#but i'll take all of that if it means a permanent space that belongs to me.

[queenerdloser]

so i grew up in apartments. always apartments - if we were lucky, my parents got a duplex, but those trickled away as i got older. and not like nice condo apartments, but the mid-tier paying too much for slightly shabby accommodations apartments. the apartments where you couldnt do anything to them if you wanted your deposit back and if you are a day late with rent you under the threat of eviction.

i was recently talking to a coworker about home ownership - one of our other coworkers (younger than me) bought her first house with her spouse and we were chatting about it. and this coworker is older, in her 60s, and was fretting about how this young couple might regret buying a house and how much WORK it is and how they couldn't possibly anticipate how difficult home ownership is and on and on.

and i tried to explain to her that like - for my generation, home ownership is this unattainable dream for a lot of us. and after living my entire life in transience - always moving, always aware that my living situation wasn't permanent, always worried about doing something against my lease that would get me evicted, constantly hemmed in by what my landlord said i could or couldn't do with my own private living space - that yes, i would take the extra work of home ownership if it meant stable permanence. i can't begin to describe how dreamlike that feels to me - a place that belongs to me, that i can do whatever i want with, that i can stay in for years and years. yes, the upkeep can be a lot with houses. yes, the responsibility for everything will fall on me. my coworker brought this up repeatedly after i affirmed i didn't care, as if i just wasn't hearing her. but the fact is, i would take a lot more hardships if it meant i could live permanently and i just. genuinely don't care about the additional work in light of that. and i think anyone who grew up in a house or largely lived in permanent residences is going to have trouble seeing eye-to-eye with me on that, bc this is 100 percent coming from a place of always always always living in apartments.

[two-white-butterflies]

violets for roses | c16

Description: Charles breaks up with you in search for higher ground. Where he realizes that he needs you beside him in order to truly win.

Pairing: charles leclerc/neurosurgeon!reader

Rating: Teen [jealousy, angst]

When he told you that he needed space - you gave it to him willingly, without any doubts or questions - because you knew deep inside that he'd come crawling back - that you couldn't live without each other. But when he wanted to make that space permanent? It caught you off guard.

"What do you mean?" you could feel your throat threaten to leak green bile. He seemed calm and composed from the other side of the call - a complete opposite of you. "I don't think that we're going to work in the long term, bebe." he dare used a nickname.

A small shudder escaped your lips.

"I don't understand," you shook your head - playing with the bracelet that he gifted you. "I want to focus on the championship." he began to explain his side of the story, but you couldn't help interrupt him. "Are you calling me a distraction?" you bite your lower lip.

You felt stupid.

Stupid because you weren't aware of his feelings. Unaware of the storm that was brewing inside of his mind. "I'm calling myself easily distracted," he defended you - knowing that half of his heart still belonged to the woman inside of you. "I-I think you're too good for me. You deserve someone who can stand beside you - hold your hand through accomplishments. That's not me." he prefaced.

While you were saving lives - he was toying with his own.

"Look at the future, bebe. Can you see a person who's barely there? I know you - I know that you want to be perfect. You dream about those white fences, a four bedroom house, kids that go to school - I can't give you that." he persuaded you, knowing deep inside his heart that he could give you that.

He could give you the family that you wanted - but he wanted to fix his life first. He wanted to make a name for himself.

"Well, there's no use in trying to force you to do something." you hum, wiping the tears away from your eyes.

"Goodbye, Leclerc." you hang up.

Charles_Leclerc: A single picture, yet it gives me a million emotions. I enjoyed being with you. I enjoyed drinking martinis by the beach and rolling down the sand dunes in Dubai. I enjoyed dancing in Ibiza, and singing down the streets of Los Angeles. I had fun, and I loved you - but good things must come to an end. Thank you, doctora. ❤️

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dr_yn_official: I'll be getting over you, my whole life. Merci du fond du coeur. @Charles_Leclerc

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CHARLES LECLERC AND GIRLFRIEND'S BREAKUP TO MATTY HEALY AND TAYLOR SWIFT SPLIT. (by deuxmoi)

Deuxmoi: Now I got this from one of his girlfriend's close friend, that Charles wanted to focus on the championship while she wanted to focus more on their relationship. A few months before their public breakup, they had a little break (now they didn't specify how long the 'break' lasted but they broke up officially before they got back together).

Unknown: That's shitty, because isn't Charles 25? He's old enough to know that a person should focus on what their girlfriend needs.

Deuxmoi: Yeah! And apparently, he was very 'fuck off' manner and he was all about himself. He was always talking about what he wanted and what he needed.

Unknown: Oh my god!

Deuxmoi: Now I'm gonna start this off by saying that I'm not taking any sides, but my source told me that Y/N was bending over backwards to provide what he needed and wanted. At the end (he spoke up about their faults by phone call by the way) - at the end she just went 'alright i don't wanna make our relationship a favor to you' and broke up with him.

Unknown: She broke up with him?

Deuxmoi: Yes, she did.

"Are you alright?" your co-worker places a hand on your shoulder, seeing that you weren't able to finish the surgery. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have stepped into the OR knowing that I'm like this." you sigh, leaning into the cold metal chair. You've seen the tweets about you. You've seen the hashtags on twitter. It wasn't helping.

"It's okay, you're the best surgeon in the hospital - and Dr. Alawi has finished the operation. No harm done - but I will be telling HR." the nurse warns you, and you answer with a nod. Fair is fair. "It's just hard getting over a breakup," you admit - wiping the sweat off your forehead. " -especially when it's with someone I see a future with."

She sits down beside you, offering a bottle of water.

"I don't want to ask anything personal, but if you need someone. I'll be here to help you - I'm sure that you'll see someone better." she comforted. "Lots of fish in the sea." she joked, earning a small laugh.

She glances at you - seeing the sad look on your face.

"Guess what," she smiled and you turned to look at her. "What?" you inquired - watching her open her phone. "You should go on a date, something that'll take your mind off him." she offered, showing you a picture of her cousin. "He's also a neurosurgeon. Dr. Pritchett, you'll love him." she smiled, browsing through his instagram posts.

A sigh escapes your mouth. Anything to get rid of Charles.

"Give me the date, I'll be there." you tell her, and she begins typing on her phone - presumably messaging the man.

The friendship between you and Dr. Pritchett grew with every event that he invited you to join. Soon enough, you find yourself tolerating his company - often leaning into his touch willingly.

"This institution was founded by my grandfather, Mr. Patel. It's helped so much patients that suffer from brain related diseases. I can't imagine a Monaco without it." your date boasted, touring the entire crowd around the tapestries hung around the hospital.

"The number of sponsors and volunteers grow with every month, now thanks to Formula One collaborating with us - we help a lot more people." he chuckled, hands rubbing comforting circles on your back - you almost forgot that your ex-boyfriend was in the crowd.

"It's beautiful here, I didn't expect it to be a hospital." Toto complimented, taking a slow sip of his champagne. He was one of the hospital's biggest donator. Truly, a nice guy. "We wanted it to feel like home." you add - showing them around the new building.

Your eyes trail towards the man beside him - Charles Leclerc.

"It feels like that," he hummed - a small frown on his face. You were getting on his nerves now - and so was the man beside you. "Most of our patients are children, the adults are in the other wing." Dr. Pritchett added, glancing at you. "We tried to make it as colorful as possible, but it's a hospital - decorum is needed." you hum, fingers dancing along the rim of your glass.

Why couldn't you stop thinking about him?

officialyour_name: the annual st. luke's gala. thank you so much to @formulaone and @scuderiaferrari for sponsoring tonight's event. also to the f1 grid who are in full attendance!

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Charles had a lot of guts marching towards you.

"Hey," he breathed seeing that sad pout on your face. "Hey," you smiled at him - surprised to see him walking towards you with such bravery. Didn't he walk out of the door a few months ago?

"You're in a new relationship, huh?" he chuckled bitterly, sitting down on the wooden chair beside you. "Well, it's not a relationship - it's more of a friendship." you admit, doctors and formula one drivers have a lot in common - they both didn't have time for relationships.

Dr. Pritchett saw you as eye-candy. Something to pass time around.

"That relaxes me a bit," he hummed - letting the alcohol take full control of the situation. "I regret breaking up with you, to be honest." he scratched his nose, fearing your response. "Charles, don't." you warn him a disapproving stare.

You already learned from the past - you already let go of your wings in order to fly. He didn't have the right to take that away. He didn't have the right to take away your independence.

"I can't stop thinking about you, and I want to get back - together, bebe." he used the same term of endearment, waiting patiently for your reply. "You can't be serious," you scoff - feeling the eyes on you.

"I'll give you time, but you know how to find me." he stood up.

and you'll always find him.

(ONE YEAR LATER)

officialyour_name: never thought i'd be sharing a candid shot, but here we are ❤️

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"I can never seem to get rid of you," you chuckle - laying on the sand and watching him attempt to make a sand-castle. It's been six months since you last gave him a chance. Twelve months since that fateful gala. You've never been happier. "Well, you're jealous because my sand castles are beautiful." he boasted, filling it with water.

"Sure, bebe." you teased.

He's changed a lot. He's more honest with his feelings. He talks to you about his problems - instead of keeping it to himself.

He wasn't a good boyfriend before - but he was a great boyfriend now.

Charles_Leclerc: We gave it a bit of thinking, and we realized that we look better together. I realized that I'm better with her. Cheers to dancing in Ibiza, singing down L.A, slipping down Dubai, and drinking Martinis by the beach. @officialyour_name

248 comments 724,192 likes

soldforparts12: YES! I KNEW THAT THIS WOULD HAPPEN

officialyour_name: I LOVE YOU

officialyour_name: We look better in RED. Missed you, drama king.

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[sequinsmile-x]

Our Great Divide - Chapter 8: Leave it All behind, and There is Happiness

It's what they'd hoped would happen for years. For close to a decade it's what they would talk about late at night whilst snuggled up in bed together, quiet voices whispering about a life where Jack and Haley came back, where Jack could meet his siblings and their family would finally feel complete. Now it was finally happening, Emily had a pit in her stomach. A heavy weight made of fear and guilt as she worried that this could actually be the thing that tore them apart.

A Foyet Arc AU

-x-

Hi friends,

Well, here we are at the last chapter!! Thank you so, SO much for your love for this fic. It really does mean the world. I'm sure I'll revisit this universe at some point for a prequel or a sequel (or both!)

As always, let me know what you think.

-x-

Warnings: Full list of warnings can be found on the Master List

Words: 3.2K

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

“I don’t want Jack to go.” 

Emily sighs as she looks at Stella, the pout on her little girl’s face as adorable as it was pitiful. It makes sadness swell in Emily’s chest, the familiar ache that came with saying goodbye settling low in her gut, the seeds of it taking root as she picks the toddler up and rests her on her hip. Stella immediately presses herself against her, her face in her neck, her tiny hands tight in the neckline of her shirt, and it allows Emily to push her own sadness aside, to focus on her daughter’s over her own. 

“I know, baby,” she says, stroking Stella’s hair, running her fingers through the wild locks that could seemingly never be tamed, “We’ll all miss him, but things aren’t going back to how they used to be, remember?” She kisses the side of her head, smiling against her temple when she nods, “We’ll see him again over the summer, and he said he’d call you all the time.” 

Stella huffs as she pulls back, her lip still stuck out in a pout. Emily pokes it, smiling when it draws a smile out of her little girl, however fleeting, her dimples making a brief appearance before she remembers she’s sad. 

“I don’t like goodbyes.” 

She feels the sorrow start to bloom, the flowers of it taking up space in her chest in a way that makes it hard to breathe. She used to be good at goodbyes. They were par for the course with her life. First when she was young - permanently the new kid and never somewhere long enough to make friendships worth saying goodbye to. Then with her chosen career, since being a spy didn’t necessarily go hand in hand with making friends, and then when she was in Paris - a goodbye that had stolen from her. Her friends all sure she was dead, their arms aching with the phantom weight of her coffin when she was sitting in an apartment on another continent wondering what she could have done differently. Even that had felt inevitable. Every day she’d spent happy and content as she found somewhere she belonged in the BAU another step towards a goodbye, something her life had taught her was always just around the corner. 

Aaron, and by extension their children, had taken that ability from her. The idea of leaving people behind, of moving forward without them, suddenly something she couldn’t bear even when it was simple things like their first day at school. When Hugo started kindergarten, the fear of Foyet still looming, she’d been inconsolable. Able to hold herself together until he was safely in his classroom, his eyes wide and shining as he turned back to wave at her and Aaron. She’d cried the entire journey home, the words goodbye, see you later bitter on her tongue as she rode in the back of the car with Leo, her hand wrapped around his tiny foot as Aaron drove them home. 

“Me neither, sweet girl,” she says, rubbing a circle on Stella’s back, her gaze briefly drifting over to where Aaron was sitting on the couch with Jack, Hugo and Leo, the two young boys all but hanging off their older brother. “But it’s okay to be sad.” 

Stella huffs and leans forward, her forehead against Emily’s cheek as she snuggles deeper into her embrace, “Daddy will be sad.”

