#everyone wants to study my interesting and perplexing behaviors

[waitineedaname]

[does something interesting in my petri dish when you're not looking]

[dutchdread]

“She is is envious of the bond Cloud has with Tifa”

Genuine question here because I see a lot of CloTi discourse talk about how Aerith is envious of Cloud and Tifa’s bond, but is this ever mentioned officially or explained? I can’t find one single inference or implication that she is, only that one could argue via subjective interpretation that she maybe wants to try to learn Cloud for who he is and not who he reminds her of.

Arguably, one could say that this interpretation is inherently describing an envy, but I’m looking at it from the perspective of Aerith wanting to learn who Cloud is in an effort to like him for him and not Zack.

(Full disclosure: I’m actually a huge CloTi, but I’ve been out of the fandom for a decade+, and I’ve been reading a lot of discussions on the LTD, and while my personal opinion is that CloTi is more or less canonical at this point, the nuance that they’ve developed with Aerith that just wasn’t there in OG is interesting/perplexing to me because I don’t have a full scope of info. And I like it when things are proven by the devs. It’s possible that there’s information I’m missing or have missed, but otherwise what I have consumed doesn’t seem to indicate she’s envious of Cloud/Tifa’s relationship specifically.)

The idea that Aerith is envious of Cloud and Tifas bond became a thing mostly after Rebirth. Before that it was also put forth at times when someone did a character study of Aerith and the evidence back then was mostly just that it fit and made sense. In essence it was an amateur diagnosis. We saw in Remake that Aerith had unresolved issues concerning her childhood during the Eligor scene, that combined with what we learned about her childhood in TotP made it so that a lot of her outgoing "life affirming" behavior made a lot of sense if she was, in essence, trying to catch up for lost time. She's enthusiastically, perhaps even desperately, trying to have the same experiences everyone else has, to have a normal life. This is also congruent with other parts of the story, like her seeing Zack in Cloud. If Cloud reminds her of Zack, and she had a bond with Zack, then watching Cloud and Tifa express that same young love that she once felt would naturally lead to her wishing she had that. After all, we've known for a long time that Aerith still isn't over Zack, so her being slightly envious of that is natural. And that doesn't have to be a bad thing. You can be happy someone has something and because of that have a positive longing to experience something similar. But where this was really made explicit is in Rebirth, where there are multiple scenes that hint or outright state that Aerith wishes she had something like what Cloud and Tifa have. The main two being the Kalm "date" and the watertower discussion. In Kalm Aerith takes Cloud on a date as a pretense to talk about the prior night, and almost the first thing she does is mention Cloud and Tifas friendship and mention that she'd have given anything to have a friend when she was growing up. As soon as she thinks of their bond her first thought is to link it to her own desires.

She continues by saying to not take Tifa for granted. Since this is something Aerith lacked she thinks it's important, and the idea of it being sullied or undermined instinctively bothers her. She wants them to value it as much as she would value such a thing. This is not her living vicariously through Cloud and Tifa or anything, but just a small nuance that paints the picture of a girl who yearns for these bonds herself enough that she is hyper aware of them with other people. All this is then stated explicitly on the water tower, where Aerith states: "Must be nice..."

She generally willfully daydreams about how nice Nibelheim is. It all paints the same picture, a girl without a childhood who never got to experience the things that Cloud and Tifa had and lost, but wishes that she did. This is a huge part of her character and establishes the background needed to understand stuff like "no promises to keep". Some people are upset that NPTK is not a love song from Aerith to Cloud, but a deeper look into Aerith shows why it would be weird for it to be one. Because Aeriths journey isn't about romance, it isn't even just about Cloud. It's about her experiencing and developing the bonds that she felt she was denied for so long. The song is "even about Tifa and Barret" because it's about all the precious bonds she made on her journey. It's one of the things that makes Clotis version of Aerith superior to the Clerith version, because we give her so many more layers.

[animeyanderelover]

To: Tsukinami Brothers (Poly) NSFW/THREESOME

Let's talk about a s/o who has Stolchom syndrome… what if Tsukinami brother's petite s/o wants to do threesome with them?

Thanks in advance! <3

Back to my studies, everyone!

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, possessive behavior, obsession, abduction, isolation, mind break, Stockholm syndrome, Nsfw, breeding kink, specific mentions of darling's body type, afab s/o

Threesome

🔮​🐺​A threesome with those two won't be quite as easily achievable as you might think it is for the mere reason that those two quite often argue about how to treat you. Shin is a hopeless sadist who just wants to hurt you and see you suffer for no evident reason, Carla only hurts you to break your mind and shape you into his ideal version. Outside of that though, he won't harm you as long as you behave and since Stockholm syndrome has kicked in, he's become more lenient. By all means, the older of the Tsukinami brothers has no desire to share you with his brother, your request is perplexing and mildly he's even displeased because even if he's sharing with Shin, it's disappointing to find out that you seem to value his younger brother as much as you do him.

🔮​🐺​Shin finds your request initially just as strange because he absolutely doesn't want to share either, especially since Carla is in general the one who always forbids him to have his fun with you, he always has to hold back whether it's a simple torture or filthy and humiliating sex with you. Sure, you are a human but you aren't made of porcelain either. The younger brother knows the motives behind his brother's demands though, he wants your body to not sustain any permanent damage so that you can bear him an heir. What even is the appeal of a crying and helpless little brat anyways? Yet Shin is the one who kind of isn't as opposed to the idea as Carla is. Something about the aspect of possibly being able to get under Carla's skin is rather thrilling because as much as he respects his older brother, sometimes he just wants to spite him a bit.

🔮​🐺​Carla is the hardest one to crack because he's so strictly against the idea of sharing you physically like this. He has no desire to see Shin doing things in his own style which is distasteful and undesirable at best in his eyes. Carla knows that Shin is a freak but that doesn't mean that he wants to see for himself. So Shin ends up pestering him with the idea of it whilst you have to continue begging him, hoping that he might agree. If Carla tells both of you clearly that he has no interest though, it's wisest to stop because otherwise he sees it as an act of you disobeying him which naturally means that he has to teach you how to do better next time. You've been doing so well for him up until now, you wouldn't want to disappoint him. You shouldn't be such a hungry, little slut. He alone should be more than enough to satisfy your needs in the sheets.

🔮​🐺​A threesome with both of them, if Carla should agree to it with great skepticism, would be tiring and exhausting for their darling. Because even if Carla considers your petite form and warns Shin to hold back, especially now that he's present, ultimately both vampires are still sadists with an unlimited amount of stamina. Shin enjoys bickering with his older brother a bit simply to break his normally composed facade a bit by purposely getting on his nerves, earning him from Carla a sharp snarl all whilst the white-haired male is pounding into you. Shin is forbidden to cum into you to ensure that you'll be carrying Carla's child and even whilst the First Blood King will take you all for himself later anyways, he might as well start already now. Shin has no real problem with that. A crying and screeching baby is the last thing he wants and he has a defined love of soiling you in spit, sweat, your own blood and his sticky cum or simply watching you chock on his dick as he fucks your mouth.

[yasminbenoit]

What Is Asexuality? Yasmin Benoit for Teen Vogue

For Asexuality Awareness Week, model Yasmin Benoit answers the question ‘what is asexuality’, and busts some common myths about what it means to be asexual.

I realized I was asexual around the same time my peers seemed to realize that they were not. Once the hormones kicked in, so did a nearly universal interest in sex for those around me. I thought sex was intriguing, but never so much that I wanted to express my sexuality with someone else. I had no sexual desire towards other people, I did not experience sexual attraction, and that hasn't changed.

I didn't learn that there was a word for my sexuality until I was 15, after being interrogated for the millionth time at school about my orientation, or lack of it. After doing some Googling as soon as I got home, I realized for the first time in my life that I might not be broken, that I wasn't alone in my experience, and that it wasn't a defect I had somehow brought on myself. I had spent the entirety of my adolescent life trying to answer people's invasive questions without having the language to explain that I was just an asexual girl.

But even after I found the language, I had only solved half of the problem. We are taught in grade school that we'll become sexually interested in others, but never that not being sexually attracted to anyone is an option. Because we're not taught about it, no one else knew what I was talking about when I tried to come out to them as asexual.

Many don't believe asexuality is real,  and that makes the experience of navigating our heteronormative, hyper-sexualized society as an asexual person even harder. I've spent my life battling misconceptions about it and so have many other asexual people. Now, I try to use my work as a model and activist to raise awareness and change the way our society perceives asexuality and asexual people. This Asexual Awareness Week, I'm busting some of those myths about my orientation.

Now, let's separate fact from fiction:

Myth: Asexual people have no sexuality ✘

Truth: Asexuality is considered a sexuality, just like bisexuality, heterosexuality, and homosexuality. I often phrase it as being a sexual orientation where your sexuality isn’t oriented anywhere—because it isn't actually the same as having no sexuality or sexual feelings. Asexual people have hormones like everyone else. It isn’t uncommon for asexual people to masturbate and there are asexual people who still have sex for various reasons and gain enjoyment from it. Some asexual people are romantically attracted to others, but not sexually attracted. Since asexuality is a spectrum, the ways in which asexuality is experienced can vary in different ways.

Myth: Asexuality is a lifestyle choice ✘

Truth: This misconception stems from the idea that asexuality is a choice and not a legitimate sexual orientation. Asexuality is often confused with celibacy or abstinence, probably because they can manifest in similar ways. In contemporary society, celibacy is often defined as being sexually abstinent, often for religious reasons. Sure, for many asexual people, their asexuality means that they aren’t interested in having sex with other people, but that’s a result of their orientation—not their beliefs about sexual behavior. Celibacy is a lifestyle choice, asexuality is not. Asexuality also shouldn't be confused with being an incel. People don't decide to become asexual because they can't find sexual partners or because of any other circumstances. It isn't a state of being when you're going through a "dry spell," nor is it a choice any more than being gay or straight is a choice. It's just the way we are.\

Myth: Asexuality is an illness ✘

Truth: The assertion that asexuality is a mental or physical disorder is incredibly harmful to asexual people and has led to false diagnoses, unnecessary medication, and attempts at converting asexual people. For example, Female Sexual Interest/Arousal Disorder and Hypoactive Sexual Desire Disorder ��� which are characterized by low or absent sex drive — are in the DSM-5 and have been thought of as a medical diagnosis for asexuality. But the difference is that people who have HSDD are bothered by their lack of sexual drive, while asexual people are not. But even the inclusion of HSDD as a diagnosis is controversial — some argue that people who are asexual might feel distress at their lack of sexual desire because of lack of acceptance in society. Asexuality is not the result of a hormone deficiency, or a syndrome, or a physical or psychological ailment. Research has said as much. We don't need to be treated or fixed.

Myth: Asexual people have anti-sex attitudes ✘

Truth: There are asexual people who are repulsed by the thought of sex, or by the thought of having sex themselves. I fall into the latter category. However, that feeling does not necessarily extend to what other people are doing. The misconception that asexual people are against other people expressing their sexuality, and that all asexual people can’t stomach conversations about sex, is quite an alienating one. It leads to asexual people being left out of important discussions about sexuality. It is entirely possible and incredibly common to have sex-positive attitudes and be asexual.

Myth: There are barely any asexual people ✘

Truth: Don't let our lack of visibility and representation fool you. There are a lot of asexual people out there, but many of us aren't entirely out, and some haven't realized that there's a word for what they're experiencing due to that lack of visibility. While research into the asexual population is lacking, its estimated that around 1% of the population is asexual—but that's based on a studies where the participants have likely known what asexuality was and been out enough to identify that way. It's likely there are more asexual people than we know of, but even if we did only comprise 1% of the population, that's still tens of millions of asexual people.

Myth: Asexual people just haven’t found the right person yet ✘

Truth: The idea that asexual people just need to meet the ‘right person’ who will unlock their sexual desire and ‘fix’ their asexuality is one I’ve always found quite perplexing. It’s an argument that seems to be applied to asexuality more than other orientations. You wouldn’t tell a straight guy that they just “hadn’t met the right man yet" as an explanation of why he's attracted to women. I’d like to think that most wouldn’t tell a gay man that they “hadn’t met the right woman yet” either. It suggests that our sexuality is reflective of our company, that no one we have ever seen or encountered has met our standards, and thus we haven’t experienced sexual attraction to the extent that the term ‘asexual’ could be applied.

This assumption ignores and invalidates all of the asexual people who have found the ‘right’ person—the asexual people in happy, fulfilling, loving relationships or who have had them in the past. Because, yes, asexual people can still have romantic relationships, or any other kind of relationship. The validity of a relationship is not and should not be based on how sexually attracted you are to that person. This statement also plays into the notion that asexual people are “missing out” on something and haven’t truly discovered our entire selves, that we are incomplete because of our innate characteristics or our life experiences. This isn’t true either.\

Myth: There’s an asexual demographic ✘

Truth: Even though most people don’t know much about asexuality, they still have quite a specific idea about what asexual people are like. I’ve often heard that, as a black woman and a model, I don’t look or seem asexual. We’re stereotyped as being awkward white kids who spend too much time on social media and probably aren’t attractive enough to find a sexual partner if we wanted to. And if we are attractive enough, then we should tone that down as not to ‘give mixed signals.’ But there is no asexual way to look or dress. Asexual people have varying ages, backgrounds, interests, appearances, and experiences, just like those belonging to any other sexual orientation. So please don't use the term "asexual" as an adjective to describe someone you think is sexually unappealing or as an insult, because that's only perpetuating this harmful stereotype.

Makeup: Margherita Lascala

Photography: Becky Gannon

Hair: Kayla Idowu

Styling: Diesel, Cheimsee, Sixth June, Northskull, Lamoda

[speuradair]

Rantaro, Fuyuhiko, Korekiyo, Kaito With An Overworked S/O That Gets A Bit Delirious From Caffeine

Definitely the most caring and attentive

It’s just his big brother nature

Rantaro understands being overworked, and in turn, he understands turning to caffeine to push through the resulting exhaustion 

He’s done it so many times, both in her personal adventures and in his school work 

He has a habit of pushing himself too far in his adventures

Leading to him switching back and forth between all nighters and sleeping way more than most people do to recover from said all nighters

That being said, Rantaro doesn’t support you doing the same thing

It’s a bit hypocritical, but hey- do as he says, not as he does

He’s definitely the type to cut you off from caffeinated drinks before you can have too many

Not to be controlling, but to make sure you don’t make yourself sick later

However, Rantaro can’t be with you 24/7

That’s how you end up drinking enough energy drinks to get a bit ridiculous 

He comes over to check on you or to hang out, only for you to quickly greet him before beginning to ramble about whatever nonsensical question you were debating mentally 

“Ah, you’re here! Awesome, I need your opinion-  If life is unfair on everybody, isn’t life technically fair...?”

He just kind of blinks, processing what you said for a second before immediately scanning the room to see what you’ve been drinking

The pile of discarded energy drink cans next to your snitches on you

“Babe- how many have you had?” he raises an eyebrow at you, trying to speak quickly so he can ask before you start on another tangent

You hesitate, both because you know he’ll cut you off and because you’ve honestly lost count

“Like, three. Or four? 6, maybe. 10 tops?”

“...”

“...”

“You’re done now”

He doesn’t even ask, he just insists that you’re stopping whatever you’re working on, and you’re going to start relaxing, at least for a bit until the caffeine overload wears off

Rantaro makes you take a break, even if he has to physically pick you up and make you sit with him 

He picks you up bridal style if he has to, all while you’re still rambling incoherently

“How do you throw away a garbage can?”

He’ll bribe you with your favorite snacks, favorite shows or videos, and of course, cuddles and affection

This usually results in you both wrapped up in a blanket together, cuddled up on the couch or bed

Rantaro knows what he’s doing- he’s not just bribing you to get you to do something else

He knows that after a little while of sitting still, curling up together, and him holding you, you’re gonna fall asleep

It works every single time

Once you do fall asleep, Rantaro just smiles to himself, shifts to get more comfortable, and falls asleep with you-

But not before pressing an affectionate kiss to your forehead

Fuyuhiko is the most confused by your behavior

Like he understands feeling the need to work really hard for long hours

He works his ass off too

but man-

Even he thinks that you’re not sleeping enough

Fuyuhiko walks into the room and he can already tell you’re overtired before you even say anything

“Just take a fuckin’ break, (name), how much caffeine have you had??”

He swears he can see you literally vibrating right now

“Uhhh, I lost track after my eleventh- speaking of which, what do teeth taste like? Do you think that everyone’s teeth taste different?”

He just blinks, giving you the most confused look he can manage

“What the fuck does that have to do with what I asked-”

“What does water taste like?”

“You’re done, you’re going to bed.”

He doesn’t even wait for you to agree or reply at all, he’s dragging you to lay down

Fuyuhiko protests cuddling, bc ya know, he has an image to keep up

But he’ll use the excuse of keeping you from getting up to lay with you, holding you tightly

He claims it’s to force you to sit still and sleep, but he also just enjoys the affection

He is not above laying on top of you until you fall asleep if you keep insisting on getting up to do something

Once you do fall asleep, he lets out a sigh, sounding more aggravated than he actually is

You’re ridiculous, but he wouldn’t take care of you like this if he wasn’t absolutely head over heels for you

He shifts to lay beside you, huffing superficially, but still gazing at you with pure adoration in his eyes

“You’re a dumbass sometimes, ya know? You need to take care of yourself, idiot. You’re gonna make yourself sick if you keep this shit up, then what are we going to do?”

