Aaron. That’s what shocks you the most. He’s experienced law school, marriage, practicing law, working for the FBI, becoming a Unit Chief, divorce, and yet he’s still the Aaron Hotchner you were best friends with in high school.

You wonder if you’re still the girl he was best friends with in high school. Or if you’ve changed so drastically that he doesn’t see you that way anymore.

You take a deep breath, going back to digging through the many boxes of clothes that you have yet to unpack. You need a sweater or something. That’s safe enough, right? It’s too cold for a dress, and frankly, you’re not in the mood for wearing one, anyway.

Finally, you find the sweater you were looking for. You tug it over your head, figuring your jeans are fine enough. You’ll wear some low heels to make it look like you put in a little more effort.

Your quick thinking is to your benefit because the doorbell rings almost as soon as you’re done doing the clasp on your second heel.

But because your mom is quicker than you, she’s already opened the door and let Aaron in before you can make it downstairs. And by the time you are coming down the stairs, Aaron is sitting on the couch with your mom, making idle conversation.

“Hey,” you smile at him, resisting the urge to glare at your mom. “Ready?”

“If you are,” he nods, standing to his feet.

When he turns, you shoot your mom a look. “We’ll be back later.”

“You’re not in high school,” your mom laughs. “You two have fun for as long as you like.”

“I know,” you say. “But I also know you’ll wait up until I get back.”

“And you can’t stop me,” she replies pointedly.

Aaron laughs at the two of you, your banter just as he remembers from all those years ago. Neither of you have changed one bit.

After a final moment of bickering, you bid your mom goodbye and leave with Aaron.

In the car, you ask, “Have you told them about me coming yet?”

From the driver’s seat, he shakes his head. “No, so prepare yourself for a lot of questions.”

“I think you’re the one that’ll be in hot water, but alright,” you chuckle. “I can hear them now. ‘Why didn’t you tell us you were bringing her!’”

He laughs loudly. “That’s not a bad impression, actually.”

“Why, thank you,” you smirk. “It’s a hidden talent of mine.”

“Oh, really?”

“Mhm.”

The two of you share a grin as he keeps driving.

+++

After some time -- long enough that you were beginning to wonder where he’s taking you -- Aaron finally turns into a subdivision. But it’s still not what you were expecting.

You assumed FBI agents must make good money, but not this good. This is a mansion. It’s massive. There has to be at least six bedrooms in there, maybe more.

“Is your friend a millionaire or something?”

Aaron chuckles, “Maybe. Probably. Maybe more.”

“More?” Your eyes widen. “Wow.” And then Aaron pulls into the driveway. “Wow.”

He puts the car in park and says, “Try not to look too surprised. Dave won’t shut up about the house if you get him started.”

“What if I want to hear everything?” You ask, scrambling out of the car to look up at the house. “Jesus Christ.” Then you whip your head around to look at Aaron exasperatedly. “Does your house look like this?”

“No, no,” he shakes his head. “No. This is too big. Dave’s crazy for buying it.”

“He’s definitely insane,” you nod. “I mean, what do you even need a house this big for?”

Aaron shrugs. “Christmas parties, I guess.” He pauses, holding out his arm for you. “Ready to face the lions?”

You roll your eyes through a laugh, loosely holding onto his arm. “Quit being so dramatic. I bet it’ll be just fine.”

“Let’s hope so,” Aaron replies. Because truthfully, he is a little worried that they might scare you off. They have a habit of doing that.

The two of you walk up to the front door, and you try your best to act like you’ve been in the general vicinity of a house this big before. Dave must be a really good friend of Aaron’s, because instead of knocking or ringing the doorbell, Aaron twists the doorknob and walks right in with you on his arm.

“Dave’s making pasta,” Aaron whispers, smelling the air. He shuts the door gently, wanting to surprise the team as much as possible.

You sniff the air, too, smiling happily. “Smells really good. Is that carbonara?”

“Good nose,” a voice says from the kitchen.

“That’s Dave,” Aaron chuckles, walking you down the hall toward the smell.

The team’s eyes all widen dramatically and comically when Aaron Hotchner steps inside the kitchen with a woman on his arm.

“Well, hello,” one of them says, sliding off the stool at the counter to saunter over to you. He’s all suave and swagger.

“Derek Morgan, this is Y/N,” Aaron introduces you quickly, knowing the reaction your name will get.

“Hold up,” Derek pauses, glancing between you and Aaron. “Y/N? As in the Y/N?”

“I don’t know about being the Y/N, but that is my name,” you laugh. “Nice to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” Derek says, a hand over his heart to add to the sincerity. “Where have you been hiding all this time?”

“Getting a doctorate,” you shrug, only now realizing that your hand is still holding onto Aaron’s arm, but he doesn’t seem fazed by it either, so you don’t move.

“Oh, alright,” Derek chuckles. “Hey Reid, we’ve got another doctor here.”

The man in question, Reid, looks up from the book he was reading with furrowed eyebrows. “Hi.” He waves.

“Hey,” you wave back. “What’re you reading?”

“War and Peace. In Russian, though.”

“In-- Wow, okay.”

“He’s a genius,” Morgan explains.

“I see that,” you chuckle.

Aaron finishes the introductions for you. “That’s JJ, handles the press for us because none of us want to do it.”

“He’s not wrong,” JJ replies with a laugh. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“You too,” you smile.

“You met Reid, his first name’s Spencer,” Aaron supplies, and Reid is too far gone in the book again to notice. “This is Emily Prentiss.”

“And I have been dying to meet you,” Emily says. “You are exactly how he described.”

“In a good way, I hope?” You laugh nervously.

She nods. “Definitely.”

Aaron points to the other woman at the counter. She’s dressed in all sorts of crazy colors with glasses that match her outfit. And before he can introduce her, she says, “I’m Penelope Garcia, technology extraordinaire. I keep them out of trouble.”

“And we love you for it,” Derek adds.

“And this is Dave,” Aaron finishes.

“It is very nice to finally meet you,” Dave says, and actually shakes your hand. “Do you know how to make carbonara?”

“Yes, actually,” you say, earning a surprised look from Aaron. “I went through a phase when I was younger, wanting to make anything and everything that sounded good, so I’ve made this a few times. My mom loves it.”

Dave loves the sound of that. “Would you like to help me?”

You practically light up inside and out. “Seriously? I’d love to!”

“Oh, here we go,” Derek groans. “He’s roped her in.”

You ignore him, slipping away from Aaron to grab the other apron off the hook by the entrance to the kitchen. You slide your head through the loop and tie it at the back in a matter of seconds, too excited to contain it.

“I almost went to culinary school, you know,” you say to no one in particular, but Aaron is listening, and so is Dave.

“Why didn’t you?” Aaron asks.

You shrug. “Didn’t seem practical.” Which isn’t the real answer at all. The real answer is you got your heart broken and needed to do a complete 180 in life, so you did. Culinary school was out. Getting a doctorate was in. You turn on the water in the sink and begin washing your hands. “What do you need me to do?”

For the next hour, you help Dave make the carbonara, occasionally answering any questions Aaron’s friends have for you.

Aaron pours you a glass of wine and sits at the counter, watching you cook. You look more at peace than he’s seen you since a few days ago when he first bumped into you again.

You catch him looking at you more than a handful of times. It feels good. Spending the evening with his friends, his team, with him. You’ve missed spending time with him more than anything else.

Dave serves up the carbonara, telling you to sit down since you helped so much already. You don’t make him ask twice.

+++

After dinner, everyone moves into the living room, scattering on the various couches and chairs. Reid has finished reading War and Peace, so the book sits discarded on one of the coffee tables.

You take the spot on the couch next to Aaron, careful not to spill your wine. Penelope sits on the other side of you, with Derek on her other side, which all but forces you to move closer to Aaron, and something about the look on Penelope’s face tells you it was done on purpose.

You’re not exactly complaining, though. With a full stomach and a fresh glass of wine, Aaron’s presence is even warmer than before. You pay no mind when he shifts his left arm, stretching it over the back of the couch and allowing you to scoot closer, your legs pressed against each other’s.

The conversation continues, and somehow the subject of relationships is brought up.

“Yeah, why was I the only one asked to bring someone?” Aaron asks. “I’d like to see all of you find a last minute date.”

Another warm rush goes through your body at the word date. This is a date. Alright then.

“I think you did just fine,” Dave says, nodding to you. “Don’t you?”

You shrug, not sure of what to make of it. “I’m having fun, so I guess so.”

“See?” Dave gives Aaron a look. “You did fine.”

Aaron gives his friend a tired glare. “Only because she happened to be back from getting her degrees. Otherwise, I would’ve been stuck.”

“Nah, man, you could’ve called Beth.”

You feel Aaron tense next to you, but you aren’t sure if he tensed up or if you did. Maybe both. Probably both. You weren’t aware there was someone else.

“Who’s Beth?” You ask as casually as possible, ignoring the heated glares Penelope, JJ, and Emily alike are sending Derek. Seriously, Derek would be dead three times over right now if looks could be deadly.

Aaron shrugs before answering you. “Her and I dated briefly last year.”

You nod slowly, trying not to seem hurt or upset or anything by this because it’s ridiculous of you to be fighting back tears, but you can’t help it.

It’s high school, goddamnit, it’s fucking high school all over again.

The topic of conversation shifts thanks to Reid being the endless supplier of random facts. One question about Russian from Emily and he’s taking over, washing the awkwardness away in two languages.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t work as well for you as it does for everyone else.

You set your wine glass down on the table and tell Penelope you’re going to use the bathroom. You have no clue where it is, but she doesn’t know that.

Aaron does. And Aaron hears the tone of voice you use.

He waits until you’re down the hall before he stands to follow you, foregoing any explanation to his friends. They already know what he’s doing.

Aaron’s suspicions are correct when he hears the front door close and sees your coat no longer hanging next to his on the hook by the door. He grabs his and only gets one arm through a sleeve before he’s opening the door, eyes searching the premises for you.

Thankfully, he finds you after two seconds, and his racing heart slows a little. You’re standing by the reindeer lights on Dave’s front lawn. Your coat is only hanging on your shoulders, something you’ve always done since high school when you were upset.

“It feels more like a blanket,” you had told him one day. “Blankets are more comforting than jackets.”

He doesn’t see the difference, but you do, and that was enough for him.

He has both arms through the sleeves by the time he’s next to you. He gently touches your arm to get your attention, adding a soft, “Hey,” for good measure.

You turn your head at the sound, having already known he was coming because you heard the front door open. In the back of your mind, you had wanted him to follow you out here, but now that he’s done it, you aren’t so sure this is what you wanted.

You wanted to ignore the feeling. Get it to disappear on its own. Survive the night, then never talk to him again. You were heartbroken, but it was better when you weren’t speaking to him. At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

“I’m sorry,” Aaron says softly. “Beth and I haven’t spoken since our last date a year ago. It was only three dates. We weren’t serious at all.” He pauses. “I have no idea why Derek said that. He doesn’t think before he speaks sometimes.”

You nod, not having it in you to laugh at Aaron’s small jab, even though he is entirely correct. Derek is a quick thinker with a sharp wit, but you can see how it might backfire sometimes. Like tonight.

You believe Aaron, you really do. But it’s so hard. “Did you love her?”

Aaron is stunned for a moment, but says, “No. I don’t think I did.”

“Okay.” You shake your head, looking down at the grass. “I’m just trying to figure out why Derek would’ve brought her up if...if you guys dated so briefly.”

Aaron sighs. “I don’t know.”

“And is this a date?” You blurt, finally finding the courage to get that one out. “Because if it is, I…I don’t know.”

“Don’t know what?”

You shake your head again, trying to find the right words, but they always seem out of reach. “Just...tell me this won’t be like high school.”

This time Aaron is too stunned to form a real answer. “What?”

“Please,” you sound like you’re about to cry and you feel so pathetic that you wish you had never agreed to come tonight. But you’re here anyway. “I was in love with you then, and I’m still in love with you now, but I can’t do that again. So if this is a just friends thing and always will be, I need you to tell me before I hurt myself all over again.”

Aaron can’t believe his ears. He swears he heard you wrong. He must have. “You were in love with me in high school, too?”

“Yes-- Wait, too? What do you mean too?” Now you’re looking at him, eyes wide in confusion, shock, every emotion possible. “Too?”

“I was in love with you, Y/N,” he chuckles, reaching for your hands. “I thought you just saw me as an older brother. That’s why I never...said anything.”

“What?” You breathe, letting him thread his fingers through yours. “Are you serious? You better not be pulling my leg, Hotchner. Don’t do that to me.” You tug on his hands for emphasis, giving him a stern look.

“I’m not joking,” he says, taking a step closer. “I wouldn’t joke about this.”

“Oh my god,” you say, disbelief a powerful thief of words. “I can’t believe… So you went after Haley because…”

“Because I heard from one of her friends that she had a crush on me,” he admits. “I did love her, but not as much as I loved you. Never as much as I loved you.”

You don’t know what else to do or say. He looks so beautiful in this light that it hurts, and now he’s saying words you never thought you’d ever hear.

“Do you forgive me?” He asks. “For breaking your heart?”

“Only if you forgive me for breaking yours,” you whisper.

He shakes his head. “I broke my own. I should’ve told you how I felt.” He pauses. “I even talked to you about Haley all the time. Is that why you didn’t say goodbye to me?”

You nod. “It sounds so stupid now, but I was so hurt.”

“I’m an idiot,” he laughs. “I’m the dumbest fool to ever walk the Earth.”

“We both are,” you correct him, taking a step closer. It’s cold out here, but he’s warm. He’s always been so warm. Like home.

And you-- you’ve always been who Aaron thinks of when he thinks about being happy. It’s always been you. A moment like this, and a thousand others. He wants them all. And to think, you do too.

His lips meet yours in a long-awaited kiss, cold noses bumping against one another, his warm hands holding your face, your chilled fingers finding their home on his neck, stealing his warmth.

From the window, the team watches, and Emily exchanges money with Derek.

[gwynrielendgame]

Nyx and Tamlin’s daughter part 2

Again no one really read the first part, but I don’t care! I have been inspired to write again, so I am just going with the flow. Also, I read somewhere that instead of describing accents you should just write how the accent sounds when the character speaks, but idk. If you think it’s annoying comment and I might change it for the other parts I’ve written.

"I apologize for my parents. They mean well, but I think my mother secretly still harbors negative feelings for your father."

Nyx felt it was necessary to apologize for his parents behavior. They have been less than diplomatic tonight and it must have been because of their pasts with Tamlin. Nevertheless, they invited Tamlin here tonight for peace and instead, offered spiteful exchanges. He glanced at Isa from the corner of his eye as they strolled down the garden path. It was beautiful especially at night. His aunt Elain tended to it often which made the flowers more beautiful than any other garden he had seen. He liked looking at her. Not necessarily for her beauty, although he could say with confidence that she was beautiful. She was not beautiful in the way that Elain or Mor were, but in the way that someone obviously powerful was. It was more about her essence. Everything about her was enticingly unique.

"That is strange, is it not?" She quirked a single eyebrow at him with a smirk lifting the edge of her mouth. He placed his hands in his pockets to avoid awkwardly fidgeting in the way his mother often did.

"What is strange?"

"That your mother left him for another man who zhe iz happily married to with three children, yet zhe haz ill will for him? Zeemz a bit backward, no?"

Nyx gave her a strange look. She had been hiding how heavy her accent truly was at dinner. Perhaps she had dropped her guard now that they were alone or perhaps she was tired of hiding it. Either way Nyx liked listening to it.

"Tamlin was awful to my mother when they were together. She's allowed to feel angry at him."

"Zo the story goez."

Isa stopped to pluck a particularly beautiful rose. Nyx took it from her hands gently. Only to stick it behind her ear. She gave him a small smile before they continued on their walk.

"How have I never heard of you?" Nyx asked the question that had been burning at the back of his mind since Tamlin introduced her. "You must be Pyrinthian's best kept secret."

Again, she sent him a small secretive smile while twirling down the path. Her dress made large swooping motions around her body as she seemed to dance to a song only found in her head.

"It iz tradition that young witchez are raised in their coven, completely izolated from other fae. It iz dangerous for young witchlings when their powers are not yet controlled. 'Unnatural' magic as your kin like to call it, does not lizten to the influence of the witch when their mind iz not strong."

"What can happen?"

"There are stories of young children killing their peers on accident when trying to show off."

"Is that why Fae fear your kind? Because it is unpredictable?"

"All witch magic has a price. The spirits aid us when we call onto them and they seek a price. There iz a method to the price but it iz subject to change depending on the spirit that answers. Your father was not wrong when he said blood magic brings chaos. The reason blood magic iz so feared iz because it can attract all zorts of evil spirits and monsters, which can be part of the appeal." She chuckled as she said this and shook her head. "How many times have your parents required the azzistance from a monster?"

"More than I would like to admit."

"Despite that, not all witch magic iz blood magic. Your father's ignorance iz thinking they are one in the same." Isa took a seat at one of the benches and Nyx followed suit. He sat a bit closer than newly acquainted fae should, but he hardly cared.

"So you were raised amongst your kind? Did you get to see your father much?" Nyx was curious about this secretive female. He wanted to know everything there was to know about her.