Emily nods and kisses Stella’s forehead, “He will be, but we can look after him, right?” She asks, and Stella nods. Her attention is drawn towards the boys again, Hugo and Leo’s chatter loud and well-intentioned, but drowning out a moment Aaron was trying to have with his eldest, one of the last ones they’d have in person for a while, “Let's go take Hugo and Leo outside, huh?” She says, bouncing Stella on her hip, drawing a laugh from her, “Give Daddy and Jack some time alone.” 

Stella nods and scrambles down from Emily’s embrace. The moment she’s on the ground she runs towards her brothers, her expression as determined as her movements as she demands Hugo and Leo go outside with her just as Emily knew she would. Stella had them all wrapped around her little finger, as she had since the moment she was born, so neither Emily nor Aaron are surprised when she quickly convinces them to go with her. Emily follows them, content to keep her children entertained outside and she winks at her husband, shaking her head slightly when he smiles at her in thanks. 

He never had to thank her for this - for loving him. He loved her in the same way. Deeply and without condition. The kind of love they both liked to think they deserved after everything they’d been through both together and apart. 

Aaron watches as they go outside, the happy loud chaos that fills every corner of their home following them out, fading as they make it to the backyard. He smiles as he turns to Jack, “They’ll miss you.” 

Jack smiles and nods, “I’ll miss them too,” he shrugs slightly, “And you and Emily.” 

“We’ll miss you too buddy,” he replies, “And when you come back in the summer we’ll decorate your room.” 

He beams at that, “No Captain America sheets?” 

Aaron laughs, “No. Unless you want them.” 

Jack shakes his head, “I think I outgrew them a while ago,” he says, his smile fading as he says it, the sadness that lingered in every conversation they had taking back over. He swallows thickly and looks at a picture of him and Aaron on the wall, a picture he has no memory of being taken, their smiles wide as they look at the camera. His gaze drifts towards the neighbouring picture, one of Emily sitting in a hospital bed with a tiny Stella asleep in her arms, Hugo and Leo on either side of her and Aaron with his arm around them all,  “I’m not mad at you for having them. Or for marrying Emily,” Jack says as he turns to look at Aaron, embarrassed over talking about his feelings in a way only a teenager could be, “I always used to worry about you being here by yourself.” 

“I was for a little while,” Aaron replies, his chest stuttering at the memory of it. How he was suddenly left with nothing, his son torn away from him by a man who had tried to ruin his life. For a long time, he thought that he had. He thought that Foyet had won, but he slowly picked up the pieces, and then eventually he let Emily help him do it too. Her touch delicate, her heart liable to damage in those early days on the sharper edges of what was left of him as she learnt where all his pieces went, “Before Emily.” 

“I wish I could have been a part of it.”

Aaron places his hand on Jack’s shoulder and squeezes, desperate to press a decade's worth of love into it, every moment they’d missed together in the air around them. “Me too,” he says, squeezing his shoulder again, “But you can be part of it now. You are part of it now.” 

Jack nods and pulls his father into a hug, his arms tight around him as he seeks out everything he hasn’t had in the last decade. Every single hug and kiss and bandaid pressed against a scraped knee pressed into one moment. Into one hug that, even two months ago, would have been the thing of a dream. A phantom embrace that would linger once they woke. An embrace neither of them would have been able to place, their memories of each other as out of date as they were faint. 

“Love you, Dad.” 

Aaron kisses his head and then holds him closer, his arms tight around his son as he soaked up as much of him as he could. Desperately reminding himself that he wasn’t losing him, not this time. He could call and text and visit, and that was something he would have prayed for just weeks ago. Whispered appeals to a god he didn’t believe in, hoping that someone was listening, to get him exactly what he had now.

“I love you too, Jack.”

___

Aaron smiles as Stella sinks into his side, both of her arms wrapped around one of his as she encourages him to turn the page of the book in his hands, the only other sound in the room Emily reading to Leo through the wall.

“On went the mouse through the deep dark wood. 

A snake saw the mouse, and the mouse looked good. 

"Where are you going to, little brown mouse? Come for a feast in my log pile house." 

"It's wonderfully good of you, Snake, but no – I'm having a feast with a Gruffalo."

“Daddy, you need to do the voices like Mommy,” Stella says, huffing like she has the weight of the world on her shoulders, “Mommy says you’re like the Gruffalo. You should do the voice.” 

Aaron raises his eyebrow and looks down at his daughter, his smile amused when he’s met with her indignant expression, as if he were looking at a mini Emily, “Mommy says I’m like the Gruffalo?” 

She nods, “She says people think you look scary but you’re soft,” she frowns as she says it outloud, as if she’d never considered it before, “But I don’t think you’re scary.” 

“Neither does Mommy,” he comments under his breath, storing away the information to tease his wife with later, “You should have your eyes closed my little star,” he says, poking her nose, smiling when she scrunches it up, “You’re supposed to be going to sleep.”

“You’ll do the voices?” 

He sighs and nods, “I’ll do the voices,” he relents, wondering how he was once capable of staring down killers without blinking but was now entirely unable to argue with his toddler, “But close your eyes.” 

He carries on reading, making a point of doing the voices as she’d ask, unable to fight his smile as her giggles get quieter each time, her body heavier against his side. When he’s finished, he slips out from under her. He tucks her up, making sure her favourite toy is in her arms, and he leans down to kiss her forehead. 

“Love you, princess,” he says, kissing her forehead again before he steps away. 

“Daddy?” 

He pauses and turns back, her voice thick with sleep, her eyes barely open as she looks at him, “Yes, Stella?” 

“I’ll stay forever so you won’t be sad,” she says, her words slurred, seeping into each other as she loses her battle with sleep. 

He stands there in silence for a few moments, her innocent words creating an ache deep in his gut. He knows she means it now, that she couldn’t imagine a world where she was anywhere except by his and Emily’s side, but he already finds himself sad at the thought of her as a teenager. Every bit as beautiful and wilful as her mother as she pushed her limits. He wished they could all stay small forever. That they’d always be close enough for him to protect and keep safe. But he also loved to watch them grow, loved watching them become their own people. It was the one part of parenthood he struggled with, one that had been as sharp as it ever had as they waved Haley and Jack off that afternoon. 

“Sleep well, Stella,” he whispers even though she’s already asleep and he steps out into the hallway, blowing out a shuddering breath as he closes the door behind him. 

“Are you okay, honey?” 

He looks up at Emily and sighs, shrugging because he doesn’t really know how he feels. The familiar joy and sorrow he’d been used to over the last decade overwhelming him as he steps towards his wife, “I don’t know.” 

She smiles sadly as she closes the gap between them, wrapping her arms around him as she sinks against him. She rests her cheek against his chest and lets him hold her tightly, letting him take everything he needs. She shares her strength with him, lets it seep from her skin to his, just as he had for her countless times before - the give and take that was the bedrock of their marriage. 

“That’s okay,” she says, running her hand up and down his back, her palm warm against his skin as she sneaks it under his polo shirt, “I don’t think there is a right way to feel with all of this,” she smiles softly as she pulls back, her eyes soft as they meet his, “I’m proud of you though.” 

He furrows his brow, “Proud of me?”

She nods, her teeth sinking into her lower lip for a moment before she leans up to kiss him, her forehead against his when she pulls back, “You’re a good man. The best, actually,” she cups his cheek and kisses him again, “You let your son do what was best for him, even though it hurts.” 

He sighs, his eyes drifting closed as he nods, his forehead knocking lightly against hers, “We’ll see him again soon.”

It was a mantra of sorts, one they’d repeated again and again in the last week or so, and one they both knew they’d continue to repeat until it came true.

“We’ll see him again.” 

They stand in silence, wrapped up around each other outside their children’s bedrooms, seeking the comfort they’d only been able to find in each other. 

“Emily?”

She hums, “Yes, honey?” 

“What’s this I hear about me being like the Gruffalo?” 

___

June 2016

Emily smiles as the door to her hospital room opens, her hand stilling on Stella’s back for a moment as Aaron walks in, careful as he pulls the door closed behind him.

“The boys are okay?” She asks, turning her head to kiss Stella’s dark hair. Aaron nods and walks over to join them, sitting on the edge of the bed so he can be as close to his girls as possible.

“They are both obsessed with their little sister,” he says, kissing Stella’s head and then Emily’s cheek, “I have a feeling they’ll be talking Penelope’s ear off about her until she gets them to sleep tonight.”

Emily chuckles, “Well, Pen famously isn’t as strict with bedtime as we are,” she says, her smile soft as she looks down at their daughter, “And I can’t blame them for being obsessed with her. She’s perfect.” 

“Just like her Mommy,” Aaron replies, his smile wide when she rolls her eyes at him, her reaction to his softness as predictable as his words themselves. “Hugo was telling Leo all about how to be a good big brother.” 

She smiles, her cheeks and her heart aching with the happiness she still struggled to accept was hers some days. “They’re sweet,” she replies, smiling down at Stella, “I hope we get out of here tomorrow. I don’t want to spend any more time away from them than I need to.” 

“I know, sweetheart,” he says, tucking some of her hair behind her ear, “But you both had a rough time of it. So I’m not taking you home until the doctor says it’s okay.” 

Of the three labours she’d had, Stella’s had been the scariest. Everything had taken a turn quickly, more medical staff than she could count rushing into the room as the doctor gave her specific instructions to not push no matter how much it felt like she had to. Words like shoulder dystocia thrown around between doctors and nurses, the meaning behind them all of a sudden even more terrifying than they had been when Emily read them in one of the many books she’d bought when she was pregnant with Hugo. Aaron had been her rock, as ever, throughout it. Pushing past his own fear to help soothe her through hers, his words soft and his hold on her hand fierce until Stella was born just a couple of minutes later.

“You’re such a stickler for the rules.”

“When it comes to you and our daughter’s safety, always,” he replies, his eyebrow raised at her, his amusement clear even when hidden behind the lingering fear. She yawns, her lips pressed together as she tries to hide it, and he smiles, “Want me to take her for a while so you can sleep?”

She shakes her head and tightens her hold on Stella, “No,” she says, yawning again, “I’m not that tired. We’re okay.” 

If they hadn’t done this twice before, he knows he’d be offended. That he’d react to what would be easily misunderstood as mistrust if he didn’t know her better. He smiles and shifts closer, his hand over Emily’s on Stella’s back, “Sweetheart, you’ve been awake for close to two days. You need to sleep. And she’ll need feeding in an hour or two. I’ve got her. I’ve got both of you.” 

She wants to argue, but when she fights a third yawn in as many minutes she relents, her smile shy as she nods. She kisses Stella’s forehead and whispers her love against her skin before she passes her over, her hands clasped into fists to stop herself from snatching her back, “I guess I could do with resting my eyes for a bit.” 

He hums in agreement and stands up, Stella secure against his chest as he sits in the chair next to Emily’s bed. He settles down and is unsurprised to find Emily already fast asleep by the time he looks up, her mouth hanging slightly open, her head lulled to the side. He chuckles and tilts his head down to look at Stella. He takes the time to study her features, so many of them undeniably Emily’s already. 

“Mommy and Daddy love you so much, Stella,” he says, stroking his knuckles up and down her soft cheek, “And so do Hugo and Leo,” he smiles softly, “They were so excited to have a little sister.” He swallows thickly, the missing piece of their family never bigger than on days like this. Jack’s absence all the more notable as their family grew, the space he’d left behind not shrinking but growing. “And you have another brother, Jack,” he says, clearing his throat as he leans down to kiss the top of his little girl’s head, taking a moment to breathe in the sweet scent of what he knew would be his last baby, “He lives…far away. But he’s safe and I hope he’s happy. You’ll get to meet him,” he says, sounding more confident than he felt, unsure he could bear to think of the alternative. “One day. One day you’ll get to meet him.” 

Hope, he’d learnt over the years, was often the last thing to fade, stronger than its adversaries, and vast enough to bridge any divide. 

[nitewrighter]

I mean like, I get it. I work in a library, and regardless of how much I really do believe in the purpose and ideals of libraries, and how important my work feels with regard to being a major part of a community, a lot of the day-to-day aspects of it have actually made me really cynical with regards to people. Like sometimes it's people's behavior within a library that makes me go, "Damn, bitch, you treat a shared public space like this?"

Other times I'll be on desk and get phone calls of harried moms saying, "um, I got a note saying that I was being charged for a missing copy of Captain Underpants, but I returned that book!" and I'll open her account on my computer and I'll see she has the maximum 50 items checked out, and I can hear her kids screaming in the background on the phone and instantly my brain goes, "Oh there's no way in fuck you turned that book in because there's no way you're actually keeping track of all these books with how demanding your kids sound. I bet I could name at least six books on this list and you won't even know you still have them checked out." But y'know I'm still polite and I still go through all the customer service motions and I put a 'Claims Returned' note on the book in her account and that's pretty much all you can do. I don't assume she's lying per se, I just assume she asked Hunter or Brayden or Jayden to turn the book in and they didn't but said they did because they're seven years old and barely have a concept of object permanence, let alone "These books belong to the library." People are messy and like, even though I have a lot of pride in the library as an institution, I have to keep reminding myself that people are messy, and you have to do what you can to maintain that institution because it wouldn't be an institution without these people. There are definitely assholes who you can tell are asshole to the max because "What's a librarian going to do about it" but basically to get through the day, even with all your passion for the job, not taking things personally, and also recognizing that what inconveniences often isn't inconveniencing you out of intent, is a survival instinct.

