#from someone who never attended college but who is old and has seen and read a lot. to be fair

[is-the-fire-real]

'Reminder that "punch a nazi uwu" leftists utilize Nazi rhetoric to justify punching Jews.

It was never about punching Nazis; it was about getting social permission to punch.'

It was this very mentality that drove me away from considering myself a liberal anymore (I AM VERY MUCH LEFT LEANING, I DIDN'T DECIDE TO BECOME CONSERVATIVE JUST TO BE CLEAR. I just don't feel like those spaces have any intrinsic safety any longer). It feels like so much of western leftism has become about "punching up". I don't think it's about compassion or concern anymore, it's about finding the "right" targets. And so often that was just used as a way to excuse bigotry. I'm a goy but I noticed this on a personal level plenty with people identifying as feminists, they'd be perfectly okay saying something unquestionably sexist, as long as "white women" was attached onto the front. It's very much the same with shaming people over physical features that others may have, as long as the individual person is "bad enough" it doesn't matter if wide foreheads or big noses or acne are features many people have and would feel hurt by seeing them used as an insult, because they're only "really" directing it at "one of the bad ones"

So, I'm going to link to this piece again because it's been embarrassingly useful, and explains why I say things like "pretending to believe" despite their clunkiness. For new material, I hope you don't mind that you have accidentally triggered a massive unskippable cutscene, but you tapped into a few things I have been pondering and I'd like to take advantage of your observances to add my own.

Part of what you're discussing here, which I agree with, is that toxic slacktivists pretend to believe that they are Good People Doing Good Work. They are Bad People and their work is Bad Work, but if they all get in a group and pretend together that it's Good, then that's almost the same as being Good, right?

Another worthwhile aspect of what you're discussing is something I became aware of in the aftermath of the collapse of Occupy Wall Street. One commenter on a liberal blog I still follow lamented that mass protest never seems to accomplish anything, and how the millions of people who turned out for OWS protests should have affected more political change. Considering most of them could also vote, write to representatives, etc., something other than littering and arrests could've been done.

Another commenter pointed out that he had personally been at most of the anti-Iraq War protests, including the largest worldwide protest on 15 February 2003 (6-10 million estimated participants). But most of those protesters did not agree with each other. There were at least four major coalitions of antiwar protesters showing up then and thereafter. The ones he listed were:

"Just war" advocates who believed the Iraq War was unjust.

Total pacifists who believed all armed conflicts are unjust, and therefore the Iraq War is as well.

Right-wing bigots who believed a war might potentially benefit those they thought of as religiously or ethnically inferior and subhuman.

Xenophobes, both left- and right-wing, who believed "the US can't be the police of the world" and that any action taken outside USian borders was immoral.

Imagine four people with these beliefs in a room talking about the Iraq War... then bring up the war in Ukraine to them and see how fast the coalition falls apart.

"Well, the war for Ukrainian liberation is a just war," says the just-war advocate. The pacifist starts to scream "HOW COULD YOU DEFEND ANY ACTION THAT MIGHT LEAD TO CHILDREN DYING, YOU MONSTER!". The right-wing bigot says they support the war, too--on the side of the ethnically and religiously superior Russians. And then a left-wing xenophobe says we're wasting money that should be supporting American workers and uplifting Americans out of poverty instead of buying new bombs for Ukraine.

And your "antiwar" coalition collapses, with the pacifist wandering off to agree with the xenophobe while the just-war liberal and the right-wing bigot scream at each other pointlessly and without resolution.

This is one of the wisest breakdowns of human behavior I have ever discovered:

Any coalition of people is made up of many sub-coalitions who only temporarily agree on a single aspect of a single issue. Making sure the group does not collapse prematurely is the true, unsung labor of movement maintenance.

To be real, it's much easier to let one's coalition collapse and scream about how The Menz, or The CIA, or Greedy Capitalists, or The Jews artificially forced your group's collapse than it is to admit that one might just suck a big one at coalition building. This is especially true among leftists, who are sometimes anti-hierarchy and frequently fall for populist, anti-expert nonsense. Having a leader means you're suggesting someone should have authority, and a lot of leftists are allergic to that suggestion.

Moreover, though, a lot of "leftists" are "leftists" but only agree with one or two aspects of leftism.

To use your feminism example: I have absolutely seen feminists who think they can be misogynists so long as they say "white" before they say "woman". I mean, who can even argue? I have also seen feminists who think they can be gender bioessentialists so long as they're doing it towards "men" (a category which includes a lot of people who neither look like men, nor live as men, nor benefit from male privilege). I have seen feminists who think they can call themselves "trans allies" while consistently ignoring, degrading, and dismissing the concerns of anyone who isn't a binary trans woman. Etc.

The thing is, they are all feminists. What makes someone a feminist, at bottom, is the acceptance of and opposition to patriarchy. That's it. It's similar to how what makes a person a Protestant Christian is the acceptance of Jesus as their Lord and Savior--you might need to do one or two things to be considered a part of a specific branch of Christianity, but all you need is that one specific belief about that one specific idea. There's a lot of bunk about how "you can't be a REAL Christian unless you do X" just like there's bunk about how "you can't be a REAL feminist unless you do Y", and it's all bunk.

There are people who might be really bad feminists or Christians, but that's not the same as not being feminists or Christians.

So, the coalition of leftism has several sub-coalitions who actually despise each other. Here is my proposal for the sub-coalitions. (Please keep in mind that I am not defining groups by how they define themselves, but by the far more useful metric of their actions.)

Liberals who agree with leftist economic thought, but strongly disagree with leftist conclusions regarding violent revolution. Liberals do not have time for online arguments and superficial action. They are generally participating in protests, running for office, writing postcards to advocate for candidates, informing voters, and working within the system for positive change that alleviates suffering. They are pro-expert but opposed to a vanguard party due to its inherent authoritarianism.

Tankies, whose primary interest in leftism is authoritarian. They oppose capitalism and support violent revolution because they imagine themselves as the vanguard party who gets to control everything when the revolution comes.

Anarchists, whose primary interest is opposing hierarchy. They want to burn down the system because it is a system, and frequently become angry and defensive if you try to ask them any questions about what would be built out of the ashes.

Progressives, whose primary interest is opposing liberals. They also oppose capitalism; they are, like tankies, positioning themselves as the vanguard party because they are already in political power. What makes them Not Tankies is that they care more about sticking it to "the Dems" than they do about actually being the vanguard, opposing capitalism, or achieving anything of worth or meaning politically.

"Red fash", who used to be called "beefsteak Nazis". They say all the right things regarding violent revolution and economics/capitalism, but they only believe what they believe for the sake of their specific ethnic group and nation (frequently, white and USian, but this is extremely popular in Europe too). IOW a red fash wants the vanguard party to only have whites of a specific ethnicity in control of the revolution; they only want universal health care for "their" people, that sort of thing. Some red fash are actual Nazis cosplaying as leftists, but some are just really, really, REALLY bigoted leftists.

Whether we like it or note, the acceptance of armed, violent revolution as a Good Thing means that leftism has always regarded punching up and violence as a necessary component of leftist thought. This is not a perversion of Real Leftism. This is leftism. If you think revolution is good and necessary instead of a terrifying possibility, then you also think punching up is okay; it's just a matter of who is Up and who gets to punch.

Of the five sub-coalitions I described, only one has rejected violent revolution--and it's the one all the other leftists accuse of being right-wing. And interestingly enough, only liberals are habitually accused of secretly colluding with the right... when red fash are natural allies to the right, and when all other forms of leftists openly ally with right-wingers so long as they say the right things about economics. (See under: "After Hitler, us" leftists, left-wing Trumpistas who think they'll rule the ashes after Trump burns down the current system.)

And if you believe in violent revolution, then (let me be facetious for a second) what's the problem with making fun of your political enemies for being ugly? If we believe Steve Bannon is a Nazi, aren't we obligated to stop him by any means necessary, and doesn't that include mocking him for his alcoholism? Isn't mocking someone for their appearance and intrinsic characteristics mild compared to, say, threatening them with exploding cars covered with hammers? Or retweeting pictures of pitchforks and guillotines?

If we believe Ben Shapiro is an opponent to the revolution we accept is necessary and vital to the movement, then what's a little antisemitism in the name of the people? Don't we have to be bigots to oppose bigots? And--

--oh. There's that horseshoe bending round to the right again.

[giorno-plays-piano]

Binary Star

Part II

Pairing: academic rival!Satoru Gojo x reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, power play, hurt/comfort, no curse au, this series will get darker as the story progresses.

Words: 1.2k

Summary: It has to pay off, he thinks as he waits for the headmaster to finally announce the valedictorian, knowing she is there too, shifting from one foot to the other impatiently. What face is she going to make when his name will be called? Is she going to cry? To yell at him and publicly demand a re-evaluation? Or will she, perhaps, finally admit he’s done a fantastic job and won fair and square?

Part I

P.S. Academic rival -> CEO!Gojo

_____________

When he spots her name in the stack of papers his HR left on her desk, Satoru gets a brain freeze for a second. Couldn't be the girl he had once studied together with, no. It's been what, more than ten years since he had last seen her? It must be some other woman wearing the same name.

But he can't just leave the paper be, immediately taking it in his hands while the manager makes a confused face: Satoru only looks at the candidates' profiles when they are aiming for the high management positions in his company, nothing less. This woman, however, applied for the middle-level position, only recently becoming a senior at her old job. Why is the CEO looking at her CV so intently?

All Gojo sees is the name of the school they both graduated what feels like a hundred years ago, and he knows it's her. It's the girl who was his one and only rival, someone he had finally considered his equal when they both were fighting for the position of a valedictorian. It's her. He can finally understand what has happened.

Not that he wasn't searching for answers right after graduation. Knowing Shoko sometimes hung out with her, he was showering the girl with questions until she groaned something about the family of his classmate moving and that it's likely he would never see her again. She didn't tell why. Said she had no idea.

It's true, Satoru sees now: his old rival did move god knows where, nearly half across the country to a place he didn't even know existed. Some tiny city, he thinks as he googles the college she attended only to realize that it is, in fact, a community college. Community college? For someone as talented as her? Was she out of her goddamn mind? Even if she, for some unfathomable reason, didn't want to go to Harvard like him, despite her scholarchip, she could have chosen any other decent place with her marks. How could she do this to herself?

He continues reading the resume, the memories of her annoyingly pretty face fresh in his mind as if it all happened just yesterday. Internships at some tiny companies, assistant positions, and other entry-level jobs she should have never taken in places he has never heard of either... Until she finally moved here about two years ago and started slowly climbing the career ladder. Unfortunately, her CV leaves Gojo with more questions than answers he expected.

"I want you to interview her," he finally says to his HR manager, who's been shifting in her seat impatiently ever since he had taken the printed papers from her desk. "And if she says yes, I want to know when she'll come."

He isn't sure why he's doing it. It's been far too long to be holding any grudges, and, honestly speaking, he isn't angry at his old school rival. Curious, perhaps? This must be it. He just wants a closure of sorts. He wants to know why she has abandoned everything she believed in, even if it's selfish of him to be prying into her past. Clearly, something had happened. Something horrible.

Did she get pregnant, maybe? Gave birth? Remembering her father, he wouldn't be surprised if it was the reason they had to move. And yet, she didn't seem the type to do something like that... Not when he had never seen her speaking to boys outside of school, and even then, she would only be talking to them about lessons and future college or university prospects.

He has to have some patience, Satoru thinks. Surely, she'll accept the interview and come in person.

And she does, walking in the building - Gojo watches her from above, peering down from his fancy cabinet with enormous windows - just two days later. She looks somewhat different - not that he didn’t expect her to change after all these years - but there's the same air about her, he can feel it in his bones. It makes him strangely nostalgic, and he starts to itch to go down and talk to her the second she waltzes into the office of his HR. He needs to know why she left. Her secrets are making him restless like a child.

He needs to see her face when she realizes he's both the owner and the CEO of the company she wants to work for.

After giving her about 10 minutes, Gojo runs down the building as if he's a boy chasing an ice cream truck. He needs to see her. The itch that has been dormant for almost ten years is almost unbearable now, and he has no time to waste before she disappears again from his life.

"Yuki, I have a question..." he starts as if he has no idea she's conducting an interview at this very moment, making a surprised face and almost shouting the name of the woman he once called his equal. "Woah, I can't believe it! Is it really you?!"

Satoru knows it's not right to be that happy about her baffled - if not fearful - expression, but he can't help himself. Here she is, the girl who could never shut up in class whenever a teacher asked them a question, sitting in the office he built with the money he earned, not borrowed from his father. He is where she has always wanted to be, Gojo is sure. Geto would probably smack him for being a smug bastard in front of a woman who surely has nothing against him, but Satoru feels ecstatic.

Until he sees she is not only scared: she is terrified. Why? Is it because her old rival ended up doing much better than her? She must be feeling upset and jealous, but she shouldn't be horrified. There's nothing to be scared of. Is she worried she won't get this job because she thinks Satoru is a manchild who can't forgive her for their silly school competition?

Or is she scared of him?

He doesn't like the thought.

"I'm so happy to see you!" He adds with a too-wide smile. "What are you doing here?"

It's concerning how she bites down on her lower lip, nearly ripping the thin skin covered in lipstick.

Thankfully, Yuki finally acknowledges his presence with an awkward smile, "Mr. Gojo, good morning. I apologize, but we are in the middle of a job interview. If it's alright with you, I'll come see you a little later."

The woman in front of him still doesn't utter a single word, and he feels like she'll escape him again if he lets her. With a dramatic sigh and a smile so wide it's a wonder how his face hasn't cracked yet, he announces to her, "Oh dear, I'm so sorry for interrupting! But you'll wait for me after your interview, alright? We can go grab a coffee together! It's not like it's against our company policy, right, Yuki?"

If eyes could kill, he would definitely be dead by now because his HR is ready to stab him with a fork she once stole from a cafeteria and is now keeping in one of her drawers. Satoru isn't that suicidal yet, so he quietly leaves her office before his old rival can utter a single word.

Now, this is about to get interesting.

_________

Tags: @minshookie29 @mononlogue @whore-for-hawks @theoriginaluzisimp @khatte @brooke-gvf @nimuelis

[coochiequeens]

I would rather be a TERF than be someone who ignores that this can happen just to be an ally. True friends and allies would want anyone especially minors to be informed of what they were getting into concerning any medical procedure.

The tragic story of Griffin Sivret, and why it matters for every MA family.

Massachusetts Informed Parents Aug 19, 2024

Over the weekend we learned of the tragic death of 24-year-old Griffin Sivret, a “trans man” and MA native. For the sake of clarity, we will refer to Griffin by her natal sex. According to multiple sources, at the time of her death Griffin lived in RI but grew up in Worcester and attended Worcester Public Schools. She then went on to Becker College in Leicester. You can read her obituary HERE.

Before we go any further, we would like to extend our condolences to Griffin’s friends and family, especially her parents. Our hearts go out to you in your time of profound and unfathomable loss.

As a parent, the first thing that often comes to your mind when you hear that a young person has died, is the question: “What happened?” The answer to that question is why we feel that Griffin’s story must be told.

While an official cause of death has not been released, it has been reported that Griffin’s death was related to the long-term complications of “gender-affirming” surgery. Specifically, in Griffin’s case, the surgery that degraded her health and may have led to her death is phalloplasty. Phalloplasty, for those of you who have not yet been baptized into the hellscape that is “gender-affirming” surgery, is when a surgeon creates a neophallus (essentially, a fake penis) out of a flap of skin taken from either the forearm or the thigh of a natal female and sews it onto her groin area. This might sound like something straight out of a horror movie, but it’s very real. Phalloplasty surgery carries a high rate of complications, and the neophallus never functions like an actual penis, and often causes a multitude of other physical problems. For a firsthand account of what it is like to go through this surgery and to live with the complications, see this article from “trans man” and activist Scott Newgent. Newgent underwent phalloplasty while in her 40’s, and now works to sound the alarm about how dangerous this procedure is, and how it has destroyed her life.

Or you could listen to Griffin herself. Because as it turns out, Griffin was quite an avid TikTok-er. Over the course of a few years, she posted regularly on the app, where she talked about her surgery. As time went on, her posts became more and more about the complications of her surgery. In her last post, she looked quite ill. Two months later, she was gone. Her TikTok profiles are still up, and they can be viewed HERE and HERE. Griffin chose to share these parts of her life publicly, so we encourage everyone who wants to understand her perspective to listen to her share her experiences in her own words.

Here is one from just a little over three years ago, where she highlights the surgeries and “gender affirming” medical interventions she has had. Notice she started testosterone in 2014, which would have been when she was around 14 years old.

In this video Griffin can be seen driving to the hospital for yet another phalloplasty revision surgery, just six months later:

And just two months later she shares her grand total of phalloplasty-related surgeries to date: 8. She had eight surgeries on her genitals, and her neophallus still didn’t work the way she wanted it to.

Her TikTok doesn’t give much additional information on her health after that, other than her last post, where she sadly looks rather ill.

Now, heartbreakingly, she is gone.

We don’t pretend to know Griffin, or to understand all of her motivations or everything she went through. For the perspective of someone who has followed Griffin much more closely and had engaged her online while she was alive, go over to Twitter/X and check out user Exulansic’s profile, @TTExulansic. But even with our limited perspective there are many important things that can be learned from this tragedy, and to prevent future suffering for other people like Griffin, they must be explored.

“Gender affirming care” harms. Sometimes, it kills. Based on the evidence we saw, Griffin’s medical issues all seem to be traceable back to the surgical and medical interventions provided by “gender affirming” doctors. She spoke openly about the physical suffering that came along with the surgeries. While she maintained a public facade of being glad that she had a “penis,” she warned other people about the devastating physical impacts of her surgeries (see below). For almost half her life, she was a medical patient, all in the name of affirming her trans identity. While we don’t know the exact cause of her death, it is fair to say that at the very least, her “gender affirming care” left her physically weak and fragile. At worst, it killed her. (And if it did, it wouldn’t be the first time this happened. Here’s an article about another young person who lost their life due to “gender affirming” surgery.)

Losing a child is every parent’s worst nightmare. But affirming your gender-confused child’s trans identity won’t keep them safe. Parents of children who express a trans identity are often told by professionals that they must go along with the child’s new identity because otherwise, their child will kill themselves. “Would you rather have a living son, or a dead daughter?” counselors, social workers, and pediatricians ask traumatized parents. Manipulated and distressed by this question, many parents affirm their child’s trans identity because they feel they have no other choice. From what we can tell, Griffin’s parents were supportive of her trans identity. They used her preferred pronouns. At the age that most kids are entering high school, Griffin was already allowed to take cross-sex hormones. Her parents seemingly did what counselors advise parents in their situation to do - they affirmed her self-professed male identity, and they allowed her to transition. But tragically, their daughter is gone. The “gender affirming” treatment didn’t ultimately save her.

Hurting people hurt people. We don’t know what led Griffin to adopt a trans identity at 13 years old. But we do know that it is not uncommon for young people to seek solace in a trans identity after some sort of sexual assault, or simply because they feel so uncomfortable in their own developing body that they think it would be easier if they were a man instead. Regardless of her reasons, it is clear from Griffin’s TikToks that she was hurting emotionally as well as physically. And yet, it’s also possible that she hurt other impressionable young people by using her platform to promote gender surgery. In the TikTok below, she is answering a question from a 14-year-old “trans guy” about the ins and outs of phalloplasty. In it, she says that phalloplasty “surgically creates a penis.” This is simply not true. A neophallus created by phalloplasty is not the same thing as a penis. But the young person asking the question views Griffin as an expert, and they are left with no reason to question her answer. It makes you wonder: were confused young people enticed into a dangerous medical pathway by watching Griffin’s videos? Is there unintentional collateral damage from Griffin’s influencer persona? We may never know the answer to this question, but we do know it’s one more reason why parents need to keep their kids off of social media.

“Gender affirming care” is big business - for surgeons. In the TikToks below, Griffin gives two different figures for how much her doctors billed insurance for her phalloplasty and related surgeries. In a third video you will see later in this post, she gives yet another figure. The amounts don’t add up, but they are all astronomical. If anyone was still wondering if a perverse incentive exists for surgeons to do these dangerous, radical surgeries… well, now you have your answer.

Griffin received her “gender affirming care” in MA, and the doctor who performed her phalloplasty is still performing this surgery on other young people. Griffin identifies her surgeon in the TikTok below. His name is Dr. Oren Ganor, and he is the co-director/co-founder of the Center for Gender Surgery at Boston Children’s Hospital. Gender surgery at Boston Children’s has a complicated and controversial history, and they have (unconvincingly) denied performing gender-affirming surgeries on minors. According to this article, Dr. Ganor has argued that the capacity for gender surgeries for minors needs to be increased. What does Dr. Ganor think about what happened to Griffin? Was Griffin’s surgery deemed a success? We hope a medical authority looks into this. Regardless, it’s important to know that Griffin didn’t get her surgery done by some hack in a back alley. She didn’t fly to a third-world country to get bargain-basement surgery. She went to the co-director of the most prominent gender surgery clinic in the state, and still faced this disastrous result.