To an outsider, his words sound harsh, but if you were awake enough to hear him, you’d know how sweet and loving those words are

He’s rough about it, but he just means that he worries about you

Fuyuhiko would be terrified if you got sick or hurt in anyway

He wants the best for you, and he wants you to be safe and healthy

Korekiyo isn’t exactly the type to overwork himself

More accurately, he has a tendency to hyperfixate on something for hours and hours at a time

It’s not uncommon for him to disappear into the library or his office all day, reading books about humanity and societies

But he’s also very sensitive to his own discomfort

Once he pulls himself from his studies. he knows that he needs to take care of himself

He’s also very sensitive to caffeine, so he just tries to avoid it

Which is why he’s quite concerned by your energy drink-fueled chaos

While he’s quite interested in your thought provoking questions, he’s more concerned about how delirious you seem

Did someone slip you something?

Are you sick?

Are you drunk?

It’s... caffeine? 

How odd

Korekiyo definitely stops whatever he’s doing to take care of you

He makes sure you drink water and do something calming and safe

However, he is observing you the whole time, studying each odd thing you do 

This is such a fascinating facet of humanity, isn’t it?

How a simple chemical can put you in such a chaotic daze

“Hey, Kiyo- Being “up” for something means the same thing as being “down” for something.”

He doesn’t look away from the show you both are watching, but he nods thoughtfully

“That is odd, isn’t it? Linguistics rarely develops as one would expect-”

Now he’s the one rambling, and you’re the one nodding along

His voice is super soothing though, and you’re energy is crashing

It’s not long before you’re out like a light, your body slumped against his side

Korekiyo raises his eyebrow as he feels your weight fall against him, his words trailing off as he notices you’ve finally fallen asleep

He just chuckles to himself, kissing your head gently before pulling a blanket up around the two of you

Humans are such perplexing and interesting creatures

This man absolutely gets overloaded on caffeine with you

He’s not going to be much help in calming you down, unless you’re making yourself upset or sick

Seeing you hurt or uncomfortable activates his protective mode, and then he’s very attentive, trying to get you to fall asleep and rest

Other than that, Kaito is just as chaotic as you are

Hopefully you two can balance each other out, because usually, neither of you are going to stop yourselves

Kaito isn’t necessarily the type overwork himself, but he just enjoys energy drinks and caffeine 

So when you get ridiculous after having coffee or energy drinks, it just hypes him up too

“If you’re waiting for the waiter, aren’t you the waiter?”

“Oh my god you’re right”

Most likely you two just end up crashing together, getting each other more and more hyped up before you both collapse on the bed in exhaustion

Then you two sleep for the next 14 hours, trying to make up for your previous lack of sleep

[geminimoon14]

Sanders Sides Space AU Part 2

It took Remus and Janus no time to settle into a routine with the crew of the USS Sanders. There was no surprise amongst the crew when Remus was revealed to be directly related to Roman, though it was convenient to be able to report the former’s antics to the Captain directly. Fortunately, Janus and Remus were successfully incorporated into the crew with hardly a problem.

Virgil was walking by Logan’s office, ready to deliver Roman’s research request when he overheard, “You drink POISON!” Virgil rushed in, ready to call up Dr. Patton for an emergency treatment when he saw Logan calmly sipping from his mug. 

Remus’s eyes were wide in admiration as he exclaimed, “Dren! I didn’t know you could do that!” Virgil rolled all four of his eyes as Logan continued looking over a report and drinking from his mug. The Araneus held out a small disc to the Human and informed him, “Princey wants some info on the fauna of Dronter. Something about toxic blood?” 

Logan took the disc and scanned the information before replying, “Very well, let the captain know he should have the information in a few microns.” Virgil nodded, ready to leave when Remus asked, “Did you know he could drink poison? Deathworlders are incredible!”

Before Virgil could ask, Logan sighed and told the other, “For the last time, coffee is not toxic! It helps my general awareness!” Virgil went rigid as he exclaimed, “You WHAT!” His hand went to his communicator as he called Patton and shrieked, “Emergency! Logan drank coffee, nearly a half a mug! We need help now!”

Logan had no time to protest as Patton responded, “I’m on my way! Get him to lay down to slow its course!” The scientist tried to speak but was pulled onto the floor of his office before he could register. Logan huffed and folded his arms across his chest as he waited for Virgil to focus enough that he could help. 

Remus seemed on edge as Virgil’s panic spiraled. Just as it seemed to be getting worse, Logan’s voice called out, “Virgil! In for four.” The Araneus froze at the order and took Logan’s hand as the Human repeated, “In for four...“ Virgil struggled for a moment before inhaling as Logan counted and continued speaking, “Good. Hold for seven… Breath out for eight... Now do it again. In for four…”

Patton arrived just as Virgil started to calm and loaded Logan onto the gurney. Still holding Virgil’s hand, Logan glared and told the medic, “I. Am. Fine! Coffee is not going to kill me.” Patton placed his hands on Logan’s temple and scanned his mind for abnormalities. Logan sighed as he asked, “Is this like the capsaicin thing again?” 

Remus looked to a medical assistant as they revealed, “Human’s purposely eat things that make their mouths feel like they’re burning.” Remus turned back in time to hear Patton ask, “You’ve been drinking that stuff every day!” 

From the gurney, Logan casually checked the time and replied, “Humans drink it as a way to heighten their focus when tired, some to the point of addiction. I utilize it as a way to help my mind prepare itself for early morning cognitive function. I was not aware it was toxic to other species.” Virgil seemed to become a little more anxious as he exclaimed, “Your species and literally eat a deadly poison and all you get from it is a little boost of energy!” Logan nodded along, finally allowed to sit up and slide off the gurney as he remarked, “That seems to be correct, yes.”

Virgil huffed and walked away as he shouted, “Frelling Humans! Never know what’s gonna kill you!” Logan seemed perplexed by the proclamation but shrugged and went back to his desk. Patton pulled up Logan’s medical file on his Holowatch and made a few adjustments on the projection, muttering about heart attacks.

After the incident, Remus stuck around Logan more often than not. Crew members would often find him following Logan with questions about Deathworlders or the study he was involved in. The Human would usually answer to the best of his abilities, not one for discouraging learning and study.

It was only a problem when he asked these questions in public. Such as the infamous question asked in the cafeteria: “Is it true that your mouth bones fall out and grow back?” Everyone in the vicinity had shuddered and fully freaked out when Logan answered, “Yes, we lose our baby teeth when our adult teeth grow in.” 

There was a loss of appetite so sudden that Patton and the other medics had worried an epidemic was sweeping through the ship. When he heard about the incident, Roman ordered Logan to only answer Remus’s questions in private and for Remus to stop asking Deathworlder questions in public. His brother pouted but Roman was steadfast in his decision.

There was no surprise when Remus made it a point to ask the questions while in the Command Center in front of his brother. Logan found it difficult to not answer his curiosities, especially when he would purposefully spout incorrect facts in an effort to get the Human to answer. 

As the only Human on board meant that Logan had to answer all the questions the crew put forth, the reason he had been sent on this voyage was to act as a source of information to his crew on the habits of Humans. 

Being labeled a Deathworlder only proved to further Remus’s interest and most of the crew was protective of their Human. Logan had been fairly awkward in his interactions but the crew had found his honest attempts to learn their cultural behaviors endearing. 

He taught himself Virgil’s language after the security officer had forgotten galactic common in the midst of an anxiety attack. When he learned that Emparas were a touch-oriented species, he had routinely offered Patton hugs at regular intervals and drew the crew’s attention to his need. The scientist had personally saved Captain Roman’s life by mocking an invader to divert his attention from the captain’s struggle to maintain shape under stress; one blast while destabilized would have killed him.

There had been a particular incident which had firmly solidified their need to protect the Human. Unlike most species onboard, the average Human could only hold their breath for a maximum of two minutes; Logan could only hold his breath for a few seconds.

They had landed badly on a planet's ocean and the lower decks had been flooded. No one had been too concerned until Logan, caught in the flooding when he had gone to speak with Virgil, started thrashing desperately. Thankfully, Virgil’s quick reaction had gotten the Human to air quickly.

Janus allowed Logan to look him over with Patton’s aid despite his previous experiences with scientists. Logan had been careful to telegraph his movements and inform Janus what he was doing every step of the way. The hybrid appreciated his efforts, especially when Logan would inform him of his findings and check in that a test was alright.

Together, Patton and Logan had discovered that Janus would have difficulty thermoregulating and scheduled time for him to lounge beneath a makeshift sun-lamp. They also found that his DNA was Human spliced with a reptilian species not local to Earth. 

Logan’s prodding did make Janus a little uncomfortable but it was always done with explicit consent and awareness of the details of the tests to prevent unwanted surprises. Janus seemed even more comfortable with Remus in the room, which was allowed with the promise that he did not not interfere. That promise did not stop Remus from asking questions that made Patton squirm uncomfortably and make him glow purple in embarrassment.

As a result, the crew had become extremely protective of their fragile but strong Deathworlder. Sometimes, crew members would drop by to check in on him or to remind him of personnel meetings when he was distracted. 

Even though the USS Sanders was a science ship dedicated to the exploration and discovery of new lifeforms, it did still have protective measures for emergencies. Such as when space pirates boarded.

Logan grunted as the leader of the mercenaries knocked him to the floor. His wrists were cuffed behind his back and a boot pinned him down. Virgil hissed as they trained their weapons on the scientist, only staying where he was because of how many weapons were trained on the others.

A hand grabbed a fistful of Logan’s hair and a voice hissed, “A Human, huh? There’s a big market for these, especially fighters.” Logan’s face remained impassive as he remarked, “I doubt I would be worth much.” The invader shrugged as they commented, “Not like I’d care. C’mon Deathworlder.”

Logan winced as the alien hauled him to his feet by his hair. Roman struggled to stand, a head wound sluggishly bleeding from the impact of the pirate’s ship firing at them. A pirate used the butt of their rifle to knock the captain down. Patton wrapped his arms around Roman, hiding his face behind the captain.

Janus stayed hidden behind debris, looking like a body crushed during impact. They had kicked his boot, unaware that Janus had only been battered by the force, and determined him to be a casualty of their boarding. 

The leader of the mercenaries kept his hand in Logan’s hair and started towards the exit of the command center as he told the crew, “If anyone follows us, we’ll kill the Human. We got enough to keep us happy that we wouldn’t mind losing this piece.” He placed the barrel of his pistol against the scientist’s temple in demonstration.

Virgil let out a low hiss but stayed where he was as the leader ordered, “Start moving, Deathworlder.” Logan lurched as he was pushed into the corridor and forced to walk away from his friends. Roman tried to sit up but his mind was more focused on maintaining his form while the pirates walked away.

Patton tried to concentrate on locating the damage but found his mind straying as he cursed under his breath. Virgil jumped at the profanity before looking around the command center. Janus was slowly coming around, another crew member helping him sit up, and Patton was tending to Roman. The Araneus made a mental tally, trying to recall who he had seen during the raid before asking, “Has anyone seen Remus?”

Logan tried to stave off the panic trying to creep in as he realised the likelihood of his crew rescuing him in their condition was low. The leader grinned as he muttered, “A Human! And out here of all places! We’re gonna be rich!” Logan bit his lip to stay quiet as the pistol prodded his spine in a silent warning.

There was a choked off sound to the left and the gun against Logan’s back pressed harder against him. One of the pirates was no longer there, along with several others. The leader wrapped one of their four arms across Logan’s chest and jammed the pistol under his chin. Logan let out a grunt as his face was forced up to accommodate the weapon under his chin.

While the mercenaries searched the walls for their allies, Logan’s eyes found a familiar slime that coated the ceiling of the corridor. A pair of eyes surfaced for a moment to send the Human a wink before vanishing back into the mass. Logan kept his breathing steady as the leader called out, “I’m not frelling kidding, I’ll kill him!”

A set of tendrils wrapped around another pirate and he vanished into the shadows of the corridor, the eeriness increased by the damage done to the electrical system when the raiders arrived. 

The other three remaining mercenaries tightened into a defensive circle as their leader proclaimed, “Show yourself or I’ll blow his frelling brains out! One... “ 

The one behind the leader was silent as they were pulled into the shadows on the floor.

“Two... “

The one on the right was yanked to the wall and coated in the slime on the ceiling.

“Three... “

A muffled scream to their left drew the leaders attention away long enough for Remus to slide down the wall in front of them. 

Remus wrapped his hand around the barrel of the pistol and tore it away from the pirate’s hand. The pistol went flying as Remus’s tentacles wrapped around Logan and pulled him away from the pirate. Hands wrapped themselves around the leader’s throat as Remus assumed his humanoid form, tentacles obscuring and protecting Logan, and spat, “Not so fun being the prisoner is it!”

Logan could hear shrieks and growls but Remus’s tentacles kept him from seeing anything. The noises continued for a few moments before everything went quiet. Logan squirmed a little, shoulders aching from the prolonged position the cuffs held his arms in, but sat and waited for Remus to finish the fight.

“Remus?” Logan called, “Can you let me go?” There was a beat but the tentacles slowly withdrew as Remus felt Logan for injuries. Logan smiled as Remus pulled out a familiar code lock and pressed it against the cuff’s scanner. As soon as he was free, Logan rubbed his wrists to work feeling back into them. Remus helped Logan roll his shoulders and ease the ache from how he had been pushed around.

 From around the corner, they heard Virgil yell, “Remus! Did you get him?!” Remus sighed as he called back, “Yep, the nerd’s safe!” Close behind the security officer was Patton, freckles a bright yellow and a scared look on his face.

Patton kneeled next to Logan on the floor and examined his wrists, glow turning red at the marks from the cuffs, while Remus spoke with Virgil. As they exchanged information, Patton focused on wrapping Logan’s wrists and looking him over. He noted the faint mark beneath his chin but realised it would fade. 

Once he was sure that Logan’s wounds were treated properly, the Empara wrapped the Human in a hug. Logan jolted as Patton exclaimed, “Thank Nara you’re okay! I thought they were going to sell you and Roman was hurt and they had a gun pointed at your head!” Logan soothingly ran his fingers through Patton’s hair, careful to avoid his antennae.

Remus sighed as he told Virgil, “ I honestly wanted to tie their insides in a knot but I didn’t want to do it in front of Logan.” Virgil nodded as Remus pointed to all the spots he had shoved unconscious pirates, mostly holes in the walls caused by impact damage. Virgil tried very hard to keep amusement from showing up on his face but, based on Remus’s proud expression he had failed.

Crew members hauled the invaders from their hiding spots and placed them in specimen cages for lack of a better containment center. One of the crewmates in Command had sent a distress call to the local authorities, who had signaled their approach. 

Logan allowed Patton to carry him to Medbay himself, obviously upset about the experience and Logan was not unwilling to let himself be held. However, the Human was not looking forward to Virgil hovering to reassure himself that Logan was safe or Patton’s need to oversee his recovery.

Roman was sitting up in one of the beds waiting for them, in spite of Patton’s order for him to rest. He saw the scientist allowing the medic to carry him and let out a sigh of relief. Virgil, always willing to help Patton with difficult patients, pushed Roman back against his pillows and scolded him. Roman retorted with something that Logan did not catch because Patton was fussing with his bed.

He reclined onto the pillows, letting out a satisfied groan when a tense muscle released, and listened as Virgil reprimanded, “I don’t care if your Faera healing is still working! If Patton says rest, you rest!” He heard Roman scoff as he countered, “Like you should be resting because we both know you’re about to freak out!”

“I’ll be fine! Just lay back down!”

“Not until you start your breathing exercises!”

“You are literally in no shape to be ordering me around!” 

“I will do what I have to if it means my crew will be alright!”

“You’re barely maintaining your form!”

“That doesn’t matter right now. Sit down and breathe!”

He heard someone, most likely Virgil, inhale to deliver a counterargument when Patton cut in, “Both of you take a breather! Virgil, you sit with Roman and Roman if you don’t rest right now I swear to Nara I will use my power!” They both went quiet and Logan only just managed to smother a laugh as Virgil sat next to Roman, who instantly settled against the pillows.

A few minutes later, Remus walked in and dropped himself on Roman’s bed without a word. Roman cringed a little but moved over to make room as his brother wrapped his arms around him. Virgil smirked, clearly about to tease, but jumped when Remus’s tentacles laid themselves over Roman.

Patton smiled as he cooed, “Aww, so it is a Faera thing.” Roman glared but did nothing to remove his brother. Patton moved to a different bed and spoke in low tones to one of the other medics. After a hushed conversation, Patton returned and informed them, “Janus is alright, just a little tired and in his room now. A lot of people were injured but I think we didn’t lose anyone, thank goodness.” 

He turned to Logan and said, “A few of the staff wanted me to tell you they’re glad you’re okay.” The medic shifted his gaze over to Roman as he added, “Remy said you’re an idiot but thanks.” 

Logan recalled the officer as the one wearing a special visor to prevent their ability from affecting anyone. Officer Remy Sono worked in security under Virgil but recalled him as one of the best. Logan remembered that Remy had been in command when the pirates boarded. The insults he had spat at the leader was quite impressive, if a bit foolish. Logan would hate to think what could have happened if Roman had not drawn the pirates’ focus onto him.

He was drawn back to the present when he heard Roman reply, “You can tell him not to frelling mouth off at pirates like that and then he can call me an idiot.” From across the room they heard a voice call out, “Fight me you hingemot!” They started laughing as Roman called back, “You’d lose that fight, Officer Sono!” 

There was laughter from the medical staff and a few conscious patients as Remy held his hand up in a gesture that made Patton gasp and scold, “There’ll be no using that hand sign if you don’t want me to confiscate that poison you’ve been drinking!” Remy let out a whine as Logan protested, “Coffee is not poisonous to everyone, please stop talking about it like that!” 