[kitramune]

This is not my usual fandom posting so feel free to ignore it but in light of posting pics of my rabbits I've gotten a lot of other rabbit pics in my feed and I don't want to call anyone out, but education is always key, so... I'll just share my stance here: Rabbits do NOT belong in cages. Rabbits may seem lazy since they are crepuscular (like cats, meaning active at dawn and dusk) but they are extremely active when they are, and need space to roam and binky and run and hop. A cage is not that. Cages are also impractical af since they cost upwards of $100, whereas you can make much more adequate space by buying those puppy exercise pens for like $40. Save your friend, and save your wallet. Rabbits do NOT belong outside. Domestic bunnies have no way to regulate their body temperature and will very easily overheat or freeze if left outside. That's not even accounting for predators like neighborhood cats tormenting/scaring them or breaking in to get them. Rabbits do not belong on hard floors, nor do they belong on most advertised substrates. Rabbits do not have paw pads. Just fur and bone. A hard surface can cause sore hawks (open wounds on the feet) at best, and permanent splayed legs at worst. Many substrates are also toxic or hazardous for them to ingest. Rabbits can't vomit like a dog or cat, so if they ingest something bad, they are very at risk for blockages or toxicity build-up. Generally safe exceptions include recycled paper bedding or baked pellet bedding, in their litter box. For flooring, I recommend an area rug that they can't dig or chew up. Speaking of litter boxes, those little corner ones that come with cages? Ditch 'em. (Spayed and neutered) Rabbits are exceptionally clean animals, but they do poop constantly throughout the day due to how their digestive system works. Those tiny boxes are going to fill up even if you manage to make them comfortable for the bun, and then the rabbit is forced to get feces and urine all over its paws, or it's going to say "screw that" (understandably so) and eliminate all over its space. Preference for hood vs no hood etc is going to vary depending on the rabbit, but go with a large cat litter box and clean it every 1-2 days depending on the bun or your own tolerances. Get a large, heavy dog water bowl. Rabbits on a healthy diet drink a LOT more than you'd expect. Elowen is only like 4lbs and I have to change her huge bowl every day. I say heavy cuz rabbits like to throw their bowls. Those little water bottles for cages are also pretty garbage. Not only are they bacteria traps that are ridiculously hard to clean, they don't give enough water and your bun is at high risk for dehydration. Drinking out of a bowl is far more natural for the lil guys. Brush them and clip their nails! They will groom themselves but rabbits have very heavy sheds and because they can't cough up hairballs like cats, it's a blockage risk if they have a ton of excess hair. Long nails in a rabbit will also increase their risk for splayed legs and other health issues. That healthy diet I mentioned? It needs to be about 80% grass hay. Make sure they have a steady supply, especially in their litter box (rabbits have an "active gut" meaning they eliminate while grazing) If you have a hard time with Timothy Hay because of allergies or dust, I recommend good quality orchard grass or oat hay. Pellets should be given only at mealtimes measured by the rabbit's weight. More is liable to make your rabbit overweight. Pellets should be 19% fiber MINIMUM. Untreated or washed leafy greens are also important. (I get those pre-washed baby spring salad mixes for Elowen cuz I'm a big dummy lazypants). Fruits and veggies should be treats only, due to the sugar. (Yes, the carrot stereotype is a LIE. I know.) Hay naturally keeps their gut healthy and their teeth filed. If you notice a rabbit not eating for a few hours, take it seriously. G.I Stasis is no joke, nor are overgrown teeth. X_X

[shelandsorcery]

website thoughts

Since moving apartments, I've been feeling a kind of spring cleaning urge for all of my things physical and it turns out, digital. Since my physical belongings are in unmanageable mountain of family heirlooms in the form of bankers boxes full of loose photographs, and artifacts from my grandmother's childhood that nobody can identify but also nobody ever threw out, I've been feeling like I should try something a little bit more manageable first.

By that I mean, my digital life. I have maintained a personal website on the internet since 1997; for the majority of that time, my personal website has served primarily as a portfolio of my artwork. However, that's not necessary right now, for a couple of reasons:

A) Careerwise, I'm working as a salaried, permanent art director at a videogame company. I'm not only not currently looking for a job, but my prior approach to jobhunting, having a collection of examples of my concept art and illustration, probably isn't the best way to find another salaried art director job in future. While it might be one part of that hunt, I suspect I will also need examples of the finished games, as well as all the other things people use to get real jobs like references, etc. This means that a personal portfolio site won't be the make or break in my future job hunt at this time.

B) Perhaps even more importantly, though, I don't know that a portfolio of my prior work is going to be a particularly accurate demonstration of what my work going forward is going to look like. Since my arm surgery, I'm learning to draw with my left hand, and since I don't have anywhere near the physical control over it that I did over my dominant hand, my approach to making art is being forced to change. And it's very early days, right now I'm still teaching myself to write legibly, and building the muscles it takes to do that. Line control and mark making with appeal are simply not on the short-term schedule. So much as I am proud of, and attached to my prior work, my prior style, and my prior process, it feels dishonest to promise those to future clients. Or to myself, really. So a portfolio format just asks a lot of questions I have no answers to at this time.

Other reasons for having my work on the internet include selling it, which I certainly love to do, but between moving and my arm and paperwork, right now I'm just selling PDFs in a pay what you want capacity on my gumroad store. I do hope to get back into designing products and selling playmaps and so on, but it's the right choice right now to keep that on hold.

So I'm a bit at a loss for what to do with my personal website, is the TLDR of all this. I really got out of the habit of blogging or writing personal thoughts on the Internet when we entered the everything is problematic phase of cultural conversations; I would like to reclaim that but it might be safer to do so in the less personal/more anonymous space of cohost or tumblr or such. I'm certainly curious to hear people's thoughts on that!

One angle I had thought of was approaching my website as an archive, as opposed to a portfolio; I can be a bit obsessive about tracking the chronology of things, why not take advantage of that? But I don't know if that has any interest to anybody aside from myself, though I guess that's reason enough to do it. I had considered blogging about the process of learning to use my nondominant hand/retraining my dominant hand once we know what its final capacity will be, and I have been keeping personal notes on all of this, but I don't think this is something I can share publicly in real-time. It's a bit intense. Maybe years down the road I'll be able to condense it into a simpler narrative that I'm comfortable sharing?

Unfortunately all of this is tied up in my process of relearning to create right now; I'm not sure that I really need outside help figuring this out, as much as I need just the space to dump thoughts out of my head. But if you do have thoughts, or stuff you'd like to see from me, or questions, certainly let me know!

Thanks for reading this hot mess!

*(dictated but not read)*

[actofgrxce]

Read before interacting with me

P.S., while I'm here, kind of a PSA and the only time I'll make it: I cannot stress enough that Ed is very deliberately and painstakingly coded as neurodivergent and mentally ill and if you write with me, you need to respect that.

And I don't mean the ableist impulse of "WOO HOO cray-cray stabby pyro cap'n Blackbeard, what a nut amirite!" I mean the man, as Taika Waititi plays him and David Jenkins writes him, is legitimately profoundly struggling with acute trauma and s*icidal ideation, while ALSO struggling to overcome more than 50 years of maladaptive coping techniques. Since Jenkins et al have (imho very cleverly) elected to frame the narrative more as an ahistorical allegory of found family and queer belonging that just happens to take place on the high seas with colonial-era pirates, they therefore allow characters to be aware of their own feelings and cognitive processes in the way that we are (in the 21st century). This means modern diagnostics apply. So, like. Y'all.

Ed has ADHD.

He has an Attachment Disorder (probably Avoidant, but I'm still thinking).

He has C-PTSD,

and he probably has either RSD (with the ADHD) and/or Bipolar II Disorder.

These disorders are real and they are hell to cope with (I only have two on the list myself, and I find it almost completely debilitating sometimes), and despite the modern self-awareness and the modern lingo, Ed still lives under conditions that make self-diagnosis near-impossible. He made a major effort in the Divorce Robe with the feelings-sharing then lost the battle with himself. This is one reason Stede is so good for him. So how does my blog come into all this?

I still ship Blackbonnet. Yes, even more than Stede x Izzy, despite its own understandable appeal. Yes, definitely more than Ed x Izzy (unhealthy in a way that's just not my jam--do it if it's fun for you, it just won't happen here). I will probably filter tags for those ships, in fact, for personal reasons. It's a bit frustrating. People turned on Stede too fast for my taste in s1 and I think they've turned on Ed too fast in s2. These two are learning how to be better as middle-aged closeted queer men (one also from poverty and BIPOC). Let 'em make (big) mistakes. Which leads to the next point.

I'm not going to dilute or make light of the awful things Ed did in "Red Flags," but I'm also not going to engage with any part of the OFMD rpc that permanently condemns him. I've spent the past 15+ years writing controversial, complex muses and doing the thankless work of defending them to people who are committed to misunderstanding and contempt. And uh. Well. As I enter a new decade of life, I'm just no longer equipped (or interested). So if I see signs of that, I'll just quietly disengage.

This isn't the same ofc, as answering meta questions to the best of my ability; media analysis is still My Thing™. I just hope y'all can catch the distinction. I don't want to be a character's constant "defense attorney" anymore. People have the right to hate him, and they can go ahead while I continue, in my space, not to.

Thanks a million (truly) for reading and considering.

[starstruckpurpledragon]

Living with the Left Nav on Tumblr

So if you don't mind the left nav Tumblr has moved to, but feel it's annoying the way it squishes in on the dashboard, then I've got a few minor tweaks you can do with a simple css editor - like stylus.

.ZkG01 { justify-content: normal; } .ZkG01 ._3xgk { margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; } [title~="Live"] { display: none; }

So what this does:

1.) Changes the page justification with the first section. This puts the left nav permanently on the left side of the screen. Where a left nav actually belongs, not crowding in on the center with space on it's left. It's a left nav, it does not need to creep inwards to make the rest of the page harder to read.

Except now the dash has crept over to the left too which is where section 2 comes in.

2.) Puts automatic margins on the dashboard area - this includes the search bar and all the clutter beneath it (x-kit rewritten is useful for hiding that clutter) - to both the left and the right. What this means is that the content will be centered with equal sized margins on either side. So the dashboard + margins will, together, fill up the entire space to the right of the left nav with the dashboard centered within that space.

That takes care of the page spacing concerns with the left nav... so what's that third css section doing? (I bet you can guess.)

3.) It also hides the tumblr live button on the left nav. Apparently the latest update from snoozing 7 days to snoozing 1 month has changed it so that it no longer hides the nav item. That sucks. But with this little piece of css + x-kit rewritten hiding the carousel... it's like Live doesn't even exist. Even when the snooze comes to an end.

This works great if you choose not to use the Tumblr Dashboard Unfucker script - I did use the Dashboard Unfucker for a while during the missing avatar phase and if the avatars go away again (or some other accessibility unfriendly decision is made) then I'll be using the Dashboard Unfucker again. But I'm actually okay with the left nav, aside from feeling it needs a few minor tweaks to be decently usable.

Tumblr has given in to peer pressure (current industry 'standard' UI practices) but it's not entirely bad. The old flow was better for noticing activity and messages, but the new flow makes it a lot clearer what the nav icons are for now that they have actual text. I'm also a lot less likely to click the wrong thing by accident as there was some hit-box overlapping in a few places when it was a top nav.

There are a couple of things, though, that I'd still like to see happen with the left nav. The first is a toggle of some kind for collapsing the left nav to just icons again. On small screens - but not small enough to trigger the collapse on its own - being able to toggle the menu open/close would be pretty useful to help conserve space for the dashboard. Second is moving the search bar into the left nav. It makes way more sense in the left nav than it does to the right of the dashboard. And that may wind up being what pushes me to give creating my own userscript a try, if I decide I want that search bar moved badly enough.

[manousjournal]

Travel Sketches (Nov 2023 - March 2024)

Nov 2023.

Bishnumaya just turned 100 this October. She comes from Pokhari, about 15 kilometers from Mirik town. As we spoke, she recalled old memories, her expressions shifting as if reliving those moments. She seemed elsewhere, gazing past me into the distance, and then, as if continuing a conversation with herself, she said, “Nowadays people ask about caste when they meet someone, and how is that of any use?”

She described how, when she was small, there were no proper schools in her village. She learned to read and write, however little, by arranging corn kernels on the ground to form shapes that resembled letters and numbers. Reflecting on her long life, she added that everyone around her—friends her age and younger siblings—is dead, and she feels like a monster who swallowed them all.

The sun is out, but it’s only warm where the light falls. The history of Mirik is reflected in its lake, which used to be a marshland. According to Wikipedia, the name Mirik comes from the Lepcha words Mir-Yok, meaning "place burnt by fire." It's very green now for a place that was once burnt.