In this post Griffin accuses Safe Homes of allowing adult predators access to vulnerable minors (in this case, under the guise of a drag show - ironically, the very thing we are always told doesn’t happen), of looking the other way when sexual assaults occurred, and of employing a “literal child groomer'“ who was continued to be allowed to work with minors even after they were reported.

Safe Homes encourages minors to join their Discord community. Discord is a website known for being infiltrated by predators. It allows for private chatrooms with little accountability, and most parents don’t know it exists.

Now, we can’t speak to Griffin’s accusations specifically. But common sense tells us that if an adult wanted to gain access to kids for nefarious sexual purposes, one of the best places to go would be an organization that attracts impressionable kids based on their perceived sexual identity and wraps its actions in the seemingly impenetrable rainbow-colored cloak of “Love is Love.” We imagine that it must have taken a LOT of courage for Griffin to publicly criticize an organization like Safe Homes, especially as a member of the “LGBTQ community.” While we have not yet been able to verify Griffin’s accusations against Safe Homes, we were able to verify her involvement there. In 2016, she was awarded an award at their annual gala. See her name in the photo below, which you can also view HERE.

Safe Homes is clearly a powerful and influential organization. What did Griffin see/hear/experience that pushed her away from the very organization that gave her an award? Do the politicians in these pictures know of her accusations against Safe Homes?

On her personal Facebook page, Griffin checked in to Safe Homes multiple times.

Griffin was also active on the Safe Homes Facebook page. In the post below, you can see that Safe Homes was very excited that “gender affirming” surgeries were coming to Boston. Chillingly, you can also see that Griffin “liked” that post. Is this how she first learned of the very surgery that would destroy her health, and possibly lead to her death?

It seems she was unsafe at “Safe Homes,” in more ways than one.

We checked out what Safe Homes has been up to lately, and we didn’t like what we saw. First of all, we saw multiple posts in memory of Nex Benedict, the “nonbinary” young woman from Oklahoma who tragically died of suicide but was falsely hailed in the media as a martyr after it was incorrectly reported that she was killed in a hate crime. Yet there was not a single post honoring Griffin, a past recipient of their “People of Courage” award, who was actually part of their organization and whose funeral was several weeks ago.

But their apparent ignoring of Griffin’s tragic death wasn’t the only terrible thing we saw. Safe Homes, which services kids as young as 14 (and focuses on ages 14-23), is leading more young people down the same path that harmed Griffin. They are ushering more confused, hurting young people into the gender medicalization pipeline by offering easy access to “short-term counseling for individuals seeking letters for HRT or gender-affirming surgeries” at their “Safe Homes Transgender Resource Center.”

They bring in special speakers, like this woman from Planned Parenthood, to talk to minors about hormone treatment:

They teach minors how to legally change their names:

And despite Griffin’s publicly expressed concern about how a Grindr-loving groomer drag queen had gained access to minors via Safe Homes in the past, they still seem to be bent on bringing drag queens around kids. Here is one recent example, where they were involved with/promoted a screening of the Barbie movie for “Youth Pride Night,” where a drag queen Diva D was set to perform:

And here’s drag queen Diva D, who you might remember from dancing on a table at Sutton’s Connections Conference. He’s not the only drag queen that Safe Homes has brought around minors, but he’s the most recent. (And for the record, we think it’s odd that he just can’t seem to get enough of performing for minors. You would think that the amount of negative feedback he received from his performance in Sutton would have inspired him to stick to performing for adults, but apparently it didn’t.)

A month before that event, Safe Homes hosted a drag show at The Rose Room Cafe in Webster. There was no minimum age noted to attend this event. One of the drag queens who performed, Lana Backwards (aka Rhys Stuller, née female), was a high school friend of Griffin. According to a tribute written on Rhys’s Facebook page, Rhys and Griffin attended Safe Homes together as teens - a fact that, given everything we now know about Griffin’s concerns about Safe Homes as well as the trajectory of these two girls’ lives, feels like it needs more investigation.

Safe Homes’ parent organization is Open Sky Community Services, a massive organization that provides community services to all of central MA. They openly support Safe Homes’ mission, including publicizing the Transgender Resource Center that provides easy access to hormones and surgeries for gender-confused youth.

Does Open Sky care about what happened to Griffin? Do they know that their support of “gender affirming care,” the combination of bad science and medical malpractice that has devastated the bodies and minds of so many impressionable young people, very well could have led to Griffin’s untimely demise? We think someone should ask them.

A quick google search provided evidence that Safe Homes has a foothold in many MA public schools. Fitchburg High School lists them on their guidance website as a mental health resource. Worcester Public Schools shared Safe Homes as a resource as well. Burncoat and Worcester Technical High School have invited Safe Homes to speak to their classes, as have Northboro Middle and High School. And we know that Safe Homes works with Pride Worcester and SWAGLY, both of which have been known to network with MA public schools.

To the Sivret family, we again extend our sincere condolences for the loss of Griffin. Our earnest prayers for comfort will be with you during this time of profound grief.

To parents everywhere, this sad loss brings to light many important things that we must all know in order to protect our own kids, and the kids in our communities. We can’t trust social media influencers to give our kids good advice, especially if they are in the middle of fighting their own battles. We can’t trust the medical establishment to keep our kids safe, not even highly regarded doctors who work for prestigious hospitals. We can’t trust our schools to protect them from outside organizations that, according to Griffin, allowed bad actors to prey on vulnerable minors. And we certainly can’t trust those same outside organizations to place our child’s health and well-being over their commitment to radical ideology - even if they have the glitter of prestige and host galas attended by high-ranking politicians. We must be aware that all of these systems, and all of these institutions, can fail our children. We have to know this story so that we can protect them. Because while what happened to Griffin is happening to kids and young adults all over the country, this time it happened in our own backyard.

May those who loved Griffin remember her fondly. And may the rest of us remember that no family is immune from this form of heartache. It is up to all of us to be eyes-wide-open, so that if it is our child who believes the lie of gender ideology, and they think gender surgeries will make them happy and whole, we can tell them the truth. And we can tell them this story. #equippingparents #protectingkids

[thepastisalreadywritten]

It is one of the country’s most prestigious public schools, a historic building on the edge of a pretty town that has educated everyone from poets to comedians – and now counts a future queen among its alumni.

Since it was founded in 1843 for the purpose of educating the sons of clergymen, the £42,930-per-year Marlborough College has seen artist William Morris, the poets John Betjeman and Siegfried Sassoon, and Samantha Cameron, wife of the former prime minister David Cameron, as well as funnyman Jack Whitehall pass through its halls and corridors.

And in 1996 – seven years after it became fully co-educational, having previously only admitted girls in the sixth form - it welcomed a princess-in-waiting, even if few might have guessed it at first.

The then 14-year-old Kate Middleton arrived in Marlborough, Wiltshire, as a shy and lanky teen, having moved after enduring alleged bullying at her previous school, Downe House.

It would prove to be an entrée into a world, which would eventually see her rubbing shoulders with a notably privileged group of students and see her secure a place at the ancient St Andrews University – where Prince William happened to be studying.

Such a trajectory seemed unlikely when she first arrived in rural Wiltshire, however.

‘She had very little confidence,’ recalled her dorm mate Gemma Williamson, who described the new arrival who joined in the middle of the year as 'thin and pale.'

Kate’s house tutor Joan Gall said she was suffering from eczema due to stress.

‘When she arrived, she was very quiet. Coming into a big school like Marlborough was difficult, but she settled in quickly.’

Miss Gall previously said: ‘It was like a big, happy family. We would do things like bake cakes and watch videos.’

Certainly, the girl who would go on to become a celebrated royal beauty did not initially catch the eye of male pupils, who would crudely give passing girls a score out of ten as they made their way to supper. Kate was given a mere two.

Yet during her four years at Marlborough, the future Princess of Wales blossomed into a beautiful, sought after young woman as well as an accomplished one who excelled at hockey and who would go on to become co-captain of the tennis team.

In fact, unlike her time at Downe House, Kate felt at home from the start of her time at Marlborough, where she joined the school's cosy all-girls boarding house, Elmhurst.

Contemporaries recall her as the perfect pupil, listening to her Walkman, watching Friends and indulging in Marmite sandwiches.

Meanwhile, housemistress Ann Patching recalled her former pupil's love of lasagne and pasta bakes but said that 'Kate always stayed very slim.’

Naturally kind hearted, she quickly gained a close circle of friends, among them her peers on the hockey team, one of whom accompanied her on a trip to Ibiza to recover from her heartbreak after she briefly broke up with Prince William in 2007.

Unfazed by her popularity however, she remained a responsible role model and was never caught with illicit booze unlike her friends, one of whom once confided:

'A group of us used to sneak off to Reading to go drinking but she would never join us.'

In fact, Kate was only charged with one lapse in good behaviour when she threw up on the train home after an all-night champagne and dance party hosted by a member of her hockey team.

It was after a hockey tour to Argentina, friends recall – followed by a family trip to the Caribbean - that a then 16-year-old Kate returned to the school sixth firm newly transformed.

‘She was an absolute beauty,‘ according to friend Gemma, who says 'boys now fancied her rotten.’

Among them was the comedian Jack Whitehall, who attended Marlborough a few years below Kate and who admitted in an interview that she was his first crush.

He later joked of being jealous of the attention the princess received from the school, venting:

''I went to the same secondary school as Kate Middleton and she's someone they like to talk about.

I've been sending them a letter each year saying maybe now it's time to put me in the school prospectus or on the walls. I feel like I'm their dirty little secret.'

Nonetheless, despite becoming a favoured among the boys, the princess did not have lengthy dalliances with the opposite sex.

'I got the distinct impression that Catherine wanted to save herself for someone special,' said Gemma previously.

Her first kiss is believed to have been with Woody, the elder brother of Alice St John Webster - one of Kate's closest friends.

She also reportedly had a brief romance with Harry Blakelock, captain of the rugby team, which fizzled out after he left school, leaving Kate 'heartbroken.'

There’s no question that Kate made quite an impact on her school, later hailed as 'Person most likely to be loved by everybody' in her yearbook, when she departed on her gap year before heading to University of St Andrews after achieving two As and a B in her A Levels.

By then, she had been followed to Marlborough by her younger sister Pippa who, untainted by earlier experiences of bullying, was seen by contemporaries as the more naturally confident half of the Middleton pair.

She enrolled at the same boarding house as her older sister and joined the hockey team, yet there was little in the way of sibling rivalry according to contemporaries.

In fact, along with friend Alice St John Webster, they are remembered as a tight trio.

'Alice, Pippa and Kate were a very tight group and all best friends from the age of 14 upwards. It could be a bit suffocating. They did everything together,' one friend said.

Riding a wave of success in the sporting and social spheres at prep school, Pippa won an all-rounder scholarship to Marlborough and became captain of the hockey team.

Unlike Kate's meek start at the college, Pippa took every opportunity to make an impression at the school, with one contemporary saying:

'Pippa was slightly tough and, back then, the one with the charisma. No one would ever think of bullying her.'

She was given the unfortunate nickname 'pan face' because of her supposed flat features but was not put off trying to impress her male peers, even when playing sport.

'My focus is on winning and making sure that my hair — fashioned into a slick Sporty Spice “up do” — is just right. Did I mention boys watching?' she wrote in the Spectator.

Seen as the 'alpha' sister in contrast to 'kind hearted, home-loving' Kate, Pippa 'loved being the centre of attention' according to one contemporary.

She was chatty, funny and louder than her sister but, despite her sociable nature, she followed Kate's example of dodging drinking and smoking.

Housemistress Ann Patching later described the relationship between the well-behaved pair saying:

'Pippa was good at everything and sharper academically, but I don’t think Catherine ever resented that.'

Twenty three years after Kate departed for the last time, meanwhile, there is no question that the school - with its serene setting amid two lakes, and boasting a competition swimming pool, cricket pavilion and international-standard athletics track - remains a popular destination for well-heeled parents.

According to the Which school guide, competition for places at the school increased after it became known as the alma mater of the Princess of Wales.

Nor has it stopped it being mired in the occasional scandal.

In 2016, some of the older pupils brought in a stripper to perform on the grounds, an act later branded 'inappropriate' by the school.

The boarding school was also criticised last year for not carrying out necessary safeguarding checks on teachers, after an Independent Schools Inspectorate (ISI) report revealed that checks including barred lists for prior criminal offences were not completed.

A spokesperson for the school said at the time:

'Since our compliance inspection, the college has upgraded the record-keeping processes highlighted in the ISI report.

'We have been keeping our parents informed and are looking forward to an early re-inspection.'

None of this is likely to deter the wealthy elite, many of whom will doubtless be anxious for their own offspring to attend a school that prepped the Princess of Wales for her royal calling – and if rumour has it, may also be set to educate her offspring.

[riahlynn101]

"The Caretaker's Keeper" (2).

Thank you, guys, for all the support on the last chapter <3 I appreciate it all so much!

Trigger warnings: kidnapping, people in distress, All for One upping his creepiness meter, abandonment issues, implied/referenced child abandonment, and swearing.

I took the last chapter and made it worse (in my opinion). As always, take care your mental health first. Don't read something that might aggravate existing issues (be kind to yourselves) ^w^

Chapter 2 (final part)

--

“My brother likes you,” his boss says, an unreadable expression on his face. It fills Izuku with a certain sense of foreboding, like his entire existence hangs in the balance of one man’s unhealthy obsession with his younger brother (and it kind of does). 

“O-oh?” Izuku puts his pencil down and looks up at his boss. He tries not to make eye contact. Kacchan hates it when he does that; he thinks it has something to do with control and wanting to feel powerful. His boss has never laid into him for looking at him like his former friend does (or did as they started at separate high schools, three months ago) but old habits die hard. 

“Yes, and if I’m particularly honest, I find myself becoming quite fond of your presence.”

“Thank you, sir.” The words feel hollow coming from his mouth. Fondness from his boss is akin to superglue that spills and dries on carpet. More and more he sees that Yoichi is living proof of that. 

“Well, I see no need to beat around the bush. Izuku-Kun, I’m going to need you to move in.”

“Move…in?”

“Yes, move in. I have to be away on a business trip for a month, or so, and I don’t trust any of my associates to handle my brother with care. Besides, it will be easier for you to stay here rather than taking the bus back-and-forth.”

“I-I don’t know, sir. My mom-”

“Will be sent fifty-percent of your paycheck. I know you usually give her all of your earnings, but I think you should save at least five hundred per paycheck for college.”

There’s something to his words. A finality. 

“I don’t want to-” he stops himself, seeing the stormy glare his boss is giving him. “My mom will worry about me.”

“You can still call her, everyday.”

He swallows hard, fighting back tears. “But my school. I have to leave anyway to attend.”

“Online schooling is a remarkable thing. I’m sure my brother would love to tutor you. He loves helping others.”

Izuku sighs. There’s little he can do right now. A month is not that long anyways. “And this arrangement is just for a month?”

His boss smiles, head resting on his hands. “Of course, Izuku-Kun. Would I ever lie to you?”

-x-x-x-

“I’m overjoyed that you decided to stay with us.” 

Izuku fights down a scoff. It’s not in his best interest to show his boss attitude. He gets mildly annoyed when Yoichi does it, and the man’s his adored little brother. He would hate to see what someone like him-who has barely broached the level of ‘fondness’-would get if he dared to be a little extra cheeky.

“I’m very glad to be here, sir,” Izuku says, keeping his tone bright and cheery. 

His hair is ruffled for the hundredth time today - his boss really likes doing that for some reason. And, despite his negative feelings towards him, Izuku finds it kind of nice. His own father never engaged in affection of any sort, choosing instead to keep Izuku at arm's length. 

They stand in the middle of his (well, less his and more the designated room his boss has decided to graciously offer him) temporary bedroom. The interior design is uncomfortably reminiscent of the vault Yoichi has been trapped in for however long. 

(Sometimes Yoichi will whisper names to him. Just names, nothing else. Like he doesn’t trust himself to keep them safe, or wants to make sure they live on. And they always come out sounding so heart wrenchingly sad.)

It has the same layout with the twin bed (with similar-looking bedding) and a desk and a bookshelf with all the same books he’s seen on the bookshelf in the vault.

A shiver creeps down his spine. His mother hadn’t been happy with this new arrangement, and almost made him quit (something neither of them can afford to do), but she let him go when he told her it’s a month at most.

“I hope this room is to your liking, Izuku-Kun.” His boss watches him from the doorway. 

“Very much so, sir.” He can’t handle looking at this room any longer, so he subtly joins his boss back in the hallway. “How is Yoi- your brother doing today?” 

He hasn’t seen the other brother since Friday (his boss allowed him a couple of days off to spend with his mom, which was….kind of him….Izuku supposes). 

“Good. He’s very excited to help you with your schoolwork.”

“Does this mean I’m allowed to speak with him more?” All their conversations have been very one sided. It would be nice to finally be able to ask Yoichi some questions.

“Within reason. Any talk regarding current events, or escape plans will be met with garnished wages. Of which will firstly be taken from the portion of the paycheck given to your mother.”

Izuku opens his mouth but quickly closes it with a muted click. 

“And of course, I don’t need to tell you that any attempts at helping my brother escape will result in a consequence you really won’t like.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Off to see my brother you go. I have a meeting to attend, but I would love for you to meet me in the dining room around six.”

“Yes, sir.” Izuku turns on his heels, heading for the elevator that will take him down…down…down to Yoichi’s “room.” 

-x-x-x-

It’s nice being able to talk to Yoichi. He has to keep some of his questions to himself, but anything is better than standing unmoving for hours at a time. There had even been another chair brought in just for him, though Izuku guesses that might have something to do with the fact that Yoichi is going to tutor him for the month Izuku has to homeschool. 

Yoichi is quiet today. Unnaturally so. 

He sits at his desk, shoulders hunched up. A curtain of white hair blocks Izuku from seeing his face. He doodles on a drawing pad. The faint sounds of pencil on paper seem extraordinarily loud with every moment that passes.

“Are you okay?” He asks, reaching a hand out to…..to he doesn’t know. Check his temperature? Pat his back? “Do you need a-”

“I’m fine,” Yoichi snaps. The sounds of pencil on paper increase, undue pressure being added. 

It would be wise, he thinks, to back off. Izuku has been through enough to know when his help is not wanted, nor needed. He chews at his bottom lip, casting a worried glance towards the camera. 

Still, he has a job to do. 

He tries again, this time scooting his chair closer. 

“It’s just…you don’t seem fine. Did something-” The words die in his throat at the icy glare Yoichi sends him. 

“You should’ve quit when you had the chance.” Despite his glare, there is no bite to his words, only a bone-weary sadness. 

-x-x-x-

The hours between that strange confession and dinner had been excruciatingly long. Yoichi returned to ignoring his existence, but listened when the time came to switch to another task. He ate his dinner a little early and turned in for the night.

Which meant that Izuku had to endure the company of his boss’ other employees. They’re polite to him, at least more so than people usually are. But that’s not saying much. Their boss doesn’t tolerate disrespect, nor rudeness, so maybe everyone being “nice” is a condition of employment. 

He hangs out in the kitchen until he’s called upon for dinner. Something about watching the cooks bustle around the kitchen is interesting to watch. It vaguely reminds him of those cooking shows his mom and him used to watch before his father left and they could no longer afford cable. Sometimes they even let him taste-test the food.

By the time he’s collected for dinner, Izuku has almost fallen asleep, pressed in the corner between a metal-shelving unit and a mop bucket. A maid twice as old as his mom pokes him with her foot, urging him to get up and make himself look “presentable.”

He’s then taken by the elbow to a side room. The maid uses her thin, bony fingers to tame his wild hair. She soothes out his clothes, trying to work out all the wrinkles she can before opening the dining room door and ushering him inside. 

“Midoriya Izuku, master,” she announces, bowing. 

The dining room is surprisingly humble. The table is fit for a family of four. It looks worn, the wood old. His boss’ chair creaks with the slightest movement. And the room itself is quite small. The floral wallpaper is peeling in some areas and crinkling in others. 

Their boss dismisses the maid with a wave of his hand. Izuku envies the maid who can exist invisible to their boss, only called upon to fetch guests or clean rooms. The latter of which Izuku hates with a burning passion, especially folding laundry - but he would rather be doing that than having dinner with his boss. 

“Izuku-Kun,” His boss greets, sipping on his wine. “I’m so glad you could make it.”

As if he had a choice!