"He caused havoc and mayhem in order to zee me. They refused until my first shape shift when I was two and they realized they did not know how to help that. My mother had been zecretly sneaking me to see him before then though."

"Fascinating."

"How do you know zo much about witches?" She asked while pushing her short hair behind her ear. Nyx reached out and clasped her hand in his. He started to trace a small tattoo on the outside of her pointer finger.

"Honestly? I do not know much. A few of them have given some information over idle pillow talk though." He admitted with a shrug.

"Charming. Speak of your past conquests to your new one." She said it with a wide smile, so Nyx was not concerned that he had actually upset her.

"I would not call you my new conquest." He gave her a cheeky smile that she shook her head to with a chuckle.

"No? Zo you escort me out here to win my heart or from the goodness of your own?"

"Perhaps I escort you out here as a gentleman."

"That iz not what your reputation would suggest." She lifted her eyebrows at him.

"I have a reputation?" Nyx was wholly unaware of any reputation that might precede him unless it had something to do with his parents. Isa pulled her hand back into her own lap.

"Nyx, prince of the night court, zon of Feyre 'cursebreaker' Archeron, high lady of the night court and Rhyzand high lord of the night court. Intelligent and agile. Mediocre combat training, excellent spy potential, enjoys the attention of any and all females, and zuccezzfully gains the attention with uave charm and dashing good looks."

"You definitely did your research." He leaned back on the bench and crossed his arms over his chest as she leaned in a bit more.

"Believe it or not, those words were straight from Lucien before we winnowed here." She mock whispered.

"That seems a bit unfair. He gave me no information on you. I'd also argue I am much better than mediocre at hand-to-hand combat." Nyx felt a bit miffed that he had been described as mediocre at anything, but begrudgingly he knew Lucien was right.

"Be careful, I might be tempted to challenge you." She gave a wickedly mischievous smile before turning her head up to look at the stars. She plucked the rose from behind her ear and began twirling it between her fingers.

"What would we be wagering for?"

"The title of best fighter. Might give our parents zomething to boast about." She continued to look at the sky instead of him.

"Hmm. Not appealing enough. Perhaps for a kiss though?" He jested. Although, he imagined a kiss from her would be amazing.

"I zuppose. If you think winning a kizz will be easier than charming one from me, then you have severely misjudged me."

"Oh I know," he sent a wide, goofy smile her way. "I would need you to kiss the pain away after you kick my ass."

"Relentlezz." A genuine smile finally lit her face up. It made her even more beautiful.

"You are a mind reader, right? Can you tell me what I am thinking of?" She squeezed her eyes shut tightly and rubbed her temples with her pointer and middle fingers. It was the epitome of concentration but it only caused him to laugh and shake his head.

"You mean my daemati powers?" He attempted to infiltrate her mind only to be met with steel mind barriers. He did not think his father would even be able to get past those.

"Daemati?" She drug out the word as if she was testing how it sounded on her lips. "How does it work?"

"For some people, I can slip into their mind and hear their thoughts and experience their memories. Your mind, however," he poked her forehead right between her eyebrows. "Is too guarded. I supposed I will have to get to know you the old fashioned way."

She pushed her bottom lip out in a pout.

"That iz not fun." He laughed loudly at her expression. She seemed truly gutted that he could not read her mind. It was such an opposite reaction to how most people felt of the ability. It seemed like the deepest of privacy invasions to most. It was why he tried to limit using it as much as possible.

"Sorry to disappoint."

"Mediocre damn-ti can be added to your list." She stood up and placed the rose that was in her lap behind Nyx’s ear. He laughed but left it there anyhow. They started back towards the house.

"Daemati. And I would say my inability to infiltrate your mind speaks more to the strength of your power than a lack of mine."

She sent him a mischievous smile before grabbing his hand and twirling herself under his arm as she hummed a tune. She amused him with her peculiar behavior.

"Are you nervous to be High lady some day?" He figured she of all people would understand the anxiety he has been feeling lately to fill his parents footsteps. What if he messed up? What if he failed?

"Have not thought of it much."

"Truly?" She gave a simple nod before responding.

"I worry more about my father's death than the power I would have after it. He iz all I have left."

"I always imagined my parents voluntarily stepping down to give me the title. They seem so invincible. Perhaps that is the child in me." He did not like to imagine their deaths, but even so at least he would have a plethora of help. He had so many mentors that could show him the way. He felt bad that Isa only had Tamlin. Lucien too, probably.

"It iz sweet that you feel that way. I have zeen too much to believe that anyone is invincible."

"I just worry that I will fail. Or that I won't live up to their standards." Nyx had many a nightmares about this specific situation.

"That iz a lot of prezzure considering you are not yet High Lord." She bumped his shoulder with hers. He stumbled a step from surprise, but bumped her back.

"I will be one day though."

"What if one of you zisters get the throne instead of you? And then you wasted all dis time for nothing."

"Neither want it. Even if the power transfers to them, they have both said they will leave the title to me."

"You will probably fail and ruin your parents hard work." She said in a serious tone with a grave look on her face.

"Thanks." He deadpanned.

"But you will have me as an ally, no? And I will be ready dig you out of whatever hole you have dug. I am quite wise and known for my generosity." He could sense a hint of sarcasm with her last sentence, but felt honored that she was so freely giving her support anyways.

"Be careful, you might be underestimating how much trouble I could get us into."

[dialovers-translations]

Diabolik Lovers VANDEAD CARNIVAL ;; Laito Route ー Chapter 3

ー The scene starts on the Carnival’s venue

Yui: Haah, haah...Huh?

I feel like I passed by here earlier as well? Could I be lost...?

ー The crowd grows restless

Yui: ...

( Everyone’s looking at me... )

( I guess they can tell I’m human right away after all. They’re giving me these really strange looks. )

( What should I do? I’ve grown anxious again. )

( But I’m the one who came running here. I can’t just go back now, can I? )

( A-Anyway, instead of one of the big, main roads, I suppose it would be better to move to a less crowded place for now? )

ー The scene shifts to a side street

Yui: Haah...It should be fine now that I’ve come this far...

( My body feels hot...I run out of breath after just a  short run as well... )

( Guess I’ll rest up a little. )

*Rustle rustle*

Yui: ( This is because the effects of the drug Laito-kun gave me earlier are still lingering, right? )

ー Somebody walks up to her

???: ...Is something the matter, Miss?

Yui: ! 

( T-That startled me! Who is this person...? )

???: My apologies for suddenly reaching out.

However, you seemed to be feeling really unwell...

Yui: Oh no, please don’t say that...Thank you very much! However, I’m okay!

( I guess she was worried about me, seeing me crouched down by the road like this. )

???: Oh...? Now that I get a better look at you...

Yui: ( ...! Did she realize I’m human...? )

???: Fufu. Please do not be so scared.

Are you perhaps the young human lady who was chosen to be the Queen of the Carnival?

You are the talk of the Demon World right now, so I can imagine you attract a lot of attention everywhere you go?

Yui: Well, yes...

???: But why are you here all by yourself?

Yui: ...Uhm...I actually got lost on my way to the castle...

???: Oh dear...That must have been rough.

I am actually a maid employed at the castle.

Maid A: I just so happen to be on my way back after running an errand, so why don’t we return to the castle together?

Yui: Eh!? You don’t mind!?

Maid A: Fufu, of course not! Well then, can you stand?

Yui: Yes, somehow...!

*Rustle*

Yui: ...Woah there.

( I’m a little shaky in my step, but I should manage. )

( That being said, I’m so glad I ran into such a nice lady...! )

( I should be able to make it to the castle without Laito-kun now! )

???: Hold it right there! It’s my duty to escort her, you know?

Yui: ( Eh...? )

¨Rustle*

Yui: Kyaah!

( Someone pulled me their way and suddenly it went pitch black in front of my eyes...What’s going on out of the blue!? )

*Rustle rustle*

Yui: ...!

Laito: Haah...Bitch-chan! It’s me! Don’t put up such a fight!

Yui: ( This voice, Laito-kun...!? )

ー When Yui opens her eyes again, she finds herself inside goodies store Reine de Saba

Yui: L-Laito-kun!?

Laito: Nfu~ Correct! Geez...I looked all over for you, Bitch-chan?

How could you leave me behind and run off on your own?

ー Laito corners her against the wall

*Thud*

Laito: Did I not tell you to stay by my side? This is the Demon World after all.

Should I punish this naughty girl who won’t listen to what I say...?

*Rustle rustle*

Yui: ...! I-I’m sorry...

ー He steps back

Laito: Fufu. Just kidding. That was a joke. ...However, I was genuinely worried about you.

I wouldn’t have known what to do if my precious Queen Bitch had been assaulted by someone.

That being said, that maid...I wonder what she was planning, reaching out to you like that...?

Yui: ...Eh?

( Why does he talk about her like that? Could she be one of Laito-kun’s acquaintances, perhaps? )

Laito: ...Aah, no no! I’m just talking to myself! More importantly...

I truly am relieved. That I was able to find you safe and sound.

 ー Laito embraces her

*Rustle*

Yui: ( ...! He pulled me in his arms! )

Laito: Haah...I don’t get the opportunity to go on a date with you in the Demon World like this every day.

I wanted to show off a little, so that nobody would try and make a move on you even if I left your side for a while...

However, it seems like the stimulation was just a tad bit too strong for you, huh?

Say, Bitch-chan? I’m sorry for what I did earlier?

Yui: ( ...! Laito-kun apologized... )

Selection

→ No, I am sorry too. (☾)

Yui: No, I suddenly ran off as well...I’m sorry for making you worry.

Laito: Oh dear? What has gotten into you? You’re being quite honest today?

Yui: I mean, I didn’t think you’d apologize...

But it was still mean of you to drug my dessert!

Laito: That’s why I said sorry~!

Hmー I guess I got a little ahead of myself because you chose me? But...

→ I won’t forgive you.

Yui: ( I haven’t fully forgiven him yet but... )

You said sorry, so it’s okay...?

Laito: Say, what do I need to do to lift your spirits, my Queen? Nn...

*Smooch*

Yui: ...

*Rustle*

Laito: I do feel sorry in my own regard, you know~?

Yui: ...Geez, I’m not actually upset.

Laito: Really? You’ll forgive me?

Yui: Yeah. I mean, I’m the one who chose you. Furthermore...

Laito: ...Furthermore?

Yui: ...

( Furthermore...I just can’t bring myself to dislike him... )

Laito: ...Bitch-chan?

Yui: ...L-Laito-kun, you properly apologized this time, right? So!

Laito: ...

I see! Thank you, Bitch-chan!

But, you know, Bitch-chan? The way you put that as if you had no other choice but to forgive me...

It really reminded me of a Queen, you got me a little excited...!

Yui: Eeh...!?

Laito: You might actually be more suited to be a Queen than we all thought. ...Nfufu~

Yui: ...

( Haah...He really never changes, does he...? )

*Creaaak*

???: Hey, you two...What do you think you’re doing in my store?

Yui: Kyah! What?

Laito: ...! Oh, Reine de Saba...

Yui: ( Someone suddenly appeared from the shadows of the shelf...! I didn’t sense any presence at all! )

Reine de Saba: The one and only. I am the owner of this shop, Reine de Saba.

Oh dear, and who might you be...?

Haah, no wonder it reeked of human inside of here...A young human lady, huh?

And you’re the little pervert from the Sakamaki’s, aren’t you?

I was wondering why I hadn’t seen you as of late, but you scored yourself a human female?

Laito: How rude! We’re very busy with the Carnival, you know? We’ve barely got any free time on our hands.

Reine de Saba: I guess that gives you even more of a reason to leave this store at once. This human stench is unbearable. (1)

Aah, I can’t stand this. Hurry up and go before you ruin my goods.

Laito: Uwaah~ Talk about bad vibes~

Reine de Saba: ...I see. The vision I had this morning must have been about you two.

It said disaster would strike today. (2)

Yui: Disaster will strike...? Because of us?

Laito: ...Bitch-chan, don’t sweat it. You don’t need to listen to what this weirdo says...

I was so focused on catching you, I completely forgot about this annoying grandma.

She is infamous for her eerie fortune telling, you see.

This store is no different. Just take a look, it’s just a bunch of creepy goods for people with ill tastes, see?

Yui: Uu...

( Now that he mentions it... )

( They look like old gemstones or lamps on first glance...But all of them give off this strange aura, I’d rather not touch them very much... )

( Not to be rude, but this definitely is not the kind of place I’d want to stick around at for long... )

L-Laito-kun. It seems like we’re in the way, so we should probably take our leave soon...

Laito: Roger~ As you wish, Queen Bitch...There~

ー They walk towards the exit

Reine de Saba: ...Hold it!

Laito: Haah...What do you want? Didn’t you just order us to leave?

Reine de Saba: You didn’t just call me a ‘grandma’, did you...?

Laito: That’s what you’re upset about?

What’s the problem with calling an old lady a ‘grandma’?

Yui: ...! Wait, Laito-kun...!

( He’s going too far, no matter how you look at it! )

*Thud thud*

Reine de Saba: Aah!? You little pervert! I’d love to seal that foul mouth of yours with a spell right here, right now!

Laito: I’m obviously gonna pass on that? Come on, Bitch-chan. Let’s g...Uwah!?

ー A large hole opens in the floor

Yui: Ah! Laito-kun! Kyaah!

( What!? The floor suddenly...!? )

*THUD*

Laito: ...Ow...Bitch-chan!? Where are you!?

Yui: Laito-kun! I’m right here!

Laito: Haah, thank godー Are you okay? You aren’t injured, right?

Yui: I-I’m fine but...It’s pitch black so I can’t see anything. Where are we...?

Laito: ...Good question? Where could this be?

ー The lights suddenly go on as they find themselves in the penalty room

Yui: H-Huh...!? Suddenly the room...!?

Laito: Hmm...Good grief. The hospitality at this store is off the charts, it seems...

???: ...Hehe. Welcome to Reine de Saba’s penalty room.

Yui: ( Huh...? This voice, I’ve heard it somewhere before... )

???: Oi, you guys! Where are you looking? Yours Truly is standing right here!

ー A chibi Ayato appears

Laito: What do we have here~? Well if it isn’t Ayato-kun! ...Wait, why do you look like that!?

Yui: ( !? What...? There’s a teeny tiny Ayato-kun!? )

Laito: Haha~n~ I get the picture now. In short, you pulled some sort of trick on that grandma as well...

I guess she put a weird spell on you?

That being said...Nfufu~ You’re quite adorable when shrunken down to a small size.

Yui: ( Fufu, he does have a point... )

Ayato: Haah!? Look at you makin’ fun of me...Fuck off!

Laito: ...! Aah! Ow! My lower leg!

Ayato: Hah! You two won’t be laughing for long, you know?

Shuu: Well...I guess so.

Reiji: Good grief. I am surprised you lot can remain so carefree when we’ve been imprisoned like this.

Subaru: Oi, you two. Apparently we can’t get out unless we find the key to that door over there?

Yui: ( ...!? Everyone’s small! )

Laito: A key? And where should we look for it?

Laito (chibi): ...That’s easy. One of us has the key. You just have to guess who it is~

Yui: There’s...two Laito-kun’s...!?

Kou: Ahー Geez! You’re confusing M-neko-chan!

Ruki: Haah...This is exactly why I said we shouldn’t leave it up to those Sakamaki’s.

Ayato: Aah!? Shut up! Imma do the explainin’ so back off!

Azusa: In short, this is Reine de Saba’s penalty...Come on, Eve...Do your best...

Yui: Eh!? I have to do this!?

Yuma: Aah? Well duh!? Who else’s gonna do it!?

Laito: Heeh. Break a leg, Bitch-chan! I’m rooting for you~ ...Nn.

*Smooch*

Ayato: Aahー!? Oi, Laito! What the fuck do you think you’re doin’!?

Kanato: ...How about you get started instead of fooling around like that?

Laito: Ow! Like I said, stop kicking my legs! Like if Bitch-chan was doing the kicking it would still be okay at least!

Ruki: Oi, perverted triplet. It seems like you think you can just watch the scene unfold from afar but...

If that woman were to fail, there is a severe punishment waiting for you. Brace yourself.

Kou: There you have it! Well then, M-neko-chan, here we go! Am I perhaps the one...holding the key?

Kanato: It’s obviously me.

Azusa: Eve...It’s me...

Yui: Ehー! No way...

Reiji: Haah, do not let yourself be deceived by other people’s words...Seems like you still have a lot to learn as well.

Ayato: Hehe...Come on, hurry up, Chichinashi!

Explanation: The player tries and find the characters hiding behind the items. Touch them as soon as they pop out their heads.

You can play this game in EASY, NORMAL or HARD mode.

Yui: Laito-kun! I found the key!

Laito: Way to go, Queen Bitch~ You did a fine job~

There you have it...So I suppose I’ll have you little ones behave as well...Heavy-hoh!

*Rustle*

Laito: There, like this, not even Ayato-kun and Kanato-kun can do as they please. Nfu~

Ayato: ...! Shit! Oi, Laito! The fuck you doing!? Let me go!

Kanato: Exactly! What gives you the right to do this to me!?