A town fair is underway, offering a range of attractions: a Ferris wheel, flower park visits, fast food stalls, ice cream carts, horse and boat rides, live pop music, card game betting, balloon shooting, local bingo-type card games, and hoopla with prizes up for grabs. Some prizes are cash with notes of 20, 50, and 100 rupees.

——

For the past ten years, I haven't had a permanent home. When I wanted to sidestep the weight of planning and longed for comfort and familiarity, I returned to places I liked a little more than others: Auroville, Dharamshala, Shillong, Aizawl, Nagaland. 

I like meeting new people and have formed what feels like extended families in some of these places. Since I have mostly felt free to move around, sometimes nostalgia of people or a time or a curiosity to see how things may have changed would draw me back to a place.

Earlier in August, while I was temporarily living in Auroville, I got a call about a six-month project called The Great Himalayan Exploration, a collaboration between UNESCO and Royal Enfield. The project aims to document the intangible cultural heritage of local communities in the Himalayan region of Northeast India.

My work on this trip specifically involved photographing the people behind various cultural practices and examining the ecosystems they exist in. To build context, I engaged in various methods, such as scanning old photos from people’s personal albums, taking photos of their living spaces, landscapes, and exploring archival resources. From November to April, we were in West Bengal, Sikkim, Tripura, Mizoram, Assam, Nagaland, and Meghalaya.

------

On our way back to Siliguri from Mirik, we made a lengthy stop near a tea estate. Lalita, from Tingling village, shared that she had spent two decades working on the estate, much like many other women from the village. Their collective hope was to earn a minimum of 500 rupees per day for their labor. Currently, they are receiving 250 rupees per day for an eight-hour shift.

------

Sanchamaya, 74, sits with her friend Bodhimaya in the front yard of her house in Darap, both lifelong farmers of the area and belonging to the Limbu community. They're nice and welcoming. It's our second day in Pelling, West Sikkim, and I've ended up at the wrong house. Today, we're supposed to see a drum dance(chyabrung) performance by local Limbu boys, which I'll catch later.

They talk in basic broken Hindi, with Shusan translating most of it. Sanchamaya leads me to the back of their house, where she proudly shows me trays of dried large cardamoms. Later, we'll visit her cardamom field. They also cultivate Mosambi, oranges, guavas, maize, peas, ginger, and onions. Sanchamaya spends her days with her friend, grandchildren, working in the fields, and cooking in the kitchen.

------

I visited Chuba village, 3 hours away from Gangtok, with Semeon from Haflong, Assam, a textile design graduate from NID and working at Sonam’s design studio called EchoStream based in Gangtok. Semeon was familiar with the village and the community I was there to meet. Arun Gurung and his wife, founders of Chubako, are endeavoring to revive an old tradition of sourcing wool from indigenous banpala sheep to make clothes. They operate a small cooperative called Chubako. In this village of 43 families, one person from each household now works for Chubako. (photo above: Arun Gurung, founder of Chubako)

(photo below: Designed by Sanskruti Shukla, co-created with the craft community of Chubako for Echostream, Gangtok)

Local stories of the craftspeople of Chuba are showcased and incorporated into wool through interactive workshops focused on storytelling and design development. The felted art rugs depict the flora and fauna of Sikkim.

Gangamaya Gurung, 83, Arun Gurung's mother, lit up like a child when she saw Semeon. They shared a bond akin to best friends. Despite her age, Gangamaya remains active, tending to sheep, cutting grass, farming, and weaving. When asked about her leisure activties, she said, "eat, watch TV - eat, watch TV."

Sampati Debbarma, a farmer, returning from work in Takarjala, Tripura.

--------

Jan, 2024.

We have been out on this trip for 3 months. My thoughts scattered in a kind of bardo between the world I know and the world I am coming into contact with. I picture house fronts with flowers in Darjeeling, roads winding, the long cold rivers snaking toward mountains that seem no bigger than my thumb, the snow capped peaks shifting colours, the prayer flags in high altitudes and on house doors. Gangtok’s Lal Bazaar skateboarders flash by, a school in Tripura where a student lives on 700rs a month, nini bung tamo and 4 other sentences I learned in Kokborok nag me like a tune. Sidangcherra to Pecharthal to Panisagar to Damchara checkpoint we make our way from Tripura into Mizoram by road. I think about where I will be later in the summer and see a white fluffed cloud taking the shape of a growing tree far on the horizon.

——

Krismas Ruaitheh(Christmas feast) at Khatla Presbyterian Church, Aizawl. This is my 3rd time in Aizawl. I used to go for dinners, sometime evening tea to my friend’s family house further up the road from the Khatla church. We are here to document the traditional community feast of the Mizos.

Priscilla is currently pursuing her BA in Political Science in Delhi, and she's home for the holidays. She was volunteering at Khatla Presbyterian Church where she and her friends were tasked with serving lemonade, a customary drink after the meal. For Priscilla, the most remarkable aspect of the feast is its longstanding tradition — dating back to pre-Christian times — where the entire community comes together to share its moments of joy and sorrow + they still use Changel Hnah (plantain leaves) — the traditional way to serve meals.

-----

On an idle walk one evening in Khatla, I find myself in a local thrift store and get invited to meet James Lalhmingliana. He is 80, one of the founding members of Aizawl's first bike club, Aizawl Thunders. He went to school at Sts. Edmund’s in Shillong.

In 1966, he joined the Mizo National Front uprising, fighting for freedom. He went underground for seven years, first in Arakan, Burma, then in 1969 to East Pakistan for shelter. "It was useless," he says. "We wasted our good years. When I came back, I was put in jail, but not for long."

He has been housebound for years due to his health.

———

At 8 am on a cold January morning, we arrive at Joonbeel Mela. (Joon and beel are Assamese terms for moon and wetland. The Tiwa community first organized this in the 15th century to exchange goods between indigenous tribal communities in Assam and the surrounding areas.)

It is known as the only fair in India where people still practice barter, exchanging goods like fish, sweet potatoes, yam, homegrown vegetables, turmeric, chili, kali miri, and rongalau.

Over a few hours, I have brief interactions with people from Jagiroad, Pamlatar, Deosal, Sira, Changsari, Potia Pathar, Bengenabari, Palahguri, ulukunchi, morigaon, Nagaon, Saru Amli, Belguri, Damal, and places as far as Langpih, mawlynnong in Meghalaya.  No one refuses a photo.

—

This is my fifth time in Nagaland. I first came here ten years ago and stayed at Kevesho's home. He is the father of the Tetseo Sisters, a well-known folk group of four sisters from Nagaland.

Kevesho Tetseo, son of Nülhüprü Tetseo was born in 1950s in Thüvopisümi village, Phek District, Nagaland. Initially schooled in the village, he finished his HSLC at Government High School in Kohima and graduated from Kohima College in Arts. He worked in the Education Dept. for sometime and now retired. Active in cultural music, Chokri language preservation, and in church choir since his youth.

(Tati - - a single string musical instrument which is used as an accompaniment with singing of li- indigenous songs by the Chakhesang Nagas.) 

Kevesho learned how to make Tati from observing elders in his village when he was young and has done Tati making work since 1990s and a good number of it has been produced till date by him including improvising it for longer life by using steel wires as strings.

He tells me, the woven shawl he is wearing in the picture is "thipiqhü". It is the most prestigious shawl (indigenous cloth) among many traditional clothes of the Chakhesang tribe. It is a shawl they wear with humility and honour.

“Nagaland is my home and I love my culture, its rich traditional heritage, and the natural beauty.”

-----

Daisy Yaden was born in Zotlang, Mizoram. She studied at the Welsh Mission School in Mission Veng, Aizawl. She will turn 98 this June. She learned to weave shawls on a backstrap loom, stitching, and baking from her mother, often baking cakes in the fireplace. She taught in the interiors of Nagaland, in places like Noklak and Changtongya. She started her career by teaching people self-sufficiency—how to cook, make jams and pickles—skills she picked up from a British magazine called Woman’s Own. She used to compose little tunes for children at Sunday school. She loves flower gardening and her favourite film is "Gone with the Wind."

Photographed at her house in Duncan, Dimapur.

I am sitting with Marian, Daisy's daughter, at her house in Duncan. Marian, now 75, lived in Bombay from 1970 to 2012. She went to college there and worked as an air hostess with Air India for 34 years. In 2012, she returned to Nagaland. We agreed to meet again for lunch and look at her old photo albums.

(below: Marian,16, in Kohima trying a sari for the first time / in Santa Cruz, Bombay in the 80s with James Ferreira and friends)

——-

Khinchi is Christian, and Sindri is Songsarek, belonging to one of the last animism practising communities. I learned a few words in Achik: Khading bo, Methela, Namja, and Manja. Here I am in the extended kitchen space at Sindri's hut, in Sadolpara, Dadenggre, where they are taking a break from cooking lunch. 

-----

First published in Hindustan Times June '24

[beommiya]

They were all part of the same fucked up world of criminal organizations. Xuan wasn't by any means a saint, he had no intention in bringing down an industry that belonged to other powerful people, from which some even made important faithful customers that called for his services. What Xuan wanted, however, was to get rid of any unwanted nuisances that crossed his sections of the city and did business there without his approval. He deemed those as parasites, because they didn't pay him the part of the profits that were rightfully his, for basically using his space. It was a difference, or at least that's how the green eyed man viewed it.

Xuan sighed and crossed his arms. "What I do shouldn't matter so much to you. Do you really think that in your position you should be wondering about such trivial things? Sooner or later you'll find out either way, but right now you should be more preoccupied by what your presence here should entail." He raises an eyebrow and starts laughing at the somewhat scared timber of Kibum's voice. "Ah, no, I am not going to kill you and send your head off to your boss. That'd be too easy... I want that fucker to regret his actions, to live in uncertainty and frustration for a while. All I'm going to use you for will be a little 'cute' photoshoot I'm going to send him later as a little warning of what might happen to him too, if not worst, if he ever tries taking advantage of me ever again. Oh, and don't you worry, while we were chatting, some of my men have already taken care of your other buddies and their little operations center you guys shamelessly set up on my property. That's the main event, while you'll be more like a bonus on top of all that, something meant to piss him off, taunt him if you will." The man grins. "Anyways, back to our fun time, we should be getting you ready for the shoot. Unfortunately, you look too good for what we need you for, so I'll have to roughen you up a little, for which I apologize in advance. Don't worry though, I'll make sure there won't be any permanent damage left. It would be a pity to ruin such a pretty face like yours. I just need you a little bit more battered, bruised and bloodied to send the point across. So, you aren't going to die, but just look like you're on the verge of expiring." With that said, Xuan then claps his hands a few times and behind him two bigger men emerge from the darkness of the basement, who probably had descended into the room while they were still talking. "He's all yours guys. Just make sure he's not really dead by the time you're done with his 'make up'." Were the last words before the two brutes started pouncing down on poor Kibum.

All sorts of questions continued to arise inside his brain. His desire and need to know more, understand more, was burning like fire. Yet the words refused to come out of his throat. However, Kibum found himself taking in each word Xuan spoke to him, absorbing everything like a sponge. But the information provided to him was not helping him by any means. Xuan's voice was calm, almost soothing but the words were venom. It was making his skin crawl, causing his body to tense up more and more with each second. What shoot? Desperate eyes followed Xuan's each movement in hope this time around, he would catch the moment when he was going to hit Kibum again and it wouldn't come out as a surprised. "What do you mean by that?" his voice was trembling by now. The element of surprise caught him off guard, not like there was any other way. Two men appeared out of nowhere. He was so focused on Xuan that he didn't even notice they were not alone anymore until they approached him. "No, please, don't--" if only he knew his name. He read somewhere that if you ask for help and call someone by their name, they might help you out. He tried to make himself as small as possible. Physical corrections and abuse were not new to him. His boss would do it pretty often every time Kibum dared to disobey, and he did it a lot. He never learned his lesson. However, Ian never touched his face.

Mercy didn't seem to be in they're vocabulary as the men began to throw punches left and right. At this point he couldn't tell which part of him hurt more. His busted lips? His new black eye? The ribs that were protecting his lungs that felt like they were on fire with each breath he struggled to take? He didn't want to cry, he didn't want to give Xuan the satisfaction of breaking him completely but it was impossible. The whole scene triggered a deep buried memory, first year of high-school when he got beaten up for his feminine traits. And that's when be broke down crying, begging for Xuan to stop the men. A final punch to the chin shut him up completely. Not hard enough to shock his brain and knock him out but harsh enough to make him quiet. His body was exhausted by trying so hard to escape the ropes, his head falling down to his chest as he quietly cried and hopped for this nightmare to end. "Please..." was all he could repeat, all defeated. He could feel the room spinning, the pain intensifying, trying his best not to pass out again. The only reason he could sit up any longer was the fact that he was tightly strapped down to his chair. "Are you...fucking...done now?" his voice nothing but a drunk like mumble.