Izuku smiles, bowing. If his father did one thing right, it was instilling a proper understanding of politeness and manners. “Happy to be here, sir.” His tone betrays nothing. 

Must be over-eager, not reluctant.

“So formal. Come, come, sit.”

Izuku, as per usual, obeys. He sits to his boss’ right (the only other place setting). The fabric place mats are a deep green. They remind him of his mom’s eyes. 

His heart twists. 

One month. He can do this!

“I hope my brother didn’t give you any trouble today?”

Izuku shakes his head. He’s seen how cruel his boss can be to Yoichi. His biting words always go further than he realizes. 

( Or maybe, a voice whispers in his mind, he doesn’t care). 

“Fine, sir. He followed the schedule perfectly.”

His boss smiles but it doesn’t reach his blood red eyes. “As a heads up, my brother might be particularly….hm…. moody during the upcoming month.”

Despite not asking permission to speak, or being asked a direct question, Izuku’s own curiosity wins out. “How come….uh….sir.”

His boss frowns down at his placemat. “I’m afraid the anniversary of our parents’ deaths is coming up.”

“Oh, I’m very sorry for your brother and your losses.”

His boss looks at him, face impassive. “Can I ask you something, Izuku-Kun?”

He stares longingly at the door leading to the kitchen. Maybe he should just book it. Maybe they wouldn’t be able to make rent this month, but they would get through it. They always do. 

His boss clears his throat. 

On instinct, Izuku snaps his attention back to the tall, imposing figure sitting next to him. “Yes, of course, sir. You can ask me anything.”

“Your father,” he starts, swirling the liquid in his glass of wine, “he treated you poorly, correct?”

Izuku looks up at the ceiling. “N-no.” He forces himself to look at his boss. There’s a level of vulnerability that comes with talking about Hisashi Midoriya. One of two people in the world that should have been guaranteed to like him, and Izuku can’t even have that. 

“No? What do you call walking out on your family?”

“He….he doesn’t matter. I have my mom and that’s good enough for me.”

His boss watches him, and Izuku knows he’s watching him. He does that a lot, like he enjoys picking apart Izuku’s reactions. It feels wrong and violating, but he’s been wrong before. So, maybe he’s overreacting. 

“Is it?” His boss asks.

Before Izuku can respond, the door to the kitchen opens. The head chef along with a waiter bring in their dinner. It’s Katsudon. His favorite.

He has no appetite. 

-x-x-x-

A week passes and his boss leaves on his business trip. Izuku is given a list of emergency contacts and a whole binder full of contingency plans if anything goes awry. 

Both of which sit on Izuku’s (borrowed) desk. He leafs them over in between caring for Yoichi and some other chores he picked up to be more helpful. His boss didn’t say he had to do chores, but sitting around and watching others clean up after him makes Izuku feel gross. 

He feels worthless enough without watching the elderly maid bend down with her creaking back to pick up the house. 

Besides, the maids and other staff don’t seem to mind. They have even started letting him in on some of their gossip and inside jokes. And it fills his time.

As his boss forewarned, Yoichi’s temperament is mercurial. He follows his schedule to the letter, but spares no warm words or knowing glances. This would be fine if Izuku didn’t have to spend an extra hour or so a day getting tutored by him.

(He misses Yoichi. He wishes the man would just talk to him).

Every night he calls his mom. No matter where she’s at, she always, always picks up the phone. Her soft voice makes him feel a little less alone. He tells her about his new coworkers and how nice everyone is (some of them aren’t, but his mom shouldn’t have to worry about him). In turn, she tells him about her own co-workers and the new orange cat that their neighbors recently brought home. 

He misses her terribly. 

The month can’t end fast enough.

-x-x-x-

Another good thing that’s come out of being trapped here for a month, is that Izuku can see so many cool and interesting quirks up close and personal. 

Outside, people are weary of using their quirks. Some skirt the rule of no outside quirk usage unless you possess a provisional license, but unless they’re a villain, even those people use their quirk sparingly. 

He’s so glad he brought another empty notebook along. These people aren’t heroes by any stretch of the imagination, but something inside Izuku pushes him to ask questions and analyze all the potential ways their quirks could be used in combat (or just in day-to-day life). 

However, he’s had to limit his questions, as it seems even the people within these walls aren’t immune to thinking him odd. His mumbling is creepy to them (as is always the case). 

Even Yoichi, who’s still ignoring him whenever possible, looks at him with a sense of unease. 

Still, he has thirty of the one hundred-fifty pages filled. It would be a waste to not continue on.

-x-x-x-

Everyone has their boiling point.

“I don’t understand. Please, stop ignoring me. Your brother said-”

And Yoichi’s boiling point finally, well, boils over after a particularly confusing math lesson. He glares at Izuku, stopping the rest of the words from leaving his mouth. 

“My brother says a lot of things. He means none of them.” Yoichi leans over until he’s staring Izuku right in the eyes. “You’re foolish if you believe anything he tells you.”

For a second, Izuku is transported back to his fourth year of elementary school. Instead of Yoichi being in his face, it’s his then-teacher, Aoki-Sensei. All of his teachers were their own level of cruel to him, ranging from neglectful to full on encouraging the other students to terrorize him, but Aoki-Sensei always stood out. 

She had started out nice. Patient and empathetic to his plight as being the social pariah in his class. Each day she let him sit in her classroom before and after school (so he wouldn’t run into Kacchan), allowed him to complain about how unfair life is, and even sometimes walked him home. 

After years of no adults in his life caring (sans his mom), it was nice having someone who listened and saw Izuku for who he is. 

And then it came to an end. Aoki-Sensei must have started becoming a social pariah among the other staff members-because that’s the only reason that makes sense (surely she hadn’t played the long game, in an effort to hurt him more?)-because suddenly, one day, she became just as cold as the rest of his teachers.

She seemed to take great pride in pointing out his flaws, laughing along with the class as he sobbed loudly. What made it ten-times worse was that, after school, when he asked what he had done to warrant this new behavior, she had simply said, “you must be a special level of foolish to believe I ever cared about you.”

Over the top, almost cartoonishly evil words aside. Those words had stuck with Izuku all these years later, weighing him down. 

That feeling of being so utterly ashamed comes back in full force. 

Ashamed that anyone would have ever treated him kindly. 

Ashamed that he believed he had a friend, or confidant in someone.

Ashamed because no matter how hard Izuku tries to dig himself out of the metaphorical hole he’s been trapped inside since he received his quirkless diagnosis he’ll forever be stuck.

“Stop!” Izuku shouts, standing up suddenly. The movement makes him dizzy, but he shakes it off. 

Yoichi follows him. “Stop what? I’m sorry am I being a little mean?”

Izuku can feel his face growing red, burning. His breath hitches, as he fights down his sobs. “Y-yes.”

“Isn’t this what you signed up for? Here’s an idea, if you don’t like me being mean, why don’t you leave ?” 

“I-I can’t.”

“Oh, yes, I forgot because your mother and you have nothing to your names, isn’t that right?”

Hearing his mother brought up lights a match inside Izuku. It sets alight some deep, ugly emotion. The kind that makes him feel bitter and numb in place of hurt and embarrassed. 

“Yeah? At least I’m not trapped in a bank vault! What? Couldn’t hack it outside these walls, so your brother-”

Smack!

Izuku is thrown backwards. He hits his head on the corner of the bookshelf on the way down. 

For a second, there’s blissful silence. 

He lays in front of the bookshelf, idly staring up at the ceiling. How has he never noticed that it’s unpainted before? 

And then, like a freight train, the pain hits. 

He moves to sit up, but an overwhelming ache fills the back of his head. It sends sparks of stabbing pain down his spine. He groans. 

Yoichi is on him in an instant. His green eyes-so similar to Izuku’s own-fill with tears. Izuku thinks he might be telling him something, but the words sound so muffled and faraway that he hears nothing beyond his own blood rushing in his ears. 

And then, 

Nothing. 

-x-x-x-

It’s raining when Mikumo makes it back home. Most of his staff has been dismissed for the night, barring some of the guards who have overnight shifts. So, the house is almost completely silent, save for the quiet buzzing of monitors, or the large grandfather clock ticking away in the foyer. 

Out of habit he heads for the security office, the one he uses to keep an eye on his unruly little brother. 

He peeks into Izuku’s room on the way there. It’s clean. More so than what he would expect from a fifteen-year-old boy. Not a thing out of place, nor missing. It’s a little odd he isn’t in bed yet, but Yoichi is probably giving him a hard time. 

Mikumo wouldn’t put it past him to give the kid trouble just so he would run away. He’s certainly done it before. But, from the looks of rumpled sheets (the only thing out of place), he hasn’t succeeded yet. 

There’s a notebook sitting on Izuku’s pillow. It’s blue binding and the large words scribbled across the top: Hero Analysis for the Future: Number 14, catches his eye. He picks it up, leafing through it. 

“This….this is incredible.” Not the hero-part per say but excluding the title there’s not many heroes in the book itself. No, Mikumo’s interest lies in the exquisite way Izuku takes apart quirks. Dissecting them down to their bare components. Turning them inside out and finding out what makes them tick. What makes it all the more impressive is the fact that the kid doesn’t possess a quirk like All for One, so all of his analyses are from simply watching and or asking questions. 

He smiles, clutching the notebook in his hands. 

Clearly this is a sign that Izuku was meant to be their family. He was made for them. 

What a brilliant little brother he’s turning out to be. 

-x-x-x-

Mikumo takes one look at the cameras and is instantly moving for the elevator. His little brother couldn’t help himself, could he? Leave it to Yoichi to make a bad situation worse. 

He opens the vault door hastily, having to reenter the code several times. 

His eyes land on Izuku’s body-very limp, very much not moving, body-first. Even from here it’s easy to see the boy’s eyes are starting to glaze over, and there’s a small puddle of red forming around his head. 

“Help!” His brother screams. He sobs loudly, hands hovering over Izuku. “Fucking help him!”

Mikumo steps closer. “Yoichi-”

“Don’t…” he sobs, rocking back-and-forth (a habit he formed during their tumultuous childhood). “P-please, help him. I-I am so, so sorry.”

He hasn’t seen his brother so broken since- 

Mikumo kneels down. The puddle of blood has grown larger, it covers his knees when he sits. Izuku’s face is paler now. It sends a stab of worry through him. His gut twists. Gingerly, he takes hold of Izuku’s wrist to check his pulse. 

“It’s weak,” he murmurs, just loud enough over his brother’s sobs. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, Izuku. I didn’t mean it. Please. Please. Please…”

At some point, Mikumo blocks his brother out. This is a time sensitive issue. Judging by the blood loss and the fact it’s coming from his head, the kid probably has less than three minutes before it becomes outside his scope of practice. 

But taking him to the local hospital is also out of the question. He could always ask Doctor Garaki if he’s willing to take on a patient, but the man is too nosy for his own good. He doesn’t even know about Yoichi. 

That leaves him. Mikumo is the one that hired this kid. He’s the one that set this whole plan into motion and forced his little brother and a naive kid together. 

So, it has to be him that saves the day. 

It’s what big brothers are for. 

He has countless regenerating quirks that could fix the kid up in an instant, but Mikumo has another, shared quirk that would better fit the newest member of their family. 

He sighs, placing a hand on Izuku’s forehead. He hadn’t wanted to do this until Izuku got used to his new arrangements. But desperate times call for equally desperate measures. 

“I won’t let you leave me.” 

-x-x-x-

In the morning, he is woken up by his boss. Izuku startles, afraid he’s missed taking breakfast to Yoichi. That’s a whole three hundred dollars his mom will miss out on! All because he slept in.

He goes to sit up, only to be met with a sharp ache in the back of his head, and his boss grasping his biceps. “Easy there, Izuku. Yoichi did a number on you, the idiot. You need to rest.”

Izuku blinks sluggishly at his employer. “What?” 

“All in due time.” His boss covers him back up with the comforter and soothes his hair back. “Rest.” A kiss is laid upon his forehead, easing the ache just a little bit. 

Sleep claims him once again. 

-x-x-x-

Yoichi scrubs the blood on the floor. No staff besides Izuku are allowed in here. Izuku (or his brother) handles anything that might otherwise warrant someone coming in here.

Laundry. 

Changing of supplies.

Deep cleaning. 

And everything in between. 

But neither of them is available right now, and Yoichi can’t bear looking at the slowly drying spot any longer. A horrible, horrible reminder of what he did. 

He scrubs harder, willing it all to go away. The scent of blood and watered-down bleach is nauseating. Even with a mask on, he has to turn away every so often. 

It doesn’t come out, at least not fully. 

He continues rubbing at the spot, trying not to think about the fate he inadvertently thrusted someone so….so young and nice and reminds Yoichi of a better version of himself. A version of himself that hadn’t yet been under his brother’s thumb (at least not aware of it). 

Tears continue pouring down his face. 

His eyes drift over to the older blood stain and then back. 

He sobs, hands braced on the floor. It’s hard to see through his tangled mess of hair. He should have cut it long ago, but the thought of looking anymore like his brother makes him sick. 

“I-I’m sorry, Izuku! I’m so sorry!” 

He curls up on the floor. There’s nothing he can do. He’s useless. 

He’s always been useless. 

-x-x-x-

“Izuku?” 

Someone runs their fingers through his hair. The exact same way his mom does. He smiles, his boss must have sent him home last night. The voice doesn’t match, but maybe his mother has a head cold. 

He groans, snuggling deeper into the pillows. 

His mom laughs. 

He’s…..he’s missed her laugh. 

That isn’t her laugh.

His eyes snap open. His boss hovers over him, stroking his face and hair. 

“Welcome back,” his boss says, something like worry in his voice. “I hope you had a nice nap.”

“What?” 

“I bet you’re confused.”

Confused would be a tad bit under generous for how Izuku feels at the moment, but he’s retained enough self-awareness to recognize doing so might not be good for his health. 

He nods. 

“You took a little tumble. My brother and you got into an argument-”

Oh, that’s right. He insulted Yoichi, and basically called him useless. 

Just like Kacchan used to do to Izuku. 

“-of course, you're fine now. I fixed you all better. I would still like you to rest. I’m working on expanding the vault downstairs, but it might take a while.”

Izuku’s stomach drops. Shouldn’t he be sent home now? If his boss’ words are to be believed, then he’s all better. He should be leaving. His mom will be expecting him soon. 

He can’t leave her like his dad did. She doesn’t deserve that. 

“In the meantime,” his boss continues, oblivious to Izuku’s internal distress, “You can stay in the room I use when I have to move Yoichi place to place.”

“What does that mean?” He asks, voice shaky. 

“It means you’re here to stay. I see something in you. A spark I haven’t seen since my brother and I were your age. I want to keep it. I want to keep you. Little brother.”

Izuku swallows around the lump growing in his throat. “W-why me?”

His boss sighs. “I just explained why, little brother.”

Izuku yanks the blankets off, throwing himself forward and off the bed. He lands on the metal floor. The coolness of the material brings him back to his senses long enough to realize that this room is tiny, half the size of the room he’s been staying in and has metal flooring and a metal ceiling. 

He scrambles to his feet. It’s hard to hear anything over his own blood rushing through his ears, which brings a nauseating bout of nostalgia. In the back of his mind, he can hear the sickening sound of his own skull caving in. 

He shakes his head to get rid of the unwanted memory, but it only makes him feel worse. 

Somehow he makes it across the room on trembling legs to pull at the door. It’s not the typical vault-style door. So, it should open. Right? 

He pulls and pushes and yanks. 

“It’s not going to open, little brother.”

“I’m not your fucking little brother! Let me leave now!” His mind is going a million miles per hour, each thought whizzing by like runaway trains. All he can focus on is needing to escape. He needs to leave! 

He needs out!

There’s a clicking sound. “I wouldn’t normally tolerate such indecent language, but you’re clearly adjusting. I’ll let it slide if you say sorry.”

“No!”

“Izuku.”

“Leave me the fuck alone!”

He sees his boss step forward. “One more chance. Say sorry.”

Izuku presses his back against the door. He shakes his head frantically. “M-mom! Mommy help me!”

His boss takes another step and then another. Izuku closes his eyes. Silently he apologizes to his mom for being such a terrible son.

He’s being lifted and held securely against a firm chest. A hand returns to his hair. 

“It’s okay, little brother. You’re scared, but things will be okay now. Everything will be alright, Nii-San is here.”

Through his panic, Izuku doubts that. Nothing in his life, minus the paychecks he gets like clockwork every week, has been okay. 

If getting out of poverty means enduring whatever this is, Izuku will eat dollar store packets of ramen every night and every morning for the rest of time. The minute he hits sixteen he’ll apply to everyplace in the city, and work as many jobs as possible to keep his mom and him afloat. 

“Please, let me go. My mom-”

The grip around holding him to his boss’ chest tightens. “Your mom is no longer your mom. She doesn't want you anymore.”

Logically, Izuku knows his boss is lying. His mom hadn’t given him up after a quirkless diagnosis, or after his father left and doing so would have been more financially smart. She’s too kind for that. She’s too much of a good mom to ever leave him. 

He knows that, but…..

…..Izuku’s so tired. 

Comprehending anything beyond what is in the here and now feels out of reach. He wants to go home so badly, his body hurts when he thinks about being trapped here. 

“N-no she didn’t.”

“She did. One of my men took your paycheck to her, and she was in the process of moving out. Apparently she was in quite the hurry. She took the paycheck and slammed the door.”

“But she wouldn’t….” the words die in his throat. He feels sick. 

Five years ago, he would have said the same thing about his father. So, maybe she would. 

“M-mom,” he says, voice hoarse from screaming. 

“But it’s okay, your big brothers will take care of you.”

Numbly, Izuku nods. 

A childish ask bubbles up from his chest. Summoning his last remaining courage, he asks, “you won’t leave me, right?”

“For as long as I live,” his bos- big brother promises. 

He feels empty inside. 

-x-x-x-

The first few years are hard. 

In truth, Izuku has no way to know if years have passed. He himself doesn’t change and neither does the vault. Yoichi tries to help keep track of time for his sake, but quickly loses count.

They share the vault, Yoichi’s twin bed becoming a trundle bed. (“So, neither of you get lonely during the night,” big brother explained). Sometimes it’s hard being together all day and all night, never being able to escape to somewhere that’s not here, in this place. 

Yoichi has taken it in stride. At times he holds Izuku (his grip looser than big brother’s) and tells him in near-inaudible whispers that one day they’ll be able to leave the room. 

Izuku can’t bring himself to hope anymore. 

They don’t get a new caretaker, Nii-San likes to do the mundane tasks himself. He comes around every few hours with food, medicine, or supplies. His constant presence is every bit as stifling as it is comforting. 

So, it’s strange one day when Nii-San doesn’t make an appearance. 

Yoichi does his best to calm him, reading passages from the book he’s reading and stroking his hair. 

More time passes. No Nii-San. 

“His meetings must have run over. It’s not often he’s late, but it does happen.” 

More time passes, perhaps another hour, day, or week. They tear into the snacks and bottles of water their big brother allows them to have in their bedroom for emergencies such as this. 

It’s after the third time of waking up with no sign of Nii-San that Izuku starts to visibly panic. This, of course, makes Yoichi panic (though he does his best to hide it). 

He paces the length of the room, occasionally waving to the camera hoping to see the red recording light come on. It never does. 

On, what has got to be, his seven hundredth time pacing, something emerges from the wall. Several panels in the wall slide down, revealing small spouts. He looks at Yoichi.

“What are these things?” 

Before his other, less crazy, big brother can shrug, the air suddenly becomes thinner. He coughs, whirling around to face Yoichi because his lungs are weaker. Whatever this is, it must be related to the spouts. He can’t put much effort into thinking. His head is filled with cotton and he has to blink away the heaviness pulling his eyelids down. 

“Yoi-chi….?” Izuku stumbles over to the bed. His brother lays on his bed, eyes shut and limp, but still breathing (thankfully). “Bro…ther?” He coughs, trying to dispel whatever’s clogging his lungs. “Wake up.” His strength is leaving him second by second, but Izuku manages to get on his brother’s bed and shake him. “P-please…..w…ake….” 

He falls next to his brother, blissfully unaware of the chaos going on above the surface.

-x-x-x-

He wakes up much more tired than when he first fell asleep. Yoichi’s in front of him, hands on his shoulders.

“We need to go now,” he says. “The door is open. I don’t know what happened, but everything is different now. Much, much different. We should leave before Mikumo comes back.”

Izuku’s brain sluggishly processes those words. “Leave?”

“Yes.” Yoichi doesn’t wait for a reply, helping him into a standing position. “I have a few contacts on the outside. They should be able to help us.”

Izuku takes in their surroundings. Everything’s covered in cobwebs and dust. What…. happened here?

They hobble along the hallway, supporting one another.

“Let’s hope the elevator works.”

It does. Thankfully. 