There was more laughter as patients and staff began mocking the coffee drinkers in the room, both of them pretending to have gone to sleep to avoid the teasing. Eventually they relented when Roman remarked, “If you can mock our poison drinkers, you can get back to fixing the ship. Unless you want me to put Virgil in charge.” 

The Araneus grinned at them and laughed at their horrified expressions. The crew returned to their tasks while their Captain, Head of Security, and Lead Scientist rested. The pirates were picked up a few minutes after Roman had finally fallen asleep. 

Remus had pulled Virgil into the embrace with his brother while sleeping so the latter had no choice but to stay. Logan snickered loudly at the panicked expression when the tentacles had pulled Virgil on top of their captain. When Patton was not looking Virgil threw Logan the same gesture Remy had used earlier. The scientist smiled, almost smug, before settling in for a nap, thankful to still be on the USS Sanders and safe in Medbay.

[mbti-notes]

Greetings, I am a 75 year old grandma. I am writing because my grandson who is in his 20s won't work. I have been involved in mbti for many decades. I'm an ENFJ. My grandson is still living at home well into his 20s. When I tell him to get a job (over many years) he just tells me to cut him off and that he will be fine without a smartphone and sweet foods. He is very bright. Graduated with a 3.7 from University. He tried various interests, but nothing sticks. Do I kick him out? Its not my nature

[con’t: The actions I've taken to help my grandson is to show him various resources like holland code, personality theory, etc. so that he can find some direction of where to commit. Instead he just takes the holland code over and over again, and happily shows me that his interests vary everytime he takes it. Same with personality theory. He goes on your blog all the time to prove that he doesn't fit anywhere. Based off of that statement he sounds like IxFJ. My grandson resembles Ti loop (IFxJ), but he does not resemble any other aspect of being an FJ. He is relatively well decisive when it comes to everything in his life. The only issue is getting a job, getting on a path, but he rejects this. If he at least helped around the house it would be something, but he can be quite selfish and uncaring, yet at other times very caring. It vacillates. Anyway, please help if possible, I am perplexed.]

WRT His Type: 

I can’t draw a conclusion about his type without a full type assessment. Everything you’ve described is quite consistent with INFJ and Ni-Ti loop. It seems that you don’t understand tertiary loop very well. Ti loop is an unconscious repudiation of feeling, responsibility, and eventually, conscience. It amounts to a refusal to be the things that make FJs good and admirable people. Basically, the more severe the case of Ti loop, the more arrogant, narcissistic, and callous the INFJ becomes. 

If the INFJ is only at the stage of trying to suppress the vulnerability of feeling life, there is still a fair chance for them to turn their life around by developing better emotional intelligence to address the emotional immaturity. If the INFJ has reached the point of refusing personal responsibility, they will be preoccupied/obsessed with finding any excuse, and even creating enemies, to blame for the poor state of their life. At this point, they are impervious to facts and don’t respond well to advice. If the INFJ loses all self-awareness and manages to convince themselves that they are “special” and not subject to conventional rules and ethical boundaries, then the time for you to distance from them is nearing, as chronic Se grip will set in and produce reactive, aggressive, or extreme behavior. 

To get out of Ti loop requires genuine humility and reconnection with feeling life. The INFJ must take full responsibility for their decisions, correct the big mistakes that they have made in life, and atone for all the harm that they have caused. He does not seem to be capable of this at the moment. I explain Ti loop not to be an alarmist, but to give you a realistic view of how destructive tertiary loop can be, what rock bottom looks like for INFJs, and the signs to be wary of. If the relationship with him ever reaches a point where his mindset becomes toxic and harmful to you, it is important that you move to protect yourself.

WRT His Problem: 

Getting someone in the right frame of mind to make a change and tackle a big problem is very tricky business because you don’t want to try and fail too many times. If you’re correct about Ti loop, then the more times you try to help and fail, the more likely he is to retreat further into himself (and delusion). To avoid applying the wrong solution, it’s best to do some “intelligence gathering” first so that you understand the problem properly before proceeding.

Neither of you has gotten to the bottom of his “block”, i.e., the actual obstacle that is getting in the way of his advancement. You can’t solve a problem if you can’t identify the cause(s) of it. The cause can be internal, external, or a combination of factors. Getting him into aptitude/personality studies seems like a logical approach to the problem. However, this assumes that the underlying cause of the problem is that he doesn’t really know himself - is it, though? It’s not clear to me, from what you’ve said, that this is the root of the problem. There isn’t enough info for me to draw any conclusion and I don’t wish to speculate wildly about what his problem might be. He seems to have some deeper psychological issues going on. And this lack of knowledge about his motivations is probably the reason that you’re both having difficulty pinpointing his type.

Therefore, the first order of business is to examine the problem in depth to figure out what the true cause of it is. Is the nature of the employment problem practical, psychological, educational, social, etc? Once you have an accurate grasp of the problem, then think on the right solution to it, or get help from someone with the expertise to determine the right solution. Note that if he is already at the point of avoiding responsibility and making excuses to manipulate reality, he himself will be blind to the real problem.

WRT Your Decision: 

The last point I want to make is about you and your feelings. It sounds like he is suffering from some form of arrested development because he still has the mentality of a child. Academic GPA means nothing without emotional maturity and life skills. His behavior indicates that he depends on you but is also spoiled in taking your support for granted. This means that the more you try to support/help him, the more you may be enabling his unhealthy behavior and preventing him from becoming truly independent. 

It is in his best interests to learn how to be a responsible adult because he will not always have someone to lean on in life (especially since Ti loop is very destructive to relationships). This should happen sooner rather than later, because the longer someone stays stuck in a rut, the harder it is to change, as inertia deepens. This is especially true in terms of employment because doors close and opportunities gradually dry up the older one gets. For the sake of his continued personal growth, he has to learn how to face up to his life’s problems and resolve them. But it sounds like he’s not willing to do that without being compelled to. He explicitly said to cut him off, which is basically like telling mama bird that he’s not going to jump off the tree and fly until he gets pushed off. Push him. Yes, he could have some psychological issue going on, but he’s also using your support to avoid facing up to it. If this is true, then you need to step BACK and allow him to step up for himself.

Should you kick him out? I understand that, from your perspective, this path would be the last resort, because it would violate your moral sensibilities and perhaps damage the relationship. But the fact that you’re at the point of considering it means that you’ve been dealing with this situation for far too long without making any progress. Please take some time to address how much this situation stresses YOU. Otherwise, your feelings may eventually boil over and possess you to do something you regret.

The fairest approach to this situation is to treat him like you would treat anyone else. In other words, stop giving him preferential treatment, especially if he doesn’t appreciate it and thus doesn’t deserve it. (Preferential treatment is reserved for people who are putting in their best effort but still falling short due to factors beyond their control.) If he wants to live under someone else’s roof, he has to contribute his fair share, as any adult would be expected to do (rent, bills, food, etc). If he wants to use/share your space, he has to help with cleaning and maintenance so that the workload is fairly distributed, as any adult would be expected to do. If he wants to have a relationship with you, then he has to reciprocate to make the friendship equal, as any adult would be expected to do. If it were anyone else, you would draw lines and boundaries about what kinds of behavior you would tolerate, wouldn’t you? I hope you would. If you're a doormat, it makes your relationship dynamic with him codependent and even more unhealthy. 

**A healthy relationship must have boundaries. Personal boundaries must be respected to justify continued investment in the relationship. If someone doesn’t respect your needs and boundaries, they don’t respect you, and they’re proving themselves unworthy of your continued effort. Until someone proves that they are worthy of your trust and support, it is best to maintain emotional distance from them, for your own safety and psychological well-being.**

It’s time for you to step up for yourself and how you feel. Make your needs and desires matter just as much as his, which means drawing the lines, setting the boundaries, and enforcing the rules that you need for honoring your existence. Yes, it would be nice if everyone just knew how to respect each other, but that’s not the case. If a relationship is hurting you, then it’s necessary to practice proper self-care and correct what is wrong. It’s not about being controlling but about respecting you and what is yours. If he can’t abide by your rules and boundaries, he is an adult and free to set his own rules elsewhere. Don’t forget that if you let him walk all over you, you’re implicitly confirming to him that exploitation is normal and acceptable relationship behavior.

1) Devaluing your needs is a disservice to yourself and puts you in the backseat of this relationship to be hurt and exploited, and 2) devaluing your needs is a disservice to him, because taking advantage of your generosity allows him to continue on with unhealthy behavior. I’ve given a few possibilities above and it’s up to you to take the path that you think is best for both parties.

[theperplexityoftheunknown]

What is a relationship to be continued

You may ask yourself why this is Important yet it is very important! We will discuss Why they are important to your well being and what type of person you are in a relationship? I think if you take the time to read this post in its entirety and intense complexity you will have a better understanding of where you are in life and what more you can become by understanding the perplexity of every relation to man or relationship because trust me THIS BABY is going to get TOUGH.

Lets start of with the first question what is a relationship

the way in which two or more people, groups, countries, etc., talk to, behave toward, and deal with each other. : a romantic or sexual friendship between two people. : the way in which two or more people or things are connected.

Please go ahead and read one more time because that may or may not be the closest thing of a relationship to that you have a mutual relation  and understanding of but its way, way more complex just keep reading.

Each relationship we have encountered has been determined by how we were raised Im going to refer to some quick psycho-social information coming from a study introduced during world war 2 by British psychoanalyst john bowbly, whose lonely childhood gave him a lifelong interest in the power of parenthood.

In the 1970s a test was conducted by Bowlby’s student Mary Ainsworth. She performed the strange situation test where children that's age ranged from 12-18 months were put  in a toy-filled room with their mother and given a chance to play. A stranger enters and interacts with the parent and child,then mom exited the room-- leaving behind a confused and alarmed little kid. A few minutes later mom returned and comforted her toddler. Needless to say being separated from the person who feeds, protects, and tends to you is frighting for any toddler, but the test showed definite categories of reaction to that fear.

Why is this important ?

Early Attachment.

As seen above you can see that a study was conducted concerning attachment styles. It's important because it is with this information that you find out what type of relationships You are going to be compatible with. Some types absolutely do not collide but if you think this is all about “how do i form a relationship” well keep reading because its not possible for everyone.

1 Secure, when it is evident to have a secure attachment style when the parenting style was: Warm, attentive,relatively consistent, and quick to respond based on that approach the child's Baseline Emotional Status (BES) would have been happy, confident, and curious which would have subconsciously continues into adulthood with the Child’s expectation of life being: My need will be met

2. Anxious -Ambivalent/resistant, it is evident to have an anxious attachment style when the parenting style was: Inconsistent: sometimes responsive and sometimes not. The Child's BES would have been Insecure, anxious, and intensely emotional which in return would have subconsciously continued into adulthood with the child's expectation of life being: “IF i act in the right ways, I might earn love and my needs may be met”

3. Avioident- ,it is evident to have a avoidant attachment style when the parenting style was: Distant and Cold, or harsh and critical. The child's BES would have been Emotionally shut down which in return would have subconsciously continued into adulthood with the child's expectation of life being: “I can't trust anyone to meet my needs. I must meet my own needs.

Im sure your getting the idea of why this is now important

Lets looks at three statements

1 I find it relatively easy to get close to others and am comfortable depending on them. I don't often worry about being abandoned or about someone getting too close to me.

2. I find that others are reluctant to get as close as I would like. I often worry that my partner doesn't really love me or doesn't want to stay with me. I want to get very close to my partner, and this sometimes scares people away.

3 i am somewhat uncomfortable being close to others:  i find it difficult to trust them completely, difficult to allow myself to depend on them. I am nervous when anyone gets too close, and often, love partners want me to be more intimate than i feel comfortable being

In 1987 psychologist cindy hazan and philip shaver reported the results of the statements above  they called it the ‘love quiz’

56% of adults respondents had identified themselves as secure, 19% as anxious and 25% as avoidant

The perfect combination

Secure people tend to have the most secure relationships, and a relationship needs only ONE secure partner to get that stability. With a partner who is happy to give reassurance and isn't threatened by the idea of being needed, an anxious person can relax, and is often loyal and loving. With someone who doesn't take it personally when their partner wants time alone,avoidant people can worry less about being tied down- however, most of the compromises in the relationship will likely be made by the secure partner. The real problem comes when two insecure types get together. If relationships often get messy for you, learning to recognize attachment styles and understanding how they clash can give you a path through the conflict

But then again Here comes perhaps the most perlex question i can ask? What happens in adult hood when you experience the pain and turama of a heartbreak?

What particularly does that do to each individual and how do they cope?

Do some people perhaps just shut down! Absolutely not! One subconsciously gains the ability to cope with their losses how? Lets start with:

Sexual compulsion – Relationship with sex, attachment and sexual orientation

I know your wondering What the Fuck where did this just turn to but trust me, or dont but you may or may not want to hear this or perhaps your brain craves the knowledge to understand and you ask yourself why your life is working in the way it is; remembemer its all in you!

I believe the first coping skill for some may be Hypersexuallity which I will refer to later.

2. I believe a conduct Disorder  DSM-IV-TR 314.9 Is primary consistent with feelings of Emotional shock from a previous ‘heartbreaking’ or traumatic event.

I will explain. I'm going to refer to the diagnostic features of conduct disorder which manifest itself  as a repetitive and persistent pattern in  which the basic rights of others or major age-appropriate societal norms or rules are violated. These behaviours fall into four main groupings” Criteria A1-A7 aggressive conduct that causes or threatens physical harm to other people or animals .

Or see criteria A8-A9 nonaggressive conduct that causes property loss or damage Or see A9 - A13, DECEITFULNESS OR THEFT

It is definite that promiscuous behavior is dangerous therefore someone engaging in Criteria a1-a7 w/o aggression and associated with parts or in hole with A8-9

Furthermore  the prevalence of conduct disorder appears to have increased over the last decades and may be higher in urban than in rural settings.

Course.

Individuals with conduct disorder are at risk for later mood disorders, anxiety disorders, somatoform disorders, and substance related disorders.

Sexual addiction, also known as hypersexual disorder, is associated with serious psychosocial problems for many people.

Sexual addiction, which is also known as hypersexual disorder, has been associated with serious psychosocial problems for many people although it has not been recognized as a disorder that merits inclusion in the DSM (Quadland, 1985) – see Karila et al. (2014) for review. Originally, Carnes (1983)published a book titled Out of the shadows: Understanding sexual addiction, which has raised interest in the area and facilitated a discussion on the best way to define and diagnose the disorder. Despite different views about pathological characteristics of sexual addiction there is an agreement that this is a progressive relapsing condition which does not merely refer to a pathological diagnosis of sexual lifestyle that is socially deviant (Edger, 2010).

Sexual addiction involves compulsive behaviors such as constantly seeking new sexual partners, having frequent sexual encounters, engaging in compulsive masturbation and frequently using pornography. Despite efforts to reduce or stop excessive sexual behaviors individuals find it difficult to stop and they engage in risky sexual activities, pay for sexual services and resist behavioral changes to avert HIV risk (Carnes, 1991; Coleman-Kennedy & Pendley, 2002; Coleman, Raymond & McBean, 2003; Kalichman & Rompa, 1995). Sexual compulsivity has been associated with the number of unprotected vaginal sex acts with female sexual workers, lower self-efficacy for condom use, greater use of illicit drugs, and more financial need (Semple et al., 2010).

Cognitive and emotional symptoms include obsessive thoughts of sex, feelings of guilt about excessive sexual behavior, the desire to escape from or suppress unpleasant emotions, loneliness, boredom, low self-esteem, shame, secrecy regarding sexual behaviors, rationalization about the continuation of sexual behaviors, indifference toward a regular sexual partner, a preference for anonymous sex, a tendency to disconnect intimacy from sex, and an absence of control in many aspects of life (Carnes, 2000, 2001; Carnes & Schneider, 2000; Coleman et al., 2003; Coleman-Kennedy & Pendley, 2002). Finally, some studies find that sexual addiction is associated with or in response to dysphoric affects (Black, Kehrberg, Flumerfelt & Schlosser, 1997; Raymond, Coleman & Miner, 2003; Reid, 2007; Reid, Carpenter, Spackman & Willes, 2008; Reid & Carpenter, 2009) or stressful life events (Miner et al., 2007).

Attachment theory (Bowlby, 1979, 1982) argued that early attachment experiences affect personal and social life, professional relationships, dealing with stress, mental and physical health and cognitive development. According to recent developments in attachment theory, those who developed a safe attachment style which is not anxious or avoidant during infancy can form healthy relationships in adolescence and adulthood and handle life problems (Uytun, Oztop, Esel & Mdusunen, 2013). Individuals with secure attachment are expected to have low chances of becoming addicted to sex since they regulate and limit their sexual activity more than those with insecure attachment (Zapf, Greiner & Carroll, 2008). Furthermore, individuals who are addicted to sex are looking for sexual activity without the need for emotional relationships and they are more likely to be characterized by avoidant or anxious attachment (Gentzler & Kerns, 2004).