@phoenix-of-jade

[lunarmochi]

vent

suddenly had another moment where i saw something and all the intrusive thoughts started flooding in. pardon me as i procrastinate on my work to vent.

i... wonder how much i'm worth to people.

i wonder how many people wish they could just drop me already, because i'm not worth the work.

i wonder how many of the people i care about genuinely just flat-out don't like me. i suppose i wouldn't blame them. i think i have more cons than pros.

it feels like i'm in this state of waiting. this suffocating, anxiety-inducing state of waiting, like when you're waiting to leave for a party in a few hours. it feels like i'm waiting for people to disappear from my life.

or rather, it feels like i'm waiting for people to leave me behind, is the better way to say it.

i'm... i'm just this stupid little mentally ill person on the internet. i have no real value in people's lives. i'm just this presence people can put their phones down and disregard. not being friends with someone in real life means that my presence holds significantly less weight.

i know that it's inevitable for people to move on. i know that people have much more important things to do, and can't talk to the little friends in their phone forever. people will move on, people change. fuck, if it isn't something i've experienced the last 9-10 years floating in this online space.

i'm not really sure where i'm going with this, to be honest.

...

i think my point is that despite being aware of my many shortcomings as a person and friend, i'm scared of accepting the fact that the friendships/relationships i make with people online are temporary.

no matter how much weight they have in my life, it will never change how much other people value those connections. no matter if some connections mean the world to me, it won't change the fact that the other person could view me as expendable and unimportant compared to the ones they value more.

i was writing down a little thing to myself. talking about how despite not having a solid place where i feel like i belong, i'm trying to learn to "be content" with being alone. as if it's like a trick i can simply learn with the snap of my fingers.

i don't talk about this often, but ever since i was a child, i've always had a sensitive relationships with the term "friend" and "best friend." long story short, i learned that i wasn't valued in the same way i valued people. people throw around those terms carelessly, taking away the meaning of them.

recently, i was reminded by the fact that even if i viewed someone as having the weight of the world in their hands, they could still view me as some temporary pastime. a person you say "my time with you was fun, but i'll be moving forward now" to.

i'm tired of not being able to maintain long-lasting friendships.

i'm tired of being left behind.

i'm especially tired of all of it because it's my fault.

it would be stupid to blame someone else because of it, no? the failures that happen in my life are my responsibility, and therefore my fault.

where am i going with this...? i can't even remember anymore.

i can't remember the last time i had the chance to talk about my feelings and thoughts like this to someone. at the end of the day, these platforms are the only "permanent" thing in my life.

no matter how much progress i make,

no matter how much i learn,

no matter how many connections i form,

everything is still temporary.

[lmanburgbeloved]

Lovers Always Have The Toughest Decisions

the start of something dangerous • 1

a c!dream x reader

summary: 'the blonde's face held the same expressions as everyone one else's, you, the lover of the masked man, just admitted to being behind the idea of either option, keeping him alive or killing him.'

warnings: lots of swearing, reader is referred to as sis and sister, c!dream’s torture in prison is briefly talked about in this part, a fight scene does happen, slight blood, i think that’s it! if there’s any i missed please let me know! :]

you looked out the window, sighing as you looked at the sight of the sky with pinks and orange with the sun rising, jumping slightly when arms wrapped around your torso and a head snuggling into the space between your shoulder and neck, "what're you looking at?"

you exhaled a small laugh, you rested your hands onto his that hold you like they don't want to ever let go.

___

"if you kill me death is permanent," everyone in the Blackstone bunker went silent "if you kill me Wilbur is gone forever" you walked forward, telling everyone a quiet 'excuse me' until you found yourself setting your hand on tommy's shoulder "tommy, please look at me" and he did and when he saw you, mascara stains down your cheeks his heart broke slightly, "what do you want to do? because I'm behind you on this" the look on the blonde's face held the same expressions as everyone one else's, you, the lover of the masked man, just admitted to being behind the idea of either option, keeping him alive or killing him.

while deciding you put dream in an obsidian box, the main group debating on what to do, the others whispering to each other. a voice broke through the conversation you were having with tommy "we could put him in the prison".

you and Tommy looked at each other, you waiting for his opinion, him looking for yours. "well, what do you think about that idea bossman?" a small smile appeared on tommy's face, any other time he would laugh at you calling him bossman, "yeah, let's do it"

Sam stepped forward and breaking the obsidian, he grabbed Dream's arm and started to move "wait i will go with" Sapnap spoke up causing Sam to nod his head with approval, you quickly gaining your voice "I'm going too"

the green haired man gave you a sad look and shook his head as he said "we- we can't trust you with this, i can't have you learn about the workings of the prison, because you'd then be a threat, you're the only person out of everyone on the server who has a reason to break him out" your heart hurt but you understood, kind of,

you were a curious person so you spoke up asking a question "and what would that reason be?" Sam let out a small chuckle, so did you, both knowing the answer "you love him, you're- well- dating him" you looked down smiling but looking up again with a sadder expression "just because i love him doesn't mean i don't think he belongs in the prison," you're smile falls as you look behind Sam at your boyfriend, frowning at the gash on his face, "i can still visit him, right?"

Sam put a hand on your shoulder causing you to look at him "of course, everyday if you wanted, once we have everything secure" you looked around the room quickly looking back to Sam "can i at least hug him before you all leave?" Sam nods causing you to run fast at the once masked man, now unmasked.

His arms open quickly and soon you're wrapping your arms around his neck, his wrap around your torso, you both hold on so tight, everyone backing away to give you this last moment, still keeping an eye on you both, but from a distance, you notice and take that moment to whisper in his ear, loud enough for only you both to hear, "i'll get you out of there, trust me" he holds you tighter,

"alright, we have to go" Sam says with a softer tone causing you to pull away slowly from Dream, him grabbing your face with both hands, looking at every detail of your face like he'll never see it again and then, a kiss gets planted on your forehead, then your nose, and finally a gentle quick kiss on the lips, and before you know it he's heading up the elevator with you waving goodbye,

once out of sight you turn around to see Tubbo and Tommy, the boys you considered as your brothers, quickly you walked over to them, grabbing them both by the shoulders into a group hug, then pulling back to rest a hand on each face, scanning for injuries,

"are you okay?" before they could answer you ask another question "did he hurt you?" you let your lungs exhale as they both shake their heads no "i swear to god, i would have killed him myself if he laid a finger on my boys" they looked at each other before both joining in for a tighter group hug, Tommy was the first to speak up "i love you sis" Tubbo speaking up right after, choked up from being scared deep down, "i love you too sis, thank you" their grips tightening, you tightened yours in return, "god i love you both, i won't let anything happen to you"

___

"he's what?!" you screamed, not at the messenger but just at the world,

"he's- he's dead" Ranboo's voice waivers, causing you to quickly pull him into a hug, he hugged you back fairly fast, gripping onto your oversized green hoodie, Dream's hoodie.

After a moment you calmly ask "do you know how he died?" Ranboo's grip loosening slightly having calmed down a bit, he quietly speaks up "Dream, uh- Dream beat him to death when Tommy went to visit" you blacked out,

you don't remember when you fell to the floor on your knees and screamed bloody murder but when you came back to reality a few seconds later, mid scream, you shook violently, 'no' being the only thing you could get out of your mouth, and so you repeated it over and over again,

you tried wiping away your tears with the sleeves of your hoodie but quickly stopped when you saw the iconic green color, and in a flash you ripped it off your body, leaving you in a black tank top, the grip you had on the hoodie in your hands was scary, your knuckles turned white and then suddenly, a soft thud sounded as you threw it at the wall,

directly at the picture frame on the wall, a picture of you, Dream, and the bench trio smiling doing a funny pose,

Ghostbur took the picture with help from Phil.

the shattering of glass from the frame falling was loud, it caused Ranboo to jump, which you quickly noticed, causing you to sober up from your anguish as best you could, quickly you were apologizing, repeating yourself a few times, you got up from your spot on the floor, looking up at Ranboo while smiling

"would you like some tea? i think we just have mint though" the boy accepting your offer with a soft smile and a nod.

___

you were walking back from Niki's underground city when you saw a familiar head of hair,

not sure if you were seeing things or not you yelled out as soft as you could "Tommy is that you?"

the boys head shot up and when you saw him, you didn't question why or how he was back you just sped up your pace, and quickly walked to him, and when standing in front of him you softly spoke, almost a whisper,

"can i hug you?" his answer being him grabbing onto you, so tight that it immediately worried you,

"shhh, it's okay, I'm here, you're here, i won't let anyone hurt you while you're with me" his arms tightening, a sob erupting from his chest "sis, i- i died, he brought me back after he beat me to death, and everyone just looks at me like I'm nothing more than science" another sob "I'm just science to them" you hug him tighter petting his head and you just whispered

"you're not science to me, i don't care how or why you are back, i just care you are, and I'll be here when you need to talk about it" another sob escaped him, "thank you sis, thank you, thank you, thank you"

___

you held a basket in your hand as you walked to Phil and Techno's cabins, you and Niki baked cookies, you wanted to bring them as a gift, when walking up the porch you saw Techno's lights were off but Phil's were on, so you pulled out your key and opened the door "hey dad, i brought cook-" you screamed,

setting down the cookies quickly you turned around and charged, your eyes set on a specific man "i'm going to kill you, you- you bastard!" you gripped his ripped green hoodie "you killed my brother, and i never got pay back, you asshole" you pulled your arm back and then, CRACK

Phil and Techno looking shocked at just how loud that was "hey, he was-" you let go of Dream's hoodie and turned your body around pointing your finger at both Techno and Phil "which one of you fucks did it? which one of you broke him out?" they looked at each other and then back at you, Phil spoke up first "it was Techno's idea i just helped" you scoffed "and to think i brought you fucking cookies, that i called you dad, that i trusted you," you scoffed and tightened your fists, turning your knuckles white, "what're you going to do now? kill me too?"

sure it was a low blow but you were betrayed, you were mad you were ju- "I'm sorry okay? i- learned my lesson with how much Quackity tortured me after i killed Tommy" your fists loosened completely, fingers limp, your head dropped to the floor and you spoke, so quiet they almost couldn't hear "Quackity did, what to you?" Dream matching your tone "he tortured me, he found out i had the revival book because i brought Tommy back and he tortured me to get it" you turned and looked at him, your face dropping at the sight of his bloody nose but quickly you brought yourself back "did you give it to him?" 1, 2, 3, seconds go by "no, because if i did he would've killed me" and without you thinking you genuinely said from your heart "and we wouldn't want that" you coughed when you realized what you said "i mean, like, we don't need another casualty"

Dream softly smiled at you "and that's why i fell in love with you, because even when you hate someone with all your heart you still don't want to kill them" he didn't miss the way your eyes watered and you looked at him with sadness, you went to speak, but a quiet sob left your mouth, so you then tried to speak again "who said i hated you?" looking at you with pure confusion he scanned over your face several times, but you sighed and turned around motioning your arm for him to follow "they're peanut butter, your favorite, when you're done eating we need to head out, their first thought will be to search here, so that means we have to go to our house," he looked at you with surprise and confusion "you know, the house we started building to move away from everyone, to- uh- as you used to say 'start a family', i finished building it while you were locked up" he looked at you and just said 'ok'

___

You, Phil, Techno and Dream had been walking for almost a whole day when you saw the the familiar dark oak building, "we're here" you turned your head while still walking, meeting Dream's gaze, you smiled at him, because even though he is the stupidest man alive, you had to be honest with yourself, you missed him.

part 2

[moonlight-breeze-44]

An Update.

Hi, friends. <3 It's been a very long time since I've 'actually' posted on here instead of just reblogging stuff, but I felt like I should say this and let those of you who may be interested in my blog know how things may change for a little while. TL;DR: I'm taking a break from fandom, specifically Shadowhunters, for a while.

Recently, I went through something that made me feel lost, alone, and abandoned in a lot of ways. To say the very least, it's been difficult. Now, usually when I can't deal with myself or process what/how I'm feeling, I turn to writing. I sit down on my bed and I just type and type until I know where I'm going again. But this thing that changed my life recently had to do with fandom, in a roundabout way, and unfortunately because I write so much fanfiction and not quite as much original stuff, it impacted my ability to "get it out" through writing. I haven't been able to write something complete for any fandom in months. The best I've been able to do is 3k of a Leverage fic about Damien Moreau.

In light of that, I'm closing prompts on my blog until I can get back on my feet, so to speak. It kills me to have to do this, but I think it might be what I need. So: I'm taking a break from fandom for a while.

To be even more specific, I'm taking a break from the Shadowhunters fandom for a while. As much as I want to, I can't write for Shadowhunters right now. I can't even read fanfiction for it or watch the show. I hate to do this, but I think it's a necessary step for me. I may tentatively interact with other fandoms, like Leverage or Criminal Minds or any of the others listed in my information post, but I ask that you respect my wishes and not tag me in Shadowhunters-related content or send me asks about Shadowhunters right now. I hope to be back someday.

This doesn't mean that I'll stop running my blog, or talking about fandom stuff online when and if I feel like it. I might even post for fandoms that aren't Shadowhunters while I'm on this hiatus, if I can manage it. I will still reblog posts for my blog, maybe including Shadowhunters, but I will be interacting with the fandom from a distance, if at all. The ultimate goal with this break is for me to heal and feel safe & connected enough to return to fandom permanently and go back to the standard I was at before; posting semi-regularly, answering prompts, and participating in challenges. I miss that, and I want it back. I think this will help me find my place again.