And even more thankfully, Nii-San didn’t change the codes to work the elevator since Izuku was Yoichi’s caretaker.

The upstairs is even more dusty and covered in cobwebs. Almost like no one’s stepped foot in this place for decades.

“Where is everyone?” Izuku asks. More to himself than his brother, but Yoichi takes it upon himself to answer anyway.

“I don’t know, and I don’t want to know either. It’s better if we move on.”

They have no trouble leaving. The guards’ tower is just as empty as inside the house. The fence is overgrown with ivy and moss, covering every inch of it.

They reach the city before nightfall, though Izuku has a hard time recognizing it as the city he’s lived in all his life. Nothing looks the same. All the shops are different and not a single person they pass looks familiar. 

Yoichi has him stop in front of an apartment building. He says something about needing to call someone, before stepping into a nearby phone booth. But Izuku doesn’t hear a single word, eyes transfixed on the building towering over him. 

Home. 

Before he can stop himself, Izuku runs for the entrance. Maybe Nii-San was wrong. Maybe his mom didn’t leave. She’s probably been waiting for him to come home. 

He reaches his apartment. The numbers on the door are faded and the metal dust-handle is rusted, but it’s unmistakable theirs. Heavy footsteps come up behind him.

Someone coughs. “I-Izuku!” Yoichi shouts, with all the energy of an aggravated older sibling. “What are you doing? You can’t just run off like that.”

Izuku looks down at his feet. “This is my home.”

“Wha- oh ,” his brother murmurs. “I see. Go ahead.” 

Izuku checks under the mat for the spare key his mom kept in case of emergencies. He finds it, his fingers clutching it to his palm. The weight is familiar. He’s missed it.

Nervously, he glances back at Yoichi. 

“Go on, Izu,” he says. “I’m right here.”

Izuku shakily unlocks the door. To his relief when the door creaks open, the apartment isn’t covered in dust or cobwebs. He enters, Yoichi on his heels.

“Mom!?” He peeks into the kitchen. The drawing he made of All Might is still on the fridge. 

“Mom!? It’s me, Izuku! Where are you!?” A loud, hacking cough gets his attention. Somewhere down the hall. Excitedly, Izuku races for his mom’s room. He’s here. He’s home. He can finally see his mom.

He pokes his head into her room, the light is on. Usually he’d knock first, but he’s sure she’ll forgive him for forgoing that rule. “Mom! I can’t wait to- huh?” 

“Uh, Izuku,” Yoichi starts, “maybe you shouldn’t-”

“Who are you!?” Izuku asks, because the old woman in front of him, laying in a hospice bed, is definitely not his mom. “Where’s mom?”

The woman looks at him. “I-Izuku. My baby?”

He shakes his head. “No. My mom…you’re not….Yoichi?” He backs away from the room. His back hits the wall directly across the room. 

“It’s been a while. She’s grown older.”

“No, no, no, no!” He cries. “My-my mom is young. She’s living somewhere warm, and she’s happy.”

Yoichi frowns. “I’m sorry, Izuku.”

“She’s supposed to have gotten away. I was the reason she had to live like this. Why didn’t she leave? Nii-San told me she left. Why did she come back? Did she even ever leave?” 

Yoichi doesn’t speak, patting his back. 

“Oh my god, I abandoned her. I’m just like my father.”

A light pop on his mouth startles him out of his downward spiral. He looks at Yoichi, eyes wide. His brother has one of the most serious expressions Izuku’s ever seen on someone. 

“You listen to me, and you listen to me well. You are not your father. Your father made a conscious choice to walk out on you guys. You weren’t given a choice. You did what you had to, to help your mother out of poverty. You were just trying to be a good son.”

Izuku feels his usual waterworks starting up. He leans into his brother’s embrace, taking refuge in the familiar warmth. “Thank you,” he whispers. 

“Anytime.”

“Izuku?” His mom calls out, and without panic altering his senses, he can hear her voice. 

“If you want to leave-”

“No. I should stay, at least to say goodbye to her. She’s probably waited years for me to come home.”

“Go on then.” Yoichi smiles at him. “Be her hero.”

Izuku nods, taking a running start straight into her bedroom. He hops into All Might’s signature pose (one of them at least). “I am here!” 

His mom is hooked up to so many machines. An oxygen mask covers the bottom half of her mouth. Her long green hair has thinned out, and she’s all skin and bones. The circles under her eyes tell of years worth of sleepless nights. 

(How many nights did she stay up, hoping and praying he’d walk through the door?)

Despite her misery, his mom manages one of her famous smiles. The kind she used to do at him when they would play heroes. Bright and genuine and so achingly-familiar. 

“Izuku Might!” She cheers. “My hero!” 

“I’m sorry I took so long.”

“Don’t be. I’ve been expecting you.”

Izuku’s stomach twists. “Oh?” 

“Yes, I was hoping it would have been last night. Would have saved me the trouble of having to listen to the upstairs neighbors argue over things that don’t matter.” She laughs.

Izuku closes his eyes, trying to commit the sound to memory. Forever. 

“Well, I’m here, mom.”

“You are.” Tears well up in her green eyes, which are dimmer than they used to be. 

Izuku is by her side in an instant. He climbs over the railing of the bed, and cuddles up next to her. “It’s okay, mommy. I’m here. I’m sorry I left.”

“Oh, baby, you don’t have to be sorry. None of this was your fault. I should have been better. After your father left, I was absent. I ignored your needs. I was selfish.”

Izuku opens his mouth, ready to defend his mother from herself. A finger brushes his lips, shushing him. 

“Shhh…..I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

He lays with her, curled into her side like he’s five-years-old again. He strokes her hair, murmuring comforting nothings to her. 

-x-x-x-

Izuku stumbles into the hallway, gaze fixated on the wall in front of him. He feels empty. But this empty is worse than usual. It’s not the kind caused by suppressed emotion, but the sort that follows you like a rain cloud. 

His face and neck feel sticky with all the shed tears. 

“I’m ready to go now.” 

His brother holds a hand out, which he takes, grateful for something to grasp. He’s lead back outside the building, passing a nurse-judging by the medical scrubs and badge-on the stairs. 

“Excuse me?” She asks, looking at them. “But could either of you tell me where Midoriya Inko lives? It’s my first night, and the nurse that normally works overnight here just quit.”

Izuku points upward. “Apartment 38C.”

“Ah, thank you.”

He stands on the steps a few moments longer, watching the nurse race to her patient that is long, long gone. 

His brother tugs on his hand, getting his attention. “Come along. My friend will be meeting us at the park down the road. You’ll like him.”

Izuku doesn’t spare a glance at the building, choosing instead to move forward. For the first time, in a long time, he allows himself to hope. 

The future suddenly feels brighter. 

-x-x-x-

Izuku sits in the backseat of Yoichi’s friend’s car. He watches them lean in to kiss for the hundredth millionth time in five minutes. 

“Ick!” He sticks his tongue out. 

Yoichi’s friend reaches a hand in the backseat to ruffle his hair. His face is heavily scarred and there’s an underlying hardness there, but the icy glare melts away anytime he lays eyes on Yoichi (or, as he warms up, at Izuku). 

“Niiii, stop,” Yoichi says, giggling. 

Izuku giggles too, turning away from the couple to look out the window. They pass by open fields and luscious forests. 

“Hey, Yoichi-nii, where are we going?” 

“Um, that’s a great question. Where are we going, my hero?”

Izuku gags. What did he do to have to bear witness to this?

“I can’t say. It’s a surprise.”

Yoichi and him exchange a worried look. They both don’t say it outloud, but surprises scare them. The last surprise either of them got was near-eternity in a metal box. 

The rest of the drive is quiet, Izuku drifts off to the sound of th a/c and the quiet murmurings of long-lost love. (Even if he thinks they’re being kind of gross. It’s still nice that Yoichi has someone out here waiting for him. That’s one more person than Izuku has).

-x-x-x-

The car pulls to a stop deep within a forest. The trees that surround them, completely block out the sky. A quaint, little cabin sits in front of them. 

“Well,” his boyfriend says, putting the car into park, “this is it. The others should be inside, waiting. I called them right after you called me.”

Yoichi nods. The idea of seeing all the people cursed with One for All makes his stomache. 

“Yoi, what’s wrong?”

He fiddles with his fingers. “They’re not…they aren’t angry, are they?”

“Of course, they aren’t. What makes you think they would be?”

“Immortality is a curse.”

His boyfriend kisses on the lips, shutting him up. “I missed you.”

Yoichi melts. A happy squeak escapes his mouth without him permitting it too. “Me too.” He shakes his head. “I mean….I missed you, not that I missed myself. Well, you know. Right?”

His boyfriend’s expression softens even further. “I know perfectly well.”

They share a few more kisses before they start getting ready to go inside. 

“I’ll carry the kid inside. We have a room made up for him.”

Yoichi opens and closes his mouth “How?” He asks, gathering the meager supplies his boyfriend bought on his way to pick them up. 

“The attack on your brother’s base. The one that put you both into a coma for thirty-plus years? That was us.” He leans into the car to pick Izuku up. He holds him close to his chest, though it’s a bit difficult for his boyfriend to carry Izuku like he or their older brother does because of his below-average height. Still, he manages it like a champ. “We found his base of operations and broke in. The raid must have triggered a gas attack.”

“Huh,” Yoichi murmurs. “Well, you saved us from thirty-six years of playing Monopoly over and over again. But I do have a question.”

They step onto the porch. “My brother’s base wasn’t ransacked. It was just….dirty.”

“We didn’t destroy anything. Just infiltrated. Yagi was the one that did damage to your brother.”

“Is he…my brother dead?”

“Probably not. That bastard’s worse than a cockroach. He’s lucky that Yagi found him first, because what he did to….” his boyfriend swallows heavily. “Third deserved better.”

“He did. What All for One did to him….I dreamt about every night. I’m sorry I couldn’t save him.”

His boyfriend looks at him. “So am I, Yoi, so am I.” There’s not a hint of malice in his boyfriend’s tone, yet the words sting. He smiles, hand reaching for the door handle. “But tonight’s not about regrets. You’ve just been freed. Live your life for you and all those that can’t be here with us.”

“Yeah,” Yoichi says, resolute, “you’re right. Thank you.”

His boyfriend’s smile widens. “Ready to go inside.”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

[blackbutlerfandomnerddomain]

Name: Joseph Melissa

Nicknames: Joe, Jo-Jo, Punk, Octo-Punk, (all by his friends), Weirdo, freak, Emo, Creep (outsiders and step-mother)

Birthday: November 17th

Age: 20

Height: 6'4

Gender: Nonbinary (he/they)

Appearance: Joseph has a stern honestly very intimidating scary face that is usually bruised or bleeding from fights, pale skin and big round ocean dark blue grey eyes, long wavy pale blonde hair with purple dyes and high lights usually done in a pony tale, big build in muscular with rough edges and firm abs, he has a naval piercing, and a very special thing he has are slightly sharer teeth from history of braces and fights

Clothes: He's usually dressed in simple not so flashy outfits that don't get in the way when he's working or fighting, usually tank tops and button ups with a simple pair of jeans ripped and not ripped, and a leather black bomber jacket gifted from his mom, and always wear combat boots or water boots

Personality: He's very tough in the outside and is what Jac calls a "jaw-breaker" where you have to really try hard to get him to chill out or laugh at a joke or even smile, often cold or scary looking, but as his friends know he's very much a loyal softie who likes children and animals and will do that thing when he tries to pick something up and forget his has long legs and so he kicks the item away from each time but repeats

Schooling: 2nd Year of Collage, Marine Science major

Likes: His friends, playing the cello, playing the piano, ocean waves, the beach, lo-fi, poems, Edgar Alan Poe, cupcakes, brownies, working out, the gym, McDonalds, Pop-Rocks, Pepsi and Orange soda, kids, reading, the feeling of someone hugging him close, romance (that's a big ass secret only Charles knows), rock music, alt rock, Hot Topic, octopus, squids, sea turtles, honest people, coffee, iced coffee, lemonade, the smell of blankets out the wash fresh, Cavetown, Conan Gray, Paramore, sea shells, random things no one else would enjoy, video games, vintage things, Polaroids, swimming, smoking weed

Dislikes: His dad and step-mom, missing a work-out day, pollution and littering of the ocean or the beach, liars, cheaters, thieves, loud annoying people, annoying people, homophobes, those who start a fight with him and then claim he started it, his family's titles

Abilities: Cooking, left things, fighter, fast runner, fast swimmer, singing is good, great with kids and babysitting

Story: Joseph was a only child within the Melissa house hold full of love and care by his family. His dad was usually working for long hours and so he grew very attached to his mother who gifted him her old high school leather bomber jacket for his 7th birthday.

One day when he was 13 his mother had passed away in a boating accident he was in as well, leaving him with terrible survivor's guilt. It didn't help his father didn't comfort him in the grieving process and after four months since her death moved a much younger woman into the home who later on became his step-mother. Heart broken and torn apart by this change of life Joseph wished to be free from the pain and during a walk on the beach decided to try and take his life, only to be stopped by a young Charles. Since then the two never grew apart as best friends. Joseph began working out and being his self now by this time to try and be strong enough to protect those he love, making his distaste of his father and his step-mother easy to be seen by all even strangers and would sleep at Charles' place.

Currently he attends college with his friends while helping Janice's dad's tackle shop/diner

Name Meanings: Joseph - Hebrew for "God will give" Melissa - Greek for "bee"

[1-oc-atatime]

OC#2: Jack Adams Topp

Jack Topp – Character Overview

Basic Information and Appearance: Jack Topp, nicknamed “Jolly Jack” or “Birdy” (for being a pilot), is a 26-year-old fighter pilot born on January 11, 1998. Of mixed Mexican and Scottish heritage, Jack stands at 5'10", with a lean but powerful build and strong legs from never skipping leg day. His light brown hair is always messy due to his gear, and his wolf-cut hairstyle pairs with hooded almond eyes of the same shade. His dry skin results from constantly shifting altitudes, though he secretly keeps lotion nearby. Jack's most distinctive features are his scar from a teenage bike accident and big, calloused hands, the result of weightlifting and military life.

Personality and Traits: Jack is a blend of charm and carelessness. He’s witty and easy-going, but often struggles to take things seriously. While he jokes and laughs through awkward moments, he also exhibits a deep sense of responsibility, making him someone others feel safe around. Jack wants to be seen as dependable and approachable, though some might find him intimidating at first. He’s a hopeless romantic but has never experienced true love, relying on casual encounters during leave to cope with stress. His love language is touch and quality time, and he dreams of finding someone to share his life with.

Though outwardly humorous, Jack wrestles with creeping mental health challenges from his dangerous career and lost teammates. His pessimism grows with age, and his biggest fear is letting down his family. Despite a laid-back exterior, he’s fiercely competitive and quick to act, traits essential in his military role. Jack tends to bite his lips and pick at his skin—small habits that hint at his inner restlessness.

Family and Relationships: Family means everything to Jack. Raised in a working-class household, he was nurtured despite his parents’ busy schedules. His younger brother, Thomas, is four years his junior and studying to become a pediatric surgeon. Jack’s most cherished memories involve moments with his brother, including saving his life when he accidentally fell out of a treehouse. His best friend since childhood, Jacob West, remains a close ally, though military duties make it difficult to stay in touch. Jack dreams of having pets—a cat or even a tarantula—but his current lifestyle doesn’t allow for it.

Career and Hobbies: Jack serves as a fighter pilot for the U.S. Navy, flying both the A-10 Warthog and F-35 jets. He enjoys the thrill and purpose of his job but knows the emotional toll will leave scars. In his free time, he enjoys gaming, working out, and reading sci-fi. He also has a soft spot for stray cats on base, feeding them whenever he can. While not on missions, Jack attends college courses online to further his education.

Despite his dangerous work, Jack maintains a sense of humor. His favorite media include Skyrim and old country music, especially Marty Robbins’ “(Ghost) Riders in the Sky.” A tech enthusiast, he regrets not pursuing a career in computers or becoming a civilian pilot, but he tries not to dwell on it too much.

Values and Challenges: Jack believes freedom means ensuring others feel safe and able to live as they wish. He despises betrayal and is especially wary of people who misuse power. His idea of redemption is working to become better every day. Though he distrusts clowns and fears snakes and hippos, Jack bravely faces challenges and treats danger as part of the job. His worst childhood memory is the disappointment of his parents missing his first football game, but it only fueled his desire to make them proud.

Lifestyle and Aspirations: Jack enjoys life’s small pleasures—whether indulging in his favorite meal of breakfast casserole or relaxing on a Sunday afternoon with video games. While he lives modestly in his barracks room, he splurges on his prized possession: a jet-black 2024 Porsche 911 Carrera. His dream is to retire somewhere peaceful, ideally with a partner who can match his humor and make life feel complete. For now, Jack focuses on his mission—saving lives and making the world a bit safer while trying not to lose himself along the way.

[howireallyfeels]

Veil of Sadness: Celebrating While Suffering

Today is supposed to be an important day for my Ate from another mother, a day filled with love and celebration. To be honest, I’m genuinely happy for her because she has finally found someone who truly loves her, someone who cherishes her in the way she deserves. Today, October 5th, marks her wedding day, a milestone that signifies the beginning of a beautiful new chapter in her life. She has been an incredible friend and sister to me, offering unwavering support and kindness throughout the years. Her whole family has embraced me completely; they never made me feel like I didn’t belong. They have always welcomed me into their lives with open arms.

Since our college days, she has been my guiding light, always there to lend an ear or offer advice. I even became close with her siblings, who welcomed me as one of their own, treating me like family. I have cherished every moment spent with them, celebrating their special occasions, sharing meals, and creating memories. They even introduced me to God, showing me a sense of faith and community that I had longed for.

However, as I reflect on the significance of today, I can’t shake the heaviness that lingers in my heart. Last month, when she sent the invitation on August 27, I found myself filled with uncertainty about whether I would attend her wedding or even reach out to her. From that moment, I thought about it every single day, wrestling with my emotions. During that time, I had already distanced myself from everyone, friends, family, essentially cutting myself off from any connection. The truth is, when they’re around, I feel loved, but I also feel so profoundly alone. I long for connection, yet when I try to make plans, they are either too busy or simply don’t respond. I became exhausted by the endless “seen” notifications, so I made the painful decision to remove them altogether. It was my way of protecting myself, a method to avoid further pain.

I know my loved ones don’t realize how those small things can hurt me, but they do. The absence of a reply, the feeling of being forgotten, those experiences weigh heavily on my heart. In July, I decided to leave everything behind: group chats, conversations, and relationships. I stopped responding to messages filled with advice or concern because I knew they only reached out after I had opened up about how broken I felt. They never saw me when I was silently begging for help, simply wanting their company.

As I prepare for this wedding, I can’t help but reflect on my past. This wedding is forcing me to confront a harsh reality I’ve been trying to ignore for so long. Ever since I was a child, I’ve never truly been a part of any celebration. I’ve never held a significant role in any wedding, not even in the weddings of my own siblings. The absence of an invitation stings, and that pain has never faded. I used to think they were ashamed to call me their sibling or family, that they didn’t want to be associated with me. Perhaps that’s why I always tried so hard to avoid embarrassment or shame for our family. Even now, no one ever asks me to be a godparent to their children—not even my cousins. I guess that has changed recently, as they see I’ve started to build something for myself. I now make sure to give generously to my godchildren, trying to create a bond where I can.

Yet, today’s wedding is a bittersweet reminder that no matter how many friends I have or how much they care about me, I will never be important enough to stand by their side on these momentous occasions. I will never be included in their entourage, nor will I be a godparent to their children. This realization has reopened old wounds that have never truly healed. I know it will hurt to attend yet another wedding, sitting on the sidelines and watching everyone else celebrate, but I couldn’t bring myself to miss it. I want to witness my Ate’s happiness, even if it means my heart will ache a little more.

So, Ate, if you ever read this, please know that I love you so much. You have always welcomed me into your life, no matter the circumstances. Your kindness and acceptance mean the world to me, and I wouldn’t trade our friendship for anything. Today, I will celebrate you, even if my heart feels heavy with the weight of what I wish I could have had.

[filmrelicsworld]

Marvel And College Life

I'd like to share a little secret with those of you who might not know much about me: I adore Marvel more than most things.

I read comic books as a child and became well-versed in all things Marvel. I can probably still pinpoint the exact differences between character reactions in the comics and the film. This takes me to the aspect of Marvel that I value the most: the Marvel Cinematic Universe.

As I've become older, the movies have meant a great deal to me because of their commitment to faithful character representation as well as the poignant and motivational teachings they include.

I have seen every Marvel film produced during Phase Three, which includes "Captain America: Civil War" to "Avengers: Endgame," since I moved in 2019 to attend my graduation.