Laito: Eeh~? But you two are the ones who kicked my leg first, right?

I’m actually the type of guy to hold grudges, you know? Nfu~

Shuu: ...Zz...

Reiji: Haah...Look at this good-for-nothing...Even at a time like this, he’s asleep. The Demon World is doomed as well... (3)

Laito: Well then, Bitch-chan. Let’s go~

ー They open the door

*Creaaaak*

Laito: Haah...We finally made it out. I don’t really know what that was about, but that was quite the pickle.

Yui: But...It might have been a little fun.

Laito: Eeh~? You think so...? Anyway, we better be careful to stay away from that store from now on, okay?

Well then, shall we head for the castle for real this time?

Yui: Yeah!

ー They walk off

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

Translation notes

(1) ったらありゃしない or ‘ttara aryashinai’ is a more colloquial variant of ‘to ittara ari ha shinai’ which is used to emphasize whatever in put in front of it. For example かわいいったらあらしない or ‘kawaii ttara arya shinai’ would mean ‘very cute’. 

(2) Literally she says ‘the seed of calamity will visit’. 

(3) 世も末です or ‘yo mo sue desu’ means that there that world is beyond saving. Since Shuu is the eldest son, he is therefore the person who is most likely to inherit the throne, so I assume Reiji means that if a guy like him were to become King, it would be over for everyone.

← RETURN TO CHAPTER 2

→ PROCEED WITH MAIN STORY [CHAPTER 4]

→ SUB-SCENARIO #1 [W/ SHUU]

→ SUB-SCENARIO #2 [W/ KANATO]

→ SUB-SCENARIO #3 [W/ RUKI]

[soukokuwu]

This is a bit particular, but can I get a scenario on Dazai when his (female) s/o, whom he's been with for a while, tells him that she was has a terminal condition and she'll only live a few more years? He's bitter that she has to die so early and expects her to feel the same way, but he's surprised when she explains that she's gotten past her resentment of the situation and is only grateful that she was able to experience the world as long as she had? Tysm!

Dazai Osamu

➢ angst, a hint of fluff (dazai x reader)

➢ warnings, suicidal thoughts, death

➢ word count: 2.1k

➢ ah i always love a good angst theme! i hope you don’t mind that i made this a full story i just got so absorbed writing this that i kept going 🥺 i really hope you’ll like this anon! 🌻🤍

Life & You

Pain and loss.

They followed him everywhere, wherever he went, in every crevice he thought he could hide in. They were the only thing that reminded him he was even remotely human, of the fact that he had a beating heart. The heartache was the only thing to serve as proof that he was alive, since he had never truly felt the kind of joy that made his heart soar or the kind of excitement that made it sing.

The cuts that littered his skin, under all the wraps that he used to shield them from the world, were a small yet painful reminder that somehow he still longed to find something to ignite his desire for life. If he had wanted to die right then and there - if he was really, truly hopeless, the razor would have cut its way deeper into his skin instead of settling for shallow gashes on its surface.

Nothing else made Dazai Osamu human. He was a clump of negativity and sorrow, a disdainful mess that should eventually be discarded by everyone and everything he held dear. Someone undeserving of feeling any sort of human connection.

Or so he thought, until he met you.

You were a strange little thing. The most infectious kind of love bug he thought he would never get himself involved with. Yet there was something pulling him to you, like you were opposite poles of a magnet, likewise spurring an intrigue in you that drew you to him even though you hated his initially pessimistic outlook on life.

Neither of you were ever able to pinpoint why the attraction existed in the first place. And neither of you tried to explore it either. The both of you had sought something in the world that you had somehow found in each other. Neither of you questioned the nature of your love for fear that deeper probing might lead to proof that the two of you weren’t meant to be.

For Dazai found a reason to live in you. And for you found in him something to be thankful to have lived for.

But it was funny how a dream can be right there in front of you, so attainable, yet it can be as fleeting as it came, taken away from you just like that.

The doctor profusely apologised and the nurses looked away out of pity. You kept your silence, disappointed that it turned out this way yet you weren’t surprised in the least. Life had a knack for bringing you down when you were up, and this was just another one of those moments. Although this takes the kick.

It had taken a while for you to process the news. ‘A while’, which of course meant a few months. And each day you spent with Dazai, the guilt that you shouldn’t have felt grew and grew. None of this was anyone’s fault, you were pretty sure it wasn’t even genetic. There was no one to blame but the cruel hands of fate. But fate doesn’t exist in a tangible form for you to take your hate out on. The only thing you could do was accept it. You knew that, but you knew Dazai didn’t.

This insecurity that built up inside you had caused you to put off breaking the news to him. But if you had learned anything throughout your own journey of acceptance, it was that faith could tide you through the darkest of times and the bleakest of moments, even if it had to be blind.

You had to trust in him. You had to believe that Dazai would continue loving you, even in death, and carry your wish for him to keep on living, no matter how selfish it seemed.

It was painful; to be able to see the pain flashing in his eyes even as he was trying his hardest not to show it. But you weren’t his lover for nothing. You could notice these tiny, subtle movements and twitches. Only most of the time you acted like you didn’t, if only to ease the possible worry Dazai would harbor about making you feel bad.

Throughout your relationship he had been calm and collected, his comedic facáde never once fading. Not even when he had to explain to you about his old scars, not even when you spotted him nearly committing suicide that one time. Which was why you were surprised at his sudden outburst upon hearing of your future, or lack thereof.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” was the first thing he shouted. You could see the anger, the upset in his face, this being the first time he’s ever worn his heart on his sleeve. “Why do you sound so calm telling me this? And how do you expect me to be fucking okay with this?”

Dazai was bitter, oh so bitter. Tears made tracks down his face as he continued lashing out. His wild hand gestures and uncouth words only served to show just how angry he was at the world for, yet again, wanting to take away that with which he held most dear. He uttered a string of hopeless wishes, thinking of any possible ways to hold onto hope that you would be able to properly grow old with him.

Of course it was all futile. Your future was already set in stone. There was no changing the fucked-up ways of fate. It took a while for him to calm down, and out on the balcony the sunlight was fading, the colours of the day soon to disappear. The orange hue brought a calm that was missing throughout his rampage.

The two of you were sitting out on the patio chairs, with Dazai still hanging his head down, both hands tugging at his hair, body rocking back and forth as though it would wake him from the cruel dream he wished it was. You had to say your piece anyway, no matter how much he didn’t want to hear it. He was angry you didn’t tell him about this sooner, yes, but what made him more upset was because he didn’t understand how you’ve accepted all this, and why you’re taking this lying down.

“Because I found you, Osamu.”

Dazai swallowed the lump in his throat upon hearing your words, a feeling of utter confusion washing over him. He forced himself to turn to look at you, and he met you with his brown, desolate eyes, only serving to magnify the ache in your heart. But you steeled your resolve. This conversation still had to happen.

“You asked me why I’m not mad, right?” you reminded him, giving him the strongest smile you could manage. “I am not terrified of dying. Am I afraid? Maybe a smidge. Much less so if there’s nothing I can do about it. But Osamu?” As you focused on your lover’s beautiful face in front of you, you feel your smile growing more and more genuine by the second. “I was only able to be this happy because I met you. You are the reason why I’ve finally been able to be grateful for living.”

Dazai processed your words with suppressed joy rather than his earlier anger, the former growing as he listened further. These were words you thought but could never bring yourself to admit. And even in this situation, he reveled in hearing it. Someone like him, who could only have dreamt of what happiness felt like, actually instilled the feeling in you? The most beautiful human being he’s ever known?

“If death is going to consume me in the next few years, all I’m worried about is not when it happens. All I want to think about is how do we make our next few years together count, Osamu,” you told him, your voice strong with conviction.

You weren’t done, but Dazai couldn’t wait to pull you into a hug, stifling his sobs as he did, arms gradually wrapping themselves tighter and tighter around you. It was a simple message he was conveying: an apology for the unnecessarily long outburst and the assurance that he understood completely what you meant.

When he pulled away, you realised the tear tracks had dried, and he had a visibly calmer ambience to him. It was as though you could see the love in his eyes as he stared into yours, which was something considering Dazai never thought he could convey any love without having to explicitly do or say anything.

And as the last rays of the sun found its way below the horizon, he uttered to you the most loving words he had ever said.

“My precious belladonna, I will be together with you until your time comes, and I promise not to make you worry even after you leave.”

And Dazai Osamu kept his word. While you were still able to take your place beside him, and even after you ceased to exist. He had poured his heart and soul into loving you, something that he would never tolerate you arguing with him over. You would always tell him to do a little something for himself, not to keep prioritising you above everything.

“I will always put my belladonna first,” he would always say. “You’re going to take a whole other journey without me, could you just allow me this honour of treating you like my princess, while I can?”

You couldn’t argue with him then. After all, it was all thanks to the brunette that you were able to fully enjoy every second of your last few years in this world. Never once did he fuck up, never once did he make you feel bad about your terminal illness, never once did he show himself breaking down just thinking about life after you.

All the memories you carried on your deathbed were full of Dazai and the happiness throughout your relationship. How he had always made sure you got everything you wanted, be it simple things like food or even an overseas trip to Europe like you’ve always dreamed of. How he had treated you gentler than he thought he could ever handle anything at all. How he had proposed to you despite knowing your circumstances. How he had made sure you had the wedding of your dreams.

Even when the illness took a toll for the worst, Dazai had never let himself falter. He understood you needed him to be as strong as possible, even though you wouldn’t admit it. Showing how utterly despondent he actually was would only make things worse. So he didn’t. He continued giving you his endless care, feeding you when you were too weak to move your fingers, massaging your legs when you felt sore, and showering you with kisses no matter how frail and repulsive you thought you looked.

And now the memories were his and his alone.

As Dazai sat on your side of the bed and looked at your wedding picture, framed up and hung on the wall, he finally allowed his tears to flow. It had been a long, painful week since your passing. He had had to arrange everything, the funeral, the catering— everything.

Dazai did not have a care in the world for the expensive pressed suit he was currently wearing. He collapsed onto the bed - he swore it still smelled like you - and all anyone else could hear in the dark of the night was the painful cries of a man who had lost his wife.

A man who found something he thought didn’t exist at all and lost it to the void. A man who remembered his lover’s smile, the memories of how happy she had been on their wedding night, saying their vows, and every night after that. A man who wanted so desperately to follow her in the afterlife, only to look at his old razors and remember his promise to her. A man who wanted so badly for none of this to be real, and to wake up seeing her peaceful face on the pillow next to his. A man who thought he was a monster, finding his savior in the world he had lost hope in, an angel who brought him up from the depths of his own hell, and had to watch helplessly as she slowly fell into the abyss herself. And now a man who couldn’t find anything else to live for, save for the hopeless promise of staying alive for you, no matter how empty it made him feel.

He screamed out your name one last time before letting it drown in his sobbing, the light that appeared and stayed in his life the moment you came gradually fading away, leaving Dazai alone in the dark once more.

tags: @yokelish @gogolparadise

[cerastes]

Oh yeah, been a while since we get an update on tabletop things, what's the CAST looking like nowadays?

Life’s WAY too busy for tabletop right this second so not much has changed, but:

“Lisbeth Elstad” (Alias; real name far more mundane)

Wimp that tries to project a strong image.

Would normally be a shopkeeper in any setting, but circumstance has forced her to undertake adventure instead.

REALLY ill suited to being anything except a shopkeeper, but she’s trying.

Extremely intelligent, not wise in the slightest. A genius when it comes to biology, chemistry, physics and medical sciences, but very naive and full of prejudice as a person. She thinks she’s wise and learned, but she’s really not (she is well-traveled, however).

Alchemist; in a world of magic, it’s one of only two things she can knows how to use, but makes up for it by using her extensive knowledge of chemistry and pharmacology to produce facsimiles of magic, since she can’t use it normally. No need to cast Fireball when you can whip up a vial of napalm and throw it at someone.

Ironically, despite being an Alchemist, she hates money, and will give medical treatment basically for free (her rate is usually “enough to buy something to eat at the nearest food stall”) if she sees someone that needs it, especially if they are not human.

Dislikes humans, feels much more at home with non-humans, despite being human herself.

Just like her “magic”, most everything about her is a facsimile of what she thinks a “cool, strong mercenary” should be like. Name, appearance, way of carrying herself, all fake. Her main “spells” are all reference to the Malebolge, Eighth Circle of Hell, where counterfeiters go. She’s pretty self-aware about it all, really.

Chaotic Good. Genuinely good intentions, but is very socially inept and emotionally immature, so her mood tends to fluctuate a lot.

Long dyed blond hair, silver contact lenses, very tall and lanky, like a noodle or a beanstalk. Wears black suits and a black two-headed wolf pelt because she thinks it makes her cool (though the pelt is actually an important item to her), a completely blank white mask because she has a terrible poker face and doesn’t want everyone around her to know when she’s scared shitless (again, wimp), and a large witch hat because that’s just the culture, baby.

19 years old; another older version of her exists (27 years old) used not in tabletop, but for stories, particularly alongside Glock Elf and her gang. Glock Elf begrudgingly considers her a mentor of sorts, but the reverse is true, as the cynical Ms. Elstad has legitimate respect for Glock Elf’s balls to the walls style of life that’s less about making big enormous machinations and more about throwing flying kicks first and asking questions later.

Rasmus Casper Istre

Swindler, but has the brains and brawn to back it up.

Used to be a phony fortune teller, but picked on a target too dangerous one time and had to leg it, this led him to meet the party and embark on adventure, initially just to put food on the table, later, to uncover a larger conspiracy that put the world at risk.

Good at improvising and coming up with creative solutions, though he’ll often let greed guide his hand and end up incurring more risk than he needs to, both to himself and to his allies, if it means scoring a bit more money.

Rogue; An expert with daggers and very intimate bedfellow to fisticuffs. He is not formally trained in any capacity and is entirely self-taught.

Also known as “Rabbit”; the Gods Of The Land awarded him this title for his cunning, speed, and his trademark ability to look harmless right before you fall into his trap.

Despite his crook-like nature, Rasmus has only the deepest respect for ladies and is not interested in courting anyone except the Elven Priestess that won his heart.

As much as it pained him to admit it, he eventually grew so fond of the party that he basically rejected an offer to betray them that would have set him up for life, saying “I never would’ve had to worry about money ever again in my life, which is neat, but I would’ve had to ally myself with the lowest, most unforgivable piece of garbage in this world had I done that, and I’d have to see his face every morning of my life in the mirror”.

Endgame set-up: A powerful hardened Blacklight Dagger with an enchantment that makes it return to the its owner after being thrown, alongside an evil thunderstorm crafted into a gauntlet, which endowed it with incredible lightning powers, and which gave my DM headaches when I looked at the cursed thunderstorm and asked the DM if I could feasibly capture it and forge it into an item with the several scrolls and artifacts we had that, technically allowed for us to at least attempt it. My DM rocks though so he said yes but I treated him to pizza that night.

One time, Rasmus stole the body of a seemingly invincible hero the party managed to kill and preserved it in salt, and then, with his Half-Orc Barbarian party member and friend, strapped him to the front of a Greatshield to make what we dubbed the Hero’s Corpse Shield, which was practically indestructible and impenetrable because of the hero tied to the front of it.

Chaotic Neutral; initially more interested in profit than anything, and later helping out the party simply because they are his sworn brother and sisters, but doesn’t really care too much about doing right or wrong. His involvement is wholly personal.

Very slightly above average height, short brown hair, stubble, green eyes, slim but toned build, mostly wears leather or chainmail, but one time went around in robes with a sun-looking mask for a while when he became the impromptu leader of a cult, in order to avoid getting executed for maximum heresy (the whole hero’s corpse on a shield thing).

In his 20s. The game in which he was my character is over, but we’re seeing if we Season 2 it because we all fucking loved it a lot.

Fargigoth

Newest addition, so not much out yet.

Half-Orc Artificer. Stole a small field cannon that an army was employing during a battle and uses that as his “cauldron” to shoot things out of it. He’s a BIG lad, so he carries the cannon with his hands.

Once stuffed a Fire Elemental’s corpse in the cannon and threw in a bunch of other garbage, resulting in an explosive shotgun blast of debris, shrapnel and hellfire that sent him flying backwards because, it turns out, cannon recoil hits pretty hard.

Good friends with a female Tiefling Paladin party member. 

And combined, they can’t unscrew a lightbulb without putting into motion a Metal Gear Solid-esque conspiracy, unintentionally.

[bitch-in-a-bag]

can we talk about how the LGBT movement has changed in the past 15 years?

in the light of the events surrounding Chris chan, and people prioritizing pronouns over the rape of a woman with dementia, I think it displays just how... different things are.

i personally feel like it's been co-opted by the more loud and entitled mtfs/ males/penis-havers/whatever pc term exists for the XY chromosome'd, who go too far and aren't reasonably kept in check. I think terf no longer has meaning anymore because it's just become a word we use to silence anyone that disagrees with a trans woman. immediately you're going to call me a terf, I accept that, but please continue reading. I may suprise you. calling someone who's transgender a terf is kinda messed up anyway, and that's exactly why im writing this.