Gay men are diverse with respect to the sexual behaviors they both desire and enact (Moskowitz & Roloff, 2010; Sanderson, 1994). Moreover, gay men differ from other groups in their sexual behavior. Research shows that, on average, gay men have more partners, engage in more risky sexual behavior, and are more likely to seek sexual sensation than other groups, such as heterosexual men, women and lesbians (Bailey, Gaulin, Agyei & Gladue, 1994; Ekstrand, Stall, Paul, Osmond & Coates, 1999; Thompson, Yager & Martin, 1993). But among homosexual men there is variability in the propensity to engage in compulsive unprotected sex. Meyer and Dean (1995) have reported that about 6% of their 149 young New York City gay men (aged 18–24 years) engaged in very high risk behavior, defined as unprotected receptive anal intercourse with multiple partners. It appears that very high risk takers are qualitatively different from other risk takers: they reported more mental health problems, including more drug use and higher levels of internalized homophobia and AIDS-related traumatic stress response. Furthermore, there are moderators of sexual behavior among gay men such as being in monogamous relationships. Also sexual health and sexual health behaviors for example sexually transmitted diseases (STDs) were most influential over the enactment of sexual behavior or desires (Moskowitz & Roloff, 2010).

Few studies investigated sexual compulsivity among heterosexual and homosexual men. Furthermore, to the best of our knowledge, the relationships between compulsive sexual behavior and attachment and sexual preference or orientation have not been investigated before. We have therefore investigated sexual compulsivity and attachment style among populations of heterosexual and homosexual men and women. We hypothesized that secure attachment would be associated with lower rates of sex compulsion. Secondly, that homosexual men and women would show higher levels of sexual compulsivity than heterosexual men and women. Thirdly, we hypothesized that attachment style might mediate between sexual orientation and sexual compulsion.

[jaehyun-eclipsed]

Contemplation Pt. 1 - Mark Lee

[3:00 PM] Ding! Ding! Ding!

The bell rings at three o'clock signaling the end of the school day. I gather my belongings and leave my math class, thinking about the weekend ahead. It’s the first weekend in over a month where I have no other obligations and will be able to relax and do nothing. I would finally get to read my favorite book and bake that new cookie recipe I found the other day.

I make my way to the neighboring building to go to my locker to grab several books before heading home. As I walk outside into the courtyard, what little warmth from the fall day radiates against my skin; I smile.  

What a pleasing and satisfying Friday.

I open the door and walk into the first hall where my locker is located and turn the knob to input the combination. Remembering the light load for the weekend, I place the majority of my textbooks in my locker.

"Hey, Y/N!"

Recognizing the cheerful voice, I turn to see Mark walking towards me with several books in hand. He smiles and gives a small wave.

"Oh hey Mark!" I greet.

Mark was my best friend since freshmen year after being seated next to each other in geometry class. Now as seniors, we could be found in the same clubs, eating lunch together, and spending our free periods studying in the library.

"Are you going home? If you are, I was thinking we could go see a movie," he says with a smile.

"Hmm,” I hum, “that sounds nice. Sure, what movie?"

"I don't know. We can pick when we get there."

“Okay, sounds good,” I respond.

Awesome, I have relaxing plans with my best friend. What better way to start the weekend?

Feeling my phone vibrate in my pocket, I take it out to see that the message is from Taeyong, my biggest crush since sophomore year.

[15:05] Taeyong: Hey, if you're not doing anything after school, I was thinking we could go get frozen yogurt? :) I’ll be at my car

Ever since Taeyong and I were partners for a history project, he had been asking me to hang out pretty frequently. It was causing me to spend less time with Mark and though he was upset at times, he understood what it meant to me. He knew I’d still always make time for him.

While reading the message, I purse my lips, a bit regretful that I’d have to turn down Taeyong’s offer as I had just agreed to go see a movie with Mark. But I was a woman of my word and truly did want to spend time with him.

“It’s Taeyong, isn’t it?” he asks.

I look up and realize Mark’s smile had faded and was replaced with a stern look. When I bite my lower lip, I know he doesn’t need a verbal response to confirm his inquiry.  

“Then go with him,” he says curtly.

My forehead creases, confused as to why Mark would tell me to go with Taeyong even though he knew I would’ve rejected the offer to accompany him to the movie.

“Why? I just said I would go to the movies with you.”

He looks down at the ground and furrows his brow; it was a habit of his when he didn’t want to tell the full truth.

“I know you want to hang out with him. So it’s fine,” he says, avoiding my gaze.

I scoff. “I just said I wanted to go to the movies with you. I’ll hang out with him later.”

Turning back to my locker, I throw the door shut and suddenly realize that Mark had started walking away from me.

“Where are you going?” I call, jogging over to him.

“I don’t want to go,” he says, continuing to make his way to door.

I pause and frown. “But I want to go.”

He stops in front of the door with one hand on the handle and looks over his shoulder, his gaze focused on the spot on the floor in front of me. “Oh come on, we both know you’d much rather go hang out with Taeyong,” he spits back.

He was right; I did want to hang out with Taeyong as we had finally been making progress. However, I had also been feeling a bit guilty that I hadn’t been spending as much time with my best friend. Perhaps this was the wrong way to do it. I should want to hang out with Mark on my own volition, not because I pitied him and wanted to feel the slightest bit better about myself.

“But I haven’t spent much time with you lately…”

He grits his teeth. “Look, I don’t want to sit at the movies with you knowing that you’d much rather be somewhere else…with someone else.”

What? This is ridiculous.  

“Why are you making such a big deal out of this?!” I say angrily.

His hand drops from the door handle and he begins to chuckle.

“Seriously, y/n? Do you really not know?”

I blink several times, a perplexed look remaining on my face.

“Know what?!”

He scoffs and looks away while shaking his head. “Incredible,” he murmurs to himself.

“Who’s been there for you this whole time? Taeyong only started to acknowledge your existence a couple weeks ago!” he shouts.

Ouch.

“Who was there for you when you slipped in the parking lot last month and scraped your knee?! It sure as hell wasn’t Taeyong! He was too busy skateboarding with his friends to even notice you had fallen! Even Lucas came over to check on you!”

I stare at Mark, mouth slightly agape, startled at his sudden outburst.

“I’ve always been there, y/n. It’s always been me there to comfort you when you’ve been having a rough day and to make sure you’ve eaten if you end up skipping lunch! It’s always been me who listens and smiles when you talk about Taeyong even though everyone knows how he doesn’t care about anyone unless it’s convenient! After all this time, how could you not know how I feel?”

I look down at the ground and swallow hard, suddenly feeling guilty for being intentionally oblivious. Truthfully, I’ve always suspected Mark may have developed feelings for me after having noticed his behavior around me – when he would always pack an extra piece of chocolate for me in his lunch or give me his jacket without being prompted – I noticed.

He sighs and opens his mouth to speak again.

“Did you really not know?” he asks.

“I…I wasn’t sure…” I lie.

“But you don’t have feelings for me? At all?”

Before I can answer, he begins speaking again.

“Look, I have to go to the restroom. Going there and back should take about five minutes. If you’re not here when I get back, then I will take it that those are my feelings towards me.”

“Wait! Mark! I –

He walks over to me, grasping my hand in his and giving it a gentle squeeze.

“I really hope you do stay…” he says as he releases my hand and quickly turns around to walk down the hall.

How did I feel about Mark? Everything he said was true; Taeyong really hadn’t started paying attention to me until we were forced to work together. Perhaps I should have been suspicious that the interest was so sudden. Mark really had been there for me for everything, but I couldn’t tell whether my head had been clouded by a superficial infatuation with Taeyong, preventing me from realizing my true feelings for my best friend.

Heads, Mark; tails, Taeyong. Which side of the coin do I want it to land on?

There was no denying that at the current moment, I wanted my imaginary coin to land on tails. But given the newly complicated situation, I wasn’t too keen on the possibility of losing my best friend either.

It was true, I was always happier around Mark, enjoying his company and laughing at his jokes even when they weren’t funny. We’d sit together and I’d rest my head on his shoulder, pondering about life. My favorite moments together mostly consisted of those discussions and I was reminded of them every time he let me borrow his jacket, the scent of his cologne lingering on them. It made me feel warm on the inside knowing he would always listen to me and try to understand what I was telling him even if he didn’t have the personal experience to truly empathize.

But did that mean I liked him? I had never really given it serious thought.

I squeeze my eyes shut, desperately wishing for clarity and sighing with the full awareness that it was a hopeless endeavor. Grabbing my things, I walk behind the next set of lockers and lean my back against them, hissing when I slam my head a bit too hard.

About a minute later, I hear soft, but quick footsteps. The pace suddenly slows and I take a peek from behind the lockers. Mark stands in the seemingly empty hallway, his shoulders hung low in despair as he lets out a big sigh.

I bite my lip and mentally curse to myself before relenting.

“Mark?”

His eyes widen and he quickly turns around, his sweet, angelic, smile brimming across his face.

I slowly walk up to him and his smile quickly fades when he sees the regret in my eyes.

“I don’t know how I feel, Mark,” I begin, a lump forming in my throat, “I care about you immensely, but I don’t know what that means right now.”

His eyes are glassy, but he manages to force a weak smile. My heart begins to ache.

What have I done?

He lifts his hand and brushes a strand of hair behind my ear before letting his hand fall to my shoulder.

“Please remember, I’ll always be here for you,” he manages to choke out.

Guilt overcomes my body, pressing my lips together in an effort to smile and barely nodding my head in acknowledgement.

“When you figure it out, would you let me know? I don’t want to lose my best friend…”

If I don’t choose you, I’m not sure we’ll ever be able to remain best friends, Mark.

Part Two

Masterlist

[ladyfogg]

May I? - 5/?

May I? - 5/?

Fic Summary: Ensign Faith Diaz struggles to hide her mental illness from her fellow shipmates aboard the Enterprise until an intrigued Data goes out of his way to try to understand her behavior. At his insistence, Faith tries to figure out what she’s truly passionate about and eventually seeks the professional help she needs. Fic Masterpost.

Fic Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Data/Female OC

Warnings: tw: depression, tw: anxiety, fluff, friends to lovers, eventual smut

Screenshot by @ geekygwen

Data and Faith spoke for some time.

Despite liking the food, she seemed to eat very little of it. Data noticed her push the plate away shortly after Counselor Troi took her leave.

"Are you no longer hungry?" he asked, motioning to her food.

Faith shook her head. "Not really."

"Is it your injury?"

"No. I just don't seem to have much of an appetite these days."

"Perhaps Dr. Crusher can help."

At the mention of the doctor, Faith's shoulders tensed and she seemed to physically shrink away. Data studied the changes, fascinated by how quickly she went from calm and open, to closed off and defensive.

"It's okay." Her tone was clipped and firm. "I'll handle it."

"Do you have a personal issue with Dr. Crusher?"

Faith sighed. "Dr. Crusher is nice enough," she said. "I've just never been comfortable with doctors."

"Why is that?"

She did not answer him. Instead, she offered a tight smile. "I think I should retire to my quarters. I'm getting tired."

As she made a move to stand, Data did the same. "I am sorry if I overstepped. I did not mean to make you uncomfortable."

"You didn't," Faith said. "It was a reasonable question. I just don't like to talk about myself."

"It is my understanding that connections are forged through shared experiences and communication. If you do not talk about yourself, how can you connect with others?"

Faith remained silent, eyes drifting from Data's to stare at the floor. "I guess that's something I should think about. Have a good evening."

Data opened his mouth to speak but Faith was already walking away, leaving him confused. He watched her go, unsure of what he could have said to make her end their interaction so abruptly. He then concluded that his question regarding her disdain for doctors must have been too personal.

His gaze caught Deanna and Riker who clearly had witnessed the exchange. He walked over to them, still puzzled.

"Everything okay, Data?" Riker asked.

"I do not know. I am finding it difficult to navigate a conversation with Faith without her withdrawing."

"I wouldn't take it personally, Data," Deanna said. "Faith is going through a difficult personal time."

"I had suspected as much. Counselor, is there anything you would suggest I do to help?"

Deanna and Riker shared a knowing smile. "I think it is very sweet of you to want to help her," she said.

"We have had three separate interactions in the last four days. They have been fairly pleasant and I have found her quite competent in her work. This is a direct contradiction to Geordi's reports from before. I am simply trying to determine where the discrepancy lies."

Deanna looked worried. "She's having trouble with her work?"

Data nodded. "According to Geordi." He paused in thought before joining them at the table. "Counselor, Commander, you know each other fairly well."

"I'd say so," Riker smirked, earning a playful smack on the arms from Deanna.

"Was it easy to get to know each other? While I have had no trouble making friends here on the Enterprise, I understand it is not easy for everyone."

"Well, for one thing, it takes time," Deanna said. "Not everyone can share their thoughts and feelings as readily as others. This makes connecting very difficult."

Riker added, "Sometimes just spending time with a person, even if you don't talk, can help them to feel more comfortable around you. If you do speak, keep the topic light and carefree. Let them share when they are ready."

"Hmm." Data processed what Riker said. "Then perhaps that is the approach I will take with Faith. Thank you both."

He made a move to stand but Riker stopped him from leaving. "Wait, Data, are you saying you wish to get closer to Faith?" he asked.

"I would like to understand what is causing her shift in mood and activity levels. But she will not open up to me if she is uncomfortable. I cannot help her this way."

"Data," Deanna said gently. "It's not that simple. None of us know the extent of what Faith is going through. We cannot force help on her. I think the best approach is to just be her friend. Period. Don't do it just so she will tell you what you want to know."

He considered her words, understanding the logic behind them. He could see how his initial approach might cause more harm than good. Between their advice and Geordi's, he began to develop a clearer picture of how he wished to proceed.

"I understand, Counselor. I will keep that in mind."

He nodded toward them both before getting to his feet. As he left Ten Forward, he pondered how much Faith had invaded his thoughts of late. He had always found human interactions fascinating. Faith was exhibiting reactions he rarely had a chance to witness up close. 

She was not the only thing on his mind of course. The mystery in Engineering had yet to be solved. He and Geordi had not been able to find any substantial leads.

No other pieces of machinery had been found out of place. The two that were tampered with had been monitored closely and were found to be functioning correctly. He and Geordi were perplexed.

The Enterprise had also reached the next planet in the Modrore system. It too had abandoned structures like the previous planet, far older than the others. Still, there were no signs of life. Another oddity Data was intrigued to study.

"Most interesting indeed," he said to himself.

He did not see Faith the following day, nor the one after that. In fact, they did not cross paths again until three days after she was cleared for duty. Data was not required on the Bridge and instead took to Engineering.

He found Faith hunched over the center console, eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

"Good morning, Faith. It is good to see you back at your post."

She looked up at him with a smile. "It's good to be back, Commander," she said.

Data noticed the dark circles around her eyes remained and she did not look particularly well-rested. Yet her mood seemed light and her shoulders lacked the tension he had witnessed during their previous interaction.

"What are you working on?" Data asked, moving to stand by her side.

Faith straightened up, rubbing her forehead. "Well, I wanted a visual on where the two mysterious incidents took place, so I marked them on the schematics." She zoomed out of the plans so he could see her markings. "The first took place in the tubes which was easily hidden from view. The second was in a more centralized area, yet no one saw anything. Allegedly."

"You do not believe them?"

"It's not that, I'm just not quick to rule it out that someone is lying."

"A wise move," Data said. "Are both stations still functioning at optimal capacity?" 

"As far as I can tell," she said. 

Data stared at the visual, tapping at the screen to input his own information. "If we calculate the distance between the two locations, and factor in the length of time between their discovery and staff rotations, it is entirely feasible the same person committed both acts without being seen."

"But they would have had to leave and come back, or hide close by," Faith said. "Which increases the chances of being discovered. The fact that they weren't is amazing considering the traffic in this area."

"There is a two-point-five percent chance they would not be discovered."

Faith hummed in thought. "Small, but not impossible."

Geordi came around the corner, heading directly towards Faith. "Ensign, did you finish running those specs I asked for?"

"Yes, Commander," Faith said, standing straight and giving him her full attention. She handed him the PADD resting on the console. "I was waiting for you to finish meeting with Carver. I didn't want to interrupt."

Geordi looked impressed as he scanned over the information. "Good work, Diaz." He glanced at the schematic laid out on the console's screen. "What's this?"

"Oh. I was curious about the incidents so I mapped them," she said. "The Commander and I were trying to find a connection."

"And did you?"

Faith shook her head. "One was out of sight and the other in plan view. The only connections are they were both Engineering related and no one saw them being tampered with. Though there is a chance it was done by the same person."

"Geordi, I have a suggestion," Data said.

"Lay it on me," Geordi encouraged.

"Would you permit me to take apart each unit?"

"What for?"

"To see if any components are missing," Data explained. "If anything was taken, it would not necessarily hinder the console's performance."

"That's true," Faith said. "Whoever did this had to have had mechanical and engineering experience. They could have easily reworked the console to function without some of the minor pieces."

Geordi considered their suggestion, arms crossed in thought. "That's a leap, but right now we don't have any other ideas. Go for it, Data." He turned to Faith. "Diaz, I'm swamped with these upgrades Starfleet is requesting. Since you found the first console and seem interested in the investigation, I want you to on this. Work with Data and report to me anything you two find."

Faith's eyes widened. "Y-You want me to take-point, sir?"

Geordi gave her a smile, handing her back the PADD. "I'm sure you'll do just fine. Just watch your head this time."

"I will make sure she does not injure herself again," Data promised.

Faith scoffed, trying to hide her smile. "I'm never going to live that down, am I?"

"Nope," Geordi teased. "Let me know if you guys find anything."

As he walked away, Faith turned to Data, fiddling with the PADD. "Guess we'll be working together," she said.

"When I'm not needed on the Bridge, of course," Data reminded her. "Which console would you like to examine first?"

"Let's do the assistant's one," she said, leading him toward the office. "Things are quiet right now so it would be the best time. Plus, I think Geordi has Carver working on the upgrades with him."

"Agreed."

They gathered several tools and got to work dismantling the console. Data noticed Faith was careful, taking her time to map the circuits with her eyes after she removed the front panel.