Permit me to share with you the lessons I learned from the Marvel Cinematic Universe (MCU) throughout my time as a graduate. Every one of those films imparted valuable lessons that I was able to apply to my personal life while attending college.

CAPTAIN AMERICA: CIVIL WAR

Fans of the films that had followed Captain America: Civil War through to that point experienced intense emotion. Iron Man, who sided with the government, and Captain America, our two favourite superheroes, were at odds over a new government policy that would have required superheroes to obtain permission from the government before acting.

By the time the film concludes, half of the beloved characters have vanished, the Avengers are forced to take sides, and the bond between Cap and Iron Man is as shattered as Cap's shield. At a pivotal moment in my life, when I was grappling with the realisation that I no longer felt as close to some of my friends as I once did, this movie arrived.

I never had time to hang out with some of my old pals since college made me busy than I had ever been in my life. I was left behind as they began to make friends of their own. That used to greatly bother me, but the movie served as a helpful reminder that friends don't always drift apart because they no longer care about one another.

DOCTOR STRANGE

Next up is a personal favorite of mine. For a very long time, Doctor Strange has been one of my favorite superheroes. I think I identify to him a lot as a person, maybe because I appreciate the idea of a superhero who can see into the future and perform magic.

Strange's profession is nearly destroyed by his reckless driving, which turns him from a qualified surgeon into a man lost in a very dark place. He is also incredibly pompous and arrogant. He wastes his riches on pricey, novel operations that leave him penniless and alone.

He spends his last dollar on a one-way airline ticket to an experimental treatment facility, where he encounters sorcerers who enlighten him about his past by teaching him the skill of magic. I want to remember that when I graduate and start my career—that he no longer needs fame or wealth to be happy.

Money is vital since it enables one to support their family, but if Doctor Strange has taught me anything, it's that material wealth isn't everything and that I should continue to follow my passions even if they don't always result in the highest salary.

SPIDERMAN: HOMECOMING

Since almost everyone and their grandmother is familiar with the Spiderman story, the villain is given more screen time in this film.

In "Spiderman: Homecoming," a villain by the name of the Vulture is shown stealing weaponry and equipment to resell on the black market after Tony Stark's (Iron Man) actions unintentionally cause his firm to fail. Ultimately, we see this criminal as a kindly man who steals to support his family and spare them the pain of his insolvency.

Unbelievably, this gave me some insight about how to serve others back when I was in Amity. It made me realise that regardless of how someone appears on the surface, they are all dealing with emotions on the inside and may require support to deal with those emotions. When the Vulture finally refuses Spiderman's attempts to assist him, Spiderman is compelled to stop him.

By teaching me not to judge a book by its cover, "Spiderman: Homecoming" has helped me make a lot of friends throughout college and serves as a constant reminder that people may be battling conflicts I'm ignorant of.

THOR: RAGNAROK

In the third movie of the "Thor" trilogy, our main character Thor is left to handle what's left of Asgard after his father Odin passes away and a new threat—his sister Hela, who was just revealed—appears to challenge Thor for the throne.

From this moment on, Thor must choose his own fate, as he had always found his calling in his father's guidance and approval. It always seems to bring back memories of the moment I decided to change my degree.

One of the reasons I initially decided to attend Amity was because I felt compelled to become a lawyer at a young age. However, while I was in college, I discovered that I was more drawn to a completely different major: communications.

That's when I realised that no one else could decide to switch my major for me; instead, I had to pick my own path with God's help. One is constantly reminded of such by "Thor: Ragnarok."

You would be here reading for an hour if I wrote an article about every Marvel film from Phase Three. I'm going to take a "Infinity War" approach and break half of this! I'll see you then!

[studymaniac]

That is interesting! Mind if I wade in and offer my thoughts? Let's explore.

My first thought is that it's an age/experience thing.

MB isn't great with details, but it does establish that the survey crew are A) very much adults and B) have probably been going on expeditions for a while. (I say this cuz MB remarks on how well they seem to like/know each other and how good Mensah is at leading them. This infers they've been a crew for a while). Ergo they've had more than one run in with the corporate rim. Pin Lee even complains about dealing with Rim law and their unethical practices. So they (except Gurathin, but I'll get to him) were raised on a peace and love planet; and then presumably dealt with culture shock when they realized how common violence and greed is in the Rim. Likewise, Gurathin probably had a reverse culture shock when he came from "elsewhere," saw Preservation, and realized that life didn't have to be like this. He's an immigrant who's integrating into Preservation culture. This may be why he's more vocal about things that go against that culture. Now Thiago was also raised on Preservation, but I did get a "I'm better than you" vibe from him that I've seen in many tenured professors. Though this vibe does come from the fact that MB is the POV and Thiago doesn't like MB. Thiago may also be acting a bit bitchy because he doesn't understand Mensah's PTSD and is blaming/taking it out on MB. Its easy to berate someone's questionable actions when you don't like them. Being raised on a peace and love planet doesn't resolve interpersonal conflict it just makes it less common. (See the predatory behavior in Amena's date. That still happened on Preservation)

TLDR: The Preservation adults have already seen what the Rim is capable of and have dealt with the distracting parts of culture shock off screen. So now they're at a point where they can nit pick MB's behavior/violence as an individual topic.

--

On the flip side, this is Amena's first survey. It's established that her age is somewhere between barely legal to have sex as an adult; and seriously looking at which college she wants to attend. I'm American, so to me, this means that she's probably around 18. (I am not having a discussion about legal age. I know other countries have different rules, but I'm not talking about teenagers being teenagers. I'm talking about how Amena's date is framed as being predatory but technically legal. So, at the minimum age Amena could be, an 18 year old being seduced by a 25-30 yr old creep is predatory but technically legal. That creep going after a 16 yr old should be a crime. Especially on a theoretical peace and love planet. Now back on topic-). She's young and inexperienced. So we get to see her culture shock moments as she talks to Ras and Eltra/sees thier racism. We see how dismayed she is at everything from corporate intellectual property rights to how they treat humans as assets, not people. She's definitely an interesting person for taking it all in stride. However, she might be giving MB a pass on the violence because of the overwhelming amount of everything that's going on.

Another part of this is the fact that MB doesn't pull out the violence at random. The both of them are in a scary situation. They just got abducted and brought to a secondary location (*insert John Mulaney gif here*). MB also confirms that the Targets killed Art before it makes them regret it. MB would never admit it (and it is the narrator) but there's no doubt that MB was visibly upset. The "Cool motive, still Murder" reasoning may not have even crossed Amena's mind. Preservation has Media. Mensah states how cartoonishly evil the Rim is depicted, and it can't all be intellectual debates. So Amena has probably read and watched a bunch of media that has Hollywood-like violence. She's never seen it personally (and we don't get to see her exact reaction to the lung thing, because MB is upset and distracted. She could have been puking in the background for all we know) but the progression of events would make sense to someone who's only seen violence in media. Protagonists gets abducted. Love interest is killed and one character goes ape shit.

I'll argue that this shows that Amena is a romantic. Especially because she gets invested in MB and ART's "relationship" after Art is revived. I mean, she's 100% correct, but still. She's smart but can get swept up in an emotional moment. It's how she fell for a creep, why she got upset at MB for interrupting the date, why she gives him a pass for avenging ART's death, and why she plays matchmaker. She’s ride or die because MB/ART is her OTP (to use fandom language).

TLDR: Amena is young, adapting to a dangerous situation, experiencing culture shock, and has watched media. Between this and possible adolescent romance ideals, she's chill with MB being violent.

---

Whew! That was a fun mental exercise. Thanks for posting!

Amena, Murderbot, and Violence

Thinking today about Amena and violence in The Murderbot Diaries.

Like, Amena is from Preservation, a planet whose murder rate is barely above that of an uninhabited planet, where finding an unexpected dead body is so shocking that they close the entire space station IMMEDIATELY. And the other characters from Preservation tend to...let's say look askance at Murderbot's murdering. There's Gurathin challenging whether Murderbot has the right to kill Mensah's captors or Thiago being really upset at the thought that Murderbot might have killed the raiders who were trying to kidnap and/or murder the survey crew. There's also the moment that Murderbot thinks about how it's never killed anyone directly in front of Ratthi, and how it wants to keep it that way, so that Ratthi will keep thinking the best of it.

And Amena was raised on this planet, and so far as I know hadn't really left up until the survey assignment in Network Effect, who suddenly finds herself kidnapped along with Murderbot. And Murderbot is losing it because it thinks ART is dead, and ends up ripping one of the Target's lungs out in front of Amena while messily murdering it.

And Amena's response is...shockingly chill? Like, I guess she's also in shock and scared and Murderbot is the only person on her side at the moment, but it's still an incredibly violent killing done right in front of her and she never really seems to blink at it. Later, the very second that Ras shoots Murderbot, Amena jumps onto his back and tries to choke him out. Like, that's her first and immediate reaction--and this is like 30 minutes after the "Murderbot rips someone's lungs out" thing.

And there is something touching about how "ride or die" Amena is with Murderbot even though she thinks it doesn't like her. And about how willing Amena is to deal with whatever is happening. How at the end of that day, when they've been in a space battle and kidnapped and Murderbot did some murdering and Ras died and Eletra was almost fried and Murderbot was having multiple emotional breakdowns...Amena is worried that Murderbot is mad because she didn't defend it enough when Ras & Eletra were being verbally mean. Like, THAT'S what she thinks might affect their relationship.

I don't know what I'm getting at, exactly, except that I think Amena is a fascinating character.

Things Amena gets upset about:

Murderbot interrupting her date with a predator

Murderbot forgetting to talk in stressful situations

Casual racism (bot-ism?) from Ras & Eletra

Murderbot & ART not talking

Things Amena does NOT get upset about

Murderbot doing the killing

[alsjeblieft-zeg]

058 of 2023

What’s your favorite accessory?:

My wedding ring.

What is the last article of clothing you bought?:

Yet another hoodie.

What does that article of clothing look like?:

Black with white sleeves, such a 90s vibe.

Which is better: candy necklaces or Ring Pops?:

What is Ring Pops?

What’s your favorite kind of soda?:

Coca Cola.

What program do you use to play your mp3s on?:

I use Spotify.

If you’ve taken the SATs (or PSATs/ACTs/etc), what was your score?:

I don’t know what it is.

How much wood can a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?:

Jesus Christ, what.

Do you honestly care how much the woodchuck could chuck?:

Not at all.

What time do you wake up every morning?:

It depends, but usually around 7am.

What was the last movie you rented or bought?:

I don’t waste my money on movies.

Do you play Dance Dance Revolution?:

Hell no.

If so, what’s your favorite song to play?:

N/A.

What do you think of the Kool-Aid man?:

I’ve never seen it and I only know this thing from American forum users.

Do you like Dane Cook (he’s a comedian)?:

I barely recognise him.

Have you had a song in your head today? What is it?:

For a change, no.

Have you ever humped someone to greet them in school?:

What?

Who would you rather have sex with: Prince or Billy Idol?:

No, thanks.

What was the last concert you went to?:

Shuriken II.

What is the next concert you are going to?:

Not planning to go to any.

What is your favorite board game?:

I’m not that into board games, but maybe Monopoly.

Do you think Jade Puget is really awesome?:

I’ve never heard of them.

What’s your favorite punctuation mark?:

Question mark. It could easily describe me.

What foreign language do you take in school?:

French and English, both mandatory.

Have you ever read any of the Chronicles of Narnia series?:

No, I’m not interested.

Do you hate Harry Potter as much as I do?:

Not hate, but not like either, and I’ve lost all respect to the author.

How many times have you seen the movies in the Star Wars series?:

Zero.

What is your favorite anime?:

None.

Do you own a lava lamp? Blacklite? Fiber optic lamp?:

There’s a lava lamp somewhere in our house, but it’s not mine. I’d like optic fiber lamp, though.

Do you write it as “favorite” or “favourite”?:

Favourite. British English is more natural to me.

How many bracelets do you own?:

Some rubber ones that I don’t even wear. I’d like a chain bracelet, though.

How many bracelets are you wearing?:

None.

What’s your favorite flavor of Pocky?:

Never tried any.

What’s your favorite way to wear your hair?:

On hair gel or wax. I don’t like it lying flat on my head.

What brand of gum do you most often chew?:

Mentos. I bought the lemon flavoured one in France and I’m in love. Too bad it’s not available in Belgium.

Do you believe in the Zodiac somewhat?:

Not at all.

What’s your Zodiac sign?:

Taurus.

What’s your Chinese astrology sign?:

Horse.

If you were to attend an art school, what subject would you major in?:

Photography.

How old is your PC?:

My laptop is 3 years old. Almost 4, honestly.

Do you have any 16-bit video game systems in your house? (ie Sega Genesis):

Does the NES emulator app in my laptop count?

When was the last time you got some film developed?:

20 years ago? Not sure about this question.

What was on that roll of film?:

How should I remember?

If you were to get a tattoo tomorrow, what would it be of?:

This little triangle on my collarbone.

When you turn 18 (or already have), what did/will you do on your birthday?:

I hit 18 almost 15 years ago and I remember I was sick.

Can you use a hula hoop?:

Maybe I can, but do I want to? Nope.

What is the longest distance you’ve ever walked?:

10 kilometres. No problem for me, I walk a lot every day.

Do you wear eyeliner?:

No, I don’t.

Has anything been bothering you physically lately?:

Some neurological things last year.

How about mentally?:

Anxiety, but I got antidepressants and seems like they started working.

Do you already have an idea of what you wanna do for college?:

I graduated years ago.

What’s your favorite kind of fruity candy?:

Wine gums, if ever. Something like Haribo.

How long do you think you could do jumping jacks non-stop?:

I don’t know, not gonna try.

What do you usually use your tokens on at the arcade?:

I don’t go to such places.

What’s your favorite kind of fruit?:

Strawberry.

What’s your favorite kind of Coca-Cola or Pepsi (Vanilla, lemon, lime, etc.)?:

Vanilla. Too bad it’s not available in my country :( at least it is in France and I live about 60 kilometres from the border, so no problem for me.

What do you think of eyeball jewelry?:

...what? It doesn’t sound appealing at all, anyone really does such things?

What kind of deodorant do you use?:

Axe. Really. XD

Have you ever had a lemonade stand?:

Not a thing in my country.

What’s your favorite font?:

Typewriter or what’s the name again, but I love it.

What size and color do you use with it?:

Standard. Or default.

What’s better: glitter or rhinestones?

Rhinestones.

If you were given a $50 gift card to an art store, what would you buy?:

I live in the euro zone, I would have absolutely no use of dollars gift card.

Do you like taking pictures of yourself?:

No, I don’t. I just shoot my outfits sometimes, but without face.

Are you fairly photogenic?:

Haha no.

What was your first job?:

Fruit picker as a summer job, aged 16 to 20.

If you could have wings, what kind would they be (bird, insect, bat…)?:

Shitbird aka pigeon. I would freely shit on the cars of my neighbours.

What do you order at your favorite fast food place?:

I don’t really eat fast food.

What kind of sauce do you get with chicken nuggets?:

Barbecue is the best for that.

Do you like making sandcastles at the beach?:

I’m not that skilled in this XD maybe I liked it better as a child. We liked to make small pools of sea water that were getting warm from the sun, and then lie in them.

If you had a tricycle/big wheel when you were a kid, what did it look like?:

Apparently a green tricycle, but I barely remember it.

Did you have streamers in the handlebars of your bike?:

It’s the first time I hear about something like this. No, I don’t and I wouldn’t want to have.

Would you put streamers on your bike now?:

Nope. It looks girly.

What is your favorite McDonald’s toy you’ve ever had?:

Never had a toy from there.

What was your favorite toy that you broke when you were a kid?:

I don’t even remember.

How do you like your hamburger?:

With fish or chicken instead of beef.

What’s your favorite kind of juice?:

Orange and optionally apple, but it has to be 100% and without pulp.

What is your favorite belt you own?:

I don’t wear belts. I probably should, my trousers are all too big for mre XD

What is the most obscure thing you’ve found at a thrift store?:

Nothing particular.

What’s the weirdest thing you’ve seen while taking a walk?:

Somebody’s underwear hanging on a tree. Like, how?

How often do you go for a walk?:

Almost every day.

What does your discman look like?:

I’ve never had a discman.

What is your favorite kind of Pop Tarts?:

Not a thing here.

When was the last time you colored in a coloring book?:

25 years ago or something?

If you were able to sell your soul to someone, how much would you charge?:

No, thanks. My soul is mine.

What would you buy with the money?:

No.

What instrument’s sound makes you smile?:

Piano, violin, cello, harp.

Do you like to be tickled?:

Hell no. I’m oversensitive.

Does tickling turn you on?:

Nope. unless I’m being accidentally touched I’m not gonna say where, but it’s a normal reaction that has nothing to do with attraction.

What brand of condoms do you usually use?:

Durex, I guess.

What was the last CD you bought that you really liked?:

Spectre by HRFTR. I use Spotify, but I bought physical copy as well, to support these guys.

When was the last time you had a papercut?:

Long time ago, but I remember how painful they can be.

Who’s one person you absolutely hate and why?:

I don’t hate anyone. I’m just not fond of some people.

What makes you think a person is absolutely obnoxious?:

Bragging about things, pretending to be smarter than everyone around, patronising, personal jokes with people they’re not even friends with, know-it-all attitude (don’t even tell me how to do my job if you have no experience in it!!!).

What was your favorite Pokemon?:

Purrloin. Such a cute kitty.

Did you watch the Power Rangers when you were little?:

I did, but I was never really into it.

What’s better: Ben and Jerry’s or Dairy Queen?:

I don’t even know Dairy Queen at all.

If you could go over to someone’s house right now, who’s and why?:

My parents because yes, check your grammar, by the way.

Are you good at playing ping-pong?:

I was decent, but it’s not my favourite sport.

Do you like to chew on things?:

Very much so. Even on my own nails, although nail biting is pretty gross and I’m aware of it.

What’s a nervous habit of yours?:

Biting my nails, I just said. Also, biting my lips sometimes.

Do you like to paint your nails?:

I see no reason why I would.

Would you be able to fit in a kiddie pool?:

Probably. I’m flexible and rather slender, so.

What makes you giggle with glee?:

Many things, but I can’t mention anything from the top of my head.

When you read the comics in the paper, what do you go for first?:

I don’t read comics.

[imagine-a-life-like-this]

Finding Love (L.F)

Warnings : like one swear word, mentions of divorce, reader doesn’t believe in love

Word Count : 2891

Synopsis : her best friend set her up on 7 dates for a project he called “finding love”, but none of the guys made her heart flutter the way he does. 

“Okay, so there’s just some final questions you have to answer.” I nodded, barely looking at my best friend, thinking about the conversation I had with his professor just a few days prior.

           “I hope Felix’s grade won’t suffer because I didn’t find love with this project.” I told her. “He worked really hard, picking out 7 different guys he thought would compliment me well. And they were all lovely, but Miss, I just don’t believe in love. I tried because I don’t want Felix to fail, but none of them sparked anything in me.”

           “Y/N, Felix’s grade will not suffer just because you didn’t find love, though I don’t think that’s true. Forgive me if I cross a line, but I believe you already found love before this project began, but you’re scared. For you, love has always equaled loss, and this person is someone you could never lose, so you refuse to love them. Think about it for a minute.”

           “Felix is my best friend.” I countered and watched as she smiled.

           “I never said it was him.” I just stared at her, going through her words again. “Think about it, Y/N. Love isn’t as scary as it seems.”

           “Did you enjoy the dates you went on?” I met his eyes, pretending like I was listening the whole time. I nodded and watched as he wrote my answer down. “Let’s go through each of the dates and then continue the rest of the questions.” Again I nodded as Felix set the papers down and focused all his attention on me.

           Chan was the first guy I went on a date with for Felix’s project. He picked me up and I felt comfortable with him as soon as I opened the door. He greeted me with a warm smile and an awkward laugh as he stumbled over his introduction.  

           We ended up at his place, ordering some food and watching dumb romcoms on Netflix. The two of us laughed at the over-the-top cringey moments, and at some point, we fell asleep. I don’t remember falling asleep, I just remember waking up some time later, wrapped up in Chan’s arms with him still asleep.

           It was an enjoyable date, something very lowkey, but there was no spark. It felt more like a hang out than a date.

           “Did you just leave while he was sleeping?” Felix asked with a chuckle.

           “No! Of course not!” I countered, laughing at how ridiculous that would be. “I woke him up and he walked me home.” Felix nodded, urging me to go on.

           Minho was next, and at first he seemed like he’d rather be anywhere else, but he quickly opened up. “I figured since it was a nice day, we could have a picnic.” He told me with a smile as he walked towards the park.

           It was really relaxing. We just sat on the blanket he brought, munching on the food he made while getting to know each other. He told me about his family and his friends, what he was studying, and what he hoped to accomplish in life. If I’m honest, I could listen to Minho talk about his dreams for hours and not get bored.