I also think that everyone else (allies, ftms, etc) have followed suit because they've written this messed up narrative that EvErYoNe iS VaLiD. except for trans penis-havers, bc they're the most oppressed and the most valid, actually, regardless of their experiences.

I never used to believe the above because it was always written off as terf shit, and ignoring it kinda benefitted me, but between seeing ftms getting bashed for refusing to follow new "TME" rules as if they aren't trans too, and seeing outrage around Chris chans pronouns, I think it's time to start saying things that may make people uncomfortable. innocent people are already getting hurt by this, and we need to do better. it's time to get uncomfortable.

I want to remind you that perception is both the relying factor, and also the downfall of newer lgbt theory. if my profile were mtf coded, maybe it currently is, you'd call me a self hating trans and I wouldn't be that big of a deal. terfs would probably target me.

if my profile was ftm coded, I would be absolutely skewered for daring to speak out about these issues, even though they do actually affect ftms disproportionately. terfs would try to convince me that being trans is a plague and a mental illness, and to just ~be a cis woman~!

and if assumed cis, I would 100% be assumed radfem terf, and everything I say would immediately be dismissed because of the genuine damage terfs have done. but terfs would still probably flock to this post and berate me for daring to validate trans people At All, because to them, being transgender is a mental illness akin to an eating disorder, and "giving in" to it is "self harm". clearly I don't believe that, so hopefully you'll give me at least some benefit of the doubt.

so, does my identity matter? i have a feeling you'll say yes, because it gives us a good idea of experiences I do and don't have expertise in, and thus room to talk about. but I refuse to directly identify what I actually am because I want the focus of any resulting conversation to be my message and not my self identification. if you read between the lines and figure it out that's just fine, but I would like to be heard first and foremost.

my profile is thus an attempt at being cis female coded, somewhat out of comfort, and that is likely what I'll be assumed to be due to the beliefs I am expressing, even though there is a substantial risk of getting misgendered and dismissed, no matter what my birth sex may actually be. i will give you a hint about my identity: I am transgender, on HRT and everything, and I have been personally affected by all of this. rest assured, this is well within my lane to speak about, and it does matter if you misgender me.

I want you to really think about that. before you respond, really think about if someone saying words on tumblr, talking about their OWN experiences and their take on recent history that applies to themself, really more worthy of being misgendered and harassed than... someone who said they transitioned so they could date lesbians, and then raped their own mother with dementia.

is that fair or just? or is this just a new way of letting people with penises do whatever they want? I personally think it's the latter. we need to hold people like Chris chan accountable without getting caught up on something as minor **in comparison** as misgendering and self identification. Is it sad and confusing that someone who self IDs as transgender became 1:1 with the most dangerous stereotypes that exist for trans women? Of course it is. But it doesn't mean that self identification is suddenly more important than a literal crime being committed.

I would normally dismiss it as a fluke or outright trolling if the evidence weren't so damning that this is in fact a real event that happened. If I hadn't seen this happen to other people, and if I didn't literally know another mtf person who used their dysphoria as an excuse for date rape on multiple occasions and never got any consequences for it.

It's not a one time thing, it's a developing problem that we need to stop before more people have their lives ruined. I can't even imagine how traumatizing and messed up it is for an FTM person to be date raped, by another transgender person no less. When I, an abuse survivor, told people of this MTFs red flags, people violently silenced me. People who didn't know I was trans called me a terf and transphobic. We, as a community, could've protected someone from getting date raped, and we didn't. Trans women can be awful, horrible fucking people, because they are people. Protecting them at all costs is wrong. Protecting them from transphobia is what we should be doing.

That being said, misgendering is still skeevy, and I haven't done anything like raped a disabled woman who is no longer able to consent, or date raped my own partner. if you give a shit about respecting my identity, please use they/them for me. if not, use visual perception and make assumptions that will most likely be incorrect, skew your own argument, and put me on the same level as a rapist, and arguably a fetishist. And I do need to remind you that calling someone transgender a rapist and a fetishist without evidence is still definitely classic transphobia, to the letter, so I'd appreciate it if you didn't do that.

as someone who is same sex attracted, I also want to bring this up as well.

in the US in the past 15 years, the movement as a whole pretty much went "YEAH BORN THIS WAY" with Lady Gaga, and then jumped ship to prioritize mostly mtfs at every angle. do mtfs need support? absolutely. but they don't need misguided toxic positivity, and that's what it's turned into.

it's gotten genuinely homophobic to the point where actually homosexual people are constantly being erased and demonized via "genital preferences are a fetish uwu", and vulva havers, especially the trans ones, are constantly being told to shut up about their experiences.

as much as you want to deny bioessentialism, its still very much well and alive with newer trans movement sentiments when we classify ftms as not worthy of speaking about their own issues with terms like "TME". it's also incredibly ignorant towards FTMs who pass, but dress feminine for comfort, and get mistaken for MTF, and treated like garbage because of it. They are not remotely exempt from misogyny, transphobia, or the intersection of the two, and it is not anyone's job to tell them they don't ever experience that when they do. Turning ftms and biological homosexuals into our enemies-- especially when the actual cause is transphobia and harmful gender stereotypes-- does nothing good or healthy for our movement.

Dont be mistaken, though, passing isn't the focus or end all be all here, it's the perception of others that ends up drastically effecting your experiences. There are words like misogyny that imply treatment via birth sex, however this too can be reliant on external perception. If an MTF individual either transitions very young, has an abundance of resources to transition, or just gets lucky and passes well, chances are she will experience a lot more misogyny than people may give credit to. inversely, someone who just started questioning yesterday, but lived as a male their whole life up until then, they genuinely cannot speak about misogyny with that much room because they simply haven't experienced it at an accurate enough angle or for enough time to understand it as a repeated and sociological force.

It works the other way as well, though; someone who's known that they're trans for a long time and haven't had the resources to transition, or do not or cannot pass in the eyes of society; these people suffer pain that we don't neccesarily have a word for yet, imo. It makes dysphoria worse and it makes living seem hopeless. And as a community, we deal with this is in a really messed up way by over-validating them instead of solving the core issue at hand. and people who suffer from this, but also acknowledge they can't claim what they haven't experienced, are left with nowhere to go.

And its important to acknowledge these things because they're integral to the over-encompassing trans experience. Instead of lying to everyone and telling everyone they pass/giving out unconditional positive regard, our focus should be making it so that it **doesn't matter if you pass**. that you're still worth respect and dignity if you're transgender, no matter what passing is or what it means to you, and no matter how you present. But also, if you do something awful, you still need to be held accountable, especially if you use yourself, your body, or your trans status to contribute to other axi of oppression.

Transphobia is a word that encompasses and addresses all of that, regardless of birth sex. "TME" shuts that down in favor of only letting MTF's speak. Which is still very bio-essentialist, and I can't help but feel like we've gone full circle.

Once upon a time you couldn't even get married if your partner had the same genitals as you. in the US, this was less than 7 years ago. and if you care about human rights activism, you know damn well that legal modification is not the end all be all. people who are genuinely homosexual are still oppressed, but the trans movement has started stepping on them to make ground we don't deserve. homosexuals are ok and valid. it's not a genital preference, and the prescence of trans people doesn't make conversion therapy sentiments ok, ever.

we've gone full circle, and it's not right.

[hoxton-wolf]

Reiji Sakamaki 2

hey hey this is an x reader I would like to let y’all know that there is some mention of suicide and Self-harm so be warned but do enjoy it.

Besitos~

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It's been awhile after the incident with Reiji and her little breakdown. When he found out about her true feelings, he made the choice to defend her a bit more instead of her taking all the burden. He had started to keep a closer eye on her, aswell to all the things that were said about her. Which every now and then it would usually cause him to break out of character and snap at those that talk ill about her. (Name) was much happier than usual which brought warmth in Reiji and he wanted to make sure she stayed happy.

It was another day at school, (Name) and her History class were on a school trip down at the night museum; learning about history of how Japan was created and the history of their culture. Reiji being a year ahead of his girlfriend he had to stay in school and attend his classes. Amongst copying down the teacher's notes that they wrote on the board; regarding chemistry he couldn't help but overhear some voices in the class from some of the female students

"Oh my god did you hear, (Name) is on a school trip" gossiped a girl in the back

"Yeah what about it?” another girl questioned

"Well, I heard from a friend that used to go to her old school; said that she self-harmed herself" the girl whispered

"No way? You know I’m not surprised" one scoffed.

Reiji could feel his body tense as he continued to listen. He had stopped taking notes by now. He could feel the grip on his pen tighten as he listened to them wish ill will on his girlfriend

"Apparently they are learning about the our history and there sharp things in any kind of museum" a female student mentioned

"Ha! I wouldn't be surprised if she ends up cutting herself" laughed one

Reiji snapped and turned his attention to the group of female students that sat in the back of the classroom. He decided take some notes and make his comment to in hope to get them to stop before and genuinely snaps and starts seeing red

"I would restrain from spreading such ludicrous roomers, especially that of someone who is a year under you" he explained being cool and collected.

"But Reiji it's true-" the girl was cut off as the teacher told them to be quiet and not distract Reiji.

After the class had ended, Reiji had heard the girls in his chemistry class gossiping again about (Name). He decided to ignore them as he collected his stuff to leave the classroom. The group of girls wanted to grab his attention of course and he gave a very clear and annoyed response

"Yes, what is it?" he asked annoyed

"I'm not lying, about (Name)...It's silly that she cuts honestly. I've heard she even tried to kill herself a few times. I’m just surprised she’s never told you" the girl explained touching his shoulder

"It's silly don't you agree?" commented another girl

"Yes it is, but it is very small minded to spread rumors like that. Granted if it is true and she hasn’t told me then that is her decision and hers alone" he glared at her harshly

"BUT IT'S TRUE!" the one latched to his arm yelled

"Please lower your voice, you are creating a scene" he said walking away.

He yanked his arm out from her grasp as he began to leave class; people began to crowd around them as she yelled out so everyone could hear

"WHY DON'T YOU GO AND ASK HER WHY SHE WEARS HOODIES ALL THE TIME, OR THE FACT SHE NEVER WEARS SHORT, SHORT OR SKIRTS. SHE ALWAYS WEARS SWEATBANDS! ITS BECAUSE SHE CUTS HERSELF!-"

Reiji had enough and saw red. He slapped her sending her back with so much force, causing her to fall down. He straightened up his clothing 

"Don't you dare say that, she is a strong woman and it is her style...she doesn't need to be a slut like yourself, now be gone from here unless you want punishment" he growled

“WHAT DO YOU EVEN SEE IN HER SHE IS JUST SOME BOYISH GIRL! SHE’S NOT PRETTY, JUST DUMP HER! SHE’S JUST A WASTE OF SPACE. SHE SHOULD JUST DIE ALREADY” yelled the girl as she held her red cheek

Reiji’s eyes were clouded with blinded rage as he lunged forward. Subaru was trailing behind Ayato, Laito and Kanato when he heard some yelling. He and his older brothers turned to look, there they saw Reiji the second eldest, hit a female student mind sentence. They were all stunned. 

Before Reiji could lunge forward Shu had appeared out of nowhere and pulled his younger brother away. The other younger brother rushed in to calm Reiji down and to help Shu hold back their brother. There was a crowd showing up by now and some male students being the white knights started to yell at the Sakamakis, this only angered Reiji more. Shu was struggling with Subaru trying to hold Reiji while Laito was helping the injured girl up and trying to calm everyone down; Reiji was thrashing around telling his brothers to let him go and teach the girl some manners (with a bit more colorful language)

"Ayato, call (Name)" Shu demeaned his little brother

"She said she was on a trip with the school this evening, she said so before coming to school with us," Ayato explained

"I didn't ask, where she was, Ayato. I asked you to call her.Now." Shu hissed at him.

Shu and Subaru pulled him away as best as they could, Reiji insitided that he was fine. Told them that they didn’t need to be addressed to (Name). However, Shu insisted that it was a serious matter and she had every right to know especially since she was somewhat involved. This caused a ‘small’ argument between the two older brothers; about how Shu barely does anything and is always lying about and he chooses now to do something. Solely because it could get Reiji in trouble and questioned by (Name). 

Shu argued that he could care less if it got Reiji in trouble, it only mattered that (Name) had every right to know of his actions and the sudden change in his character. Ayato had called (Name), who was worried and angry at the whole incident. Boy was Ayato shocked to hear her yell, it made him kinda nervous trying to recall all the details as requested by her. 

It wasn't that long till the school had finished and Reiji was in the limo ignoring everyone and anyone who questioned him. He had already had to deal with a close call to a suspension from their principal and thus was in no mood to speak to anyone else regarding the topic.

Reiji was waiting for the rest of his siblings to arrive, however he spotted the bus that had brought the students back from their field trip. Reiji froze in his spot seeing (Name) walking to the limo, Reiji told himself that his brothers probably had forgotten to tell her about the incident. He kept himself composed as he watched make her way to the limo with unnerving calmness

"(Name) how was the trip?" he asked, eyeing her a little

"Fine? Reiji, you never ask me that kind of thing?" It was her turn to eye him up and down.

(Name) was right, Reiji wasn't the one to ask; how someone's day was. Regardless if it were his girlfriend or not, he just wasn't like that, he knew had already messed up already and was giving up his cover

"Reiji, do you have any homework to do? Oh and please don’t lie to me" she said eyeing him

"Unfortunately… No" he sighed

"Good, then is it alright if I ask you to come by my place… I want to talk to you privately at my place if you are more comfortable where there is no overhearing ears?" She sent a small glare at the brothers who were listening to them.

"...I believe it would be more comfortable, in the private of your own place" Reiji agreed

"Then let's walk"  she asked him with her arms crossed waiting for him.

With some hesitance Reiji got out of the limo and walked his girlfriend to her place. The walk between them was quiet which was normal but it made Reiji worried for some reason, while (Name) on the other hand; was thinking as to why Ayato had called her and what could have triggered Reiji to act so out of character that would make him to physically harm a female student in public like that.

Finally the two arrived at (Name)'s house, she opened the door for him. He stands in her living room and waits for (Name) to either one of the two 1) yell at him or 2) start throwing something at him. But her reaction was much different to what he thought what would have happened

"Sit down" she tells him calmly.

Just like a dog, he sits down on her couch. He leans back, pushing his glasses up to hide his nervousness. There was a moment of silence as (Name) eventually took a seat in front of him

"What happened?" she said calmly

"...Well there’s no point in lying here. The woman whom I had injured, she had horrible manners and disobeyed my orders; when I told her to lower her voice, as there were already a group forming around us. In the end, I lost my patience " Reiji explains calmly

"What was she saying?" his girlfriend questioned with her arms crossed

"Just complete and utter nonsense, I will admit; that I was careless and let my emotions get involved. I should not have not let my emotions cloud my judgement" He explains looking past her

"What nonsense, was she talking about? Knowing you, You could care less if someone was talking bad about you or your brothers. So instead of asking ‘what she was talking about’ let me ask, Who was she talking about?" (Name) looked him in the eyes.

Reiji never enjoyed being interrogated by his girlfriend, as she always makes eye contact with him to see if he is lying or not. She was surprisingly good with profiling him, that was one of the reasons as to what allured him to her. She knew exactly by his tone if he were lying, his body language if he was mad or sad, she could even tell what he was thinking from time to time; usually when his guard was down. 

However, he didn't like that fact her stare could be just as cold as his own and unfortunately for him, she was giving him the coldest glare she had. To ensure that he told her the truth

"You..." he replied giving in

"Me? Why would you hit someone over me?" she sounded almost shocked

"May I ask you some questions then? I mean, it's only mutual" (Name) nods at Reiji's request

"Are you aware of the rumours about you; that is within the school” It was his turn, to stare in  search for answers

"....Yes I am aware of the rumours about myself" she glared slightly

"I see, if I ask you to clarify my suspicion on one of the rumours. Will you tell me truthfully  whether it is true or not" he said seriously to her.

It was (Name)’s turn to get quiet. She gave it some thoughts but eventually gave in with a sigh of defeat she agreed to speak the truth; the anxiety washed over her as she gave a nervous gulp.

"While I was in Chemistry class, a group of girls began to talk about you; saying that they heard from a friend that used to go to your old school. The rumour was that you self-harmed. Is this true" He watched her reaction

"And as we walked out she had pulled me aside as class ended and proceeded to talk to me about the silly rumour, she began to raise her voice when I told her to lower her voice but she ignored it. She continued to say that you self-harmed and have tried to kill yourself a few times...and then I just blacked out." He finished

"So bottom line is, can you confirm to me that all she said was just silly nonsense" he added

She stood up and turned away from him so she could recollect herself, she wanted to believe this was all just a bad dream. But she knew far too well that this was her reality, he needed to find one way or another

He stood up silently made his way to her, so many emotions swirled within him. He wanted answers but he knows it is a very delicate topic for her, that was as much as he knew from her reaction. Well he could tell what he feared, the rumors were true; and that pained him so much more.

"Reiji Leave" she warned him

"(Name)" he grabbed her arm

She yanks her arm away from him, he glares at her harshness and coldness. He saw her shake holding back her stubborn sobs that she tried to hold back, he softened his gaze. He embraced her from behind. They were both known to dislike hugs, not because of physical contact… but because you can never trust a hug, it’s just a way to hide your face.