Data himself was able to scan it much quicker but found nothing out of place. Instead, he watched her and the way she traced her fingers over the wires, lips moving as she spoke to herself. He suddenly understood why it took her longer to do tasks than it would take others. She was meticulous, making sure everything was accounted for before turning to him.

"So far so good," she said.

Data focused on the unit. "I see no signs of tampering. All circuits, wires, and power chips are accounted for."

"At least for the main functions. Let's check the back-up ones."

It took time to maneuver through the complicated wiring and during several instances they had to pause and rethink their strategy before continuing. Data found it to be an overall pleasant experience. Her knowledge was vast and she did not seem to need to fill the silence with idle chatter.

Strangely enough, Data found he wanted to talk. "Have you been sleeping well?" he asked.

"Not really," Faith said. "It's about the same as it was before."

"Do you no longer wish to visit Ten Forward when you cannot sleep?"

"I haven't decided yet. It seemed like a good idea at the time but when I thought about it the last few nights, I just couldn't bring myself to go."

"Was there any particular reason?"

"There were several...Commander, look!" Faith drew his attention to the section where back-up power chips were stored. 

Two were missing. 

"Interesting," Data commented. "There is no reason for these chips to be missing."

"Yeah, it's against regulations not to replace back-ups. Otherwise, if we don't and we need them, we'd be out of luck."

Data scanned the rest of the components. "I see nothing else out of place."

"Neither do I. Let's do one more sweep and then check the other one."

They found nothing else had been disturbed. Just as they were closing things up, Carver came in to work. Data and Faith got out of his way.

"Do you need to take a break or do you wish to continue on?" Data asked.

"I'm good to keep going. I'm even more curious than before."

"I must admit, I am as well."

They made their way to the Jefferies tubes. Once inside, Faith asked, "Do you want to go first, Commander, or should I?"

"After you."

Faith began to climb and Data followed. "Faith, may I ask why you have returned to using my formal title?" he asked. It was something he had noted earlier but felt the need to address it when they were alone. "Do you no longer wish to call me by my name?"

"Oh, no that's not it at all," she assured him. "I just thought using your name would be too informal for a work setting. I don't mind if you call me Faith but I assumed you'd want me to stick to 'Commander' when in Engineering."

"A logical and astute observation," Data said. "I was concerned I had done something wrong."

Faith reached the landing and turned to face him as he continued to climb. "You were concerned? I thought you didn't have feelings." Her tone was light and teasing as if his words amused her.

"Perhaps concerned was not the proper word," Data amended. "Curious could be considered more accurate. If I did something to offend you, I apologize and wish to correct it."

Faith's face softened. "I'm sorry I made you think you did something wrong. Trust me, you didn't. Promise. I was just trying to be professional."

"That is good to hear."

"You and Counselor Troi have actually been very helpful since my accident. I want to thank you for that."

"You are welcome." Data reached the top and Faith led him to the tube where she found the disturbance. "Have you decided to see her regularly?"

"Not yet. Not in an official capacity at least. She did invite me on a walk through the Arboretum tomorrow."

"You should accept. It is a lovely place."

"I might. We'll see."

They continued on and reached the console that started the mystery. It did not look like it had been touched since they had fixed it. Just like with the other one, they began to take it apart carefully.

"Faith, may I ask what you do for recreation?"

"Nothing really."

Data frowned. "Nothing at all?"

"No. There never really seems to be any time."

"While it is true Starfleet does keep a full schedule, there is still downtime during most days."

"I just haven't found anything to hold my interest," she said with a shrug. "So I gave up trying."

"Maybe you could try painting. I have found it to be most enjoyable."

"I'm not much of an artist."

"Do you enjoy music? Why not learn an instrument?"

Faith sighed and stopped her work. "I appreciate the attempt," she said. "But I've tried already and nothing stuck."

"Perhaps you simply have not found the right outlet." Data paused, noting several wires had been reconfigured. "Faith, hand me the tricorder."

She did as he commanded, leaning in close to examine what he had found. "Am I seeing what I think I'm seeing?" she asked.

"Yes. Several wires have been taken and those that remained were reconfigured to hide the change."

Faith leaned back, a pensive look on her face. "So two power chips and a handful of wires are gone. But why? None of this makes sense."

"No, it does not," Data agreed. "However, I think we should expand our search."

"Why do you say that?"

Data motioned to the tube ahead of them and when Faith turned, she saw a dark smudge on the doors leading to the next section.

"What the hell?" she muttered, crawling towards it. 

Data followed and as they drew closer, the smudge became more distinct: a round palm flanked by four fingers.

"It's a handprint," Faith realized.

"Indeed. Now the question is, who or what made it?"

[authorhaleyclark]

Nevermore: 2nd Draft, Chapter Two

Fentworth Estate, 1890

Four days had passed since Susannah had informed Desiree that she would be attending Salem Institute. During the past four days, Desiree had been seething. She could not believe that her aunts had gone behind her back, and she could not believe that her father agreed to what they had proposed! She had thought that her father and her aunts didn’t get along, but she must have been misled in that assumption, for now that seemed the farthest thing from the truth. Arms crossed petulantly over her chest, Desiree sat in the study with Aunt Susannah, a frown marring her youthful features as her aunt worked on something. She didn’t know what, because when she had asked Aunt Susannah had refused to answer, instead just saying, “It is nothing of concern for you Desiree, although your concern is appreciated”.

Desiree had wanted to scoff. In no way was she “concerned”, she was merely curious and those were two completely different things. Desiree watched irritably as Susannah signed her name with a flourish on one of the documents, and moved on to penning something else. As if sensing her niece’s gaze on her form, Susannah looked up her trademark genteel smile on her face and a kind light in her eyes.

“Is there something that you need Desiree?” Susannah questioned.

“Is it necessary for me to be in here?” Desiree asked, jutting her chin out stubbornly. “I am not doing anything productive, and my time could be spent doing other things.”

“Are you certain? What pray tell, could you be doing?” Her cheeks flushing in mortification, Desiree refused to answer, and Susannah chuckled. “My apologies, Desiree. However, Lucretia is attending to business in the house, and emphasized that you would be in here with me while she entertains our guests.” Seeing how that did not sway her niece, Susannah sighed. “If you would like to, you may read any of the books located in here,” she offered.

That softened Desiree’s countenance marginally, and she stood wandering over to one of the bookcases, her eyes roving over the titles of the books eagerly. However, her mind was focused on anything but the books. Selecting a title randomly, Desiree wandered back over to the plush settee, opening the book and laying it on her lip. But her mind was whirling with thoughts about who Lucretia could possibly be entertaining. Her aunts weren’t ones to entertain guests, that had been more of her mother’s specialty as her mother had been the perfect blend of the two contrasting personalities of the elder Fentworth sisters.

The last, she had been aware, her aunts had been reclusive and while they had acquaintances they never entertained and only saw said acquaintances at other social gatherings. That they were entertaining guests now, was odd to her. She couldn’t fathom who it would possibly be either. Her lips tugged down into a frown and she absentmindedly turned the page in the book, her eyes narrowing as she pondered the matter further.

The sound of the pen scratching on parchment halted, and Desiree looked up curiously, to find Susannah staring at her with an amused smile on her lips. “You appear distracted,” Susannah noted.

Desiree felt her cheeks flush, but didn’t acknowledge it. “I am merely perplexed. Who could you possibly be hosting?”

Susannah colored slightly, dropping the pen onto the desk and averted her eyes. “They are family friends, Desiree, and don’t act as if it is so unusual for Lucretia and I to host guests. We have done it before and we will continue to do so until there comes a time when it is no longer possible.”

“Family friends?” Desiree repeated in confusion.

“Yes, family friends,” Susannah said promptly her tone brokering finality.

Desiree wanted to ask more questions, and further pursue the subject, however sensing that the subject was considered close she kept her mouth shut and devoted her attention to the dull book detailing how to properly sew clothing. Hours passed and not once did Desiree leave the study. It was when the clock began to chime for five, that Susannah finally stood up and informed Desiree that she could leave. Exhaling in relief, she rushed to put the book back on the bookcase, and then followed Susannah out to the parlor where Lucretia was standing talking with their guests. From behind Susannah, it was difficult to see anything of their mysterious visitors and while she would have stood on her tiptoes to try to gain a better view, she restrained herself reminding herself that that kind of behavior would not be ladylike and if these guests were prominent members in society, she shouldn’t embarrass herself.

Lucretia twisted her eyes landing on Susannah and then Desiree who shrunk back, expecting her aunt to be angry because Susannah had told her that Lucretia didn’t want Desiree around while their guests were there. But much to her surprise, Lucretia beamed, beckoning Desiree forward. Hesitantly Desiree stepped forward from behind Susannah, approaching her aunt. Twisting her body to face the guests Desiree pasted a smile on her face which felt forced and faked as Lucretia introduced her to the two guests.

The first, was a man looking to be in his early forties, with graying hair and dark eyes. He was tall, but his hands clutched at a walking stick so hard that his knuckles were white, and it appeared as if it was taking all of his strength to stand there which was indicative by the gray pallor of his skin. At his side was a boy, considerably his junior, whose appearance shocked Desiree into a stunned stupor.

He was beautiful – in a roguishly handsome sort of way. Contrary to the noble appearance of the elder man, this boy was rough edges and had a charm about him that was very reminiscent of a vagabond. He looked a few years older than Desiree herself, and his eyes were of the same dark color as the man’s, bordering on black, and his hair was nearly the same shade. His plump lips curled into a smirk as Desiree’s staring became noticeable, and she noticed that he had dimples. Hearing a snort of laughter from him, she quickly looked away from him and toward Lucretia her cheeks burning.

“Desiree, these are our esteemed guests Michael Lovelace and his nephew Percival Maris,” Lucretia said introducing Desiree to the mysterious guests that she knew nothing about. The last name of Lovelace was vaguely familiar, but Desiree couldn’t recall where she had heard it before. “Percival is an alumnus of Salem Institute.”

“Interesting,” Desiree murmured, her eyes darting toward Percival who was watching her with an arrogant smile on his face. “And how was the school, Mr. Maris?”

“Phenomenal,” he answered, and if she wasn’t mistaken Desiree thought she heard the first vestiges of sarcasm in his voice. “Of course, the school isn’t for everyone Miss Cersei, but I am sure that someone of your stature would be able to handle it.”

Desiree hummed noncommittally, neither confirming nor denying his statement. Mr. Lovelace coughed seemingly uncomfortable, but the cough soon dissolved into hacking, as he bent over at the waist. Percival moved to his side, putting an arm around his uncle’s waist in a bid to support him and keep him upright.

Once he was done coughing Mr. Lovelace began speaking as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. “I do hope we will be seeing you at Salem Institute,” he said with a genial smile that Desiree couldn’t help but to return.

“Perhaps,” she murmured. Her brows furrowed, “Pardon, what do you mean by ‘we’?”

“I am a teacher at the school, and Percival will be continuing his education at the school on a college level,” Mr. Lovelace swiftly answered.

Lucretia jumped into the conversation, “Excellent. I am sure, Desiree will be delighted to already have made an acquaintance, that goes to the same school she will be attending.”

She aimed a not so discreet look Desiree’s way, and the girl echoed the sentiment much less enthusiastically than her aunt had hoped, however the flattery had been convincing enough for Mr. Lovelace who preened and bidding the ladies adieu made a swift exit from the manor with Percival following him at a considerably slower pace.

“I will be attending Salem Institute then,” Desiree murmured her voice devoid of any emotion. “I do not have a choice.”

“No,” Lucretia replied, “you do not. You needn’t fear anything, however Desiree, Salem Institute is a wonderful school and will surely give you the best education that a girl of your social standing could hope for.”

Desiree didn’t answer. Growing pensive, she withdrew to her room without so much as a goodnight to her aunts and without even eating supper. These guests were a way to ensure that she would be at a good position when she would eventually attend Salem Institute, and perhaps as a way to persuade her or make sure that she would not be able to back out. Not now that a teacher knew who she was.

[barnes-belle]

Beauty and the Barnes (12)

FANDOM - MARVEL MCU

PAIRING - Bucky X Reader

WARNINGS - Lots of Smut, Light Hints of Non/Dub-Con, Prostitution, Swearing, Dark Bucky. (I can’t stress enough that this is kinda dark, Buckys an asshole and the kind of behavior that goes on in this fic is in no way acceptable in the real world)

When your father falls deathly ill you fall into a lifestyle you would have never predicted for yourself. Selling your body as a high-class escort isn’t ideal but it’s the only way to find the money you need to help your father, until your first client offers you another way.

Bucky’s mean, coarse and gets a kick out of watching you squirm but he is willing to help your father. All you have to do is sign yourself over to The Winter Soldier, body and soul.

Trapped in The Avengers compound, serving as a PA to a man who’s an absolute beast you find yourself wondering if there’s such a thing as a happy ending?

Masterlist

Chapter Twelve 

Your fingers tentatively probed at your throat, marvelling at the accelerated healing. Tony had injected something into the skin that had made the bruising fade in a matter of hours. When you woke up you looked like a horror show and now, only a few hours later you were good as new. You could still feel a slight ache, but it was manageable.

Physical trauma had been dealt with and now you were taking on the phycological side of things. The snow had continued to fall and the grounds of the compound were a pristine white. Not a drop of red in sight. You wrapped your scarf around your neck tightly and tugged your gloves on before slipping out of the door, hesitantly making your way through the snow.

 “What are you doing?”

 You yelped and spun around, nearly slipping on the icy ground in surprise. Bucky moved quickly, his arms grabbing your hips and keeping you upright while he looked almost apologetic about scaring you.

 “I’m sorry.” He said softly, letting go of you.

 “It’s alright, you just surprised me.” You said, grinning at your own clumsiness.

 “My question still stands, what are you doing?” He asked, frowning at the bag in your hands.

 “It’s birdseed!” You exclaimed, holding up the bag for him to study.

 “Why?” He asked, utterly perplexed.

 “Well with all the snow and the ground being frozen solid, the birdies can’t find food very easily so I wanted to help them out.” You explained.

 “Is there anyone you’re not kind to?” He asked in awe.

 “Hydra agents.” You said with a grimace.

 Your quick answer drew a surprised huff of laughter from him before he looked sheepish for laughing at the obviously painful memory.

 “Sorry.” He said, running his hand through his hair nervously.

 “It’s not your fault.” You assured him, linking your arm through his to his astonishment.

 “What are you doing?” He demanded.

 “Trying to stay upright.” You said innocently.

 “Oh.” He said, with a hint of disappointment.

 You untied the bag of birdseed and carefully sprinkled some on top of the snow before pulling Bucky back a few feet to wait. It was only a few moments before one or two birds came to investigate, chirping happily as the pecked at your offering. You watched them happily, glancing at Bucky from time to time. He seemed strangely fascinated by the birds, watching them carefully.

 “Can.. I mean, could…” He stammered, looking at the bag of seed you were holding.

 You smiled and pulled his metal hand towards you, palm facing up and tipped a small pile of seed onto his hand. He closed his fist around it and looked at the birds, deciding against throwing it and scaring them. He silently crept closer and knelt down, slowly extending his hand to drop the seed on the ground when one very brave and curious birds chirped loudly and hopped across the snow to perch on his hand, eating the seed directly from Bucky’s metal appendage. Bucky made a huffing sound of surprise and looked at you helplessly.

 You had to cover your mouth to stifle the laughter at the sight of the big bad Winter Soldier knelt in the snow, too afraid to move lest he scare the robin perched on his metal hand. More and more birds fluttered over, seemingly unbothered by Bucky’s presence and gratefully pecking away at the seed he was holding for them. Slowly, the tension and surprise faded and he actually smiled softly at the strange turn of events.

 Your laughter dissipated into awe and admiration at the sight before you and you felt something like butterflies in your stomach. This was the Bucky who had been hidden beneath the mean and coarse, unrefined man you’d first met. The tender way he held himself was so sweet and kind, you honestly wondered how you had never seen it there before.

 Bucky glanced over at you to see if you were laughing at him and his heart faltered at the way you were gazing at him. Like he was something worth gazing at and not something to recoil from. Even when you’d poured the seed into his metal hand, you hadn’t so much as shuddered at the cool metal despite it having been wrapped around your throat the day prior. You had always been so patient with him, so kind but this was different, It was almost like lo… no, he was imagining things. He turned away, determined to ignore you. Still, you’d never looked at him this way before.

 “Are you seeing this?” Sam asked, peering out of the window.

 “What?” Peter asked, running over, trying to push between Steve and Sam to see what they were looking at.

 “Well who’d have thought?” Steve said, grinning at the sickeningly sweet sight.

 “You did, you can gloat.” Sam sighed.

 “What are you looking at?” Peter asked again.

 “Yes, but I didn’t think they’d come together on their own. I thought they would have needed more of a push.” Steve admitted.

 “What’s going on?” Tony asked, wandering over to see what the fuss was about.

 Steve moved over so Tony could see.

 “Aww, come on!” Peter protested.

 “Well, this is new.” Tony remarked with clear amusement.

 “WHAT’S NEW?” Peter demanded.

 “Nothing your young, innocent eyes needs to see.” Tony joked.

 “But..”

 “They’re gone now.” Steve said apologetically.

 “Who’s gone?” Peter asked.

 “I’ll tell you when you’re older.” Tony said, ruffling Peter’s hair obnoxiously.

 When Bucky finally tore himself away from his new friends he came over and straight away offered you his arm again.

 “Did you want to go inside or, maybe walk a bit?” He asked.

 “We can walk.” You said, trying to hide a shiver.

 “You’re cold.” He of course noticed.