           When he asked me about myself, it was like I drew a blank. The only stories I could come up with were all about Felix. How we met, how we agreed to attend the same college so we wouldn’t be separated, how he is the only person I’d ever need in my life.

           “You talked about me?”

           “You seem surprised.” I laughed. “You already know you’re my favourite person. Of course I’m going to talk about you.”

           “Look at you being cute.” I felt the heat rise to my cheeks at the compliment, something that didn’t happen with the guys I went on dates with. Sure, they complimented me, and I was flattered, but they didn’t seem to effect me the way Felix does. “Continue!”

           To me, the date with Minho was the most intimate. It’s the one that felt the most like a date. But again, the spark wasn’t there.

           Changbin was the third, and I must say I was surprised. I’ve heard the rumours about him around the school, so when he took me to the planetarium, I was rather surprised. “Felix said you were into astronomy.” I smiled so wide when we got inside and the show began. I spouted off random facts I knew to Changbin who seemed really interested in what I had to say. He listened to every word I said, and even spouted off some of his own facts.

           It was like running into an old friend, someone you haven’t seen in years but missed dearly. We clicked immediately and it felt like finding a safe place. For a minute I wondered if this is what people were talking about when they found their soulmates. But the longer I spent with Changbin, the more I realized that the connection I was feeling was purely platonic, on both ends. He’s definitely someone I see in my future, but only as a friend.

           “Hey, at least we’re getting somewhere!” Felix explained. “For a whole minute you thought he could be it!” I laughed at how excited Felix seemed, but my heart seemed to fall to my stomach. Why was he so focused on me finding love? Why does he seem excited to see if I fell for one of the guys he set me up with? “Keep going! 3 down, 4 to go!” He smiled at me, and I felt butterflies erupt in my stomach. No. No that’s not right. I must have eaten something weird.

           Hyunjin took me to an escape room. I’d always wanted to do one but was always scared. Hyunjin didn’t really give me a choice, telling me I would have loads of fun. So, we went. Unfortunately, he chose one of the hardest rooms they offered, thinking we were smart enough to escape.

           It was fun looking around different rooms, trying to find the clues to escape. He was really easy to work with, and though we didn’t escape, we made it pretty far. We then grabbed some ice cream and just walked around, learning more about each other, and complaining about how difficult the room was. “You know, if I wasn’t so distracted by how pretty you looked, we totally could have escaped!”

           “Oh so you’re saying it’s my fault?” I giggled, taking another bite of my ice cream.

           “It is! But it’s okay, I forgive you.” He smiled as he stole a bite of my ice cream.

           “Yah!” I screamed before quickly stealing a bite from his and sticking my tongue out at him.

           “You’re lucky you’re cute.” We parted ways soon after, but I had a smile on my face the rest of the day. It was really fun and something I wasn’t expecting from these dates.

           “Would you go out with Hyunjin again?” I shook my head and Felix’s wide smile seemed to faulter. “Well moving on then!”

           The date with Jisung was the most cliché, but it was still a lot of fun! We went to the amusement park and spent the day riding all the rides and even trying our hand at the different games. I’m fairly sure I ate my weight in sweets that day, but Jisung didn’t judge, and honestly ate more than I did.

           I was nervous at first, but I was quick to fall out of that and just be myself. Jisung is someone that makes you feel comfortable being whatever kind of person you are.

           As the sun set, we finished the day off on the ferris wheel. Super cliché, but it was really cute how excited he was. So I followed him onto the ferris wheel and took in just how beautiful the amusement park looked at night time, with all the lights on and couples walking around hand in hand.

           He walked me right up to my front door and told me to have a good night. I watched as he walked away out of sight before heading inside. My feet were aching, but I couldn’t stop the smile from forming.

           “Let me guess. Still no spark?”

           “No spark.”

           “Well okay, date number 6!”

           Seungmin took me to the aquarium, and it was so much prettier than I remembered. The last time I was there, my parents took me and my older brother. I remember looking at all the pretty colours, in awe of just how pretty the fish looked.

           This time around, though I was still in awe at how pretty everything was, I was more focused on watching the little kids run around in amazement, wondering if that’s what my brother and I looked like to the adults when we came.

           Seungmin seemed really nervous the whole time, barely saying a word and instead leaving most of the talking up to me. But he didn’t seem annoyed, instead he seemed intrigued by all my stories. He shared a couple of his favourite memories about the aquarium and told me why it was his favourite place. “Let me take a picture of you!” I exclaimed at one point. “To add to your memories at your favourite place.” I think that was the moment I first saw him smile wide. It was so precious, and I would have done almost anything to see it again.

           “Oh so you’ll go to the aquarium with Seungmin but not me!?” Felix pouted and crossed his arms over his chest.

           “Yah! It was your idea that I go on these dates!” He continued to pout. “Okay fine. Let’s go to the aquarium sometime.” He smiled wide, uncrossing his arms and clapping. “You are probably the weirdest person I know.”

           “But you love me!” More than I think both of us realized. “But enough about us, what about date number 7.”

           The date with Jeongin was the most unexpected as he took me to the library. We picked out a book for the other to read, found somewhere secluded to sit, and began to read. At some point, he handed me a headphone, and we listened to music together as we quietly read.

           Every once in a while, he would do or say something that would make me laugh. It’s like he made it his mission to make me laugh as loud as possible and get us kicked out. It worked, by the way. I have no idea what he said, but I couldn’t contain my laughter, and the two of us got kicked out.

           We ended up at a quiet café just down the block and just talked. We talked about the book we were reading, about school, friends, family, past, aspirations for the future. He was the easiest to open up to. He never looked at me with a look of pity, the way others do when they find out my tragic past, and instead made a joke to lighten up the mood.

           I think I spent the longest time with Jeongin. We just kept telling stories and laughing and before we knew it, the barista was coming up to us to tell us they were closing. Neither of us even noticed it was dark out.

           “So it seems like all 7 dates were successful in one way or another.”

           “I suppose you could say that.” His professor’s words kept ringing in my mind. My whole life, I’ve believed love was something just in books and movies. I would see the couples on campus claiming to be in love, just to break up later.

           I watched my parents argue every single day before divorcing. I watched my brother fall head over heels in love with a girl who played with his feelings. A part of me wanted someone to come along and change my views on love. Show me that love can be a beautiful thing. Falling in love was a risk, and I just wanted someone to be worth the risk.

           And as I sat beside my best friend, recounting the seven dates he set me up on, I was hit with the realization that I found my person a long time ago. Felix was the person I turned to when I needed a shoulder to cry on, he was the first person I wanted to tell all good news to. When I pictured my future, he’s right there beside me.

           He was right in front of me this entire time, and I just refused to believe it. As much as I hate to admit it, his professor was right. To me, love has always equaled loss. You love someone, you lose them. Felix is the only person in my life I couldn’t lose. It would be like losing a piece of me.

           “So out of the seven of them, is there someone you’d consider going out with again?” Felix picked up his papers he previously set down on the table, no longer looking at me.

           “No.” I answered simply, completely coming to terms with the fact that I’m in love with my best friend. “They’re great guys, but I think I know someone better.” I smiled, looking down at my hands clasped in my lap.

           “You do?” Suddenly, the project he’s been working so hard on was forgotten. He looked at me, and I looked right back, admiring his soft features. I guess a part of me always knew he was the one for me, it was just waiting for the rest of me to catch up.

           “I do.” I responded, my voice barely above a whisper. “He’s the best person I know. And honestly, he’s the only person I’d consider going on a second date with.”

           “Did you go on a date I didn’t know of?” He asked, looking through all of his notes, trying to see if maybe he had missed something. Maybe he had set you up with 8 people but forgot. But there was only one name in his notes that could be a possible 8th date. A name he wrote down in case one of the others turned down this experiment. A name surrounded by question marks; his own.

           “Why is your name written down?” I asked, pointing at the notes he was looking through. “I think I’d remember going on a date with you.” I giggled, looking up at him.

           “Oh, I was just a back up. In case one of the others fell through.” I nodded, coming to that conclusion myself. But the thought of going on a date with him gave me butterflies.

           “I think for the sake of the experiment, you should see if you could be the one to prove me wrong.” He stared at me with wide eyes, obviously wondering what was going through my head. “I mean, you do know me the best. I think if you tried you could win me over.”

           “The project specifically said 7, Y/N.” I slumped back in my seat.

           “Unfortunate. Well I guess we could go on a date just because.”

           “What?” I let out a small laugh at his bewildered expression before sitting up in my seat, leaning closer to him.

           “I’m asking you out.” The words didn’t seem to register in his brain, so I continued. “I talked to your professor, and she opened my eyes. She told me that for me, love always equaled loss, so I never let myself fall in love, especially with you. Because, you’re the one person I can’t lose.” I watched as his expression changed as the words registered.

           “Are you confessing to me right now?” I chuckled as I nodded.

           “Yeah I am. I’m confessing to you right now, Felix.”

           “Holy shit.” I couldn’t help but let out another laugh. “So you’re telling me that you went on seven different dates with the seven biggest heartthrobs of our school, but you’re in love with me?” I nodded, my confidence slowly fading the longer this conversation continues. Honestly, I’m not sure why I confessed. There’s never been a moment in our years of friendship where I thought Felix could have feelings for me. There was just a part of me screaming to let him know, to confess. “Forget the project, I’m taking you out right now.” He said while throwing his papers over his shoulder.

           “Felix!” I exclaimed while laughing, looking at him now standing.

           “What? I’ve been waiting years for this! The project can wait. Right now, I’m taking the love of my life out on our first date.” I couldn’t help the smile that formed as I took his hand. His project was long forgotten as the two of us went out and did all the things we did as friends, but now there was more hand holding and a lot more kisses.

           Love isn’t as scary as it seems. With the right person, love is beautiful. And though Y/N didn’t find love with the 7 boys I set her up with, she found love. A love that at first terrified her but made her happy at the same time. Falling in love is a risk, but it’s a risk she’s finally willing to take. And as the person she fell in love with, I hereby promise to never make her regret taking that risk.

[morifinwes]

wangxian fic rec list!

aka in which i read fics, write some recs down for aamna and share them!! they're all wangxian fics and uhh @yibobibo i hope you'll like them!!

modern

wolf devours playboy bunny by @greenteafiend (5K, werewolf!lwj, getting together, idk if anyone needs to know that but there's nudity just not uhh explicit)

Lan Zhan has wanted Wei Ying as long as he has known him, and the worst part is that he thinks Wei Ying could want him back.

Too bad he could never in good conscience let himself go there—Wei Ying has a debilitating fear of all things canine, and once a month, Lan Zhan is the exact, precise thing that Wei Ying’s nightmares are made of.

Aka, Lan Zhan is a werewolf.

between the lines by @jywait (19K gaming au!!!, i'm always down for a good gaming au, lwj is the best aksks he's such a good boy)

☆yilingpatriarch☆: pls...give me some face, help me fight these monsters...I'm gonna die

Bluetooth: no.

"You have died." The screen said, and Wei Wuxian threw his hands up in frustration.

resonant frequencies by chinxe (15K, college au, fake dating au, tw mention of cheating but it's brief and no one was cheated on i promise)

In which Wei Wuxian decides that the best way to deal with being in love with Lan Wangji is to pretend to date him for three weeks.

It goes about as well as can be expected.

drift compatible by windoworwhatever (5K, poetry, fluff, drunkji, getting together, college au)

"It was just a fact of life. The sky was blue, university stipends for graduate students working in TA positions barely covered rent, bisexuals cuffed their jeans, Lan Wangji had a massive crush on Wei Wuxian, and spent his time pining and writing research papers about gay subtexts in ancient poetry."

OR

Lan Wangji is in love with Wei Wuxian, and everybody knows, except Wei Wuxian.

the bunny next door by detailsinthefabric (43K, this is mostly fluff and very light angst, and they were neighbors!!!, rabbits!!, aka wangxian's bunny children, this is... so cute i just have to rec it)

Lan Wangji did not know what he was doing. He did not know what he was going to say. He was frozen in place, puzzling over the situation. Maybe he had made the man uncomfortable, which is why he wanted to leave? But his tone had still been so friendly—maybe…

“Would…” he paused, swallowed, forced the last words to come out of his suddenly parched mouth, “would you let me pet him?”

-------------------------------------

Lan Wangji, who doesn't know how to socialize and whose icy demeanor scares everyone away, lets down all his defenses when he meets the bunny next door...oh, and also its owner, Wei Wuxian.

leading tone by silencemostofall (32K, everyone is a music student? or something like that akskk, curse fic, tw panic attacks, tw child abuse, small scene of drunkji, wwx has low self esteem, bro this was so painful to read)

The first time you touch someone you're fated to love, you leave a mark on their skin. If they will love you in return, they'll mark you where you touched them. The deeper the color, the deeper the connection.

Wei Ying has no marks at all.

public places, private thoughts by leahelisabeth (for the love of camelot) ( 8K, cherry magic au, getting together with like... immediate upgrade to fiance status, the author is wrong i crave good wangxian cherry magic aus even tho i haven't even watched cherry magic)

Wei Wuxian had heard the story of course. It had made its rounds through his high school and followed him into his college days. He didn’t think there was any possibility it was true. Virginity was a social construct, invented by creepy old men to exercise dominance over women. The idea that a simple lack of sexual activity before the age of thirty could give one magical powers was absolutely ludicrous.

Wei Wuxian believed this until the morning of his thirtieth birthday.

AKA the Wangxian Cherry Magic AU that absolutely nobody asked for.

i'd be all right (if i could see you) by @thirtysixsavefiles (16K, this was nice, i read this at 6am but it was cute, (while writing this post i must admit i don't remember anything but 6am-me said it's good))

The younger Lan brother is something of an enigma on campus; while Lan Xichen can sometimes be seen in the company of other graduate students or conducting a seminar, Lan Wangji appears to spend all his time in class or in the library. He doesn’t drink. He doesn’t smoke. He doesn’t attend social events. He doesn’t do anything for fun, as far as Wei Wuxian can tell, and it’s driving Wei Wuxian just a little bit up the wall.

Or, Wei Wuxian convinces Lan Wangji to come to a house party, and then they're assigned to the same group project. Wei Wuxian tries his best, but he is not in possession of all the facts.

axe on leg by itszero (4K, i still don't get why wwx did that but it was nice seeing him jealous for once, jealous!wwx, lwj i love you....)

Wei Wuxian pressed his face into his pillow and screamed. He paused to take a few deep breaths, partially hindered by the pillow, and listened to the sounds of Nie Huaisang slurping his iced coffee, from his seat on Wei Wuxian's desk chair.

Having caught his breath, he resumed his screaming and did not stop at the sound of his dorm room door opening.

"What's wrong with him?" He heard his brother, Jiang Cheng, ask.

The slurping stopped. "He's an idiot."

"He's always been an idiot. Why is he bothered about it now?"

"He forced Lan Wangji to go on a date," Nie Huaisang replied, shaking the ice cubes in his drink.

"Okay and…?"

"With someone else." The slurping resumed.

Wei Wuxian, in all his glorious dumbassery, convinces his boyfriend to go on a date with someone else.

these two most powerful by @stiltonbasket (4K, amnesia, wangxian with children!!!, aksksk this was adorable, dadji!!)

When Lan Wangji went to bed last night, he was alone in a tiny guest room with nothing but the howling of the wind in the mountains and his own lonely thoughts for company.

 

But when he opened his eyes in the morning, Wei Ying was asleep beside him.

 

(In which Lan Wangji loses twenty years' worth of memories after a night-hunt gone wrong, and his life as a doting father and husband continues without a hitch somehow.)

good things come to those who wait [but i ain't in a patient phase] by @cerlunas (4K, getting together, pining lwj)

Lan Wangji can't take it anymore.

 

“I love you”, he says, and god, it feels terrifying. “I’ve been in love with you for a long time.”

“Lan Zhan…” Wei Wuxian starts, but Lan Wangji doesn’t want to hear it.

He grabs his cup and drinks everything. He doesn’t know what face Wei Wuxian is making at him right now, and it’s okay. 

“Lan Zhan!” Wei Wuxian repeats louder, but it’s too late. He is already falling asleep.

Or, even after 13 years, Lan Wangji is still in love with his best friend. Maybe it's time to open up.

wei ying, will you marry m- oh my god he swallowed the ring! by selene210 (2K, marriage proposals, crack, marriage proposals but.. they go wrong)

“A ring?”

And indeed it was. The ring Lan Wangji was going to propose to Wei Ying with. That the man had now choked on.

“You swallowed it.”

“It was in my soufflé! Why did you put a ring in my soufflé Lan Zhan- oh. oh”

of glittery valentine's cards by @soft-fics (3K, valentine's day, this was adorable aksk, a-yuan best boy!!)

Lan Zhan didn't want to know what his best friend had planned for Valentine's Day; his heart would simply not be able to handle it. When his son tells him that he made Wei Ying a Valentine's Day card, though, Lan Zhan decided to bring it over anyway.

of coffee and white tea by @soft-fics (9K, fluff, lwj doesn't like coffee, wwx buys him coffee, then they switch drinks, again and again and again, the staff ships it lmao, tbh jc shouldn't have done that like wtf)

For the fourth time this week a stranger orders him a cup of coffee. Lan Wangji wonders how exactly to tell this man to stop ordering him coffee he doesn't even like. Turns out, buying the other white tea and switching drinks is not the best way to go about it

canon setting

on the importance of restraint (or lack thereof) by nixthothou (4K, in which sizhui snaps, i love that boy, no like seriously he's the best boy)

Lan Sizhui does not usually find himself in the company of Sect Leader Jiang.

Suffice to say, Lan Sizhui's feelings toward him are conflicted.

lan wangji is wei wuxian's baby by lilycs (3K, i was craving fluff while reading this, lwj my beloved, drunk!lwj)

Lan Wangji gets drunk from barely a cup of alcohol, becoming a whiny baby and asking his husband for cuddles.

one of our own by glitteringmoonlight (8K, wei wuxian & lan sect, 5+1 things, in which they learn to love him, they're all part of the wwx protection squad lead by lwj, wangxian isn't the focus but !!! THIS)

Times change, but some people remain the same.

The Lans are nothing, if not aware of this.

For one of their own, they will stand against the world.

Or, 5 times the Lans defended Wei Wuxian, and the 1 time he was there to see it happen.

so why not crack your skull when the mind swells by @greenteafiend (13K, love curse, post cql canon, curses, getting together, fluff, so much fluff, lwj tries to talk about his emotions!, lwj pov)

Lan Wangji detects the curse trying to curl through his heart meridians like smoke. A love curse, then. It must have been cast remotely somehow to have found him in his bed in Cloud Recesses. No matter. Lan Wangji crushes it easily, enveloping it in his spiritual energy, and then squeezing. Curse averted, Lan Wangji closes his eyes and goes back to sleep. He thinks no more of it.

Two days later, Wei Wuxian arrives in Cloud Recesses.

Or, Wei Wuxian is cursed to feel terrible pain when he and Lan Wangji aren’t touching.

i started from the bottom / now i'm rich by x_los (57K, time travel, fix it, jealous lwj, crack treated serious, god this is so good tho, wwx/wrh & wwx/jgs but like as a joke and it doesn't really happen, but it has its purpose!!)

“First, you get the money. Then you get the power, respect - hos come last.”

 

Wen Qing traps Wei Wuxian in the Demon Slaughtering Cave, but Wei Wuxian isn’t interested in being the beneficiary of the Wen Remnants’ noble sacrifice. His efforts to free himself accidentally send him back to the beginning of the Sunshot Campaign. Coreless but armed with demonic cultivation, knowledge of the future and his wits, Wei Wuxian takes advantage of this opportunity to come out on top of both the war and its aftermath—before either has a chance to happen—by marrying and swiftly burying the cultivation world’s worst men.

Lan Wangji is confused, hurt, and uncomfortably aroused by Wei Wuxian’s improbably elaborate series of Sect-themed bridal negligees.

lead me on through by mrsronweasley (55K, they're in love your honor, arranged marriage but they don't know to whom, basically wwx & lwj want to practice kissing which then goes beyond kissing but not the whole way y'know, lxc the best wingman tho)

"Who do you think your betrothed is?" Wei Wuxian asks, sprawling out in front of Lan Zhan and enjoying the prim thinning of his lips at the question. He shouldn't be sprawling—they're in the library, for one, and Lan Zhan is studying, for another—but he can't help himself. Wei Wuxian is a sprawler.

"I do not believe this to be of importance," Lan Zhan responds, without turning his gaze away from his book.

"What!" Wei Wuxian sits up. "How can you say that? Of course it's important! This is the person you'll be with for the rest of your life, Lan Zhan."

[therenlover]

Therenlover’s Official Fanfic Glossary!