As he held her the sob crashed out of her, she had fallen to her knees. Reiji stayed by her side comforting her as she let out everything, apologizing and rambling on and on. He let her vent, it was what she needed. Most and he was willing to be there for her no matter how low she gets, he will always be there to bring her back better than ever to her full potential.

After that incident, he had asked (Name) to take a week off of school, to stay at his mansion where he could keep an eye one her at all times. Yes at first, she complained about it but she kind of enjoyed the fact Reiji was worried about her. It was something really out of character for him, but she also enjoyed the other brothers' company. They were kind enough to not drink her blood. 

She usually stayed in Reiji's room reading some of the books he had there, she obviously knew not to snoop around but it didn’t stop her from looking around.

Reiji still went to school as he was the typical A class student, never missing a day off school or handing in things late. But when he came home, he made sure to do his homework or study in his room as (Name) would sometimes help him out with writing things that somewhat need to use emotion rather than just text and facts.

On the last week of school as it was finishing for the year and all his exams were finished and (Name) also finished her exams for the year, she was yes a year level under him but she was doing mostly advanced classes in Mathematics, English, Chemistry and forensics, and lastly her languages. And while she had time off she had her teachers email her the works so she could finish them at "Home" while she was on leave. Reiji obviously let her take the exams at school, and when they were done she would go "home".

Friday, the last day. Reiji finished school early and he and his 5 other brothers headed to the limo with Yui following close behind

"Reiji... I picked up (Name)'s report card for her" Yui said, handing him the report card.

Looking over the report card, Reiji lets a small smile slip out to see she has all A+ on all her core subjects and her selected ones. He pushed up his glasses and cleared out his throat slightly

"Is that a smile I see Brother~"  Laito teased

"Yes it is, seeing that she is the only person who manages to have wonderful grades unlike the rest of you. She even does Advanced classes, the quality of work that I Myself get which is more of university standardized" he gloated 

"Ts, I thought Ayato was supposed to be the bragger between us" Subaru smirked

"At least I "Brag" when it's needed" Reiji smirked.

Finally,  arriving at the mansion Reiji used his teleportation, and already knew that she was in his room. When he arrived to give the good news, he saw that (Name)'s hair was wet. She had taken a shower, she was putting on her hoodie when he noticed the scars on her thighs, she noticed that he was in the room and was looking at her; she stood there like a deer in headlights

"(Name)..."

"....Reiji I can assure you that they are old scars-" she attempted to argue

"To be exact, they are what seems to be a week old...why?" he asked, glaring at her a little.

(Name) knew the glare was because he was worried, but she didn't want to explain why she did it. She muttered that she didn't want to talk about it right now.

He moved to hug her; taking one of her arms he lifted the sleeve seeing the scars that were old, some, years old some months old. He gently places his lips kissing the scars that coated her skin.

"I still think you're beautiful… and I don't ever wanna lose my best friend" he muttered.

(Name) blushed darkly at his action. Looking at her with a side glance, his ruby eyes staring into the memorising eyes he fell for. He pulled back smirking at her reaction; her flushed face. Trying to mask her embarrassment she smirks back shyly

"Oh, quoting one of my favourite bands. I see" she teased lightly.

He pulled her into a kiss.

[justkending]

Used to Be Overlooked. Chapter 2.

Summary: Steve Rogers was walking down the streets of Brooklyn after finishing a mission. The goal was just to take some time to clear his mind along the city streets, but when he runs into a gorgeous young lady that looks extremely familiar… How can he go about moving on? Who is she? What does he know her from? Was that memory even from this decade?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader (Rosalyn Ember/ Y/N)

Word Count: 1800+

Warning: SLOW BURN. Soooo slow, but sooooo worth it...

A/N: This chapter is more to get some background on the reader. Not much on Steve in this one.

Series Masterlist

Chapter 2:

“If the world wants us to meet again Steven, we will,” you smiled slyly as you turned into the crowd making your great escape.

You walked a little faster knowing that you messed up by saying his name, but you couldn’t seem to catch the slip before it came out of your mouth.

Once you were a good distance away from the spot of the almost incident, you turned to make sure he was lost in the crowd. Looking over and around the heads of the many people crowding the walkway, there was no sign of the tall dirty blonde haired man in a baseball cap. You let out a sigh happy that you had got away, but deep down something pulled at your heart making you sad that you had to leave so fast. It was for the better. It has to be this way.

Finally getting to the office, you walked in greeting the security guard stationed outside of the big cooperation.

“Good Morning Walter. How was your weekend?” You said, stopping to readjust the files in your arm as you set your coffee down.

“Nice and relaxing thanks to the Miss’s help,” He grinned.

“Oh, and hows that? She make the famous-”

“Chicken Noodle soup that you gave us the recipe for? Yes, indeed. Definitely helped with that cold I caught.”

“That’s why I make it. Nothing it can’t cure. Glad she’s enjoying the recipe, and I’m glad you are as well,” You said, placing the files back securely.

“Thanks again Miss. Ember. It was kind of you to let me take an extra day off,” he smile genuinely.

“Don’t mention it. We all need some time to recuperate, and you can’t do that while patrolling these doors 24/7,” you winked headed to the elevators.

“Oh, almost forgot!” he shouted taking a few steps to catch up. “The Miss’s did want me to ask if you would like to come over for dinner some time. We’re having a small little party in a week or so. Thought we would extend the offer as a thank you.”

You smiled at him before nodding nicely.

“It all depends on work, but I’ll see what I can do.” You turned pushing the button to the elevator and it opened immediately. “Thank you kindly for the invite. Have a good day Walter.”

He tipped his hat as the doors shut and you were left in the tiny metal box by yourself. You let out a long breath as you thought back to the earlier portion of the morning.

“Oh God. Just when I thought things couldn’t get anymore hectic,” you rolled your eyes slouching.

Then the doors opened and you were greeted with people running around the office space too worried about the task in their hands to see those around them. You straightened your back and put on a fake smile as you waltz to the front desk.

“Morning Claire. Any messages?”

“Yes, you have a meeting today with Dr. Higa and Dr. Frankford. They both are wanting to discuss the lab results for the trial run on C104. Then you have the phone call that needs to be done by 10 for getting that grant for the new serum. Then at 11 you have to review a new set of files for the lab techs that are wanting approval on a new formula that they are needing to implement into a vaccine they have been working on,” the blonde haired, brown eye, petite secretary said. “And that’s all before noon which leads us to a whole other schedule,” she said with a sincere soft smile.

“Ahhh…” you sighed. “There is always work to be done, isn’t there? Always something to improve,” you smiled. “Do you mind taking these files I reviewed last night and taking them down to the lab for the interns? They need to review my markups and corrections before looking into further research.”

Claire nodded and stood taking the papers headed down the hall. You let out another long sigh before heading into your office.

Life had become a lot more busy since you started at this new corporation. It was one of the top labs across the country and specialized in vaccines for multiple diseases, conditions, and other illnesses. Something you have been doing your whole life. 

Science was always a big thing in your family, and you strived in it like your father did before you. You took after him and went to college and all kinds of schools, conferences, science camps, and worked along some of the best of the best to get better in the field. It started as a fascination and personal interest, but later turned into a goal of wanting to help the sick anyway you could.

Now, you were one of the youngest female scientist that the country had seen. You were recently offered a job at Williamson Labs were you oversee operations that go on inside. You were hesitant accepting the job because of you background, and also the secret that you tried to hide from the societies eye. But when they told you you wouldn’t necessarily be a face for the company, but more of the instructor who does the underground work, you got over your paranoia and jumped at the chance to help bring the world to better health.

There were moments where people knew who you were due to the changes you were making, but it wasn’t like your name was plastered on the billboard and all over the papers like the actual Williamson sons were. They were the face for the success the company was excelling in, and would check in every once and a while to make sure things were running smoothly.

About 20 minutes of sitting at your desk reviewing new case studies, there was a knock at the door.

“Come in,” you said loud enough for whoever it was to hear before you looked back down at your papers.

“Ah, Miss. Ember. As lovely as ever,” a deep charming voice said.

You smiled at your papers knowing exactly whose voice it was. As you slowly looked up, your thoughts were confirmed as the tall, slender, and business groomed man stood in front of you.

“Ah, Mr. Williamson. I wasn’t informed that you would be dropping by today,” you said sitting up in your chair and fixing your posture. “Please. Sit.”

He was a well groomed young man. He was about early 30’s, had brown chestnut colored hair, and these stunning brown eyes. He always had on a nice suit to show how much of a professional he was. He was chiseled and well sculpted in the face and body. Definitely someone all the ladies loved to swoon over. He wasn’t buff but instead toned and skinny. A handsome gentleman indeed, but a millionaire playboy too.

“Oh, that’s all right. I actually wasn’t planning on coming by today, but had to drop off some paperwork, so I figured I would come check up on you,” he said fixing his suit.

“Oh, is that so? This wouldn’t happen to be one of your attempts on asking me on a date again, would it?” you smirked.

“Do you consider a date a casual dinner with an friend?” he smirked back.

“Mr. Williamson,” you said with a raised eyebrow. “You know that I-”

“You don’t date within the office. Yes, I know. But!” He quickly took a seat in one of the chairs in front of your desk, and pulled it up where his hands were on the top of your desk. “What if I said we could just talk about work? You can get all dressed up and look as stunning as you always do, casual of course, then we can discuss work things.”

“We both know that’s not what you want.”

He paused sitting back in the seat and stroked his light stubble.

“Yeah, you’re right. I would want to leave work out of it, but I’m still all for seeing you all dressed up,” he winked.

You laughed as you went back to the papers moving them around your desk.

“What would your father think of this? You’re my boss Jonah Williamson. That would be unprofessional of me. Unprofessional for both of us. I came here to make a difference in the world, not to start a dating life.”

“You don’t date at all?”

“No, sir.”

“You’ve never had a boyfriend?” he said shifting in his seat getting closer again.

“When I was much much younger, yes. But now I have other things to worry about in my life. For instance, making sure your company doesn’t fail and is actually doing what it’s supposed to be doing,” you said slyly as you crossed your hands on the desk. “You should be proud me for my dedication for you livelihood, or should I say what’s making sure your bank account never runs low.”

“No one said I wasn’t proud. I’m just saying you should have a social life outside of this office,” he motioned around.

“Until this place is running more smoothly, my social life will be put on hold,” you responded standing up and walking over to the bookshelf on the opposite wall. “Any other reason you are here today?” you said sifting through the books before grabbing one, and opening it.

There was silence, and when you realized it, you could feel the closeness of another body by you.

“Nope. But, just so you know I don’t plan on giving up on your social endeavors,” Jonah said extremely close to your ear.

You paused reading and closed the book quickly as you turned to look at him standing mere inches away.

“Maybe learn about personal space, and I’ll look into it,” you said with sass and an evil grin before walking back to the desk.

“Always know how to make my heart flutter Rosalyn. Hard to keep myself away,” he smiled watching you walk back.

“Miss. Ember will be fine to you Mr. Williamson,” you said throwing him a look as you settled at your desk and he headed for the door. “And I suggest you learn how to keep yourself away.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” he sassed back. He gave you one last look up and down as you clearly tuned him out reading. “I’ll be on my way now. Keep up the good work… Rosalyn.” he winked before leaving.

You rolled your eyes at him. He was definitely not one to back down from a challenge. Though you admired it, it was something you hoped would fade out soon. You didn’t need to make attachments. Give it 4-5 years, and you would have to be off finding a new job just like you’ve been doing your whole life thanks to your little secret.

You grabbed your phone and called the front desk.

“Yes ma’am?” your secretary said.

“Go ahead and inform Dr. Higa, and Dr. Frankford that I am ready when they are. The sooner we get this day over with, the sooner we can go home.”

“Yes Ma’am. I’ll call them now.”

You hung up the phone and went back to the case studies. This sure was going to be a long day with Steve in the back of your head.

Chapter 3

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If I tagged you and you aren’t normally on my tag list, I thought you would enjoy the story. Fair warning, it is a slow burn so we will get to the bottom of the issue later, but the burn is what makes it soooooo sweet. I’m really excited for this series, and would love your feedback:) Thank you!

If you want removed let me know. After 3 chapters I will only tag those that I normally do, or those that ask:)

[modernmisterdarcy]

A Coming-Out Gala

The Duke of Bainton was far too young to use a walking-stick. A man of three legs instead of two, an old injury from the war which had not healed well, crippled his step. It was unfortunate, the Duke's fate, rendered infirm before his time, still handsome and kept lean by his illness-- aye, for as he lay in the Royal Forces hospital, recuperating from the wound, a wave of consumption decimated the ward. The Duke survived, but only just, and for the rest of his life would be beleaguered with the disease.

Despite his pitiable circumstance, it was not with pity he was generally regarded by society. For all his misfortune, the Duke was still an otherwise strong and dignified person; the pinnacle of modern respectability by anyone's standards, as was befitting a man of his wealth and status.

One would have expected that such a man-- who, again, by his status and respectability could more or less do as he damn well pleased-- would use his poor physical condition to cry off a great many tiresome social engagements. But the Duke of Bainton cried off nothing, and was very active not only in his social obligations, but as a member of the House of Lords as well. For these, he was admired even more greatly, and of late, the question on many lips was, Why hadn't the Duke yet married?

The coming-out party for one Josephine Mariah Astley was a much-anticipated affair-- one to which the Duke of Bainton was indeed in attendance. Miss Astley was the daughter of His Grace Lord Jonathan James Astley, Duke of Middlesex. She was just eighteen, fair as the dawn, accomplished in every respect, and the picture of social grace-- largely considered perfect, even by those in her intimate acquaintance. And despite a twelve-year difference in age, Lady Josephine Astley was a favorite subject for speculation as to the Duke of Bainton's continued bachelorhood.

The Duke had shown little interest in any woman these last two years, after an unsuccessful engagement prior to his deployment to Spain. When he returned broken and ill, the Duke's erstwhile fiancee was horrified. She, being of ample wealth and status herself and beholden to none, broke off the engagement and married six months later to someone less noble, and much less the heroic cripple. It was known, that this turn of events destroyed the Duke in ways the war could never touch. He was still a young man, but, being ill, his need for a good marriage seemed a matter of some urgency, as his well-being was uncertain and as changeful as the tides. The Duke might die unmarried, and then, disastrously, the title might pass to his rakish little brother, the Marquess of Bainton.

The Marquess was everything his brother was not: Rambunctious, robust, a notorious flirt, drinking far more than was polite, far too coarse of speech for a man of his standing, and, curiously, somewhat of an ignoble character. The Duke held his chin so high, and had such a high moral character, it seemed those traits had been lost on his brother entirely. As highly as the Duke was regarded by society, the Marquess's foibles could not be forgiven, despite his own honorable service under the Duke of Wellington in Spain. It was the only honorable thing ever said of him, and  that had all happened over two years ago now. Such deeds only bore so much goodwill, and the Marquess's was running out.

And he well knew it.

It was also known that there was a divide between the two brothers, an ever-deepening schism whose origins remained on the battlefield in Basque, and whose presence manifested as a subtle rivalry and frigidity between the two young men. As such, it was to nobody's surprise at all that the Marquess of Bainton was not in attendance that evening, as the match between Lady Josephine Astley and His Grace Lord Adrian Wolfe, Duke of Bainton, was so greatly anticipated that it was as much his party as it was hers.

Adrian knew this, and it provoked in him the deepest shame.

This confabulation about him marrying the Astley girl was entirely fictitious. The girl's mother had started the talk, and the community were so eager to see the Duke of Bainton wed in a worthy manner that it had been one of the favorite topics of the season. There was a great lot of anticipation and expectation about the gala, and about the Duke's supposed upcoming engagement, that the pressure was enough to make him tremble. Though he wished not to disappoint, and wished to do what was respectable and right, it felt a violation of his very moral character to court a girl he cared nothing for, who was fully twelve years his junior. She was lovely, she was indeed the picture of British aristocracy ideal womanhood, and she held no interest for him whatever.

Why?

Because she was a flirt. A keen flirt, a skillful flirt who never did anything untoward, but the Duke, who privately had as fragile a heart as his body, could not bear even the notion of the girl toying with him. And she would. For she had even more suitors than the Duke had prospective wives, which was to say, Lady Josephine could have married any man in England she pleased. And the Duke fully expected her to take advantage of this privilege, and to flaunt it. And why shouldn't she? She was still fairly a child, such games were her birthright and prerogative, the Duke begrudged her none of it-- and he wanted no part in it. He did not want a child for a wife. The Duke did not want a wife at all, for after having his heart broken at the lowest point of his life, had decided that such caprice and cruelty must, in some part, lurk in the heart of every female, and he would indeed die and let his idiot brother inherit Bainton before he should allow such in his life again.

Or, so he thought.

The talk that night was rapacious. The eyes glued to Lady Astley and His Grace Lord Wolfe. They watched in voracious eagerness as the pair were introduced, and the Duke bowed, and the Lady curtsied, and they exchanged pleasantries for several minutes, then parted ways. The expectation having been, of course, that the two would be inseparable after they met. Yet the girl had as little interest in the man as he in her. They wanted nothing to do with one another.