I'm very thankful to everyone that I've met through this community and for all of the amazing prompts I've been sent. Thank you for giving me a space that I felt like I belonged in for a long time. With any luck, this space will feel like that again soon.

~ ~ ~

My asks are still open to anyone that has questions or wants to discuss something! You can send fandom-related asks if they aren't Shadowhunters, just know that I may not answer them, depending upon my comfort level. I hope you understand <3

Thank you for reading and supporting me. I appreciate everyone who follows me and I hope to be back very soon. <3 ~ Em

[hufflautia]

The Small but Quaint Room in the West Wing

Requested by @dreamerinthesun✨(2/2)

A/N: I titled this one because this is a full-sized fic and I really really like it. Even though I said I'd write a drabble or a ficlet for each request and keep it short and sweet. And then I go and write a whole ass fic. I knew this was gonna happen, it always does. ENJOY!

026: "People are jerks, but not you."

Slytherin ran into a room on the West Wing and shut the door behind her. She listened as footsteps stomped through the hall, holding her breath when someone stopped in front of the door.

"When we find Lestrange, I wanna be the one to hex her," the person said. Slytherin scowled when she realized who it was. Ehione, she thought bitterly. You couldn't hex me if you tried.

"And who exactly are you going to hex, Ms. Ephyx?" an ancient but firm voice said.

Slytherin immediately recognized the voice and winced. She was glad she was behind this door and not out in the hall.

"Professor McGonagall," Ehione stuttered. "You must've misheard, I said vex, not hex!"

Slytherin held back a snicker - she could envision McGonagall's reaction right now: an eyebrow raised, lips pressed together tightly.

McGonagall clearly didn't fall for her bullshit because the next thing she said was, "10 points from Gryffindor. Now come with me, Ms. Ephyx. And the rest of you, get back to your classes before I give you detention too."

"Too?" Ehione fumed. "Why am I getting detention? Slytherin should be the one getting detention, she cast the Leek jinx spell on me!"

Only because you were talking shit about my family! Slytherin thought angrily.

"Yes, Ms. Ephyx, I can clearly see that," McGonagall sighed. "Now please come with me, we need to get you to the Hospital Wing. If you aren't given the counteract potion soon, you could have leeks stuck in your ears permanently."

Slytherin bit her tongue to stop herself from bursting out in laughter and giving up her hidden spot. What a sight, she thought, imagining Ehione walking around with leeks in her ears for the rest of the school year.

Slytherin let out a small breath of relief when the footsteps began to fade away. She walked up the steps and towards the spot next to the window, the place she always sat when she came to this room.

^Visual of what the room looks like. ALSO DOES ANYONE RECOGNIZE THIS PIC ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

She gazed upon the Whomping Willow in the distance, deep in thought. It wasn't that she liked getting in trouble. The jinx just happened to spill from her lips when she overheard Ehione talking badly about her family. That prick deserved it anyway.

Slytherin stiffened when she heard the creak of the door and whipped out her wand, lowering it when she caught sight of the intruder. Well, maybe not intruder, per se. Hufflepuff sometimes came to this room too. While Slytherin used this place as a quiet room to think, Hufflepuff used it as a space to hang freely with his creatures. They found this room on their own but had never been there at the same time until one day when Slytherin found him sitting on her spot the day that they first encountered each other. She was a bit irked - after all, it felt like her sacred spot, and to have someone sit on it was...well, annoying. But soon after he chose a seat somewhere else, she warmed up to him; he had a quiet nature and sometimes would show her the creatures he was caring for, and that always put a smile on her face. Though Slytherin would never admit it, there were days in which she walked towards the small but quaint room in the West Wing with a spring to her step, looking forward to sitting next to the window with him and escaping their worries.

But today was not one of those days.

A crooked smile hung on Hufflepuff's lips when they met eyes. Slytherin wasn't in the mood to smile back, so she looked away.

"Hello," Hufflepuff said, taking a seat on the floor across from her.

"Hi."

Slytherin could feel his eyes on her and met his curious gaze with a glare. "What?"

Hufflepuff shook his head and looked away.

"Nothing."

She narrowed her eyes but decided not to press him further. She didn't wanna drive her one friend away. Could she even call him that? She certainly hoped he considered her his friend. She's snapped at him on more than one occasion, but it was never because of him. It's just that she usually came to this room when she was in a bad mood and she needed a place to think. But time and time again, he never snapped back. He just took it. And not in a "use me as your punching buddy" kind of way. It was like he understood.

"People are jerks," she said quietly. "But not you." Never you. "Why is that?"

He scrunched up his nose. "Are you asking me why I'm not a jerk?"

Slytherin would've cracked a smile if she weren't feeling like complete shit. "I'm rude to you, but you never talk back. You don't get angry with me when I'm testing your temper. Why? Someone with common sense wouldn't want to hang out with someone who's mean to them."

Hufflepuff stared at a spot on the wall in thought as Slytherin awaited his response nervously. Why did I say that? I basically told him, "Hey, it would be in your best interest not to be friends with me anymore"—

"I don't think you're mean." Hufflepuff meets her surprised gaze. "I know that you come here because this is a place for you to vent and calm down. Sometimes you take your anger out on me, but I know it's because of whatever you have going on, so I try not to take it personal. You're just angry. But not always. When you're in a good mood, you're funny and witty. And you're also my friend. So why wouldn't I want to hang out with you?"

Slytherin swallowed with difficulty. That was a lot to take in. Not only did he just admit that, yes, he considered her his friend, but he also knew her. He understood.

Hufflepuff seemed to sense that she was at a loss for words, so he pulled something from his pocket and presented it to her. Slytherin smiled and gingerly took the Niffler from him, her fingers brushing against the palm of his hand.

"How's the little guy doing?" she cooed, running her finger over the Niffler's fur as he scurried across her robe, searching for anything shiny. "Caused any mischief lately?"

"Unfortunately so," Hufflepuff sighed dramatically, his bright eyes betraying his mock annoyance. "He stole Slughorn's watch the other way. This little minx would've gotten me into detention if I hadn't stopped him and returned it without Slughorn noticing."

Slytherin hummed, watching as the Niffler tried to pull her house crest off her robe. She pulled him off and looked puzzled when she felt something in his pouch. "What's this?"

Hufflepuff frowned and took the Niffler back, eyeing the creature when he felt it too.

"What'd you take," he said lowly, to which the Niffler looked at him with a smile and a gleam in his eye. He arched an eyebrow and turned him upside down, shaking out the contents of his pouch.

Slytherin's eyes widened as Galleons and other golden items poured onto the floor. Watches, necklaces, and earrings scattered on the ground. Hufflepuff looked aghast while Slytherin doubled-over laughing.

"Where in the blazes did you get that?!" Hufflepuff demanded. "Now we have to find out what belongs to who and return it to them!"

Slytherin wiped at her watery eyes and said between laughs, "Don't worry, I'll help you."

Hufflepuff glanced at her and felt a laugh of his own bubbling in his chest. When a situation as ridiculous as this came along once in a lifetime, one couldn't help but laugh. And that's exactly what they did. They laughed their worries away in this small but quaint room on the West Wing.

Fin.

~

DID SOMEONE SAY LETA LESTRANGE AND NEWT SCAMANDER😩😩 Also did the bit about the "this is MY special spot" remind anyone of the tree spot in the slytherpuff series??

This is by far my favorite request - I didn't expect this to be so wholesome and cute. Hope you enjoyeddddddd<4!

~

In honor of this blog’s one-year anniversary, I am taking requests! Pick from these prompts:

Fluff | Fluff, Angst, or Smut | Fluff or Angst | Smut | More Smut | Angst

[bbq-hawks-wings]

Art reposting etiquette

I see art theft happen a lot, and whether or not it's true or has just been happening more frequently in the circles I follow I can't help but at least feel like it's becoming more and more of a problem.

To be clear, "reposting" is downloading art from a website that you did not make or own, and uploading it as a separate post, regardless of where and how it's presented - with notable exception of header and profile pictures assuming they are not trying to imitate the artist. Not all art theft is reposting, but all improper reposting is art theft.

As cut and dry as "stop art theft it's bad, don't repost art" posts make it sound, there are several benevolent reasons people may want to repost such as:

Believing they are spreading the artist's influence around the internet

Adding intrigue or a visual aid to a fanfiction

Sharing some neat art they thought was really cool

Just to name a few

Assuming the best in people, these are not necessarily bad reasons and DON'T MAKE PEOPLE BAD, but many often don't understand there's a dark side to the reposting issue.

People who may want more art may be unable to find the original creator

People may not realize that the artist makes rent with the very artwork you're enjoying and they may be looking at stolen premium content meant to put food on the table

People take art and further edit it so that it becomes even harder to trace back to the original

Malicious websites and bots find popular fanart and illegally use it to produce bootleg merch. This has a double-whammy effect when someone sees the merch IRL when out and about and wants it because it's cool art of their favorite character but don't realize the artist is actively being robbed.

Reposting art makes it harder for the artist to track down the thief and take legal action as well as actively funnels traffic away from their business. By and large it should always be assumed that reposting for any reason is damaging to the artist's wellbeing; and frankly, if you don't care you're actively hurting someone, it makes you the asshole, not me for calling you out.

But, that isn't to say reposting is NEVER allowed, but ONLY UNDER EXTREMELY SPECIFIC CIRCUMSTANCES. That's the point of this post.

Before you can decide if you should even attempt to repost art, check these things first:

If it says directly on the art "do not repost" don't waste your time. They are not going to make an exception for you.

Check to see if the art is already on the platform you're planning to upload to (especially here on Tumblr). Often, artists make it a point to put their work in very specific locations for their own reasons. They may not want their work on your website at all and you need to respect that.

Gain the artist's explicit permission after explaining where you want to repost their work, which work you want to repost, and why with how you plan to credit them. If you gain permission, keep a copy of the conversation for your own protection. If you do not gain permission, don't repost at all.

If you gain permission to repost art, these things are an absolute necessity:

Mention of the artist's name

THEIR main platform of choice

link to the original piece used

It would likely look something like this:

Artwork uploaded with express permission by @[artist] on [website], found here - (hyperlinked to original piece)

Bonus information to include:

Additional social media handles of the artist

Link to the artist's Patreon and/or Ko-Fi if available

Link to artist's store if available

Hyperlinking the image itself so other users can just click it to find the work/artist

Remember reposting should be about the artist, NOT YOU. You didn't create the work, and even if you supported them via Patreon it still doesn't belong to you, nor are you entitled to it. A commission you personally paid for is the only piece of work of that artist's creation you are ever entitled to unless otherwise stated in a contract when you bought it.

To continue to cover my bases I'm going to address some stances that may pop up about the issue:

"I didn't know reposting was that bad!"

It's okay. That's why I made this post. In general, as a supportive fan and consumer you should try to learn how artists are rewarded for their work on different platforms. YouTube is different from Instagram is different from Facebook is different from Tumblr. Learn which best ways to support your favorite artists in the ways that are most beneficial to them, even if all they ask for is respect and a little appreciation. And do take down any art you may have reposted. It can continue to do damage by remaining up, but removing it almost always mitigates any future harm and genuinely helps. Now you know better and can be better moving forward!

"I can't get ahold of the artist for permission."

Don't repost it then. Remember, at the end of the day reposting is only good for the reposter in fake internet points or actual money/intellectual property stolen but always tangibly hurts the artist. It sucks, but they have a right to determine where and how their hard work is displayed.

"Whatever, I'll do what I want. Lol"

Enjoy your takedown. Hey, artists, did you know you can find each website's terms of service and figure out how to submit a report with the offending post and user, and they're usually good about getting it down within days?! Look for "misappropriation" that's your ticket! 😊

But seriously, repeat offenders can get permanently banned from sites and even sued for actual real-world money and damages over your precious fake internet points. It actually pays to not be an ass!

"But I just want to support the artist and reposting is so easy!"

You know what's even easier?

It's literally only one or two clicks to support the artist or tell them how much you love their work! Most other platforms make supporting content creators just as easy, and some platforms even PAY the creators based on them or enable them to grasp opportunities to be paid!

"But I don't want to bog down my followers with a huge reblog dump of one person's stuff."

Put it in queue to space it out, then.

"I don't have money to support the artist so I repost instead to give them exposure."

Time and time again it's been proven that reposting actively funnels money AWAY from them. You don't have to monetarily support them with much. Buy one thing from their store or give them $1 on Ko-Fi. If you can't even do that, tell them you love their stuff and shout to the rooftops where someone else can pay them; but don't make it harder for them to get paid. Too many artists "die of exposure."

"Why do you even care?"

I AM an artist. I currently support artists with real money monthly because I love their work. I only ever make money off my own art on commissions, and that relies on people being able to find me. I'm not even the one supporting my two children, husband, pet, and medical expenses with only this option to pay for it, and you bet your butt I still would be pissed if I ever found out my art had been misappropriated. Some people do this to SURVIVE and I want to see that those who do have as little unnecessary struggle with it as possible.