 “I’m ok, I have a coat on.”

 “Have mine.” He insisted, shrugging it off and draping across your shoulders before you could protest.

 “I don’t need it, really… what’s that?” You asked, noticing the heavy weight in the inside pocket.

 “Oh, that’s your book.” He said, blushing slightly.

 “You’re reading it?” You asked delightedly, pulling it out.

 “Yeah. I actually liked it.” He admitted.

 “Liked, you finished it?” You asked, flipping through it.

 “I’m re-reading it, now I know how it ends I wanted to go back and pick up on all the bits I might have missed the first time.” He explained.

 You looked up at him in surprise.

 “You really did like it.” You said softly, not trying to mask the happiness in your voice.

 “I did. The main character was interesting, he started out kind of unlikable. He was naive and foolhardy but I liked how he grew and changed the more he saw of the world and his friendship with the slave grew.” Bucky said eagerly.

 “Yeah, he was a bit stupid at first. So consumed with how everyone else saw him and selfish really but he changed so much as it went on. I really liked how his entire perspective changed as it went on.” You agreed.

 “Why did you lend me that one? How did you know I would like it?” Bucky asked.

 “It’s actually one of my favourites. The author writes a lot of kind or creepy teen fiction stories I grew up with but this was the first thing of his I read that was more grown up. It still has that almost childlike wonder feel to it though.” You gushed.

 “You grew up reading creepy teen fiction stories?” He laughed.

 “I grew up reading just about anything and everything I could get my hands on. When I was about six I was upset because I didn’t have many friends. My grandmother gave me boxes of books she spent weeks collecting from charity shops and second hand stores and told me that ‘as long as I could read, I would always have a friend’.” You admitted.

 “She sounds like an incredibly wise woman.” Bucky noted.

 “She was. She really was.” You sighed wistfully, smiling at the memory of her.

 “I can’t imagine anyone not wanting to be your friend.” He told you honestly.

 “You didn’t want to be my friend.” You pointed out.

 “I did. I do.” He whispered.

 “You say that like you had a chance of refusing.” You smirked.

 “How foolish of me.” He snorted.

 You smiled up at him until you remembered what you’d spent the morning doing and dug through your pockets.

 “Here.” You told Bucky, smiling sweetly and holding out a slip of paper.

 “What’s this?” He frowned, looking over the list of numbers.

 “Phone numbers for physiatrist’s who specialize in working with veterans and people with PTSD. All of them were checked over and recommended by Sam and then thoroughly checked out by Tony and Friday before Steve and I called them all personally and removed any we didn’t think you’d like. If you crumple that piece of paper up, you and I are going to have a problem.” You told him sternly.

 His mature response was to snarl at you.

 “I know you’re from the 40’s where people didn’t talk about the mess inside their minds but if you can bring yourself to accept colour television then you can try therapy. All you have to do is meet them, you don’t even have to talk at all until you want to, even then you can say as much or as little as you like. If they give you advice, it’s your choice as to whether or not you take it. Just pick a name, call them and go sit in an office for an hour a week. Or we can bring them here.” You pleaded.

 “No.”

 “I’m sorry, I’m not explaining this very well. You’re doing it. Once you meet with them it becomes your choice but you are meeting somebody.” You ordered.

 “No, I’m not.” He growled.

 “James Buchanan Barnes so help me god I will drag your snarling ass there myself if I have to.” You huffed.

 Bucky looked confused by your attitude, like a puppy who had just been scolded for the first time. It almost broke your resolve, it was that adorable.

 “No.”

 Adorable or not, bionic arm or not, you were going to start throwing things at him.

 “Look Bucky, you can agree to it or….” You trailed off.

 “Or what?”

 “Steve and Tony want me to move out of your suite, I argued them down on the agreement I would get you to see a professional.” You admitted.

 “NO! They can’t take you away from me.” He said possessively.

 “Then go sit on a couch and glare at a stranger for an hour. Please?” You begged.

 Ideally, therapy would be something that someone would do willingly. Blackmailing him into going was a very last resort though and you weren’t lying when you’d said Steve and Tony had tried to move you into a different room. They were at the end of their ropes with him, the bruising on your throat being the final straw. If this was the only way to get him to speak to someone then so be it.

 “Fine.” He huffed.

 “Really? You’ll do it?” You asked hopefully.

 “For you, I’ll do it for you.” He promised, slipping the paper into his pocket.

 You felt bad that you’d spoiled the good mood but you’d done it with the best of intentions. You knew he needed help, he needed to be able to learn to live with the pain instead of letting it consuming him. But maybe there was a way to get him to smile again… or get yourself in trouble. Either way it was a distraction.

 “What’s that?” You said, frowning at something on the ground.

 “What?” He asked as you pulled your hand from his and ran over to check, bending down for a closer look.

 “Belle what is it?” He demanded, following you.

 Just as he approached his question was answered in the form of a face full of snow and your laughter ringing loudly in his ears. He brushed the powdery white flakes from his face in disbelief and watched with narrowed eyes as you scarpered away, running for cover. You ducked behind a tree and bit down on your lip to stifle a laugh. You nervously peeked our from behind the trunk but he was nowhere to be seen.

 “Looking for me doll?” He whispered in your ear, arms ensconcing your waist to stop you escaping.

 “If I beg for mercy, what are my chances?” You asked timidly.

 “Slim.” He admitted, picking you and carrying you over to a large pile of snow.

 “Bucky no! Please! MERCY! UNCLE! I SURRENDER!” You shrieked to no avail.

 He unceremoniously dumped you into the ice cold pile of snow and chuckled at your shocked spluttering.

 “Cold!” You yelped.

 “It is frozen water.” He shrugged.

 “I hate you.” You huffed, struggling to get up.

 He laughed freely at your pathetic attempts before he finally took pity on you and helped you up. During your struggles, his coat had slipped from your shoulders and your scarf had loosened and you saw his eyes snap to your throat. His hand gently brushed your hair away from your neck and he frowned at the remarkably clear skin.

 “You’re healed.” He said in wonder.

 “Tony. Well, the famous Doctor Banner actually. He gave Tony something to speed up the process and honestly, it was only light bruising anyway.” You explained.

 “Tony did this for you?”

 “Well, I asked if there was anything he could do to speed it up.” You admitted.

 The unspoken confession, that you wanted it gone so he would touch you again, was heard even though you didn’t say it out loud. He leaned in, his lips brushing over the skin in the hollow of your throat and it wasn’t the freezing cold surrounding you that had you shivering. He tenderly kissed every single centimetre of your neck, an apology in every light press of his lips and you basked in the affection. When his mouth traced your jawline you sighed dreamily, cold forgotten.

 He moved up, his lips dangerously close to yours and you sighed softly. That was when your body decided to remind you of how cold you were and a painfully violent shiver rippled through you.

 “You’re frozen!” He exclaimed, fixing his coat around you securely again and pulling you towards the building.

 You didn’t say anything, still affected by what had just transpired. Or almost transpired. There was no denying that something had shifted in the dynamic between the two of you and where there had once been anger and attitude, there was now tenderness and… maybe joy? Whatever it was, it was new and a bit alarming.

A/N - The thing Belle's grandmother said to her was actually something my wonderful granny said to me when I was a little girl and she was right.

Sam: I don't like him. Belle: That's a shame because your family loves him. Sam: What? Belle: *Points at Bucky sat on the ground, covered in birds*

@spnqueen02 @nogardsoahk @chipilerendi   @youwerespared @jessieray98@nochampagnesocialist@scarlettswxtch@dropthepizza346@jsmith509@musingpredilection@shirukitsune@dragonrosegardens@sexyvixen7@spicymagz @teh-nerdette@nerdy-bookworm-1998@australianhorrorstory @thejourneyneverendsx@mysweetcookie99 @likes-to-smell-books 

[kashmiresims]

Hart to Hart

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Nick was musing. He mused about the phrase ‘Nick of time’—the first reason being that his name was in it. The second reason was because he had accrued enough real simoleons to cover the tuition he owed if he were to stay a student at Sim State, on the last day he had left to pay it. ‘Nick of time’ indeed.  

Fight nights kept growing, both in crowd and fighter roster size and now was collectively referred to as the Nest of Vipers on account of all the fighters taking on snake aliases. He’d even met high rolling gamblers interested in betting on winners and bringing in more money. They had yet to implement a process but it looked, for lack of a better adjective—hella promising. It all was going in the direction Cain had predicted, ever since the first night. Nick still had a worry though, that if it grew too big and too fast that the law would get involved and shut it down. More than that, shut him down. Then where would he be? Jail, most likely.

“Nicholas?”

He stopped musing and noticed his mother was crossing his path. How random?  

“Mom?”

She looked puzzled to see him but he was even more puzzled—what was she doing on campus? Why was she heading toward where he just came from?

“It’s good to see you, sweetheart,” she smiled and stepped forward to hug him but he evaded it and put on a frown. He was on guard—suddenly suspicious, because she usually took his father’s side in arguments and that meant that she had agreed to let Elm take away the means for Nick’s higher education.

Her resulting expression of hurt at him avoiding her embrace stung him more than he would have thought but he pushed past it, “What are you doing here?”

She sighed and pulled out a piece of paper from her purse; a check. “It’s payment for your tuition. I was going over some of our financial records the other night and saw—well it doesn’t matter what I saw—I’m fixing this.”

She moved forward, presumedly to go pay the university but Nick held out his arm to halt her and said quietly, “Don’t worry about it.”

“But—”

He took the check out of her hand and looked at it. Plumbobs, college was expensive. He found it ironic that one of his father’s campaign promises was to make college education more affordable when he tried using money to influence Nick’s choice about college—to either become a lawyer or don’t go at all.

Now, Nick could do what he wanted.

His mother gasped as he abruptly tore the check into shreds, leaving him with a fist full of paper bits.

“Nicholas!”

He threw them into a nearby trash bin along the walking path, “I appreciate what you tried to do Mom, but I can take care of myself.”

She seemed absolutely shocked and bewildered by her son’s behavior. He had torn up a check for no insignificant amount of money. She could only stare at him as though he were crazy and to both their surprise, tears began to leak into her eyes.

Of course, he wasn’t a complete monster—and made a move to comfort her immediately. Unlike him, she accepted a hug without question. He surmised she was sad because she believed he was throwing away his future and he didn’t know how he could tell her that he wasn’t, without the fact of how he had managed to come up with the money.

“It’s okay,” he heard himself say and hugged her tighter as she cried into his shoulder, her purse dropping from her hand as it dangled hopelessly, “It will be all right, Mom.”

He didn’t expect her to get so worked up over this. Harmony Calhoun, the Steel-faced woman—that’s what the media called her as they took pictures of her standing by Elm’s side—not with a fake smile of a politician’s wife but a sullen, strict look that cooled everyone around her.  She had been a public educator for many years, eventually securing a spot as the school’s principal, so had to develop that tough exterior. She was firm but she wasn’t unfeeling.

She shook her head, unconvinced of his words. It was unspoken but then he knew, he just knew his father had done something to wear down her resolve. How she could stand being married to such an asshole for so many years was something he often wondered about.  

“Let’s get something to eat?” Nick suggested, pulling away and looking her over. When did threads of silver start appearing in her hair? When did that crinkle around her golden eyes become so deep and prominent?        

He hadn’t visited home in a long while, he didn’t like going back there and always found an excuse to stay away. It’d be different if his grandparents were still alive—but they had passed in recent years, and he didn’t like going back, knowing they weren’t there to greet him with smiles and hugs.  

But then it struck him, that while his father didn’t care about Nick’s absence, other members of his family might miss him just as much as he missed Kimmy and Matthew Hart.

His mother nodded in agreement about getting food and wiped away any loose tears remaining, then reached down to collect her purse.

Nick lead the way down the sidewalk, keeping his silence measured for he didn’t want to say anything more to upset her. In fact, he wouldn’t know what to say anymore--he probably stopped confiding in her about the time he was in high school, when he kept getting grounded for stupid things by his father and she didn’t stand up for Nick—just went along with it to avoid more confrontation.

They entered Joe's Diner. It was one of those university establishments that had been around for a generation at least. The door jingled when a customer entered, greeted by a soda counter and a row of double seated booths against a bright red wall with silver paneling. Very retro with sense of nostalgia though many now had never experienced it before coming to college. Since it was open past midnight, many students could be found there studying in the early dark hours, cramming for an exam while cramming a burger down their mouth.  

Nick and his mother were seated, and Nick ordered two burgers. Hamburgers were Joe's s specialty. His mother didn't object. He didn't like the silence, not with her—had he been away so long they had forgotten how to talk to each other?

“Mom, I gotta say, I'm digging your hairstyle today. Buns are where it's at."

She looked mildly perplexed at his statement, as if no one had complimented her on her hair in years or rather, she had worn it that way for years and wondered why it earned her a compliment now. Despite her puzzlement she smiled and said, "Thank you, sweetheart.”

But then with a quick flip of his head, as if to present himself—it was made evident it was a compliment more to Nick himself as his long hair was bundled up in its usual hair tie.

He knew she didn’t prefer the look, but she smiled at his quip nonetheless and repeated a sentiment she had been saying since he was in high school, "Your hair is out of control, Nicholas."

"It is not," he disagreed and smoothed his hand over the top of his head to check, it was all pulled back tight, no strands popping out haphazardly. He had noticed though, as he grew it out, that he used more and more shampoo every time he showered. He bet that the next words out of her mouth were for him to go get a haircut. He could almost see the thought form in her head as her brow crinkled.

"You could do with a haircut," she suggested and he mentally patted himself on the back for correctly guessing, but thankful he didn't owe himself money for both simultaneously losing and winning the bet he made with himself.

He smirked with defiance, "Why? women really like my long hair.”

“Oh really?” she arched a brow and he immediately regretted bringing up that subject because she followed up with, “And when are you going to bring any of these so called ‘women who like your long hair’ over so I can meet any of them?

He let out a nervous laugh, waving away her question, “They aren’t the type one takes home to meet one’s parents but I promise they exist!”

His mother pressed her lips in disapproval, which he knew she would do. She was at the age where she would like to see her sons to be on the path toward steady relationships. With Kit being only fifteen years old—he wasn’t ready for commitment. Shane was about as emotionally intelligent as the robots he built, so there was hardly a chance for him to catch anyone’s fancy. That left Nick being the only son to land a significant other and while he had plenty of fish in the sea to choose from, he wasn’t all thrilled at the idea of getting into a serious relationship; college was the time for fun and he had the rest of his life to live—to find that ‘special someone’ if they even existed.

He jolted forward suddenly reminded of something he was supposed to ask his mother about, “Hey, Mom—do you think you could ask Dad about something for me?”

She seemed surprised at the urgency of his request and asked, “Is everything all right?”

“I’m fine but I wanted to show some of my art at the Harvest Gala. Dad could probably make that happen...”

Their burgers arrived then and he had to put a hold on that thought while they ate. The burger was damn good—juicy and had a charbroil taste, smothered in ketchup, mustard, and topped with tomato. It was an early dinner for him but he had a light lunch and was feeling hungry anyway. He hoped food would make his mom feel better, it always made him feel better.

He glanced up and saw her eating eagerly as he was and nearly laughed. He'd never seen her eat like that before. She was usually careful about what she ate—he’d seen her with granola, salads, and other healthy foods that she chewed precisely after every bite. He realized, he probably hardly knew her real character, locked away behind that steel-faced persona she had maintained, even at home.

Why did she hide?

“You, uh...really like that burger, huh?” he swallowed a bite and said with amusement.

“Are you kidding? I love Joe's burgers,” she said and took another happy, sloppy, bite.

“Since when do you eat here?”

“I too, went to Sim State, once upon a time—” she swiveled her head from side to side, looking at the walls with her hamburger in hand, "and I'm amazed that this diner looks the same—it's like stepping back in time."  

"Really?"  

"Yes, your father and I came here often. We'd get dinner, drink a few beers and talk about everything from philosophy to politics—and I hung on every word," she smiled wistfully but it faded a moment later, "He was very charming back then."

Nick restrained his eyes from rolling, but ended up frowning slightly, "So, he's not anymore?"

"I didn't say that," she snapped, matching his frown until it wavered and dissolved into melancholy.

His expression lifted and turned to concern, "Something happened, didn't it? Something with Dad?"  

She didn't answer right away, seeming to weigh her words as she focused somewhere else than Nick. Finally, she answered, "We had a fight—and he thought it was best if I didn't accompany him to a fundraising function tonight."  

Nick had never seen his parents fight before, never even heard of it—thought it was pretty much impossible from the way they stood united all those years. To hear his mother admit that such a fight happened was as rare as seeing a unicorn. He honestly didn’t know what to say after such a truth.

“Sounds like...you could use a drink,” Nick waved over the waitress and promptly ordered two beers despite the shocked look on his mother’s face at that suggestion. He knew she drank, he’d seen the empty wine bottles as a kid—and the full ones stashed up in the cabinets out of his reach.

The beers were uncapped and set before them; Nick picked his up and held it out to her as if he were toasting. She hesitantly picked it up and did the same.

“To Joe’s,” he grinned and clinked his bottle against hers, which caused her to laugh, “May it exist another 30 years.”

“To Joe’s,” she repeated with a smile and took a swig at the same time he did. If he had somehow managed to time travel and told his eighteen-year-old self that one day he would be drinking beer with his mother, his teenage self would have called him crazy and a liar. But there he was, twenty-two years old and drinking beer with his mother.

“Oh wow, I don’t know how long it’s been since I’ve had a beer,” she said immediately after tasting it and looked at the back of the label.

“Probably since you went here,” Nick joked, recalling her words from earlier.