“The Duke looks very pale tonight.” A cluster of matrons muttered to one another behind their fans.

“Indeed, he looks very pale indeed.”

“Perhaps that is why he has not shown Lady Astley the proper attentions.”

“He has not so much as danced with her!”

“The Duke seldom dances, think of his leg. He cannot dance with a walking-stick.”

“No indeed, but he ought to at least try, for her sake, don't you think?”

“Indeed, I think you are right!”

On and on. Of course, spoken so furtively that the Duke heard almost nothing of the gossip about himself and Lady Astley, but the expectation hung in the air like a miasma. The Duke was, indeed, ill that night, and the emotional climate made the gala that much more difficult to bear. He sat at dinner very near the head of the table, in a place of honor and respectability, and directly across from him was the Lady Astley. They exchanged tight-lipped smiles and polite conversation, both of them cognizant of the rumors, but the girl-- bless her, thought the Duke-- hadn't enough interest in Adrian to even attempt a flirtation. He was too old, to her mind; too stiff, too dignified, and, of course, too delicate.

“Josephine,” Lady Astley the elder, that is, Josephine's mother, was saying, “do you not think the Duke is charming? Your Grace, do you not think my daughter is charming?”

“His Grace is not without his admirable qualities,” Lady Josephine said smoothly, offering Adrian a tight-lipped smile. “Do you think me charming, Your Grace?”

The Duke was well accustomed to navigating social scenes, however uncomfortable, and was even accustomed to doing it whether he felt well or ill. The fever which he felt creeping up was no excuse, in his own mind, for the trepidation he faced at answering the question. His tongue tied, too long of a pause lapsed.

“Yes,” he said at last, for it was the correct answer-- not the honest one. “Young Lady Astley is the picture of feminine grace, Lady Astley.”

“How can you know for certain, when you've spent scarcely any time speaking to her this evening?” the elder Lady Astley inquired. She smiled upon asking the question, attempting to be playful, but underneath the thin veneer of politeness was genuine perturbation.

“A worthy question indeed,” said a man who sat at Lady Astley's elbow.

“Indeed, I say, Bainton, such a charming young lady deserves more of your attention!”

“Hear, hear!”

The Duke's end of the table erupted into enthusiastic chatter. The fever which raged in Adrian's body had drained his face of its color but now, twin spots of scarlet bloomed on his cheeks. He struggled to think of a clever response, but Josephine Astley, directly across from him, was staring holes into his face, and she looked highly amused.

Fortunately it was the dessert course of the dinner, and someone nearby had started smoking. Saving him the excessive trouble of responding to such outrageously crass comments, smoke wafted into the Duke's face, and he dissolved into a coughing fit.

The chatter died down. All fell silent. All knew there was nothing to be done for the Duke and it was dreadfully quiet for the first moment of it. Adrian desperately attempted to stifle his coughs in a handkerchief. When the fit continued more than a moment, the Duke found his walking-stick, struggled to his feet, and started to leave the dining hall.

“Your Grace, let me be of assistance--” said a man nearby, touching the Duke's arm.

“No, leave me be!” Adrian choked, shaking off the man's touch. “Leave me.”

They left him. The Duke of Bainton was not to be crossed.

The hallway outside the dining-room was dimmer, cooler, and mercifully quiet. Adrian's coughs echoed off the marble floors and high ceilings. Generally, smoke did not trouble him so much, but perhaps it was more than that. Perhaps the pressure, the embarrassment, the scorn in the girl's eyes... flecks of blood blossomed on the Duke's handkerchief. Sweat beaded on his brow. The coughs worsened; his walking-stick clattered to the floor; the Duke slumped against the wall, and fell to the ground in a highly undignified swoon.

[fae-fucker]

Review: Shatter Me

by Tahereh Mafi

Juliette hasn’t touched anyone in exactly 264 days.

The last time she did, it was an accident, but The Reestablishment locked her up for murder. No one knows why Juliette’s touch is fatal. As long as she doesn’t hurt anyone else, no one really cares. The world is too busy crumbling to pieces to pay attention to a 17-year-old girl. Diseases are destroying the population, food is hard to find, birds don’t fly anymore, and the clouds are the wrong color.

The Reestablishment said their way was the only way to fix things, so they threw Juliette in a cell. Now so many people are dead that the survivors are whispering war– and The Reestablishment has changed its mind. Maybe Juliette is more than a tortured soul stuffed into a poisonous body. Maybe she’s exactly what they need right now.

Juliette has to make a choice: BE A WEAPON. OR BE A WARRIOR.

*This review contains vague spoilers.*

I uh … I’m having a hard time figuring out where to even begin with this one, lads. I guess I’ll start with the absolute basics:

This book is not a dystopia. This is a superhero (supervillain?) origin story. I didn’t know this going in and it didn’t feel like it until the very end. With heavy-handed romance, heavy-handed writing, heavy-handed messages, and a plodding plot that I’m pretty sure sucked about 25 years out of my goddamn life.

*rubs hands together*

Well, with that in mind, let’s do this!

The “Writing”

Tahereh Mafi isn’t some backwater Harlequin mommy porn writer, nu-uh! She’s an Artiste, and as such, her art isn’t merely art, it’s Arté.

When a sentence could be five words, Mafi makes it a paragraph. When a metaphor could make sense, Mafi confuses your PLEBEIAN MIND with her MYSTIC WRITING POWERS, to the point where nothing fucking makes sense anymore and you’re just scratching your head, wondering how the fuck supposedly near-catatonic Juliette is able to come up with such convoluted comparisons. When other writers use pages to put words on them for people to read, Mafi puts maybe one word at the very top for four or five pages for the DRAMA of it all, except unlike when we all freaked out about Stephenie Meyer doing that, here it’s Artistic.

Jokes aside, this book is the epitome of everything I hate about purple prose. As someone who violently dislikes purple prose (because usually it’s done horribly by people who want to show off how many big words they know rather than evoke any sort of emotion), I knew going in that this book wouldn’t be for me, but I wasn’t expecting this.

Metaphors are long ang confusing, the prose and the rhythm are all off, the dialogue is atrocious and cartoonish, and Juliette’s thoughts are painfully obtuse despite her supposed “deep” personality. Except sometimes her thoughts are so convoluted and specific that it clashes with how dumb she is. Sometimes she thinks of the lackadaisical ennui of the uncaring sun, sometimes she compares her boyfriend’s eyes to buckets of water. It’s a huge, disjointed mess of word vomit.

People have defended Juliette’s narration as being a result of her solitary confinement, but those people’s opinions are bad and wrong and you shouldn’t listen to them, and I will explain to you why when I discuss Juliette’s “personality” in the character section of this review.

This book’s main “thing” is Juliette crossing out words and sentences, but it’s not consistent enough to actually mean anything or tell us anything about Juliette. It also happens in dialogue, which is fucking baffling. How do characters speak the words that are crossed out? Presumably they don’t, and I’m guessing that it’s supposed to represent what Juliette thinks people want to say but don’t, but then why the fuck would you put the crossed-out shit inside the quotes with the actual dialogue? Don’t!!!! Do that!!!! You’re clearly not equipped to ignore the rules of grammar yet, Mrs Mafi! You need to level up!!!

Sometimes, things that are implied to be true are crossed out. Sometimes, it’s the propaganda that Juliette knows is untrue that’s crossed out. With both the truth and the lies, Juliette’s thoughts vs her feelings, being crossed out without any rhyme or reason, we can never be entirely certain what the fuck the strikethroughs are supposed to represent.

If, for example, only the lies were crossed out, it would imply Juliette was aware that they’re lies and isn’t afraid to confront the truth. If only the truth was crossed out, then it would mean Juliette is in denial, knowing something is wrong but believing it anyway.

Instead, the strikethrough bullshit is just … there. What it means changes from instance to instance, and because of that, it loses all the impact and significance it could’ve had and ends up meaning nothing.

In short: the writing in this book is a whole-ass mess and nothing you say will convince me otherwise.

The Characters

Juliette’s mind is perfectly fine at all times, characters even praise her for being able to withstand literal psychological torture unlike all the other female WEAKLINGS in the facility. Her obnoxious inner monologues are just there for show, because Juliette is Deep and Troubled but in a sexy, dramatic way that doesn’t actually impact her as a person or her life at all. She doesn’t suffer from any mental illness or trauma that would’ve been brought on by 260+ days of nonstop psychological torture and years of emotional abuse and neglect.

How do I know that? Because she doesn’t believe any of the bullshit she spouts. It’s made perfectly clear that Juliette only thinks in metaphors because that’s just her obnoxious “personality”. Sometimes one of the Boys says something and she claims that her knees shatter or something similar. Except she doesn’t react as if they were, as if she felt the pain. She only thinks that because … Idk. It’s deep. Shut the fuck up.

I think her narration is supposed to imply that Juliette is smart, but that’s hilariously contrasted by her constant, and I mean fucking CONSTANT thirst and attraction to both Adam and Warner, the latter being especially jarring considering how she keeps saying she despises him and is disgusted by him.

She ogles and fawns over these men even when she’s in pain or in danger, even when they’re the ones inflicting the pain or threatening her. That’s how fucking horny she is, that’s where Mafi’s priorities lie.

She undermines her own protagonist by having Juliette constantly act like a horny schoolgirl instead of the broken and tortured person she should be after what she’s been through. After years of isolation and discrimination, after 260 days of solitary confinement, this girl still acts just like any other normal horny teenager, and it’s fucking awful to read, because it invalidates everything Juliette has been through and once again puts sex appeal and men higher on the priority list over an honest and realistic portrayal of trauma and isolation.

Speaking of sex appeal …

Warner. Oh Warner. What wonderful potential was lost. I think he’s genuinely interesting, or at least had the potential to be. He’s damaged and he’s troubled and he’s complex, despite how edgy he is. He’s hands-down the most interesting character in the book, and I weep for Mafi’s inability to fucking pace herself because that’s what’s absolutely ruined him for me. Let me explain:

I’m all for redemption arcs, alright? And Warner? He’s … salvageable. With some work and some atonement, I can totally see him becoming a complex anti-hero type. He’s clearly fucked up and the things he does are damaging him.

You know where Mafi fails? You know where she fucking destroys the guy?

She’s constantly describing him as hot. When he’s acting like a terrifying and abusive shithead, Juliette can’t help but think of how the anger makes his green eyes flash. When he takes off his shirt, Juliette claims how disgusted she is by the sight, and then in the same breath describes his perfectly sculpted chest in careful detail.

We’re supposed to find Warner sexy.

We’re supposed to reluctantly be attracted to him, just like Juliette, despite that and sometimes even because he’s a dangerous and abusive jackass.

There’s even a makeout session between Juliette and Warner where she’s complaining about how grossed out she is, but the kissing is described in more sexy and hot detail than any Adam makeout, and Juliette can’t help her attraction to Warner despite her believing he’d just killed the man she loves in cold blood.

Do you undersand my problem? If Warner was just a tragic villain and Juliette pitied him and didn’t feel any, and I mean ANY attraction to the guy, I would 100% accept him later trying to change sides to atone or to make up for the things he did. Aka a proper redemption arc.

But here, he’s already written as attractive to us. He’s already sexy and desireable and alluring. The narrative paints him in a good light by undermining the terrible things he does through constant descriptions of his appearance and Juliette’s obvious lust for him.

And you can say that “Woe, Juliette can’t control her attraction!” and you would still be a dumbass, because guess who can control Juliette’s attraction? Tahereh Mafi. It was Mafi’s conscious decision to make Juliette attracted to Warner, to write him this way as a sexy but dangerous man we’re supposed to root for and want to fix.

And that’s just gross. So whatever excuse or justification or explanation Warner’s actions get in lieu of an actual redemption arc, it won’t matter to me, because it’s already been undermined by how sexy he’s supposed to be despite his damage, and the terrible things he does are only there to make him more “mysterious” and his eventual love interest status more unexpected.

Mafi isn’t interested in writing a redemption arc, she just can’t write a morally ambiguous or mysterious love interest without taking it up to eleven and have him be a fucking unhinged dictator, but it’s ok because he’s still hot enough to bang!

I love redemption arcs. I hate abusers who are painted as attractive.

Adam exists. And what a pointless existence it is! He’s very obviously a decoy love interest, too nice and too basic to be endgame, and just vague and nonthreatening enough to have a sinister plan.

See, girls? Boys who protect you and care about you are actually evil! The boys who abuse you and terrify you are the ones who truly love you!

Kenji is very clearly designed to be quirky and snarky and for the Tumblr fangirls to fawn over to the point where he sticks out like a sore thumb among the rest of the cast. I didn’t like him and found him to be pretty boring without any deviation from the snarky flirty guy archetype.

There are a bunch of other characters that are spoilers and who don’t really matter, but I will say that there is a Black man who’s described as chocolate, so there.

Um. Women? I’m pretty sure the only named women we actually get to see on the page are two identical twins who are basically one entity and they show up in like the last chapter?

Before one of you shouts OMG THERE ARE MORE WOMEN IN THE LATER BOOKS, yeah, probably, I fucking hope so, but I’m not reviewing those books yet, I’m reviewing this one, and it’s one fucking giant sausage fest of hot dudes and faceless mooks.

Dems the fax.

The “Plot”

If you go into this expecting an exploration of the importance of human touch and how the lack of it might impact a person, you’re a dumbass and so am I for making that mistake.

If you’re expecting a gloomy but action-filled dystopia based on some more district/caste/personality oppression, you’re wrong again but at least justified because that’s what this is marketed as.

The stakes and conflict are … are they? Are we sure they even exist? Jury’s still out because I have no idea what Juliette wants aside from sucking Adam’s dick (and Warner’s sometimes). I know what she doesn’t want, I think (?), but I don’t know why she doesn’t want it aside from the “uwu i’m too good and pure and love people too much even tho they’ve shown me nothing but hatred and rejection” crap.

I’m honestly having a hard time figuring out what this book even is about. Supposedly the major plot development is Juliette realizing how powerful she is and how nobody will get to use her anymore, but the first thing happens in the very last chapter out of fucking nowhere, while the last thing doesn’t even matter because up until this point, Juliette has already been spending the entire book refusing to be used in the first place.

Oh, and about the first thing again, where Juliette must realize her power? It’s supposed to be this big epic moment for her at the end of the book, but we see her use her powers to throw around threats to get what she wants several times before that, on people she barely knows. She threatens Kenji just because he makes a few inappropriate comments about her, which is fucking baffling because she refused to even try to hurt Warner even though he’s been nothing but an asshole to her up until that point.

The moment Juliette gets her hands on a gun, she’s suddenly super empowered and has no problem spitting badass one-liners, even though she was a sad woobie pacifist up until that point and who couldn’t even IMAGINE hurting anyone, not even supposed monster Warner. The whole gun thing is weird and vaguely gross tbh, because Juliette genuinely seems to enjoy the power it gives her and I’m not into that.

On a technical level, this book is mostly Juliette being pushed around by men, feeling sorry for herself and clinging to morals that only serve to show how pure and good she is despite making no sense and being odd for someone in her position to have.

There are entire chapters of repeated revelations, where Juliette is sometimes literally dragged around from scene to scene by the hand, and she realizes the same thing over and over, seemingly forgetting it at the start of the chapter just to she can learn it again by the end of it: Warner is a meanie poopy-head who’s willing to hurt, kill, and torture other people for his own gain. Every time he shows this, Juliette acts shocked all over again.

This goes on for about half the book until shit suddenly takes a turn and the book becomes yet another Underground Teenage Rebellion Fighting to Take Down the Man drama, except this time the teenagers are mutants with cool superpowers.

It’s a complete tonal shift and it’s jarring as all heck, but at least there’s no more pretense about this being a dystopia because boy oh boy is it painful to watch Mafi struggle to worldbuild even the slightest concept for this superpowered angstfest.

The Worldbuilding

Important Proper Nouns galore. The book’s website (where I got the blurb) says that this book is “fresh” and “original”.

Yeah let’s uuh … Let’s investigate that statement.

The main evil guys are called the Reestablishment. That’s two letters away from Juliette fighting the establishment.

D-do I need to say more?

I honestly don’t know if I can. It’s like Mafi just sorta took all the other YA dystopian “quirks” and threw them all in without rhyme or reason.

Climate is fucked because of Big Corporate? Yeah. All animals are dead or mutated? Yup. Art and religion is deemed bad and terrible and banned for reasons? Throw that in there too, why not? They’re destroying all languages, English included? O-ok?

We never really … dwell on any of these things or figure out why they happened or how or even where. These things are always brought up together like some sort of checklist of all the bad things that the Reestablishment has done.

And I guess for a superhero story with “pulse-pounding” romance, it doesn’t really have to be that much more complicated, and it serves its function, but on Mafi’s website there’s boasting about how it has the worldbuilding of The Hunger Games and honey, you might become a more successful circus act than a writer because the level of contortion required to shove your head that far up your ass is frankly impressive.