Hey hey hey! This is the place where you can find all my up-to-date fanfics linked nicely, read about what projects I have upcoming, and learn what requests I’m taking at the moment! Cheers!

This post is massive so, for the sake of your dash, everything is under the cut

A NOTE ABOUT REQUESTS!

I will do my best to fulfill any requests I get while my ask box/requests are open! That being said, I cannot promise every request will get done, and that if they do, they’ll be done in a timely manner. I’m currently working on a long-form project that needs a lot of time and energy to come out consistently, so unless I’m doing a writing event most of my writing juice will be focused on that. That being said, if you want something ask! The worst I can possibly do is direct you towards someone else who might be able to write what you want if I cant.

If I choose not to do your request based on personal preference (it makes me uncomfy/I don’t write for the character at that time/I don’t feel I can write what you want/etc.) I will do my best to contact you and let you know! That being said, if you think your ask got buried/forgotten, feel free to message me again and let me know, but please tell me when you message me if I should be looking for a prior request.

Characters/Fandoms I will write for currently

 💙 = I’m Currently Super Inspired To Write For This Character

Marvel/X-Men

Bucky Barnes

Loki

Peter Maximoff 💙

Pietro Maximoff

Helmut Zemo 💙

Hank McCoy

Ralph Bohner 💙

Vision

American Horror Story

Tate Langdon

Kit Walker 💙

Kyle Spencer (Pre- and Post- Death)

Jimmy Darling 💙

James Patrick March 💙

Kai Anderson

Fallout 4

Nick Valentine

Hancock

Star Wars

Poe Dameron

Armitage Hux 💙

Kylo Ren/Ben Solo

Finn

Han Solo

Assorted/Random

Diarmuid Ua Duibhne - FGO

Cu Chulainn/Cu Alter - FGO

Warren Lipka - American Animals 💙

Enjolras - Les Miserables

Grantaire - Les Miserables

Gabriel - Supernatural

Imagines - REQUESTS CLOSED

Songs From Musicals Y/N Would Sing To The Evans

Characters: Tate Langdon, Kit Walker, Kyle Spencer, Jimmy Darling, James Patrick March, Kai Anderson, Peter Maximoff

Rating: T

How The Evans (+ Quicksilver) Would React To Yoplait’s New Gushers Yogurt

Characters: Tate Langdon, Kit Walker, Kyle Spencer, Jimmy Darling, James Patrick March, Rory Monahan, Kai Anderson, Peter Maximoff

Rating: T

Would The Danny Bunch Survive A Holiday With My Family?

Characters: Laszlo Kreizler, Alex Kerner, Niki Lauda, Andrea Marowski, Ernst Schmidt, Helmut Zemo

Rating: T

Headcanons - REQUESTS CLOSED

Modern! AU Armitage Hux Boyfriend Headcanons

Zemo With A Well Dress S/O Headcanons

Zemo Getting Jealous Headcanons

Oneshots - REQUESTS CLOSED

Marvel/X-Men

Helmut Zemo

One Last Night In Madripoor

Synopsis: Baron Helmut Zemo is a lonely, wanted man looking for some fun, you’re a piss-poor bounty hunter in search of a connection before leaving your life of crime behind, and fate has brought you together at a party the likes of which has never been seen before. You only have one night left in Madripoor, so why not take a chance?

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 4200~

Still Some Catching Up To Do

Synopsis: As a member of the criminal underworld, people walk out of your life all the time. Some are killed, others kill themselves, most get caught and only a couple get out of the life unscathed, disappearing into the world never to be seen again. Very few walk back in. So when your supposedly incarcerated ex-lover, the Winter Soldier, and the Falcon waltzed through your door and made you murder your boss, needless to say, you were surprised and more than a little bit pissed.

Rating: 16+

Word Count: 6800~

Nine Years Starved

Synopsis: It had been a little over nine years since Helmut Zemo lost his family, his country, and his sanity. Nine years since his last kiss. Nine years since he felt like a human man. Finally, he was ready to start over again, but first, he had to pay his penance back where it all began; Novi Grad. That’s when, by the grace of the fates, he met you.

Rating: G

Word Count: 7000~

Daddy Dearest

Synopsis: Not everyone gets lucky enough to go from being a broke college student in New York to being the sugar baby to literal royalty, but not everyone is you. Most people would be worried about messing things up or losing him to someone else, but you knew he would never find another baby just like you. Besides, you knew exactly what to do to keep him wrapped around your little finger. He may have been the daddy, but you pulled the reins.

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 8000~

In Fleeting Touches & Airy Sighs

Part One   Part Two   Part Three   Part Four

Synopsis: As a wanted man, Helmut Zemo spends most of his time jumping from place to place in the hopes of avoiding a trip back to prison. Unfortunately, that means he can’t always be home in your arms. When he is, though, in the rare moments of calm, you’re reminded of just how worth it it’s been to wait, even if that wait was only shortened by the arrival of your enemies.

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 35,700~

Two Bodies In The Rain

Synopsis: It was raining the day you finally had to admit your feelings to Helmut. You hated to tell him the way you did, under the grey skies as your blood pooled below you, but at least you knew, in the end, he had seen the real you, even just once. That was enough.

Rating: T

Word Count: 5600~

Rest

Synopsis: Living life on the lam with your escaped super-villain lover means things rarely slow down enough for a real rest. When the exhaustion starts to take its toll on you, though, he knows exactly what to do to ease the pain. He may not be a good man, but he’s a good husband when it counts.

Rating: T

Word Count: 3200~

American Horror Story

Jimmy Darling

Red Nights In Jupiter

Synopsis: At the end of another long day, you fall into bed with Jimmy Darling. The men you served throughout the day don’t matter then, nor do the coins in the mason jar by the door, or the women scheduled to attend Jimmy’s next Tupperware party. No, in that quiet darkness it’s just you and the man you love, bone-tired and happy to be home. Who could ask for more?

Rating: 16+

Word Count: 3000~

James Patrick March

Heartsick

Synopsis: When you fall ill, James is given a forceful awakening about how he’s been neglecting your needs and what he must do to prevent harm from befalling you again.

Rating: 16+

Word Count: 3700~

In Sickness And In Health

Synopsis: Normally people don’t have their wedding and funeral on the same day, but you and James don’t quite have a normal relationship, do you? Besides, you wouldn’t wanna go any other way.

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 5500~

Fallout 4

Currently Empty

Star Wars

Currently Empty

Assorted/Random

Currently Empty

Long Form Works/Series

Young Artist!Zemo AU

Chapter One: The Boy With The Easel

Synopsis: About a month into your first semester at Novi Grad’s top university, you finally meet the strange young man that you’ve taken to calling “easel boy” in the back of a bookshop. From a distance, he always seemed cold and aloof. As you get to know him, though, you realize things aren’t always what they seem.

Rating: T

Word Count: 7000~

Till Forever Falls Apart (A Peter Maximoff/Reader Series)

Chapter One: Welcome Home

Synopsis: As if getting thrown through the multiverse, trapped in an attic (albeit a cool one), mind-controlled to manipulate his grieving sister, and subsequently dragged out of Westview “for his own safety” by the FBI wasn’t enough, Peter Maximoff has now been shipped off to New York to live with a glorified baby sitter like some tragic orphan in a comic book until they find a way to get him back home. Things are not always as they seem, though, and this change might just be for the better.

Rating: T

Word Count: 2400~

Chapter Two: The Doctor Is In

Synopsis: Peter’s first few days in his new home are mostly uneventful, so he decides it’s the perfect time to dust off his running goggles and steal some shit. The building with the massive circular stained glass window seems like a great place to start! People with buildings that lavish are usually rich and weak, so what could possibly go wrong?

Rating: T

Word Count: 2800~

Chapter Three: It’s Always Been You

Synopsis: After a month of adapting to his new universe, Peter Maximoff can confidently say that he likes his new life more than his old one. Sure, he misses home sometimes, but he’s been far too busy flirting with his new roommate to spend time crying over the things he’s lost. Everything is smooth sailing until a strange journal in his roommate’s study leaves him with more questions than he knows what to do with. Now he’s on a mission to discover who he’s really living with before she has the chance to turn against him.

Rating: T

Word Count: 8600~

Chapter Four: Before You Go

Synopsis: Peter, after days of contemplation, has realized that part of him loves Y/N no matter what she is or what she’s been through. Unfortunately, he can’t find her anywhere. When she finally returns home with the intention of leaving again, Peter realizes it’s his last chance to tell her how he really feels. Will he succeed, or will he fail to be fast enough once again?

Rating: T

Word Count: 4000~

Chapter Four And A Half: Gimme Swayze

Synopsis: Now that the issue of Y/N leaving is out of the way, and Peter has finally kissed her, he falls into the motions of learning how to love someone for the first time. It’s easier than he thought it would be.

Rating: T

Word Count; 2600~

Cakes For The Evans: A Blogging And Baking Adventure!

Kai Anderson’s Disaster Cake

Hey you! If you’ve made it this far down the list, thanks for supporting me as an author! I’ll be linking my AO3 here. I post everything there shortly before I post it here, and there are some older fics there you might enjoy along the way! It’s also easier to drop comments over there and I keep them open for non-members, so give me a shout if you liked what I wrote!

I love you all, you make me so happy, and without you support I would never be motivated to write! Cheers!

[jeonfiles]

better left unsaid - jjk

genre: angst, rebounds

pairings: jungkook x reader (ft. namjoon)

warnings: arguing, alcohol, profanity, break ups, light smut, use of drugs, jungkook is a fucking dick, jungkook has major attachment issues, toxic relationships, oc cries a lot, namjoon has a heart of gold, unrequited love

synopsis: you knew you shouldnt have given him that second chance, not the third or the fourth either. no matter how much you try he always slithers his way underneath your sheets, arms wrapped around you.

word count: 2.7k

music: into your arms, so it ends?, you will fade, thinkin bout you, julia, my insecurities not yours, fuck u, goodluck, my dear i will think of you

note: uhh ive never written a y/n fic so bare with me, if u listen to the music you’ll be able to feel the story a lot more so yeah if u have time u should, not proof read

Light coming through the cracks of the blinds, making you squint your eyes when the daylight beams into your eyes, head resting on the kitchen island Looking up, you saw the clock ticking on the wall, 11:32 am.

You had stayed up till 5 am, waiting for him to come home, but seemingly, he never did. Reaching for your phone, you saw 4 missed calls from the one and only,

Jeon Jungkook, saved in your phone as “Koo <3″, Rows of messages too, all from the same contact.

Koo <3 [05:34 am]

baby pkck me up pleseee

im so wsated

Koo <3 [06.46am]

dont be mad at me jsut pick me up

i dont knw hewere the fuck i am

i love you

Koo <3 [07:31 am]

i got a rde home i’ll be home by 12

i need to talk to someone frsit

im sorry if i woke ypu dont be worried

You took a few moments to collect your thoughts, but there wasn’t much to collect. This whole thing, was a routine by now.

Standing up to make yourself a cup of coffee, you could literally not feel your own backside, you were so sore from the barstool you had been sitting on all night, and it made you groan in pain.

Two coffee cups right beside the kitchen sink, which you couldn’t bring yourself to clean up, because it was from the last time you had coffee together, which was 2 weeks ago.

The inside of the cup had a coffee crust at the top, and both your lip tint marks on the outside.

When you finish your cup of coffee while watching a bad telenovela, you go sit in your favorite chair and pull out a few books from the backpack hanging on the chair next to you, getting ready to get some studying done.

For a few seconds you imagine Jungkook hanging over your shoulder laughing at the way you write your A-s and R-s, or the way you always sign your homework at the bottom of the page.

And when you open them, there’s no one there. The only sound is from the refrigerator, making refrigerator noises.

You had met Jungkook 3 years ago, when you were at college orientation, senior year of high school. He also wanted to attend Yonsei, just like you.

And when he whispered to you about how bored he was, you couldn’t help but giggle, and then you got yelled at.

It was worth it though, because everyone was jealous of you afterwards,the  Jeon Jungkook had talked to you.

Jungkook was an all-rounder as they called it; great physique, intelligent, charismatic and great at sports.

And god, he had a beautiful face, and such a filthy mouth, and it didn’t go long before you gave in to his seductive ways and slept with him. The morning after, he wasn’t in bed with you, and your heart sank.

Luckily, he was in the kitchen making you breakfast.

It was all bliss from there, showering you with love, gifts and kisses for two years, and you even ended up moving in together.

And now? You barely remember what he sounds like, smells like and is like.

A distant memory, just as distant as him.

Your train of thought was suddenly interrupted as you heard 3 knocks on your door. The exact same way he had always knocked when he had forgotten (or lost) his keys.

And even though you should have let him suffer a little, you rushed to the door to open it, and in front of you, was your biggest nightmare.

It was your love, crying his eyes out, bleeding from one of many cuts on his face, looking nearly dead. He collapsed into your arms, and you could only utter a few words, along the lines of:

“How could you do this to us?”

As he was laying curled up in a ball on the couch, face plastered up, ice bag on his knee, wrapped up in a blanket, you realized. this was your que to cry.

So, you did. You cried in silence, sitting across the room from him. You weren’t mad at him for coming home late, or getting in another fight, probably the 5th just these past months, you had gotten used to that by now.

There was a whole other reason that made you cry.

He smelled like Victorias Secret Bombshell, you recognized the scent because it used to be your favorite,  however, now you’ve moved onto something less sweet, and more elegant, like Caroline Herrera.

He smelled like someone who wasn’t you, his girlfriend.

He smelled like another girl.

It didn’t hurt as much as you thought it would. Maybe because the Jungkook that had come home to you that morning wasn’t your Jungkook.

Your Jungkook was varsity jackets, star of the american football team (which your school was known for), selfless and humorous, and he would always take care of you.

Your Jungkook was not ungroomed hair, cigarettes and worsening grades. He was not cold and lifeless, and he would never make you cry.

Despite this, you were carding your fingers though his hair, thumb wiping away the blood on his lips while he was sound asleep as you slowly fell asleep next to him.

Maybe it was time to let him go. 

Maybe.

You woke a few hours later from your phone vibrating.

Kim Namjoon (school) [07:01 pm]

Hey Y/N! Have you started working on the statistics assignment?

If you haven’t, would you be interested in meeting at the library tomorrow? You’re really smart and i’m kinda struggling ://

You [07:03 pm]

i finished it yesterday, but if you buy me coffee i’ll come help you hehe

Kim Namjoon (school) [07:04 pm]

You’re the best, I’ll bring you a machiatto!! :D

Maybe it would be nice for you to get out of the house, even though you hate the thought of it, and you would much rather just swim in your own sorrow.

But you did go out the next day, and you helped Namjoon get a decent grade, enough to pass with good margines, he thanked you by taking you out for ramen at a convenial store not too far away.

You thanked him for the ramen with a trip to the museum, and he thanked you for the museum trip with a picnic in the park at night, which led you to crying over Jungkook in his embrace, telling him every single little detail.

He made you realize it was time to let Jungkook go and make room for new people to enter your life.

You went home that night, and you found Jungkook passed out on the couch, and you could genuienly feel your chest tighten. Soft features which stood out under the moonlight glow, disheveled brown locks which hung down in his eyes.

He was gorgeous, until you saw the credit card on the table next to three bottles of soju and an empty beer can on the floor. And you knew what he had used the credit card for, though you didn’t want to say it out loud.

You cleaned everything up, and you threw the residue of the white powder right in the trash can, and you recycled his bottles and cans before finally, nudging him to wake up.

“Jungkook, wake up.” You spat coldly, or at least you attempted to.

He groaned, rubbing his eyes before opening his eyes, and s huge smile on his face. “Y/N, you’re home!” He reached to kiss you, but you backed away.

“Y/N?” Jungkook questioned, he didn’t quite understand what your intentions were.

“Don’t try anything Jungkook. This was your last chance, and you fucked it up, again.” The room turned ice cold. “I’m getting you help Jungkook, you need help. And then...”

He understood what kind of help you meant, and since he had now sobered up, he agreed, nodding. “And then...?” 

“And then.” Your words were ludged in your throat. “And then I’m leaving you.”

His whole face dropped, smile turned into the frowniest frown you had ever seen, and it was all silent before his lower lip starts trembling, and his eyes start turning glassy.

“It’s alright. Sorry for burdening you.” Was all he could say before tears rushed down his cheeks, and he started shaking.

So you did what you always had done, and you wrapped your arms around him, head resting on your chest as he sobbed.

“Is there anyone else?” he cried out before another wave of sobs hit him.

This exact question made your stomach hurt, and your throat burn. You really had no idea.

Or you did, but you didn’t want to.

You loved Jungkook so much, but you couldn’t be with him in this state. So you did what every rational person would do in this situation.

“Yeah.”

You lied.

“Oh ok. I don’t have the right to be mad do I?”

You shake your head no.

“I love you Y/N. I’m sorry I’m so messed up.”

“It’s ok.” was all he said before he fell asleep in your arms again.

That night you slither your way out of his embrace and you pack your suitcase in the dark, bringing all your essentials, trying to be as quiet as possible so you didn’t wake Jungkook.

Packing enough for two weeks or so, you make the bed and leave your t-shirt “accidentally” in the bathroom, and you make sure all his clothes are folded, and then you sort his pencil case, throwing out old pens and worn out erasers.

You leave a grocery list on the counter, and you tuck him in good under the blankets after you took his jeans and socks off so he could sleep comfortably.

You placed his vitamins and medicine by the refrigerator so he’ll see it when he goes to grab something to eat. 

Puffed up pillows, a pair of sweatpants, t-shirt and underwear is now placed neatly on his bed. Then you walk into the kitchen again, and you see Jungkook still sound asleep, sniffling a little still.

There’s one last thing, and it makes you cry. It makes you sob so loud you cover your mouth and muffle the sound you make. Sinking to the floor, your whole body is in contact with the cold tiles.

Only a year ago you could never imagine yourself even shedding a single tear over something as small as this, but here you were, on the edge of a panic attack.

Two worn out, matching couple mugs still placed by the counter. one if the first things you two had bought together, as well as the necklace hanging around your neck.

Finally, you stopped crying and started cleaning the mugs, lip trembling as you dried them and placed them in the back of the cabinet.

You unhooked your necklace and laid it down on the counter, and the biggest lump formed in your throat.

Actually, there’s a little detail you forget. 

You kiss Jungkook on the forehead and leave a note on the coffee table.

“Dear Jungkook,

If you want to make this up to me (this does not mean a new chance!!) you call the number at the bottom of the page. No matter what happens, I’ll always have room for you in my heart. You even have your own little VIP lobby in there. And - if it’s urgent, call. I still care for you, and I always have. You were the best boyfriend I’ve had, but good things always come to and end, don’t they? Anyways, I’m tired so this letter fucking sucks, but deep down you know how much I love you. Remember to get groceries, shower, get fresh air and study. If I forgot something you can keep it, as long as you call the number and tell them you’re my friend. They’ll help you love. Try and get a part time job too, your student loan and your dad’s money won’t last forever. Good luck Koo. Hwaiting!!

-L/N Y/N <33″

You cringe when you think of the letter’s contents, before you roll out your suitcase out of the front door, whispering a faint “Goodnight Love.” as you close and lock the door behind you.

Standing by the elevator, you cry again. This time, louder, but you still reach for your phone and type out a text to the newly edited contact in your phone.

You [02:13 am]

coming outside now, im a crying mess and im super cold, is your car heated?

sorry for making you wait btw :((

Joonie <3 [02:13 am]

dont worry about the crying part, i’ll hold you. and yeah car is heated, so waiting here wasnt all that bad. you ready for this?

You  [02:14 am]

i have no idea but i cant stay here any longer and i trust you sooo

lets start our new chapter. eh?

4 months later...

He had been good to you, great even.

You had been on expensive dates, picnics, had heart to heart conversations, and he’d been so understanding.

Today, it was your 2 month anniversary, and he had asked you on a magnificent date, which he had planned every second of.

At the end of the day, you told him how you don’t love him. He said it was alright. Namjoon loved you, so much, yet he understood you needed time.

You went to sleep that day, warm in Namjoon’s embrace, wondering how Jungkook was doing. 

You felt bad, but you missed Jungkook.

You were both with someone new now, and you knew he was in good hands with someone stable enough to care for him.

Before your eyes closed shut, you shed a few quiet tears and hoped that you’d fall in love with Namjoon soon, and deep down you knew you would.

[chaos-burst]

direction to perfection

Dorian fought his parents to be here.

He fought tooth and nail to be allowed to live in a dorm, so there is no way he can back down from this decision. It’s his first shot at freedom and being normal and doing something for himself instead of his family.

Dorian will not back down.

He will persevere.

“Harder, come on!”

Loud moaning and the creaking of an old mattress accompany the dull thudding that comes from inside of his room. The room he’s currently standing in front of.