She rolled her eyes and took another drink.  

As she drank, she became more and more forthcoming—talking about her college days, her job and all the snotty pre-teens she had to deal with, her annoyance at how the media portrayed her now that her husband was running for public office—and it amazed Nick to see his mother so candid about life for once.

They had been there so long, chatting and ordering beers that it was now evening.

“What did you and dad fight about?” Nick finally let his curiosity get the best of him and asked. He was done with his third drink, and had set the beer bottle on the table top. Funnily enough, he was barely feeling it, college had done wonders for his tolerance.

“Your tuition.”

It was a good thing Nick was done with his beer for if he would have had any in his mouth he would have spit it out in utter surprise. His mind was blown.  

While it was rare to see a unicorn, it was rarer yet to know of a fight between his parents that pertained to their eldest son. He thought they had always been on the same page concerning him—his hair was too long, his eyebrow piercing looked unprofessional, art was not a valid career path, he would make a better lawyer with his smartass mouth, and he deserved to be grounded for tricking his uncle into reading Marilyn Manson lyrics at his Grams’ funeral. Okay, but assessing that situation now, that he agreed he definitely deserved to be grounded for it. His eighteen-year-old self would have called him a traitor, that is, if he managed to go back in time somehow. He really liked musing on that hypothetical.  

Now he felt a little bad for assuming his mother had allowed his father take away that money for tuition without a fight—but to be fair she’d never give him reason to believe anything else. “Speaking of...“ her voice turned a bit harder, “how did you manage to get the money to pay it?”

Nick cringed inwardly, because he was dreading that question. He had thought of an answer though, “I sold all my art.”

Now it was her turned to look like her mind was blown, and honestly if someone really had bought his art for that amount, it would have blown his mind too.  

“If you sold all your art...then what are you showing at the Harvest Gala?” she asked slowly while her amazement turned into a puzzled frown. Damn, nothing got past her even when she was buzzed.

“I...” he started but picked up his bottle and shook it to hear nothing but drops left, trying to stall as he thought of how to reply, “I'm working on new paintings that I’ll have done by the time the Gala rolls around. I figured it would be good exposure. That’s why I need you to ask dad.”

He’d finally gotten around to bringing that up again.

She put her finger to her lips thoughtfully, “How about you come home this weekend and ask him yourself?”

“Mom,” Nick groaned and placed his head into his hand, trying his best to give her pleading eyes, “You have to talk him into it, you know he won’t go for it otherwise. He likes to undermine me.”

“I’d say like father, like son in that respect,” she mumbled before taking another drink and it made Nick furious. He did not appreciate being likened to his father. He’d done so much to try and distance himself, and distinguish himself as the opposite of Elm Calhoun—even going so far as using her maiden name to hide the relation from anyone he introduced himself to.

She noticed his expression and explained, “You push his buttons every chance you get. You quit the Greek Society—and while taking away your tuition was a bit extreme—he pulled a bunch of strings to get you at the top of the waiting list for his legacy fraternity. You don’t show him any respect—”

Nick didn’t want to listen to this. The night was suddenly soured with this talk of his father. His father ruined everything, and now she was taking his side again. He jumped up and quickly paid the dining bill at the front, leaving his mother behind—too angry to offer to walk her back to her car.

He heard the quick clicking of her heels behind him, and then a shrill shout of “Nicholas Alexander Calhoun, stop walking away from me this instant!”

If anyone was out and about, they heard it. He’d bet everyone inside Joe’s could hear it as well. He did stop but he didn’t face her.

“I didn’t quit the frat to annoy him,” Nick sighed, trying to control his growing rage just remembering that last phone conversation with the man. He knew his mother was just behind him as there were no more clicking sounds. “I bet he didn’t tell you the reason.”

“Enlighten me,” he heard her demand in that same hard tone.

He turned around to face her with a scowl, “The frat's president was drugging the drinks at parties, women’s drinks, and when I called him out on it, he gave no indication he was going to stop. He still does it, I've seen him do it out at the bars—”

Nick had to swallow another bout of rage, remembering how Illyana was affected and how scared he had been for her. It wasn’t right at all, “So I could not, in good conscious, stay in the Geek Society, especially after I explained this to Dad and he told me to accept it and get over it.”

Nick had to grit his teeth as he quoted his father, forcing those skeevy words out between his lips. He noticed his mother was matching his scowl, coming to the same realization.  

Now could she understand why Nick couldn’t respect his father? How could he when his father thought something like that was acceptable behavior? His mother didn’t say anything in response, but she looked angry...and now very tired as well as she mulled over his words.

“I’ll have a word with him. I’ll tell him about your art and the Harvest Gala but in return for that favor, I want you to come home—we’re having an election party this weekend. It would be nice if we could all be together again.”

“Mom...please—”

“Kit misses you, I miss you. So, don’t come for him—do it for us. Please, sweetheart?”

A tight ball of some kind of anxiety formed in his chest as he pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to think. It wasn’t often his mother begged anything of him and he did owe her if she was to put in a word for him to show his art at the Gala. It was fair, but he didn’t look forward to it at all.

“Fine,” he sighed with an air of defeat, “I’ll come home this weekend.”

[i-see-my-otps-in-erised]

The Bet

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six  | Part Seven | Part Eight

"Ron… You can't be serious." Hermione breathed.

"What?"

"That's just… Way too many phases."

Harry was staring at the parchment between the three of them. The paper was settled on a small library table in the corner, mostly hidden from sight. The parchment was scribbled on with messy handwriting and blotches of ink were splattered in random places. Ron looked confusedly at both of them.

"What's the issue?" Ron asked, glancing back at his handiwork.

"Ron," Harry said exasperatedly. "You have a phase fifteen that's only note is 'trip and catch'. What does that mean?"

"That-" Ron started.

"I honestly don't think you spent this much effort on trying to date me," Hermione looked perplexed. "And I can't tell if I'm offended or relieved."

"It's not-" Ron tried again.

"I think this is all too much for me. I should just ask him out." Harry said, biting the inside of his cheek in disappointment.

"Excuse me," Ron glared at the both of them. He grabbed his parchment and shook it in Harry's face. "I'm not expecting you to go through all the phases! These are just backup phases until Malfoy cracks."

"Wow. Hermione really is rubbing off on you," Harry cocked an eyebrow.

"Oh, please," Hermione rolled her eyes. "He's only working so hard to get out of studying."

"We went through a war, 'Mione! I don't need any more essays!"

Harry laughed, "I agree with that."

He glanced back at the parchment and a phrase caught his eye. He grabbed the notes from Ron, looking closer to make sure he didn't imagine it.

"Make him jealous?"

"Yeah," Ron shrugged. "That's one of the most basic ways to get someone's attention."

"Only if the person would actually get jealous." Harry pointed out.

Hermione snorted and the two boys looked at her with surprise. She went a bit pink, but still put on her best 'Obviously' face. "Harry, please. Malfoy would get jealous of the quill you were holding if it meant he wasn’t getting attention from you."

Harry blinked. "Huh?"

"You think so, 'Mione?" Ron asked, genuinely curious.

"It's obvious.”

"Hm… Now that you say so, Malfoy does seem to notice Harry more than others," Ron pondered. His eyes widened suddenly and he snatched the parchment out of Harry's hands. "This may change the phase sequence!"

"Wha-?" Harry could feel a flush creeping up his cheeks.

"Harry, don't be dense." Hermione chided.

"I just don't really agree with what you're assuming," Harry said.

Ron glanced up at Harry, a suspicious look on his face. "I'm confused. Did you just start liking Malfoy? Or has it been a secret crush for a few years? By the way, I'm a bit put out that you kept this from me, mate. Don't think you're getting out of this one."

"I don't-!"

"Harry, stop. If you hate him so much, then call off the bet." Hermione offered.

"It's not even his bet!" Ron snickered. "It's Dean's and Seamus'."

"Maybe he should let it go. He doesn't seem to be fully in it." Hermione shrugged.

"But I spent so much work on the phases!" Ron pouted.

"You realize you have a potions essay.”

"'Mione, please. I'm in mourning. All my hard work… Gone to waste." Ron pretended to sniffle at the thought.

Harry rolled his eyes. He glanced towards the center of the library when he heard a voice reach their table. Malfoy was leaning against one of the bookshelves, grinning at Parkinson. Harry pursed his lips before determinedly standing up.

"You want me to go through with it?" Harry whispered towards the two. "Fine."

"What are you doing?" Hermione looked bewildered.

"Phase. Three."

Harry heard Ron gasp with glee as he walked towards Malfoy, looking straight ahead. Harry didn't want to risk any distractions.

Parkinson saw him first. She smirked and quickly waved a goodbye at Malfoy. Harry tentatively stopped right behind him, tapping him softly on the shoulder.

"Malfoy?"

Malfoy jumped, turning quickly towards him. He looked as though he wasn't sure what expression to wear. He eventually settled on angry.

"What do you want, Potter?"

"Er," Harry rubbed his neck, hoping it made him look as nervous as he actually was. "I was hoping I could ask you something."

Malfoy raised an eyebrow, the corner of his lip twitching. "Oh, really?"

"Yeah. It's just…" Harry sighed, looking at the floor. He hoped he was selling this. "It's a bit awkward considering our history."

The tone of Malfoy's voice changed slightly. "Oh."

"I was wondering…" Harry looked up at him, trying his best to look into his eyes. The trouble was that they were so grey, it was difficult to continue his act. And… Was it just Harry's imagination or did Malfoy almost look hopeful? "I was just wondering… Could I borrow a quill?"

Malfoy's face fell. "Excuse me?"

"I just need to borrow a quill, but I know how you are with your things. Mine broke and Hermione and Ron don't have extras." Harry tried his best to look innocent.

"I… Yeah, okay." Malfoy dug through his bag and pulled out a white feathered quill. "Here."

Harry reached for it and their hands brushed against each other briefly before the quill was suddenly pulled away.

"Wait… That's all you came here to ask?" Malfoy narrowed his eyes at him.

"Er… Yeah?" Harry said.

Malfoy sneered. "What are you playing at, Potter?"

Harry blinked, trying to look clueless. "Sorry?"

"What is your damage?" Malfoy practically snarled. The few who were in the library glanced over at them with interest. Malfoy seemed to have noticed because he was suddenly shouting at Harry in a hushed whisper. "You ignore me, push me around and barely show me any common decency for weeks!"

Harry almost corrected him, saying it was only a few days, but he thought better of it. "Oh, so you show me common decency all the time?" Harry challenged.

"I-" Malfoy looked taken back. He quickly regained his composure. "Recently, yes. And it's not as though you've been so cold this year, either. Until now!"

"Oh? Have I been cold, Malfoy?" A sudden surge of confidence hit Harry. He stepped closer to Malfoy, the space between them only inches now. "What would you rather I be, then? Warm?"

"E-excuse me?" Malfoy stuttered.

"You seem to be unhappy with how I've been treating you. Why not enlighten me? How would you like to be treated?" Harry smirked, looking up at Malfoy with heavy eyes. He had no idea where this attitude was coming from, but it was working. He hoped it would last.

"W-wh- I don't care how you treat me!" Malfoy tried to take a step back, but was met with the hardness of the bookshelf behind him.

"You sure?" Harry practically purred. "Because you seemed awfully angry at how rude I've been. And you seemed to have thought I was coming over here for a reason… Other than a quill, of course."

"I… Just thought it was to apologize for your behavior." Malfoy sniffed haughtily.

"Oh? And how would you like me to apologize?" Harry asked.

He watched Malfoy gulp, staring down at him with wide, intense eyes. His cheeks were pink, slightly darker than his ears. Harry never noticed it before, but he had tiny, almost transparent freckles scattered on his cheekbones. They cascaded slowly towards his nose, where only a few resided on the tip of it. Harry might have counted them if Malfoy didn't open his mouth to speak.

"You…" He started off slowly, as if afraid of what he was going to say, "Should apologize to me by-"

"Harry!"

Suddenly, a body was wedging itself between them. Dean was smiling down at him, pushing him away from Malfoy.

"I've been looking everywhere for you, mate! Listen, I have this very cute friend who is very interested in you. And since you aren't dating anyone right now, I figured-"

Dean went on like that, blabbing about some random suitor he had lined up. Harry strained to look around him. His heart dropped when he saw Malfoy stomping out the library entrance.

Dean poked Harry in the arm, "So, what do you think?"

"Huh?"

"Dean!" Seamus popped up behind Harry, making him jump. Seamus ignored him, however, and grabbed Dean by his jacket. "That was cheating!"

Dean snickered, "Where's the rulebook?"

Seamus glared at him, "I will make one, so help me, Merlin."

"I'd like to see you spend more than five minutes on that."

"I will!" Seamus started dragging Dean away. "And I get to interfere once now, to make it even!"

Harry stared dumbfoundedly at them. He felt two figures come up behind him and a hand clap his shoulder.

"You got really close, Harry," Hermione said sympathetically.

"Yeah, mate. Really good run." Ron chimed in.

Harry nodded solemnly. He was so close. He knew that Malfoy was going to… Well, do something. Ron's plan almost worked, but Harry guessed they just needed more time.

"Hey, look on the bright side, Harry."

"Hm?"

"You bumped right past phase three all the way to phase ten: jealousy!" Ron grinned at him. "On to phase eleven!"

"Oh, Merlin, what's that?" Hermione grimaced.

Ron grinned wickedly, shoving the notes he made under their noses.

Harry groaned.

This is twice as long as the other ones ooooh boy we in it now lads. Thank you for the demands for another part. It was equally flattering and overwhelming. I’m tagging everyone who wanted to be tagged under the cut. If I forgot to tag you I’m deeply sorry.  

@crystalrose-97 @serinacantstopfandoming @queenawesomepants101 @anthonytheturk-blog @walk-in-the-darkness @physicspsycho @captaincjdeetsy @wendigochild13 @totallygayforhim @dracomalfoyisanassandiloveit @a-harrypotter-phan @annie19 @zainabmtk @cwithum @2-insanity-and-beyond @fireboltdrarry @reading-till-5am @lovedrarrypizzasleep 

[randomfandomimagine]

Her Lament (L x Reader)

Character: Elle Lawliet

Fandoms: Death Note & Undertale (kinda)

Categories: Reader Insert, Female!Reader, Depressed!Reader, Angst, Crossover

Title: Her Lament

  Requested by anon:

Can you write a songfic based on the song "His/Asirel's Lament" (performed by Caleb Hyles) for L Lawliet where the reader helps with the Kira case, but is really closed off from everyone until L looks into the reader's past and learns of how many loved ones of the reader have died and slowly becomes the reader's first friend in a long time?

Requested by anon:

Hi, um, could you possibly do an L x Depressed! Reader? It would be nice if you could possibly do that for me. Thanks, and I like you’re writing by the way.

I could feel L’s eyes on me again. At first I tried to pretend like I didn’t notice, but his stare was flustering me and so I looked over to him. He looked away just when I did, even if he wasn’t the best at dissimulating.

I just sighed and focused back on the papers on the Kira case, deciding I did not have the strength to put up with whatever he was thinking. Focusing on the job was tiring enough, even if at the same time it was the very thing that kept my mind busy and distracted me from everything else.

My eyes were on the paper, but I had read the same line of the report multiple times without understanding one single word, I was too distracted by the feeling that someone was watching me.

“What is it, Ryuzaki?” I asked him tiredly, determined to end whatever he was doing right there and then.

“What is what, Y/N?” His big dark eyes focused on me, even if he tried to appear nonchalant.

“I’m trying to work” I really didn’t want to be rude, but this had gone on for a few days already.

Usually, when anyone else tried to approach me, I was polite. I calmly told them –especially Matsuda, who was very talkative –that I was there to work and not to chat. The only times when I spoke to people was when it was absolutely necessary for the case, I didn’t want to waste my energy on anything else. I wasn’t interested in making friends either.

But L wasn’t like that. He either didn’t realize I wanted to be alone and quiet or preferred not to realize. Either way, even if he technically didn’t start conversations, it was like he slyly made me start them for him. Like right then, as he stared at me.

“I can see that” He calmly replied, nodding his head a little.

“You’re staring at me” I patiently said, making an effort not to sound rude.

Honestly, it felt like L wasn’t too used to being around people. That was why he probably didn’t realize that I was uncomfortable with him staring, for example.

“I was” He admitted, like it was nothing out of the ordinary.

“Why were you staring at me?”

“Honestly, I just find you fascinating”

He shrugged and leaned closer to the table to pick up one of his sweets, which he brought up to his lips and immediately gulped down. I stared at him in disbelief, utterly perplexed as to why he found me so fascinating and why he said it so casually.

“Excuse me?” I knew that it had to be a compliment in his mind, and it wasn’t something bad, I just… was taken aback by such a sudden comment on his side.

“Your behavior is vastly different from everyone else’s” L picked up a cube of sugar and put it in his mouth, just like that, as he kept talking. His voice sounded a little muffled because of it. “You’re different, and I find it quite interesting”

I frowned, understanding what he was talking about now. He probably meant that I was absent, that I refused as much interaction as other people seemed to need. L probably didn’t realize why, I was positive that he just thought I was… eccentric like himself. If only he knew why I isolated myself like that.

Just at the thought that L might somehow find out about my past, I felt uncomfortable and slightly scared. I didn’t want anyone to know, not because I was worried that it might push them away or feel sorry for me, but because I was not interested in anyone. It was just that… I didn’t want anyone to know about it.

This is the end

Just let me win

I found you after you fell

You always did mean well

You made your place in our home

But now I'm so alone

What is this that's happening?

What is this feeling?

Have I been through too much now?