The Wokeness

Warner is constantly described and called “crazy” and “insane” and a “madman”, so that’s FUN. Combined with the fact that this book doesn’t seem to have any idea about what solitary does to you and effectively trivializes literal torture, this isn’t looking good, lads.

There’s also, as I mentioned, no women aside from Juliette, and everything’s always about men and how they affect her and her life and how much they matter to her.

Just. Bad. The most progressive thing about this book is the fact that a WoC wrote it, and that’s about it.

The Quotes

I’m … so sorry for this. But you have to see them.

This Kills the Lady

Raindrops are my only reminder that clouds have a heartbeat. That I have one, too.

I always wonder about raindrops.

I wonder about how they’re always falling down, tripping over their own feet, breaking their legs and forgetting their parachutes as they tumble right out of the sky toward an uncertain end. It’s like someone is emptying their pockets over the earth and doesn’t seem to care where the contents fall, doesn’t seem to care that the raindrops burst when they hit the ground, that they shatter when they fall to the floor, that people curse the days the drops dare to tap on their doors.

I am a raindrop.

My parents emptied their pockets of me and left me to evaporate on a concrete slab.

Wot?

I catch the rose petals as they fall from my cheeks, as they float around the frame of my body, as they cover me in something that feels like the absence of courage.

Huh?

He shifts and my eyes shatter into thousands of pieces that ricochet around the room, capturing a million snapshots, a million moments in time. Flickering images faded with age, frozen thoughts hovering precariously in dead space, a whirlwind of memories that slice through my soul.

Come Again?

Summer is like a slow-cooker bringing everything in the world to a boil 1 degree at a time. It promises a million happy adjectives only to pour stench and sewage into your nose for dinner.

The Sun is a Rat Bastard – Poem by Juliette

I hate the lackadaisical ennui of a sun too preoccupied with itself to notice the infinite hours we spend in its presence. The sun is an arrogant thing, always leaving the world behind when it tires of us.

Juliette Contemplates Cannibalism

He whispers, “How are you?” and I want to kiss every beautiful beat of his heart.

He’s Not Wrong, I Guess

It’s the only reason Adam is staying with me – because Warner thinks Adam is a cardboard cutout of vanilla regurgitations.

Get You A Man Who Can Fix Years of Abuse and 260 Days of Solitary!

He’s kissing away the pain, the hurt, the years of self-loathing, the insecurities, the dashed hopes for a future I always pictured as obsolete.

*Sarah J Maas voice*

Realization is a pendulum the size of the moon. It won’t stop slamming into me.

I … What?

He’s a hot bath, a short breath, 5 days of summer pressed into 5 fingers writing stories on my body.

Juliette is a Loony Tunes Character

My eyelashes trip into my eyebrows; my jaw drops into my lap.

Kenji Is the Worst

He grins and hobbles forward. “You know, you’re pretty hot for a psycho chick.”

I … What? part 2

My jaw is dangling from my shoelace.

The Conclusion

Don’t waste your time on this. Trust me. There’s so many things I’ve left out for the sake of brevity, and I still ended up with a mile-long review.

It doesn’t work as a romance, it doesn’t work as a dystopia, and it certainly doesn’t work as a superhero origin story. Mostly because it tries to be all of these things at once and ends up being an overwritten mediocre mess.

For a time I felt vaguely invested and interested in knowing what happened in the next books, but that feeling has passed now and I couldn’t give less of a shit.

I would honestly be very interested in seeing a character like Warner be written properly and watch him try to redeem himself and atone. But that train has already left the station, and Mafi was not on it.

[avegetariancannibal]

“Boy With a Haunted Past” (part THREE)

The story so far: it's 1990, Hannibal and Will are 17 and 16 respectively, they've been on a date to a "haunted house" and Will's father has warned him to stay away from his new fella.

[ part 2 | 1 ]

Will woke up with his fingers pressed to his lips as if he were trying to hold in the sensation of his kisses with Hannibal. He smiled, realizing the space beneath his lower lip felt tender. He had stubble burn! He had stubble burn from kissing a boy who had stubble!

All too soon, the memory of his homecoming crept in, replacing his euphoria.

At once he was grumpy and fuming, and determined to avoid his father for the next... however long it took. Telling him to stay away from the first guy who liked him back, all over some weird rumor that undoubtedly had zero basis in reality? It was... it was unfair and wrong, and it had intruded on his reminiscence of the night before..

Luckily, his dad had already left for his weekend job by the time Will skulked out of his room.

He picked up the phone and dialed the number for Hannibal's host family.

A young boy answered. "You've reached the Froideveaux-Bloom residence." He sounded very practiced and formal.

"May I speak to Hannibal Lecter?" Will asked, trying to match the kid's formality.

"He just got back from his run!" the boy gushed, dropping his affected way of talking. "Did you know he can run thirty miles an hour?"

Will laughed before he could stop himself. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to---it's just that's faster than humans can run."

"Hannibal can do anything," the boy sniffed.

"Can he talk on the phone, then?" Will asked.

"He's in the shower," the boy said. "Is this Will? If this is Will, he said I should tell you to come over any time even if he's in the shower, which is is right now."

Will barely blurted out his thanks before hanging up the phone and running out the door, spurred on by the mental imagine of Hannibal taking a shower.

He ran all the way over, nearly a mile-and-a-half, except for the last block so he could catch his breath and not look like a total weirdo.

The house was decorated for Halloween, but in a tasteful and pretty cheerful way. The scarecrows with their pumpkin heads smiled without menace, and wicker cats crouched as if playfully pouncing. It all looked pretty expensive, to Will's eye.

When he knocked on the door, Alana Bloom answered. She was a sophomore, too, but at least two social levels higher than him. They'd never hung out even though they had classes together. She leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, looking distinctly amused and knowing. It made him feel self-conscious and he didn’t know why. He looked away from her eyes.

"I-is Hannibal home?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said, moving aside. "Come on in, Pink Cheeks."

Will's hand flew to his face. Was he blushing? Or was he still flushed from running? Probably both. Damn it.

"He's still getting ready," she said, waving him over to the living room.

Will frowned. "Getting ready for what?"

"For you," she said. He could tell she was rolling her eyes even though he hadn't looked at her again.

Will had to bite the insides of his cheeks to keep from grinning at that.

"You know," she said as they sat down, "my parents wanted to host a female student. They thought it'd be nice for me to have a ‘sister,’ even just for a year. I've got two brothers in college and now my stepbrother Frankie."

"Not Frankie!" A young boy's voice corrected her from somewhere up the stairs. "Franklyn!"

"Frankie," Alana said, raising her voice, "what did Hannibal tell you about eavesdropping?"

A moment later, a cherub-faced boy with a riot of dark hair came sulking down the stairs.

"He said it was rude," Franklyn sighed. "I apologize to you both."

He made a minute bow---the very same gesture Will had seen Hannibal make half a dozen times in classes. The kid obviously had an extreme case of hero worship and it was pretty cute.

"Apology accepted," Will said.

"As I was saying," Alana went on. "They were nervous about having some smooth European boy in the house with me, like he was gonna stamp his passport with my hymen or something, but it was clear from the start he had his eye on someone else."

Will's mouth was hanging open from her passport comment. All he could make was a vaguely idiotic noise.

"Oh, don't pretend you didn't know he’s liked you from the start," she said. "False modesty is so annoying. Your entire chin is covered in stubble burn."

"I-it's not false modesty!" Will protested, rubbing his chin. "I'm genuinely a moron!"

She laughed, and not cruelly. Will was kind of warming up to her.

"What's stubble burn?" Franklyn asked.

"It's when a boy likes you very much," Alana started, "and underestimates how quickly his facial hair grows."

Will was 100% certain he was going to combust, as it felt like his body temperature had more than doubled in an instant.

Luckily, Hannibal came downstairs at last. He was wearing a dark red henley, unbuttoned at the top to show a strand of honest-to-God chest hair. He drew up short on the last step as his eyes met Will's and his face lit up with the goofiest, most perfectly stupid grin of all time. Will found himself grinning back, unable to move, so struck he was by the vision of---

"Hello, Will."

"Hello, Hannibal."

"Oh my freaking God," Alana sighed.

Franklyn tried to bound over to Hannibal, but Alana grabbed his arm.

"Let go of me," fumed the boy.

"No, we're going to play video games," Alana told him. "And if you're good and leave Hannibal alone for a while, he'll make you a grilled cheese later. Isn't that right?'

"Completely right," Hannibal agreed. "With the fontina we like so much."

Franklyn gave a muffled squeal of delight.

Will didn't even remember getting out of his chair, but suddenly he was following Hannibal up the stairs.

"Interesting decor," Will said, looking around at the multiple Batman posters. "Never took you for a big movie fan."

Hannibal looked around the room as if seeing it for the first time. "Oh! I'd all but forgotten those. They belong to Alana's brother. I'm just borrowing the room so I thought I'd do well to redecorate it in my mind only."

Will frowned. "In your mind? How does that work?"

Hannibal took hold of his hand. "Close your eyes."  Will couldn't stop staring at their interlaced fingers. Hannibal gave his hand a squeeze and said, "Close your eyes."

Will did as he was told.

"I suspect you have an abundance of empathy," Hannibal said beside him.

That made Will snort. "Too much, some people tell me."

"Don't listen to them," Hannibal said. "It's a sign of a powerful imagination. You can put yourself in other people's minds. All you have to do is put yourself in other... places."

"Is that what you do??" Will asked. "Like...imagine yourself back home in Lithuania?"

"Not there," Hannibal said. "But in my favorite museums. Sometimes instead of Michael's poster over the bed, I think of Leda and the Swan by Francois Boucher, or Botticelli's Primavera."

Will squeezed his eyes shut, trying to conjure something into his mind. "I...don't know what those look like."

"Just think of something you like," Hannibal said. "It doesn't have to be art. It can be a place, real or fictional. Let it come to you."

Will slowed his breathing. He let everything in the room be wiped away, as if by a sweeping eraser, even Hannibal. In place of the oversized posters and sports memorabilia, he let ferns sprout up. Willows unfurled their branches, letting them fall like curtains made of delicate green beads. A stream sprang up around his feet, rising until the water circled his thighs, cool and somewhat viscous with algae. He'd forgotten to imagine himself a pair of waders.

He laughed.

Hannibal materialized in the stream with him, still holding his hand. "Where are we?" he asked, smiling.

"My favorite fishing place in Louisiana," Will said. "The fishing actually wasn't very good, but it was... peaceful. I didn't have to think so much about everything."

"What made you laugh just then?"

"Oh, I forgot my waders," Will said. He tried to imagine them on, but it was too late. "I feel the water going up my legs and it... uh... tickles."

"Are you naked?" Hannibal asked in a low voice. "Am I naked with you?"

Will burst out laughing. "No! No, I'm wearing jeans. We're both wearing what we're wearing here, in real life. We're wearing the same things in my imagination."

"Ah well, maybe next time," Hannibal said with an exaggerated sigh.

Will shook himself free of the scenery he'd created in his mind until they were standing in the bedroom again.

"How did you know?" he asked. "About my empathy, I mean. I usually try to keep that under wraps."

"Little things," Hannibal said. "The subtle changes in your expression when someone said in class that nobody really knew why bad men did bad things. You understood."

Will remembered that day. They'd been speaking of scientists who committed horrible crimes against their fellow human beings in the pursuit of knowledge or fame. Will knew exactly why they'd done these things, because he could all too easily put himself in their minds. He'd felt ill afterwards.

"I-I don't excuse what they---"

"Of course not," Hannibal cut him off. "Empathy isn't sympathy, though many mistakenly use the words interchangeably."

"You got all that from my facial expressions in class?" Will asked.

Hannibal rubbed the palm of his hand with his thumb. "I think you underestimate just how closely I've been looking at you. At first because you're clearly beautiful and you caught my eye, but then because I wanted to know you and hoped I would see some sign that you wanted to know me, too."

Will had no idea what to say to any of that, so he grabbed Hannibal by the waist and pulled him in for a kiss.

(to be continued)

[rantingcrocodile]

That’s... not what was said at all.

Individuals can be fine. The ideology surrounding it is the issue that forces it all to become my “damn business.” No other mental illness makes societal demands and lies about the truth. 

What other surgery is there that drastically changes the body is treated as the norm for any other mental illness? What other mental illness demands that words and the world changes to “protect” the sufferers to the detriment of others? If a small number of people genuinely suffer gender dysphoria, why should all women be reduced to “people who menstruate” instead of simply continue to be called women? 

The only reason that we know that intersex people exist is because there are two sexes, female and male. It’s also massively intersexist to bring them up. If you actually want to learn, this is a huge post that goes through intersex conditions so you can apologise for being bigoted.

If being trans was a natural human trait, then there would be proof of trans people across both time and culture and society, the same way that you will find lesbians, gay men and bisexuals both in Ancient Egypt, medieval England and will continue to find them if we reach the stars and settle in Alpha Centauri millennia from now. You cannot find trans people anywhere other than the past century. You also can’t use “before you say that, think about gay people!” when the trans rights movement denies that sexuality is real and is currently teaching that lesbians can be attracted to males. That is modern homophobia and it’s insulting and downright offensive to bring them up.

The “trans women of colour at Stonewall” lie is just that, a lie. Malcolm Michaels Jr was a gay man and his drag name was “Marsha P Johnson” and he wasn’t there at Stonewall. Sylvia Riviera wasn’t at Stonewall. The person that threw the first brick was Stormé DeLarverie, a lesbian WOC, not trans. 

More importantly than that: the US is not where “gay rights” came from. That’s incredibly US-centric of you and erases all of the lesbians, gay men, bisexual people and straight allies that fought damned hard for everything we have now. Don’t be so ignorant.

Also: “trans” =/= GNC. That’s especially galling for you to say, considering GNC women are pressured into calling themselves “non binary” or transitioning, since trans ideology needs gender stereotypes to conform.

The issue here is that you originally wanted to know why radfems talked about trans men and the dysphoria they feel, and I gave you an answer. The problem is that you didn’t like it and you don’t have an answer, so very quickly jumped ship to accuse me of being hateful, rush to pre-emptively call me homophobic for zero reason, and then perpetuate damaging lies created by the trans rights movement.

Do you see why you make it everyone else’s “damn business”?

If it was only about existing, no one would care, aside from a simple hope that you could live your life in peace. Instead, the “we’re just trying to survive!” rhetoric is used as a shield against everything else that’s harmful.

I’m not going to apologise for telling the truth about gender dysphoria and the lie that’s been sold about it to try and prevent women from harming themselves, and I’m also not going to apologise for fighting against an ideology that spreads bigotry and lies.

So, what now? Will you return to what we were actually talking about, or are you so frustrated that I gave a reasonable answer that you can’t argue against that you’re going to continue derailing the subject and call me a bigot of some kind? Because I certainly didn’t miss noticing that you completely avoided referencing my last reply to you at all to make derailing swipes instead.

I’m sorry that this was a wake-up call that you weren’t expecting when you tried to “own the radfems,” but someone has to tell you the truth. 

K bear with me guys but

I have seen so many Terfs infantalize the hell out of FTM people. It's actually disgusting like I have seen so many posts saying something along the lines of "Tif's are just delusional/they're just suffering from internalized misogyny/homophobia."

Like, ok

1) How would you fucking know about the intimate psychology that goes on in someone's brain. You're making a blanket statement over a wide group of people who all have exceptionally different life experiences and beliefs and intersectionalities.

2) Why are you assuming that FTM people don't have the capacity to identify their own feelings...? If someone says they're depressed or have anxiety or just feel sad, do you not believe them...?

Please for the love of God stop, the superiority complex is really showing through.

[ravkasqueen]

Rant about my day, read at own risk

Right, so today has been one of those days where I’ve come home and don’t know whether I should either cry or lie down and so instead of doing either of those things; I’m going to rant about it on Tumblr because, for all I know, someone out there may need to hear that they’re not alone.

Writing this, it feels more like a story but I really want people, especially any young female followers out there that I have that really, you’re not alone in this. Everyone has bad days and awkward encounters with the guys/people they like.

Please read below the cut if you struggle with things such as 

body image breakouts family issues  awkwardness when talking to boys crushes mental health issues and family who simply don’t understand

and, know you’re beautiful and not alone x

My day began as usual and I was in a good mood. I got to wake up an hour earlier than usual today and by the time I woke up I could tell it was going to be nice weather. Mentally planning an according outfit in which I would get to wear nice clothes which my embarrassing crush could see me wearing I got up and went about my business in the bathroom and began to put makeup on. However, that was when I learnt that the spots that I was hoping would have gone, had actually gotten worse. 

Nonetheless, I continued putting my makeup on, doing my best to cover my breakout. 

From there I went to put on the outfit I had planned but when I put the top on, I realised I had had a breakout across my chest and upon closer inspection; my back too. I wanted to cry. The top I had been planning to wear looked awkward with my boobs, which didn’t appear big enough to pull the top off and my acne could clearly be seen so I changed tops to another light one, because the weather was beginning to look very warm indeed.  

This top too showed my spots so I tried a final one. This one didn’t show my breakout but was too loose around the boobs and showed my bra so by this point, feeling very uncomfortable with my own body and like I could cry; I threw on a large, baggy jumper over my jeans abandoning all hope of my crush (who I never speak to anyway) would see me looking nice. 