"It's fanart/fan content put on the internet for free I can do whatever I want with it!"

At least in North America the law says you can't. Did you know that the way laws are currently written, if someone takes a picture of you and finds a way to make money off that photo they don't owe you a dime? They hold the copyright to it. When art is displayed publicly, that copyright is not surrendered and is automatically afforded to the artist by virtue of it being their specific expression and work. By being their work, they can actually sue you for stealing their property.

Ask Disney, they're really good at it.

And to close this out I want to say one more thing: the internet has changed a LOT in the time I started browsing from the early 2000's. Rules are different, cultures are different, and for younger people especially you may not understand how some have had to (and still do) fight tooth and nail over this internet space and still make it.

If you didn't know all this, THAT'S OKAY! You're learning, and the internet is more or less a wild west right now. That means it's equal opportunity to be a killing field or a place we can lift up and support each other. Reposting is just one corner of the bad things that can come of it, but now you know how to help and even start reversing the damage.

Learn about how people who upload free content make money. When you find misappropriated work, report them to the site and try to inform the artist - don't even acknowledge the thief, just slap a ticket on them and move on. Teach others how and why reposting is bad and what they can do to help.

If you love free content, show respect and protect it. Otherwise, artists will have to put it behind a paywall and that content you loved will disappear over time. Respect will get you a much greater return than entitlement.

[mysticmikalla]

Dearest GodMikalla, I humbly request a HC where Zen and Vandy are fuck buddies (friends with benefits) with MC. Like, how did they arrive at that situation, does anyone catch feelings? If so, who? What happened if the rest of RFA find out? It can be nsfw. It can be angst if you like. I'll let you take control.

Your wish has been heard, loud and clear! 

I GOT SUPER CARRIED AWAY AND ENDED UP WRITING 5.4K WORDS OF THIS BUT ALAS, I HOPE YOU LIKE IT!!

***

Zen

“We need to get back to the party soon, you know. The others will start getting suspicious.”

“Hm,” Zen hummed against your neck, “Just a few more minutes.”

“You said that a few minutes ago.”

“I really mean it this time.” You could tell he was barely listening to you, his lips buried on your neck, leaving a trail of sloppy kisses all the way down to your collarbone

“Zen,” you moaned, tilting your head back so he could have access to more of you, “We need to go, the others will start getting suspicious.”

“They won’t,” he reassured you, “There are a million guests this time, they won’t even notice that we are gone.”

“But if they find out…!”

“They won’t.” Zen said, and to himself, he added, but would it be so bad if they did?

And as if on cue, in barged in a hacker and a gamer, their callings for you interrupted by the sight of your intertwined figures at the back of the dark room

“Zen? And M-MC?!” Yoosung gasped, his purple eyes wide and mouth agape, “Were you two…?” 

“Please tell me this isn’t what it looks like.” Said Seven, still trying to process the scene unfolding before him

When you two didn’t reply, which the blond took as confirmation that it was indeed what it looked like, he exclaimed, “How did this even happen?!” 

Ah, how did this happened, indeed?

It had maybe been a month since it had all started; after your first party as the new coordinator, the RFA agreed that having you stay in an apartment with a bomb was rather…dangerous, to say the least

And its not that Zen and Yoosung didn’t trust Seven’s nearly perfect algorithm for the security system, but the pair of them were the most outspoken ones about your safety

“She’s already planned a party for us, there’s no reason for her to stay there anymore!” Zen argued, angry at V and Seven for allowing you to ever step foot in there in the first place

Though you appreciated his concern for you, you pointed out, “I don’t really have anywhere else to go, I already got kicked out of my old apartment for missing the rent. Is there really no way you can disarm the bomb, Seven? Just so I can stay?”

The hacker scratched the back of his head, “I can’t really do anything about it without talking to V first…Sorry, MC.”

“Where the hell is she supposed to go?!” You could tell Zen was furious by the way he spat, even more so than you were

“I have several extra rooms in my penthouse, MC is more than welcome to-” Jumin offered

“No!” The actor objected, “She can’t stay with you!”

“Why not?”

“She’s…She’s a woman, and you’re a man! It’s not right!”

“MC, do you have a problem with staying at my home for a few days?”

“Not really-”

“Of course she does!” Zen said, “Listen, MC. You can’t go around trusting everyone, alright? You already got yourself involved with that hacker, don’t go trusting this guy. He might be charming and all, but you never know! He might lock you in a cage or something!”

“I would never do such thing.” Jumin waved him off

“Where am I supposed to go, then?”

“Uh, well,” he began, “You could stay at my place. Just for a while, until you find somewhere more permanent.”

“I fail to see why you deem her staying at my home immoral but it’s fine as long as its with you.” Jumin spoke, but his words were ignored by the silvered-haired man

“What do you say, MC?”

“Is it really okay? I don’t want to bother you or anything…”

“You could never bother me, of course its okay,” He gave you a warm smile, “Are you in?”

“I’m in!”

And so, in the span of 2 days, you managed to get all your belongings over to Zen’s place

It was smaller than you thought it would be, and there was only one bedroom, but Zen insisted he was fine sleeping on the couch

“Are you sure?” You lifted an eyebrow, “Jumin has plenty of space over at his place, maybe I should just stay there…?”

“Trust me, MC,” he scoffed, “You don’t want to share a home with him, he’s so…boring. You’d be dying of boredom in two days.”

“Yeah, but…I don’t feel so good about making you sleep on the couch.” You shifted awkwardly on your feet.

“You’re not making me do anything, MC. I offered you a place to stay, I’m more than happy to have you here. Its what friends do.”

“Its what friends do.” You agreed with a grin

And so began your adventures living together 

You found Zen to be a great roommate, always fun to be around and never really getting in the way of your daily routines

Friday nights were beer nights while Saturday mornings consisted of him nursing you back from your hangover so you were well enough for a movie marathon later that evening

Zen liked to cook for you, though it was always super healthy and low-fat things, and that was one luxury you didn’t have if you were living alone

The only downside to it all was that, although you got the bedroom, Zen’s snores could be heard from the living room all the way to your tired ears

You felt yourself having a great time with him, so much so that you didn’t even want to leave his place anymore, and he did everything in his power to keep you there, as well

It had been weeks since you had moved in, and now neither of you were ready for you to move out

“Zen,” you giggled, reaching across the couch to take away his can of beer, “I think you’ve had enough for tonight.”

“This is just my fifth one,” he said, “I’m not even tipsy yet.”

And while alcohol had barely an effect on him, the room was already spinning for you

The movie you two had previously been watching was now ignored and replaced by drunk chatter

“How can you drink this much without getting a beer belly?”

“I told you, I’m superhuman,” he winked, “God’s-”

“God’s mistake.” You finished his sentence, dramatically rolling your eyes

“Hey,” he nudged your foot with his, a smirk playing on his lips, “Don’t steal my lines. And I don’t get fat because I work out. See?”

Lifting up his shirt, Zen revealed the defined muscles of his abs

In your drunk state of mind, all you could do was stare

I mean, you had seen plenty of fit men shirtless before in your lifetime

But Zen was not exaggerating when he compared himself to a statue and you were too intoxicated to care about whether it was appropriate to stare at his body for this long

“Speechless?” He asked in amusement

“I…” The alcohol took over control of your tongue while the little part of your brain that was still sober heavily protested, “I want to touch it.”

This sent Zen into a laughing fit, his eyes screwing shut as he bent over, “Don’t laugh!”

“I’m sorry, MC,” he managed to say in between laughs, “I was just not expecting that from you.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re just so…innocent! I never thought you’d ask to touch me like that.”

“I’m not that innocent, you know.” You pouted, crossing your arms over your chest

“Sure you aren’t, MC, sure you aren’t.” he chuckled, opening a new can of beer and taking a large sip

You mimicked him, helping yourself to yet another can

Innocent…was that supposed to be a compliment?

It was half past three by the time you were both passed out on the couch

You were so drunk, even Zen’s loud snores and long limbs tangled with yours didn’t seem to bother you, and the only thing that could interrupt your drunken slumber was a nagging urge to pee

Zen didn’t wake up when you untangled your legs from under his and stumbled over to the bathroom, nor when you decided to settle next to him in the small couch instead of going to your room like you usually did

He didn’t wake up as your stared at his sleeping face, bringing your fingers to trace his features, so perfect and serene, even in slumber

Neither did he wake up when you whispered his name, wishing he would wake up and talk to you some more

He did, however, open his eyes as you lifted his shirt back up to get another look at him, this time up close

You didn’t know what you were thinking, the alcohol still affecting your judgement, but one thing was certain; you needed to see him again

Grabbing your hand, he mumbled, “What are you doing?”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered back, “I just…I’m not as innocent as you think.”

“MC,” he let out a breathy laugh, “I don’t think just looking at my abs while I sleep makes you any less innocent.”

Perhaps it was the challenge in his voice or the alcohol in your system, or the mingling of both, that made you cup his cheek and run your thumb over his bottom lip 

Or perhaps it was how good he looked and how delicious he smelled that urged you to bring his lips to yours, kissing him as if you had wanted to for ages

His lips still had a lingering taste of beer, but they were otherwise sweet, addictingly so

He kissed you back immediately, grabbing your face and bringing you closer, leading the ardent kiss

You took the hand that traveled from your waist to the small of your back as an invitation to go further

Shifting positions, you straddled his lap, knee on the either side of him and your center pressed against his

In the dim light of his living room, you could make out both shock and lust in his scarlet irises, the parting of his lips urged you want to close the gap between them and yours again, and his silver hair that was messily sprawled out underneath him made the man look unreal

He was so beautiful, you realized

“MC-”

“I’ll prove to you that I’m not innocent.”

And, yup, this is indeed how it had happened

“So you’ve been sneaking around for a month?!” Yoosung sputtered, still unable to process the story you had just told and what he’d just seen

“Well…yeah.”

“But why didn’t you tell us?”

“Because,” you began, “We didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. It’s not like it means anything anyway, it was just for fun.”

While both Yoosung and Seven uttered their responses, Zen felt a painful tug of his heart, and his gaze fell down to the floor

“Hey,” he croaked, “Could you guys give us a minute?”

After the two men left, Zen dropped his hold on your hand, refusing to meet your eyes

“Is something wrong?” You eyed him curiously, reaching for his hand again only to have him reject your touch

“I…I don’t think we should do this anymore, MC.”

What?

“Zen, what are you saying?”

“I think we should stop this, whatever this is.” He motioned in between you two

“Hey, look at me,” you brought up your hand to cup his cheek, but he gently swayed it away before you could, “Zen…Why are you being like this all the sudden? You seemed into it just a minute ago!”

“Yeah, well,” when his eyes met yours, you were shocked to see they flared with anger, and how his brows pulled together in hurt, “That was before.”

“Before what?”

“Before I found out that it means nothing to you!” He snapped, his hand running over his face

You opened your mouth, but no words would come out. Huh?

“All this time I thought that maybe…Ah, forget it. Just…Forget it, it’s my fault for ever thinking you felt the same.”

“Zen, wait,” you grabbed his hand before he could attempt to leave, “Talk to me. What’s going on?”

It had been true from the moment he had met you; all the shared jokes, silent flirting and secret touches under the table made him hope, words of affection whispered after moments pleasure and the way your eyes seemed to linger longer on him all made Zen believe you could possibly feel the same

It was how giddy he felt knowing he had someone to come home to, how incredibly happy he became when you two started to share a bed. It was how absolutely thrilled he was knowing that you were there, that you were his, even if only in the moments he kissed you

It was a combination of all those things that made the actor realize he was utterly in love with you

“It’s nothing, MC. Forget I said anything.” He mumbled, leaning in for a kiss

Having you like this, he realized, even if only one-sided, was better than not having you at all

If you didn’t feel the same, the short moments of bliss in which he could pretend you did were enough. They had to be enough

“No,” you turned your head before his lips could find yours, “I know its not ‘nothing’. Tell me. What did you mean by that?”

“It wasn’t just meaningless sex to me, MC,” he confessed, “It wasn’t just that.”

“But I thought…”

“I know, and it’s not your fault. I’m sorry, please forget I said anything, please. I don’t want to stop being with you, even if its like this.”

You took a step closer to him until you were mere inches from his chest. His head hung low, all you had to do was simply look up to meet your lips with his

“I didn’t know you felt that way.”

“Jesus, MC,” he let out a defeated laugh, “How could you possibly not know?”

“I…I didn’t want to hope for it, Zen.”

“Huh?”

“I didn’t want to fool myself into thinking that you might feel the same way I do.” You admitted, finally looking up to meet his eyes, your lips millimeters apart, “I didn’t want to hope that you were in love with me as I am with you.”

It took him a second to process your words, “A-are you saying what I think you’re saying? Don’t get my hopes up like this, MC.”

“I would never do that.” 

“Then why did you tell them that it meant nothing?” He question, still skeptical about your confession, still refusing to believe that you might actually feel it, too

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. You never mentioned anything so I didn’t know what to think.”