What will my heart allow?

Don't you know why you're still here?

Why I keep you so near?

I can't let this be the end

Can't say ‘goodbye’ again

“With all due respect, Ryuzaki” I paused for a moment, taking a deep breath since just imagining him knowing about my past rattled me. “I came here to work and nothing more”

His eyes analyzed me for a moment, squinting as he scrutinized me like he could read my mind that way. Then he looked away and stood up, putting his hands in his pockets.

“Very well” He just said before he walked to the other side of the room.

I heaved a sigh, relieved that he dropped it. He didn’t know, and I was somehow glad about it. I had always felt like it was my burden to carry, and no one else’s.

Maybe that was it, that was why. Maybe I was scared that someone knew because that way I would have to talk about it. And that would only make it more real. More painful.

*

The next day everyone gathered at Ryuzaki’s place again. Mr. Yagami gave me the reports I was supposed to study that day and I silently sat on the couch, away from everyone else.

My eyes were centered on the papers as I went over the new details we found on the case. There didn’t seem to be any more useful clues, but I carefully examined each and every one of them to make sure I wasn’t missing something. However, it was hard to focus again. Someone was staring at me. Again.

I turned my head to look at Ryuzaki, who sat in the arm chair next to the couch I sat on. I opened my mouth to ask him to stop it, but to my surprise he began talking this time.

“I have something to confess, Y/N” He admitted, being extremely blunt about it.

“What is it?” I absently put the papers down on the table and stared at him, equally curious and nervous.

“I’m afraid curiosity got the best of me” L refused to look into my eyes as he took a sip of his overly sweet tea. “I know”

The way he said ‘I know’ caused my heart to skip a beat. He couldn’t possibly mean what I thought he meant… he couldn’t know about that…

“What…” I gulped involuntarily and had to start over. “What do you know?”

“I know about your past, I checked your file” For having confessed something so huge and that had such an impact on me that I froze, L seemed quite calm about it.

“You…” I somehow managed to utter, feeling out of breath.

I suddenly got reminded of everything. Of all the sorrow I went through when I lost people very dear to me. The endless nights crying. The insomnia. The pain. The loneliness. The fact that I was almost fired from my job because I couldn’t focus properly. With L knowing, I was suddenly reminded of everything and the empty yet extremely heavy pain arrived to my heart again.

“I’m terribly sorry” L fumbled around a little, fidgety, until he handed me a tissue. It was then when I realized my eyes became watery and I had shed a tear or two.

“You would have known sooner or later” My response surprised even myself.

But it was a fact: L was a very intelligent individual. If his curiosity hadn’t tempted him or if he hadn’t found my file, he would still have deduced or realized somehow.

Maybe that was why I refused to get close to him. But now that one of the walls I built were demolished, the idea of letting him in was more appealing.

“I would like to say that…” L made a pause, and his dark eyes analyzed me carefully. “That if you ever need anything I will be here”

“Thank you” I nodded, wiping my tears off and sniffling through my nose.

“Quite literally as well” A gentle smile appeared on his lips. “I live here”

I chuckled a little, appreciating his efforts. He could be awkward and don’t understand people that well, but I supposed he had gone through some dark times himself and knew how that felt. Also, we always had a greater understanding of each other than other people did, I merely preferred to ignore it and push him away so he wouldn’t see through me. But he did.

L rested his hand over mine, even if a second later he moved it and pretended like nothing happened. A faint blush appeared on his pale cheeks as well.

It was a relief that he knew, that he didn’t mind. That he could be my friend and I could fill a void that way. Even if he could never truly replace what I had lost, but he could change everything at the same time.

My hate is replaced with fear

The thought that you're not here

Do not made me realize

You aren't the one who dies

I know that you're not the one with whom I had such fun

That one isn't here with me

The one I'll never see

So alone, so afraid, I'm so sorry

Need to be saved

You can make the world brand new

[loquaciousquark]

17th Bloomingtide. Spring winds are blowing, and with them they bring...

All sorts of whispers in the city these days. Particularly, rumors that a ship with piratical ties is on its way to Kirkwall, to dock within the week.

I can’t pretend I’m not hoping, but I can’t say the hope aloud, either. It’s been almost three years since she left. There’s hardly any anger left, thank the Maker, but I still haven’t figured out the hurt.

Speaking of hurt, Meredith and Orsino nearly came to blows this morning in the Hightown square. I gave a good effort at impartiality since I’m apparently considered respectable now, channeling my inner Elthina and so forth (for you, Sebastian, and no other), and in the end everyone left angry and unsatisfied. I believe this means I was a success.

21st Bloomingtide. Beautiful sunny day, almost warm

She’s here. Isabela’s come back to the city. We had a terrible fight when I went into the Hanged Man--the wench had been there for two days without either her or Varric breathing a word to me, so when I came in as blithe as a daisy only to see that cocky smirk at the bar with Corff, as if she’d been gone three weeks instead of three years, I couldn’t decide if I ought to kill her or kiss her.

She blamed (blames?) me for ruining all her plans. For making her stay, or want to stay, instead of letting her live forever without a tie to solid land. She’s given up her charter, let it expire when she docked and dismissed her crew. She sounded so bitter... she said I made her feel less than what she was by caring about her. Well--not in as many words, but that’s what I took away from it.

If she didn’t want me to care about her, she shouldn’t have come back. Serves her right--I’ll love her whether she likes it or not, and piffle to the rest. Even if she’s brought another Arishok on her heels again--I’ll fight him, too, if I have to.

Belatedly occurs to me that I shouldn’t tempt the Maker, especially as I’m already down one kidney

We had a drink after we fought, and she told me a little about her journeys & why her hair’s two inches shorter than when she left. She has a new scar, too, right across the meat of her right arm. I’m so very glad she’s back. I’m even looking forward to the pot of coin I’ll be losing next week at cards.

Maker, how can I be so happy and sad at the same time?

30th Bloomingtide. Still sunny, warming up both here & the Coast. In Ferelden there’d be daisies covering the fields

Isabela’s been everywhere. Everywhere! Antiva, Rivain (briefly), stops in Orlais, Gwaren, Alamar--she even went far enough into Denerim to see the king & queen, long may they reign etc, etc. Because apparently Isabela’s the kind of person to know reigning monarchs of neighboring countries on a first-name basis. She even says she trained the queen in daggers a long time ago when she was only a Warden, which is probably the most unbelievable part of the whole tale.

Varric won’t admit it, but he’s as pleased as I am that she’s back. We played cards last night and everyone came (except Aveline, who’s still in Orlais), and he was so quietly satisfied I could swear he was stacking the deck in his favor, except he’s been scrupulously honest in his cards lately (a long con, I’m sure) and he hardly won anything anyway. Isabela cleaned out every one of us, except Anders who folded nearly every hand, and not a single person complained.

Reminder: take Merrill out... somewhere tomorrow. Anywhere. She’s looking awfully wilted lately, and Varric said he hasn’t had to pay street protection in over two months. She’s just not... going anyplace. I’m hoping Isabela’s coming back will bring her out a little more, but she did look awfully distracted more than once tonight.

That damned mirror!

4th Justinian. I have never been so charmed by a doodled dick in my journal, thank you, now stop reading and go pilfer something shiny

I’m a perfect fool sometimes.

I was reading letters in the study. Pelarie’s asked me to come by--that’s beside the point. I was using Fenris’s little penknife to open them, the one he gave me, and as Orana came by to water the rhododendron she said something about it being rather pretty. I showed it to her with the feathers and the engraving on the blade, and I was laughing about how he’d had it engraved with the Tevinter word for sadist, as he’d called me ages ago when he was so ill.

Except she only looked perplexed when I said that, and I...

I still didn’t understand, not until I asked her directly. She carefully sounded out the word to be sure she’d read it right (which she had).

Avis doesn’t mean “sadist.” It means “bird.”

I’ve never felt so peculiar over a word in my life.

11th Justinian. Cool for the season, warm for my taste. Stormed a bit this morning but it’s cleared up nicely since

Aveline’s back tomorrow and the city is more than ready for her return. The templars are--well, Meredith is become the sole seat of power in Kirkwall, and I hadn’t realized how absolutely she’s claimed it until I passed by a pair of templars heckling a young man in Darktown this morning. They had him up against a wall & were trying to bait magic out of him with sheer fear, and it wasn’t until I casually came up between their muscly shoulders that they seemed to care the entire alley was watching.

I asked if they needed any help. I recognized them, too--they used to run with Alrik and his sort, though I hadn’t seen them in the streets in years and frankly, journal, I’d hoped they’d just gone off and walked off some high cliff somewhere together. The taller one looked ready to hit me until he recognized my face, and then they both gave up a grudging respect and went on their way. 

I still don’t know if the boy was a mage. I didn’t ask--I don’t want to know. I don’t want to be in the middle of this war. Anders fights enough for the both of us, and that’s not even including the war he’s waging against himself.

(Sidebar, now that I’ve brought it up: I went to help him with that little task of his, possibly the most disgusting thing I have ever done in my life, and he started it off by calling Fenris a wild dog to my face. I was already annoyed; at that I was angry, and I told him so. He apologized, though I’m not sure he meant it, and on we went to the precious shit. I can’t say the splashing wasn’t intentional; if nothing else, I am excellent at recognizing my own mercurial spite. He did apologize again as we left, much more sincerely, and by then my temper had cooled enough to accept it.

I must say, given all my vast years of experience with spirits and possession and indeed several personal anecdotes involving general bad behavior on the part of Fade denizens, that Justice has not been a good influence on that man.)

24th Justinian. Drizzly all day, and even the hood my father magicked is struggling to keep up its spirits

Dicks, but when it rains it pours. Someone’s after Gamlen for bad debt, something to do with some Gem of Ker...what is it? I have the note. Keroshek. Sounds like one of those scheming letters that pretend to be some investor or tax collector and threaten to bring the guard unless you pay them a hundred sovs, except that in this case someone really did try to kill him.

I’m not so rich with family that I can let this happen again. I won’t allow it. If I have to tie him to a post in my basement to keep him safe, I will. I’ll even risk the smell soaking into the walls.

Varric’s looking into it for me. In other news, Aveline’s back safely, and she and Isabela had a reunion I still can’t quite find words for. I think they were both happy, though the words didn’t show it, and when Isabela draped her arm over Aveline’s shoulders at the end she didn’t shake her off for nearly a minute.

Flames, Toby has just brought in a whole chicken. Where did he it’s alive

Later

One soggy chicken extracted, returned to the butcher down the street, and Toby thoroughly scolded. He’s curled at my feet now, sulking. Serves you right, you overgrown thief. Just because the chicken ran didn’t mean you had the right to chase it.

One more thing, and then I need to help Orana--I finally met with Pelarie and Jule. Pelarie’s worried about her little sister, the one in the Gallows. She says she’s fine for now, that her name’s been enough to protect her so far, but she’s worried that the city might not remain safe for her forever. She wanted to know if I could quote-unquote help should she need it in the future.

I can. I will, if it comes to it, and she knew it before she asked. How irritatingly transparent I am, and how well she knows my regard for little sisters.

1st Solace. Stifling, yet dank. Remarkable city, Kirkwall

Two very interesting things happened today. First, a qunari arrived in Hightown (and the brass balls on that one for lingering, despite the stares!) and stated he wanted all those old swords I collected after the assault on the Keep. There’s a handful missing, it seems, and since qunari have such a strong belief in their swords and souls being tied together, he’s here to bring them all home again. Only a few more, and then he can leave safely. (Good, I think--Kirkwall won’t tolerate his lingering long.)

The second thing, journal, is that despite a year of assurances to the contrary, stubbornness almost as great as my own, and various diatribes on Hadriana’s general mendacity, it turns out that someone has been exchanging letters with Tevinter for almost two months.

More than that, he’s found his sister. She’s a real person, named Varania, and (how annoyed I am!) Varric was the one who helped him find her. All this time she’s been a tailor in Minrathous (Hadriana did not lie about this, as it turns out), and Fenris has sent her money so she can come to Kirkwall to meet him.

Journal, he says she’s here. She’s come all this way to meet him and he’s more nervous than I’ve ever seen him. He’s even straightened the more useful rooms in his mansion, just in case. Maker knows he’s saved enough coin over the years to spare a little on curtains now. He wants to go as soon as he can, and he wants me to come with him. Puppy eyes, as Merrill would say, and I was putty. We’re to go first thing in the morning.

I confess I do wonder what it must be like to meet one’s sister for the first time as a grown man. Except, she’ll remember him, won’t she? (He never said as much, but I’m certain he’s wondering about his own memories, too.) Forgive the optimistic dreaming, but if this meeting stirs even one memory out of that black morass of his past it seems like it would all be worth it.

I’m going to sneak in a few sachets of potpourri, though, just in case.

2nd Solace. Afternoon

Well.

Well, journal.

I’ve a thousand thoughts storming in my head, and I don’t know where to start.

It was all a trap, and I’ve finally had the extraordinary pleasure of meeting, maiming, and murdering a magister of Tevinter in my favorite bar.

Varania is gone, for better or worse.

Fenris is free, in a way that’s deeper than the lyrium, and I’m afraid...

I don’t know where to start.

He recognized her as soon as we went in. Aveline came too, since Donnic was on patrol, and the moment we all passed Corff at the bar Fenris’s head snapped over to an elf with red hair and stooped shoulders. He knew her name, and she called him Leto, which is what he was once called before Danarius remade him.

But she was... she was so bitter. Bitter and broken and she wasn’t ten words in before all the hair on my arms started standing up, because she was wrong and something was wrong. And then there he came, sailing down the stairs I’ve trampled twice a week for ten years, his hand on the railing Isabela carved tits into before the Arishok, his pristine magisterial silk trailing over the place where I threw up three tankards of Corff’s horrible beer last week after cards. The violation was quite unlike anything I’d felt in years, not since the foundry. How dare he come into this place that is ours, and all that rot.

(Only it is ours. Mine and Fenris’s and Varric’s and Isabela’s and even Aveline’s. It’s ours, paid for in blood and ten years of card games and sneaking Norah extra tips at the end of the night, and I was glad to destroy the creature trying to take it from us.)

He said beastly things to Fenris. Terrible, hideous insinuations, and he spoke as if he were proud of them.

I could hardly help snarling back before I realized Fenris was pale as parchment and his lyrium was going off like lightning. He is a free man. He’s been a free man--I told Danarius--and any worthless scrap of paper a thousand leagues away saying differently might as well be the mud caked in my boots.

Ten years he’s been chasing Fenris, with Fenris killing everyone he’s sent, announcing at every possible turn how he’d like to kill Danarius (often quite loudly), and that fucking man walks in with an outstretched hand for an errant dog, a helpless, starving stray yearning for the kind touch of its master. How delusional! How desperate! And yet...

And yet for one awful, awful moment, I thought Fenris might agree to go with him. If I never see such blank horror in his face again it will be too soon.

Worse, it was Varania who brought him. Fenris’s sister, who is a desperate, untrained mage in absolute poverty in the cruelest city in Thedas, who found the promise of power more palatable than reunion with a long-lost brother. If I-- if Bethany

The magister raised shades out of the floor of the Hanged Man. One broke through the floorboards right next to Grimmet’s chair, where Merrill once dropped a little pot of paint and stained the wood in the shape of Orlais. Isabela and Varric and Aveline ripped through most of them--I helped--and at the end of it Fenris reached up and tore out Danarius’s throat. Would have taken Varania’s, too, if Varric and I hadn’t spoken our doubts. I still don’t know if I should have said anything. It’s hardly my affair, and yet... even the chance. Even the chance seemed worth it, if there was mercy...

He spared her. She told him he’d competed for the honor to be branded by Danarius, and left her and their mother begging in the streets, and then she left. Mercy, I said.

Fenris said he was alone after, but I refused to let him entertain that thought for even a moment. He has everyone--he has me. Mostly me. Fine--all of me, damn it. He’ll never feel alone an instant for the rest of his life if I have my way, even if I have to walk ‘round with my hands in his pockets to prove it.

He left while the blood was still warm. Needed air (understandable), and by that time Aveline had gone into full Captain mode and was pulling guards off every post in earshot and a few more besides. Norah was already scrubbing at the blood by the time I left. She didn’t look more than annoyed, but I’m making a donation to the rebuilding fund anyway, for their pains.

I do seem to bring tempests in my wake, don’t I? Or perhaps it’s Fenris stirring up the storm this time, and I’m the twig caught in his gale for once. I suppose it hardly matters at this point.

It’s been long enough, I think. I told him I’d come by later once he’d had a chance to breathe, and as my own has become short with concern, I’m determined to be neighborly and see to his well-being.

I’m afraid he’s going to leave the city. Terrified, really. What’s holding him here but us?

Flames. All I can do is ask, considering tying him to the house by his laces might send the wrong message at this point.

Solace. 3rd, I think. Might be 4th. Might be 5th. Does it matter? Does anything matter when one has a warm fire, an overfull heart, and a lover who tangles tighter than a cat when he’s asleep?

Fenris is not, as it happens, leaving the city.

Fenris is not, as it happens, satisfied with our previous friendly arrangement.

As it happens, journal, Fenris is also not inclined to surrender my hand to this page, and any errant blots may be blamed entirely upon him. I’m forced to abandon this all sooner than I meant, but I imagine the memories are vivid enough to be recounted at a later time. (That is, assuming some nebulous future exists where I don’t have the most handsome elf I’ve ever met letting me run my fingers down his back at leisure. Horrors!)

Andraste and all her stars, but I love him. How lucky to be able to show it at last!

(Also--remembered more of the lyrium pattern than I’d thought. Ha!)