My mum, whom I live alone with, didn’t know what to say about my insecurities and instead told me that we could book a doctors appointment for my depression after she caught me crying. Unfortunately, I did not react nicely and instead shut her out. 

However, when I actually did get to school, things only got more exciting. 

7 minutes before my first lesson of the day, I realised I hadn’t printed out the word document I had already prepared and needed for homework, the task being to print off a powerful speech of some kind (I picked Michele Obama) and so I ran up to the computer room, really nervous that I was going to be late as my teacher is rather strict. 

Once there, I spent ages trying to get my work to print off as my computer was being slow when my crush walked into the room. Now, I’m 17 and have never had a boyfriend in my life and have no idea whatsoever how to talk to guys who I like. So, with that in mind, the conversation went something like this:

Him: *laughs* printing off a speech?

Me: *omg he’s speaking to me whaddoido????* *awkward laugh* yeah, trying to get it done quickly.

Him: Hey would you mind printing me off a copy? I forgot to find one and my phone’s broken so I can’t see the group chat to see the homework we have to do.

And, essentially that’s what I did as by this point we had a minute to get to class on the other side of the school and it didn’t take much effort. Now, before I carry on - a bit about the guy I’m crushing on, he’s highly attractive and a fuckboi. Nothing more to say really. Why, you may ask, am I crushing on him? He makes Harry Potter references on a regular basis and he’s in my English class. He seems like a genuinely nice guy but I know he’s popular with girls. 

Regardless, I printed him off a sheet and we joked around for a bit. My hands were shaking and my throat felt constricted from how nervous I was. I’m fairly certain that my responses were too loud, too, and when he left to find a stapler I breathed a sigh of relief and logged off. When I left the computer room he was there, having just stapled his piece and we walked together for a bit and he made light conversation about our teacher, who’s just gone on maternity leave, and how we’re getting a new teacher. 

It meant so much to me that he didn’t just walk ahead and leave me behind as I knew he could of easily done. As I said, he’s rather popular and knew a lot of people around us well. 

However, something did happen (a girl lost her phone and he collected it from who I assumed to be a mutual friend) so I walked on alone. Thankfully my teacher actually wasn’t there when I arrived to class so it didn’t matter that I was late. 

Though, at lunch it got stranger. I never see this boy around, ever, but as the weather was warm (I was dying in my jumper, I really was) we sat outside and he was there - sitting at the table directly behind us. 

Nothing much happened (though, when they started playing football the ball was kicked and it hit my arse which was highly embarrassing) but when this happened, I could hear him from behind me yelling (jokingly) at his friend who had done it. 

I was also called Jasmine by some random guy and was just like ‘mate if you don’t know someone's name, don’t guess?’

Long story short, there are different sides to everyone. It doesn’t matter if you cannot talk to guys, as sometimes the guy may not be worth it anyway. Bad days happen to everyone. 

I’ve had a few asks over my time on Tumblr, some of you calling me beautiful, some of you telling me I’m ‘goals’. My friends all think I have a great life. They think I’m this happy, bubbly, cute, sweet person.

 The truth is; I suffer from mental illnesses just like a large population of this world. I cannot talk to guys. I stuggle with my body image. I get acne. I have bad breakouts. I snap at the people who care when I grow tired of them not understanding what I’m going through.

I, like everyone else, am simply human. 

And, this is what makes me and everyone else on this planet, beautiful. 

[hanzi83]

Thoughts on Meltzer Situation Tying in with Other Things

I don’t know if what I am going to write will become a blog or will it just be something that is in my journal but I wanted to cover the way stories are covered and how outrage culture has seemed so aggressive and how it has been misconstrued as fascists, when the stuff prior was what was fascist and authoritarian, but we never realized it because the attitudes and normalcy that existed in prior generations, and because different factions have had truth, mixed with propaganda, we have decided to take one take or another. All I can assume is the world works in layers and what is being presented on the surface is symbolism, and whether the narratives are propaganda for the sake of evil, and the sake of good.

I constantly try to analyze it in my head, and maybe because of me never thinking that deeply in my life prior and now that I feel like I am lied to by the media, the alternate media, the public figures told to spew an opinion, and even people in my own life. My fragile mind cannot handle how much I don’t know, and the people online are putting out false information, and then the mainstream want to eliminate it due to danger, then the worry if that is their way of eliminating the truth, then I wonder if that is done on purpose because we are supposed to call it out.

I keep saying my mentally ill brain is not worthy of living in this time because of how much I dumbed myself down since childhood and now that I know how to kind of use my brain, I am living in a time where everything is coming at you at once, and because I have had the tendency of following someone’s way of thinking, because since I was born I always followed someone else’s way of thinking or mimic what kind of attitudes to have. I have been through so many personalities, it is not even funny. I have gone through more gimmicks than Ed Leslie, and I have been through so many heel and baby face turns than Big Show and Kane combined. I can’t remember how I thought in certain periods, what kind of shit I have said because I was irrationally angry and going through my manic phase, or whether I was joking around and due to what I see from people I have been influenced from in the entertainment field, I have thought you had to adopt those thoughts, All of this goes through my mind.

I’m setting it up this way because I don’t know how to analyze a seemingly cogent story that is going on in social media where journalist in professional wrestling, Dave Meltzer was commenting on how different female wrestler Peyton Royce has looked different and was taken out of context, but then there are those that say even with context a journalist shouldn’t be judging a woman’s body etc, even though it was not done disrespectfully. As much as people want to get with treating women and especially people properly, I feel like it is overdone and it is done in an organized way where it comes across like the ones shitting on Meltzer come off worse, even though seemingly they are just sticking up for their friend who is offended. I can look it as simple as that, but because I believe there are layers to this, even if there is conspiracy about why they decided to call him out and in organized fashion the entire WWE roster piled on about it, or is that also supposed to be what is supposed to feel like the conspiracy, that it is supposed to look like WWE are the bad guys.

I personally of the belief that certain people in position of power had to serve evil at one point and present ignorance and regression in the culture and attitude while making it seem like it was freedom of speech and this is what edginess is, and then there was a culture shift that happened where that was going to counter the evil by having a voice for good things, even if it comes in a limited fashion and it seems like they just want to pussify everything like the conservative type are pointing out while they complain about being victims.  So is calling out Meltzer supposed to symbolize that, that old way of thinking and judging women is going to be frowned upon, and do we need some kind of outrage just to keep the balance if people make those comments. So now the people who are now on the good side, have to pay for their old sins so they will want social progression, but they will present it in such a pretentious way that it makes it seem like it is phony, then we find out they didn’t really believe in what they are preaching.

So in this example, WWE promoting a women evolution, which is intended to become a genuine change, but instead of making it a genuine change you will show this “out of nowhere” attitude about respecting women so then it gets called out and then there is a genuine change from being called out. I don’t fucking know. This is why I am in my parents’ basement, so right now since you dismiss me and not acknowledge me, then don’t take my opinions seriously since you don’t count me in. I have acted horribly and said irrational things and I talk so much shit in the hopes the punishment is that I have to die or something. I use wrestling in this example, but it can really be applied to everything that is going on.

The problem with being dumbed down for most of my life is that I want to believe different factions have good sides to them, like it is a good thing we are calling out Trump and Putin because something might be revealed about them, but they are doing a horrible job while the independent media points it out that there are inconsistencies, double standards, and history of lies from the past. The media has lied so much, so when the big bad wolf Trump threatens them, obviously it should be called out, but there is validity to the fact that media has lied multiple times. Now they have Trump spewing that, and since you are supposed to hate him and everything he says, now we are defending the CIA, FBI, and the media, who have had a hand in more chaos in this world. What I think is there is something up with Russia and Putin, and while I agree to call out the entire system like independent media does, but sometimes I feel like some of them might be compromised a little, and in order to get any of your message out then you have to kind of sell out a little. It fucks with my mind, because I look at the history of America pointing out other evil foreign leaders, but never include that they have done business with them and have organized chaos in their countries, it makes me wonder if that person is actually evil or is it because American has lied about this. I wonder if it is supposed to be called out with guys like Kim and Putin, but due to America crying wolf all the time, now people don’t believe the media. If there is something going on with Trump and Putin, is this the way they expose it, even though the meddling with the election was scripted to happen.

Is it supposed to represent there is a good side and they have infiltrated these organizations to take down Trump and the right wing mentality that has dominated for a long fucking time, or are the democrats supposed to be called out for being centrist and corporatist so we can ring in a new progressive moment. Are we all playing roles in this, and are people who did bad things were initiations to get into the system and depending on how they are supposed to be seen, you will find out about shady things they have done. I know people would prefer me go for Occam’s razor with this thing and accept the easiest explanation is the right one, but I think there are layers to all of this. It is 5 dimensional chess while most people can barely master the game of checkers. So with Alex Jones getting banned, does that represent good, even though there is concern that government and tech companies having control of what people can see because they might come for people’s freedom on the left, which they already have done? Even though they have censored really progressive though, as progressive as some thought is with the independent left, I believe there are even more to that, and then the right complains about their freedom of speech but never fight for any of the leftists who lose their voice.

Can I be happy that someone like Jones is being taken down, because he has made a career of fucking with the conspiracy movement, because even though I used to kind of follow the beginning stages of the alt right conspiracies, because there were valid conspiracies lumped in with them, I believe that he was always meant to be a disinformation agent and anyone who doesn’t believe the official narratives they get put in there. Do I think people could fake their death? Sure, I believe people in the system can actually die, but because of advanced technology who is to say they aren’t clones of that person, or DNA taken from them to be used in some kind of android. If project immortality is actually a fact, where they will use your DNA for another planet if something happens on earth, why can’t I assume they have already got that kick started. At minimum there was something organized with shootings, and maybe it is done on purpose because they put the conspiracy out there that they will come for people’s guns, so then people would go out and buy more, but I don’t believe people can just randomly have guns and do these shootings if it wasn’t given the go ahead. Authorities would be watching people, especially since 9/11. I am allowed believing that. I wouldn’t encourage people to harass the families of the victims, and I can see them getting rid of Jones for doing that, but I personally feel it represents him going and his time being done, or it is an attempt to make him a martyr to his base. They hate Jones but hate him for the wrong reasons at times.

I do think the good that exists is bringing out more information and the excuse of that is because “we are in such a period where information is coming out faster” but it feels like it is just a data dump of stuff they had hidden from us for so long. Again I don’t know any of this and I don’t know if this is true or possible, and maybe that is my fucked up way because I can’t understand what is being presented. My brain cannot handle it. So maybe I have become this person who has concocted a bunch of theories because I believe movies and television shows implement hidden truths about how the world is or what it will be. I don’t fucking know. Maybe it will be revealed there will be technological advancements made?

So back to this WWE thing, because fuck smooth transitions, I wonder if there is conspiracy that this Trump supporting company, that somehow has not been analyzed compared to the other cabinet members of Trump,  is acting like they are socially progressive and then having access journalists and podcasts tied to them to fuck with the independent movement going on. I personally believe, and I don’t have proof of this, but I can put a theory together that I think WWE is pissed at Meltzer for pointing out that WWE will push women who get breast implants, have blonde hair and spray tan. Maybe that is supposed to shatter the perception that WWE has not changed their way of thinking and are just doing an evolution just to look good, and then the other rumor was they were pissed about NJPW/ROH selling out MSG so now they have these coordinated attacks on him. Maybe it also represents that Meltzer time in the spotlight is done and there needed to be a symbolic way for it to happen. The fact that this is happening in an era where people are going to call each other out for their hypocritical behavior, maybe it is an excuse for now the floodgates to open.

Maybe me kind of losing it on twitter how disgusting the organized effort seemed like it was a storyline or a scripted attack, when the employees of the company cannot even speak out how they feel about Hogan being allowed to come back, or how they are associated with a president that has bragged about sexual assault, and the fact that there have been accusations toward people in the company about how they treat women. It feels like that entire era of entertainment promoted such misogynist way of thinking, that it seeps in time to time with how we talk about them. I fall into that trap, even though I am just irrational and pushing people away or if I am just joking around because I have learned from the Stern Show, and other forms of entertainment that just saying stupid shit might be harmless, and it ties into Alex Jones because if you can state that his banned for inciting violence like someone has the influence to do that, then you can’t act like other art forms in the past were meant to promote negative ways of thinking, whether it was self destruction, racism, misogyny, homophobia, transphobia, and propping up drama and fighting because that is what is interesting. My point the last few years of using these tropes have been to show it isn’t edgy and it doesn’t mean shit and it isn’t the be all end all of freedom, and sometimes it was used because I thought arguing with people you had to go the lowest route since I have seen people at school, or on radio etc do that and if you were too nice and wanted to be peaceful you would be seen as a pussy so I bought into this, and because I didn’t like thinking for myself I would fall for the counter culture arguments. My fucked up brain goes back into time to time. No one ever wants to analyze that mental illness, because we give a limited narrative of mental illness.

So is this a storyline to symbolize a positive way of thinking, even if it comes in pretentious ways, or is it meant to be pretentious so that it will be revealed the people preaching overly PC thinking are actually lying because then it will excuse more right wing way of thinking that everyone is a hypocrite and they all say misogynist, racist, homophobic etc things. These people who are joining on this witch hunt of Meltzer, who present themselves as male feminists, to me are probably just as worse behind the scene. I want to see their group chats, I want to see what they have posted in their burner accounts, or is that information going to be withheld because of the deal they made with the system? I feel like the fan bases and podcasts now have some way in the direction of the culture, and they are bribed by some of the talents they are fans of now. I seriously believe that, and that is why they white knight for them so hard, just like I think when people overly shit on someone of talent, there is a personal vendetta. We pretend everyone is being judged fairly but there is definitely bias and it is all political.

If what I am thinking is true, and some of the same people who will not call out McMahon’s history of evilness, and initiations he has probably put others through in his frat house then why should I respect you for going after an easy target and someone who has probably been controlled by the WWE. If wrestlers are pissed with the way fans think now or how journalists cover wrestling, you can blame Vince. I personally believe he is the one who controls the narrative, but because we hear that he is senile and out of his mind, that he can’t think like he used to, and I don’t buy it. You can put all your stories about him not knowing what a burrito is, and him wanting to put a fucking blue dot over Christian’s face because he didn’t like his face, I don’t buy any of it. I believe they are a more petty company than they lead on, and maybe that is by design because we are supposed to call it out, but the way they excuse the shit that has gone on and still goes on, because they think it is more progressive now is utterly pathetic.

So because I get anxious and hate how people are piled on for even apologizing and people telling him about his tone is just fucking stupid, because you would never have the balls to do that with WWE, and you can keep claiming you can do both, but the point is you don’t, and if you do, it is such a limited narrative in the shadiness that went on. I never hear people look into this Ashley Massario covered up rape she was alleging happened or how Vince himself has been accused of it. It is a shame too, because WWE happened to get brown and black people who kind of shill for them, while they might cover the on the surface safe and easy racial issues, but still are supposed to be their token for the company. That is what it comes across, and it makes me lose my mind that the hypocritical behavior continues and because people have a vendetta against Meltzer they will use it to fuck with him as well. If you personally have a vendetta against him that is fine, I have not agreed with his opinion and assessment of certain talent and I do believe his fans are always ready to defend anything he ever does, so I don’t have a dog in the race, but it felt like such a gross company organized thing to do this. And then there are those who are deflecting it and shitting on other journalists because they think that.

The same ones who are accusing Starrcast of being racist for not having black representation at the podcast convention, and I agree there should be or was that another plotted thing by the WWE to help create some tension for the event itself and having people have a problem with it while not holding WWE accountable about how minorities and women are treated but can’t be discussed because we need this false narrative of a woman evolution and all these people care about is pretentious symbolism, while they are still required to get naked and parade their body around, while it might not be in the product, it has gone beyond the product and in their real life. You just think that is them living their life, but anything you see on social media is scripted to happen. We don’t know that for sure, and you surely shouldn’t take my word for it because I have no proof and these are all just fucked up theories. This whole thing could just be a storyline in the grand scheme of things but I don’t even know what is going on half the time. Like I said I am just some bi polar Pakistani who has entirely too much time on his hand while at the same time I am feel I have too much coming toward my fucking brain.

I felt like me speaking out really triggered me because I feel the company or maybe more Stern trolls were all organizing to put me down for speaking out with childish insults. I wonder if these same people are responsible human beings with fake accounts. So they will get mad at Meltzer but potentially these same male feminists are fucking with people on burner accounts and then having the luxury of being these nice people who just mind their own business. Obviously I can’t report it but if any of you in the industry have a problem with me, you can show up with your account. Show your fan base what kind of asshole you are, and it is funny you might use the excuse of not wanting to get fired but I can take a gander that your fucked up employer is such a fucking immature asshole, he would probably tell you to fuck with people. Maybe the employed fan base do it so they can take their kids to these events or go behind the scenes and get endless perks. I could have done that too, but I actually tried to have some principals, and I admit irrationally I get pissed that I didn’t give in because maybe my life could be easier have I had complied. Maybe it was a good thing I didn’t because I would be jumping and piling on for these pretentious attacks while taking blood money and then telling the world you are progressive.