He caressed your cheek, adoration so vivid in his eyes and the beating of his heart so strong against his chest that he was sure the guests outside could hear, “MC, I had no idea…”

“How could I possibly not fall in love with you, Zen? After everything we’ve been through?” You smiled, and when he found himself to be at a loss for words, you brought your lips together, tasting them as if it were the first time

“Just kiss me, you fool.” 

Vanderwood

You could never have guessed that you’d end up like this, so close to him

Perhaps it was because he wasn’t as outgoing as Seven or Zen, charming like Yoosung and Jumin or seemed as caring as Jaehee, but the man in the leopard-print suit with a stone face had always seemed a bit unapproachable to you

Hell, he wasn’t even in the RFA in the first place, so the opportunities you had to get to know him were, well, close to none

And yet,

After hackers, cults, kidnappings and all of the drama that came with being a party coordinator, Seven decided to give up his precious ‘maid’ so that Vanderwood could keep a close eye on you

“I’m not even hired by you,” scoffed the agent, “I’m here to make sure you do your job.”

“I can’t focus if I know she’s in danger,” Seven would say in order to convince him, “So if you do this, I promise to get all my work done. Pretty please?”

Vanderwood knew that when Seven went into pleading mode, there was no arguing against

The brunette man wasn’t happy about having to baby sit you, and you weren’t so thrilled about the arrangement, either

Yes, Vanderwood was one of the only ones who knew the address to the apartment, and yes it was risky to send Jumin’s body guards over to your top secret location

…but still

Did it have to be Vanderwood? You barely knew him!

You two had hardly exchanged two sentences to each other, and although he did seem nice enough to you, it was damn awkward

Although you knew he was being paid to be there and you didn’t have to keep him company at all times, you still felt bad about leaving him alone like that all day

He just sat there on the couch, eyes fixated on his phone and occasionally pulling out a book

For hours

Everyday.

During weeks

A few words were muttered here in there when you came and went from the apartment, but other than that, it was complete silence 

Seven told you not to take it personally, he just tended to keep to himself most of the time when he wasn’t scolding anyone

You often wondered what went through his mind during the long hours of silence he endured, whether he was counting down the days as well until the hacker was no longer a threat so he could finally leave 

It had become a painfully boring routine for him and an awkward one for you

“Hey,” you told him one day as you were leaving the house, “I’m going out to the store for a few minutes…is there anything you w-want, or need?”

“You can’t go.”

“Huh?”

“You can’t go.” He repeated, not even bothering to avert his gaze from his phone and look at you

“Why not?” 

“The hacker has been acting quite strange lately, Luciel said its best to stay here for a while.”

You chewed on your bottom lip, unsure of what to say. “Oh.”

His attention went back to his phone and, without another word, you retreated to your room

And in the following days, the same happened

Whether it was going across the street to the store or even just get the mail outside, Vanderwood said the exact three words, leaving to space for arguments 

“You can’t go.”

You were getting annoyed at the whole ordeal, feeling as if you were a ten-year-old asking for your parent’s permission

“I’m going over to my friend’s house.” You informed, hastily putting your coat on and gathering your things so he wouldn’t have time to stop you 

“Can’t.” Damn.

“But-”

“Nope.”

“It’s Poker night! I can’t miss Poker night.” You huffed in annoyance

“You can, and you will. There is still a possibility-”

“I don’t want to put my life on hold due to a ‘possibility’!” You argued, “Come with me if you’re so worried.”

“Its too dangerous, MC,” he warned, but upon seeing your frustration, Vanderwood softened, “I’m sorry.”

“I just-” you let out a deep sigh, knowing it wasn’t his fault, either, “Never mind. Its fine.”

And when you spun in your heel to trudge your way back to the confinement of your room, he spoke, “I can play Poker.”

It had been the first time he had said something to you that wasn’t related to your safety

“Oh,” you replied, “You don’t have to, its fine-”

Vanderwood scoffed, “You’ve been sulking in your room for days now, I’m even starting to feel guilty here.”

“You’re not-”

“Let’s play.”

Reluctantly, you sat on the other end of the couch closely watching Vanderwood shuffle a deck of cards

“Where did you get that deck? I didn’t know there was one in the apartment.”

“There are two things you can never leave the house without,” he told you, “A pen and a deck of cards.”

“And clothes, of course.” You added

“And clothes,” he agreed, “You know the rules, right?”

“Please. I am the Poker Queen, undefeated among my friends.”

“That’s good to hear,” he grinned, “I am the Poker King.”

And so, a weird yet amusing tradition began 

After work or school, Vanderwood would pick you up from where Jumin’s bodyguards dropped you off, and together you walked back to the secrecy of your apartment

You were in charge of getting snacks while he set up the game and put together a small playlist composed of his favorite songs (which you thought were terrible, but hey, if he were in a good mood, so were you)

And then you began to play

And when you played, you talked

And the more you talked, the more you realized that there was so much more to this man that met the eye

Someone you had deemed so cold before was actually pretty easy going, and surprisingly caring

For someone who wasn’t used to talking a lot to other people, Vanderwood was actually quite funny

And boy could this man talk after getting a bit more comfortable with you

Vanderwood had so many stories to tell and you two often found yourselves lost in chat, neglecting the game you both loved so you could listen

He never went into much detail about his past, but you were too engrossed in his tales of adventure and danger to pay much mind

And…you liked it

You enjoyed his company a lot and found yourself preferring to stay in and share a game with this him rather than going out with your friends

It went on for weeks, and your previous wish of having the hacker taken care of so he could leave was now completely gone

“This is getting boring,” you set your cards down after the second hour of playing, “We need to at least bet something.”

“Do you have anything you want from me?” He wondered, eyeing his cards and the ones on the table, masking his expression well so you could never guess what hand he had

“How about…” You pondered, “One truth?”

“A truth?”

“Yes,” you nodded, “If I win, you have answer any question I ask truthfully.”

“No.” He turned you down before you could explain further

You stuck your lips out in a pout, “Why not?” 

“Are you going to call or not?” He nodded towards the cards, ignoring your question

“No, I fold. And why not?”

“The less you know about me, the better.” He said, collecting the prize of some gummy bears from his win

“I’ll tell you anything you want to know about me!” You offered

“I already know everything about you.” Vanderwood pointed out, and you knew it was true; Seven had probably informed him of even your blood type and credit card information by now

“That’s not fair,” you argued, “How come you get to know everything about me but I don’t know a single thing about you?”

“Because its my job, MC. Now, are you going to deal the cards or not?”

“No,” you stubbornly said, crossing your arms over your chest and avoiding his gaze, “I don’t want to play anymore.”

“Don’t be like that.” He rolled his eyes

“I’m serious! I don’t like it that you know everything about me and I don’t even know if Vanderwood is even your real name.”

“There is no reason for you to know,” he countered, “I’m getting paid to be here, to protect you. There is nothing more to it. You don’t have to know anything about me.”

You blinked, puzzled at his words, “I-I thought we were friends?”

His silence sent a surprisingly painful pang through your chest

“I see. It’s fine.”

“MC-”

“I don’t feel like playing anymore.” You mumbled, standing up to leave towards the comfort of your room

Vanderwood always made sure to keep the distance, so you were surprised when he grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you back down to the couch

“We are friends, okay?”

“I don’t believe you.”

“You don’t have to believe me, its the truth.” He huffed, but the longer you stared with those big, pleading eyes of yours, the more he felt himself give in

Vanderwood groaned, running a hand over his face, “Argh, fine. I’ll answer three questions you have, but no more.”

You beamed at him, “Really?”

“Really.”

Chewing on your bottom lip, you thought about every question, every thought of wonder you’ve ever had about him; there were too many! How were you supposed to pick just three?

His past, his scars, his family, and even the story behind the haircut you deemed so ugly- you wanted to know it all

“Is Vanderwood your real name?”

“No,” he answered, “And I won’t give you my real one.”

“Fine,” you sighed, pausing before asking your second question, “Why do you wear gloves all the time? Its summer.”

“Would you believe it if I said that I’m a germophobe?”

You shook your head, “You promised to tell the truth.”

“I….” He paused for a while, as if battling with himself on whether he wanted to answer or skip the question, “I don’t like touching people.”

Your eyes widened at his response, and guilt washed over you as you remembered all the playful nudges and pokes you shared with him, “Oh my God, you should have told me before! I wouldn’t have-”

“It’s fine,” he waved you off, “I said I don’t like people touching me. You’re not people, you’re you.”

“Oh,” you mumbled, unsure of what to reply, “So…how do you…”

“How do I what?”

“You know…” You fumbled with your words, flustered, “How do you date?”

“I don’t.” He said flatly

“So you mean you’ve never…?”

“I think you already used all your questions.” He cut you off, tearing his gaze from yours

“I will take that as a yes.”

He was silent

“…Well?”

“No,” he admitted in a grumble, “I have never.”

And you don’t know why you said it

Perhaps it was because you were lonely or stressed, but ever since you had been locked in the same apartment as him for weeks, you began to feel…Curious

Curious about him; how he would feel, what he looked like under all those clothes, how he would taste, how he sounded like…

 And most of all, curious as to what he would reply to your suggestive question

“Do you want to?”

The silence that fell and the moments that followed had to be the longest of your life

“Please tell me you’re joking.”

“It could be fun.” You wiggled your eyebrows 

He let out a laugh, “I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that.”

“Oh, come on! You’re bored, I’m bored, we are stuck here together anyway…What do you say?”

It was one of the rare times Vanderwood was completely caught by surprise

It wasn’t what he signed up for. He was supposed to just keep an eye on you as you came and went, just while this hacker was still on the loose so Seven could get his work for the agency done

He was never supposed to starting speaking and much less talking about himself with you, and Vanderwood was definitely not supposed to get close to you like that

So why did he find himself just as curious as you?

Why did he find himself closing the space between you on the couch? Why was he leaning in until his nose brushed with yours and your minty breath was all he could smell?

Why did he find himself kissing you?

“No strings attached?” He murmured

“No strings attached.”

And then he dipped his head in, bringing your lips to his, trying not to think about how it was the closest he had ever been to someone, and how it was you, of all people!

It was true, he hadn’t lied; you were the only person he didn’t hate touching, and he was almost as surprised as you were at how much he enjoyed it

You, on the other hand, had lied

You promised him it was meaningless, you promised him it would be just sex

No strings attached, right?

But from the very first kiss and the very first time he touched you, you could feel those strings growing tighter

Whenever you would wake up and he was still in your bed, you couldn’t help but run your hands over his sleeping features, admiring how soft they looked in comparison to when he was awake

When he was in silence, you desperately wanted to know what he was thinking, what troubled him enough to warrant a deep scowl he often wore on his face

Each time you called his name during moments of ecstasy, you felt yourself fall a little more for him, a little deeper, a little harder

Whenever his hands were on you and yours were on him, a foreign warmth spread within you, especially when you thought about how you were the only person in the world who had ever been with him like this

The nights when he got a little bit too drunk and your pillow-talk would grow to invade the late hours of night, with him speaking in a softer tone than usual and revealing bits about himself, you felt yourself beginning to crash

The only thing that kept you grounded was your daily reminder that he was being paid to be there, to worry about your whereabouts and care for you

That’s right, you bitterly reminded yourself, its his job. Its just his job

But it didn’t feel like that when he kissed you

It didn’t feel like it was just part of his job,  and it sure didn’t feel as if you two were just friends

He was sweet and tender with you, softly spoken at times and incredibly vulnerable at others  

And that was no job nor friendship

It was something you only dared to hope for 

It was lo-

“Hey,” you whispered while you lied on his chest, focusing on the counts of his heartbeat and the heat of his bare skin on yours, “Can I ask you something?”

“Mhm.” He hummed, eyes half closed and his movements slow and tired while he caressed your hair

“What are you feeling right now?”

His hand stopped feeling through your locks, “I’m tired. Why?”

“Just tired?”

“Why are you asking?” He shifted you over so he could look at your face

“Its nothing. You should sleep.” You buried your face in his arms again, avoiding his eyes and attempting to push down the rising lump in your throat

Ah, yes, you were cruelly reminded, the euphoria and glowing feeling in your heart was something exclusive to you, and no matter how much you wished for it, the four-lettered word you felt was horribly one-sided

But Vanderwood was not a fool nor was he oblivious; he could detect the smallest crack in your voice and the stiffing of your body under his arm

“I thought you said friends didn’t lie, MC. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I just…” You trailed off, absentmindedly tracing circles on his skin, “I’m tired, I don’t know what I’m saying.”

“I’m tired, too, so tell me.”

Hesitating, you thought about how much greater the dull in your chest was about to get once you spoke those words, and how it would tenfold once he rejected them, “What would you say if I told  you I were in love?”

His silence was almost deafening, and you regretted those words almost immediately after they left your lips

Perhaps it would have been better to remain in the bliss of ignorance

“I’d tell you that you’re mad.”

There it was.

The warmth that previously lounged in your heart was now overcome with a vicious cold, your limbs going numb upon processing his words

You didn’t know how the lump in your throat hadn’t suffocated you yet, and for a moment, you wished it would

But before the hurt could fester any further and your heart could completely break, Vanderwood tilted your chin up, taking you by surprise as his lips met with yours

“But maybe I’m just as mad as you.”