“I’m so close, so close, so close—“

Dorian stares at the door. His face is hot and he stands frozen in place as he tries to decide what to do. He needs his lute for the next bard class. He also needs to be far away from this room.

Gods, most of all he needs a new roommate.

“Oh, fuck, just like that—ah—“

Dorian closes his eyes and hides his face in his hands.

He was so proud after he finally convinced his parents to let him stay here. When he first entered his room he wasn’t even concerned about how small it was, or how his roommate’s bed was so close to his that stretching both their arms out would result in them touching hands.

And then he met Dariax, the guy he’s supposed to be living with for a long time.

“Dorian, are you literally standing here listening to Dariax bang someone inside of your room?”, Opal’s voice reaches his ears and he turns his head to look at her. She must see the desperation on his face because the next moment she gives him a pointed look before hammering her fist on the door.

“What the fuck, guys! Rent a room! And hurry up, Dorian needs his stuff!”

Dorian feels mortification creep from his face down into his stomach as he hears a loud thump, a shriek and a curse. The fact that Dariax knows that Dorian has been standing here makes him go through the five stages of grief so quickly that he can feel his insides churn.

Opal turns to face him and gives him a stern stop-putting-up-with-this look before she stalks away, twirling her dagger in her hand.

Dorian wishes it were that easy to voice what he wants.

To be sure of himself.

To live unashamed and free.

Sadly, his current repertoire covers none of these things.

The door gets yanked open and Dorian finds himself face to face with a white, half-elven woman wrapped in a bed sheet, her hair a complete and utter, blonde mess, her purple lipstick smeared across her left cheek.

“I was so close!”, she hisses as she holds up her index finger and thumb to indicate the fact that Dorian just ruined her earth-shattering orgasm.

“I—uh. I’m so—“

“Dorian! Gosh, I’m so sorry, I forgot that you had class, buddy!”

The half-elven woman throws Dorian the nastiest stink-eye and rushes down the corridor in nothing but the bedsheet wrapped around her. Dorian has no idea why she would do that, but Dariax distracts him.

Dariax, who is completely naked, his lips covered in purple lipstick, his cheeks flushed and his hair standing up from his head.

For decency, he’s holding a bottle of wine to cover his crotch.

Dorian wishes the floor would open up and swallow him whole.

“I—uh. Sorry to disturb the—ah. Fun? I just. I just need to grab my lute real quick”, he says weakly, rushes over to his bed and grabs the lute leaning against the wall beside it.

“Oh, don’t worry about it, buddy, I’ll just go jack off in the shower, it’s no biggie.”

Dorian stares at Dariax who grins at him, as if that was a perfectly normal thing to say to someone in this situation.

“Sure. Have fun”, he croaks, his cheeks still flaming, and flees out of the room and down the hallway.

Dorian fought so hard to be here but gods, he wishes he were somewhere else right now.

The class he’s attending is one of his favorites—one that covers Bardic Inspiration as a form of self-expression, but it takes him a while to cool down from the mortifying ordeal of having Dariax as his roommate.

They’ve been living together for almost three months now and it’s not like it’s all bad.

Hell, Dorian likes Dariax.

He’s funny, doesn’t take himself too seriously, he tells ridiculous, entertaining stories and is loyal to a fault. But he’s also extroverted in a way that makes Dorian go insane. There is no moment of silence when Dariax is in the room—because Dariax hates silence. He also brings back so many different people to their room without asking Dorian first. Not all of them are Dariax’ lovers—at least not as far as he knows.

But they’re always loud, always messy and always completely oblivious to Dorian’s social cues.

Opal keeps ranting about how Dorian needs to reinforce his boundaries, but Dorian has no idea how to do that. Never in a million years would he bang on the door of his room if he knows that Dariax is having sex in there. Opal is always so loud and unapologetic about everything—Dorian envies her for it.

Dorian has never kissed anyone. Or had sex. Or anything in between these things. How the fuck both Dariax and Opal know exactly what they like and who they like is beyond him.

“Excuse me, is this seat taken?”, a soft voice says right next to him and Dorian is ripped out of thoughts and into reality. The class has been going for an hour and there’s someone standing next to him he’s never seen before.

She’s definitely some sort of fey—the whole lower half of her body is goat-like and her long ears are drooping. The amount of ribbons her dress is supporting is truly astounding and there is a whole crown of poisonous flowers on top of her head that she wears like a crown. Dorian blinks before catching himself.

“Ah—no. Please”, he says and gestures at the empty chair next to him.

The faun sits down carefully and watches as she carefully places a panflute on her thighs.

“Which bard college do you specialize in?”, Dorian asks.

“Hm? Oh, I’m not a bard. I’m majoring in druid. I just like to make music”, she answers with a smile.

Dorian never considered just taking classes that have nothing to do with his major. Maybe it would be something his parents would disapprove of even more than they did of his bard major and his choice to sleep in a dorm.

“I’m Fearne, by the way”, she adds and nods her heads slightly. A single leaf falls from her head and onto her panflute.

“Dorian”, he answers. Fearne smiles at him.

“You have very pretty hair”, she says.

“Oh. Ah—thank you? You—you too. Your hair, I mean. It’s—uh. Very green.”

Fearne’s smile widens.

“Thank you!”, she says in a tone that suggests that this might be the compliment she’s ever received. Dorian on the other hand wishes he could bite off his tongue. Your hair is very green. What kind of compliment is that? It’s no wonder that he didn’t have any chance to kiss anyone yet if this is all that he can come up with.

Dorian turns around and tries to concentrate on the professor’s lecture but his mind keeps wandering. He takes only a few notes and as he looks over at Fearne he sees that she’s doodling all sorts of mushrooms into her notebook. Then there is a small screech coming directly from her bag.

The class falls silent and everyone turns to look in their direction.

“What was that?”, professor Brooke asks with a confused look on his face. “I don’t remember any familiar registrations for this class.”

Dorian looks at Fearne who turns her head to look around at all the people staring in their direction.

“That was just me”, Fearne says and points to herself. “I ate too much pudding for breakfast.”

Professor Brooke looks embarrassed and very apologetic.

“I’m sorry, dear. Let’s continue then.”

As the lecture continues, Dorian leans over to Fearne.

“Didn’t that come out of your bag?”, he wants to know. Fearne shoots him a sly smile and gently lifts the flap of her green bag. Dorian stares at a small monkey peeking up at him with weirdly glowing eyes. Then the monkey raises his index finger to his mouth as if trying to tell Dorian to shut up.

Fearne closes the bag.

“That’s just Little Mister. He’s my… friend.”

“I see”, Dorian says.

He supposes that this is what he left home for—to meet all sorts of people, learn about all kinds of different things that he would never get in touch with while under his parents’ wings.

So Dorian decides to simply accept that some people are friends with monkeys and carry them around in bags.

If he can manage to live with someone like Dariax, he sure as hell won’t judge someone for bringing an animal companion to class.

After another fifteen minutes, Fearne leans over to Dorian again.

“I don’t understand this concept that the professor is talking about.”

“Oh, they explained it in the first half hour, before you got here.”

“Oh, I see. I was late”, Fearne says and looks disappointed, as if she was only now realizing this.

“Uh—yeah. Like, half an hour.”

“Time is kind of hard, you know. It’s like—it’s like this weird soup. And I don’t think I really have it memorized how to read clocks.”

Dorian stares at her.

“So. Are you not from here?”, he asks and groans internally at his phrasing. Fearne doesn’t seem to mind, though. She nods gratefully as Dorian pushes over his notes so she can look at them.

“No, not really. I come from the Feywild. We don’t really have clocks.”

“Because… time is a weird soup.”

“Yeah, exactly. Is that a saying here, too?”, she asks, her ears turning towards him full of excitement.

“Ah—no. I don’t think it is. Not here, at least.”

“Well, now you know it.”

Dorian nods and watches as Fearne studies his notes to copy some of them down into her notebook. He tries to imagine a world without clocks and immediately gets anxious at the prospect of always being late.

In the last twenty minutes of the lecture, they actually get to play their instruments.

“You play beautifully”, Fearne says after listening to Dorian play for a few minutes.

“Thank you! Your music is really different from what I know. It’s interesting.”

Fearne beams at him.

“Maybe we could make some music together some time?”, she asks.

“I would like that, yeah.”

*

Dorian isn’t bad at making friends, he’s just not as good or fast at it as Dariax. Maybe that’s because he’s a little more selective about the people he hangs out with, but Dariax just seems to consider everyone he talked to more than once his friend.

Dorian never really had friends growing up, so he doesn’t consider himself an expert. But at least for him Dariax’ way doesn’t seem to be all that great.

So when Dariax asks: “Hey, do you wanna come hang out with me and my friends tonight?” Dorian feels less than inclined to say yes.

“Uh—I already have plans”, he lies, trying to figure out if he should try to convince Opal to spend the evening with him or if he should just take this opportunity to have some peace and quiet in his room.

“Aw, man. Too bad. We wanted to go skinny dipping in the gym’s pool”, Dariax says.

“Isn’t that off limits at night?”, Dorian asks, his brow furrowed as he looks at Dariax’ face that breaks into a wide grin.

“Yeah, that’s why it’s fun to go there”, he answers and winks at Dorian. Dorian feels his cheeks grow hot and swallows as his intestines suddenly feel the need to writhe around like living snakes.

“Oh, well—I’m not really a—uh. A rebel boy, as they say”, he says and laughs nervously. “You go and have fun, though.”

He tries not to picture Dariax completely naked in the dim, shimmering light of the campus’ pool but he fails miserably. His palms start sweating.

“Oh, don’t worry, I will, I will. But hey, maybe next time!”

“Uh—yeah. Maybe”, Dorian says weakly as Dariax saunters out of their room and closes the door behind him. Dorian stares at the locked door for way too long and he’s endlessly glad that no one can see him.

This doesn’t seem like a normal thing to invite someone to. When he went to college to learn how to be a bard, he envisioned parties, maybe some illegal weed smoking on a restricted rooftop, at the most.

He did not envision to be asked to get butt naked, break into a gym with a pool at night and go swimming with a bunch of—probably drunk—strangers he doesn’t even know the names of.

That was, of course, before he got Dariax as a roommate.

Now Dorian feels like he should be prepared for anything.

As Dorian grabs his lute and sinks down onto his bed he wonders if Fearne lives on campus or if she lives in the Feywild and somehow manages to travel here for every class that she has. That would explain the time thing, he supposes, because he learned that time works differently on other planes.

This is the first evening in what feels like weeks that he has the room just to himself. In between the pieces he plays on his lute he simply sits on the bed, enjoying the silence. When he opens the window the cool breeze from outside reminds him of home and he closes his eyes for a little while.

It smells like rain and autumn outside. Dorian turns to look at the small room that’s his now. It’s nothing compared to the big, bright room he had at home, but it feels special simply because this is the first time he gets to do what he wants with a space without anyone breathing down his neck.

There’s not much in the room aside from their desks, beds and the closet they share, but Dorian pinned a few posters and postcards over his bed for the very first time. His bed is unmade—something that his parents would have never allowed—and there are fairy lights dangling from the ceiling that he actually picked out himself.

The desk is covered in sheet music and books and for a few seconds Dorian looks at the small picture of his brother and himself that is sticking to his pencil holder, before turning his gaze at some of the articles he printed out yesterday.  

He might actually get some homework done in this blessed quiet.

At least that’s what he thinks until his phone rings.

At some point Dariax must’ve stolen Dorian’s phone and taken a selfie to make it pop up every time he calls Dorian, because as his phone lights up Dorian can see Dariax’ dopey smile appear. Dorian ignores the rush of heat he feels as he looks down at the glowing display, reaches for his phone and picks up the call.

“Dariax?”

“Dorian, hey buddy!”

He definitely sounds drunk, which doesn’t surprise Dorian. But there’s an edge to his voice that makes Dorian nervous.

“What’s up, Dariax?”

“I—uh. Remember how I told you that we were going to go skinny dipping in the gym and everything?”

“Yeah, I haven’t forgotten. It was like, three hours ago.”

“Cool, yeah. So the guys—“, and Dorian wonders who exactly ‘the guys’ are supposed to be, “were in a real funny mood. So. They stole my clothes and locked me in here—“

“They what?”

“I know, right? So… I tried to break open the lock, but I might be a little too drunk to get it right. And I was wondering—could you maybe bring me some clothes and get that door open for me?”

Dorian stares out into the night.

“How do you have your phone if they took all your stuff?”, he asks weakly.

“Had it with me in the pool to take some underwater selfies. It’s waterproof”, Dariax supplies cheerfully.

Dorian can see lights in the buildings all over campus and a crescent moon in the sky. He tries not to imagine what kind of pictures Dariax was trying to take of himself. Naked. In a pool.

“You want me to break open a door”, he repeats, just in case he misheard.

“I mean, kinda? Maybe? I really don’t wanna sleep in here. I slept in worse places, but it seems kinda shitty to wake up and immediately get into trouble for trespassing and all of that…”

Dorian isn’t sure if he wants to know in what kind of places Dariax has slept that count as worse as a college gym’s pool.

“But I guess I could just sleep in the showers or something.”

“I don’t really know how to get locks open”, Dorian sighs, but he’s already walking over to their shared closet. In theory, Dariax’ half is on the left, but he insists on just throwing all of his clothes in there without actually caring about which side they land on, so Dorian grabs some jeans, a hoodie and some underwear and stuffs it into his bag. He tries very hard not to look at the underwear too closely.

Dariax might not know what privacy is but that doesn’t mean that Dorian has to stoop down to the same level as his roommate.

“Fine. I’ll see what I can do”, he huffs.

“Aw, fuck yeah, you’re the best. I lo—“

“Bye”, Dorian calls and hangs up hastily before Dariax can finish.

His dreams of a quiet night dissipate into smoke as he throws the bag over his shoulder, grabs his keys, his jacket and his phone and leaves the room to head towards the gym.

Dorian, never in his life, has tried to open a lock with anything other than the key that was supposed to go into it. He doubts that he would manage to learn it in the heat of a moment so as he walks through the night, passing under a lantern every few steps he takes, he considers what he can do to get a locked door to open.

He is not strong enough to pry it open.

He has never learned how to do that trick with a credit card and isn’t sure if it would even work on this door even if he knew how.

There is no spell he knows that would be useful to open a door.

The only thing Dorian is good at is music and talking to people.

He makes his decision as he heads for the closest security guard patrolling campus at night.

“Excuse me, hi”, he says with the most honest and simultaneously nervous smile he can muster. The young man looks him up and down and seems to come to the conclusion that Dorian is worthy of his attention because his body turns towards him and offers a small smile back. He’s white withshort, brown hair, a long nose and arms full of tattoos.

“Can I help you?”, he asks.

“Well—this is so embarrassing. I—uh. I was in the gym earlier and I forgot my phone in there and my girlfriend wanted to call me tonight and I—uh. I already missed the last call so…”

He trails off as he tries to looks as bashful and stressed as he can—something that isn’t hard because Dorian still has to think about how Dariax is naked and probably dripping wet and how they’re most likely going to get into so much damn trouble.

“Oh wow, that sucks”, the security guard says and Dorian nods.

“Yeah, I’m—this is so dumb, I know you have better things to do, but… If you could just let me sneak in there for a minute and grab my phone? That would be a total life-saver, man”, he says and brings his hands up in front of his chest in a pleading gesture.

“Well, I guess we can make an exception. Don’t want to be the cause for trouble in paradise, right?”, he answers with a smile and Dorian forces himself to laugh.

“Thanks so much, I’ll drop off some cookies next time I see you around”, Dorian says and the security guard chuckles and makes a joke about bribery that Dorian doesn’t actually find funny but laughs about anyway. Since he officially ‘lost’ his phone he has no idea how to let Dariax know what his plan is.

All Dorian can do is hope that Dariax isn’t standing right behind the door butt-naked. Dorian supposes that he could always claim not to know him then—something that would only hold up for so long.

They walk towards the gym and Dorian can feel his heartbeat picking up.

What if he gets suspended? Kicked out? Sent home?

When they arrive in front of the gym everything is silent. Dariax is not banging on the door from the inside, calling Dorian’s name. Dorian decides to take that as a win as he nervously watches the guard fiddle for the master-key before opening the door.

“So, where did you leave your phone?”, the guard asks him and Dorian looks around hastily to see if he can spot Dariax anywhere.

“Uh—over on the benches, I’ll be right back!”, he says with an apologetic smile before rushing through the gym and towards the benches on the other side of the building.

“Dariax!”, he hisses into the darkness towards the corridor that leads to the locker-room and the pool.

“Hey bu—“

“Pscht. There’s a guard there. I had him open the door, you have to sneak out!”

Dorian starts crouching down on the floor and drops his bag so Dariax can reach it. He’s peaking his head out of the dark corridor and Dorian hopes that the security guard doesn’t spot him as he reaches his arm out towards the bag with Dariax’ clothes inside it.

“Did you find it?”, the guard calls over and Dorian can hear his footsteps coming closer. He hastily fishes for his phone and slides it under one of the benches.

“Not yet, it’s pretty dark in here”, he says. The rustling in the corridor next to him tells him that Dariax is hastily getting dressed.

“I have a flashlight, one sec”, the guard says and crouches down next to Dorian who feels bad for lying to the poor guy. He’s so friendly and forthcoming—Dorian decides that he actually has to get this man some cookies.

“Oh, there it is!”, he says and points to the left as the light of the torch reaches his phone.

“I’m afraid my arms too short to reach that”, the guard says and scoots back so Dorian can extent his arm and grab his phone. He tries hard not to look behind him to check if Dariax already made it out or not. He gets up, stuffs the phone into his pocket and dusts off his pants before turning towards the guard with an embarrassed smile.

“Man, thank you so much, this is really clutch.”

“No problem. I hope it works out with your girlfriend”, he answers and leads Dorian back towards the door.

“Thanks. If I see you again I’ll keep you posted!”

They step outside into the cool night air and Dorian can’t see Dariax anywhere. His heart is still beating rapidly in his chest and his palms are terribly sweaty. He wipes them off on his pants and decides that he needs a hot shower and his warm bed after this terrible disaster. His body feels as if he just ran a marathon.

So much for a quiet, peaceful night.

As soon as the guard leaves Dorian looks around frantically. If Dariax didn’t make it outside, there’s no way Dorian can convince this guy to open the gym up again without telling him the truth—something Dorian desperately does not want to do.

“Hey, over here!”

Dorian turns around and sees Dariax waving out of one of the bushes. His hair is wet and sticking to his forehead, his face is flushed and his eyes glassy, but he has a wide, reckless smile on his face that makes Dorian’s heart leap into his throat and press on his windpipe.

“What the fuck, man?”, Dorian hisses as he walks over to Dariax who gets up now, slightly swaying on his feet. There are some yellow leaves stuck in his auburn hair.

“Damn, buddy, that was awesome! You seriously have a velvet tongue, how did you even do that?”

“I asked nicely. What the actual fuck, Dariax? Why did your friends think that was a good idea?”

Dariax looks at him sheepishly and shrugs.

“Ah—to tell you the truth, I don’t know.”

“Sounds like they were fucking you over”, Dorian says and starts walking back towards the dorm. Some fine mist hangs between the trees, which look mostly black except for those who reach into the light of the street lamps. The orange and brown colored leaves remind Dorian of Dariax’ hair.

“Yeah. Sounds like it, huh.”

Dariax is quiet after that, something which Dorian, for some reason, finds even more disturbing than hearing Dariax’ sex-noises through a locked door.

“You okay?”, he asks after two minutes of walking in silence.

Dariax turns to look at him and the smile that appears on his face doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Yeah, sure. You know how it is, people just fuck you over. That’s how it works, I guess.”

“It doesn’t have to work like this”, Dorian says, his brow furrowed and his hands itchy to reach out and tussle Dariax’ wet hair for comfort. He doesn’t even know if Dariax wants to be comforted. Or wants to be comforted by Dorian specifically.

Dorian doesn’t even know why he feels the need to comfort Dariax, seeing as to how it’s his own fault for getting into such a situation in the first place.

“Hm, maybe. But I guess you showed up to save the day”, Dariax says, looking at Dorian thoughtfully.

“Yeah, I didn’t fuck you over”, Dorian agrees and holds open the door for them as they reach the dorm.

“Yeah. You didn’t. Thanks, buddy. I owe you one.”

*

The security guard’s name is Orym, he knows Fearne from taking some druid classes on the side on top of his fighter classes and he enjoys blueberry muffins.

“So, how did it go with your girlfriend?”, he asks while chewing on the muffin that Dorian handed him a few moments ago.  

“We broke up”, Dorian replies with a gravelly voice and Orym pulls a face.

“I’m sorry, man.”

“Don’t worry about it. Thanks again for helping me with my phone.”

“It’s no problem at all. Thank you for this muffin.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll see you around.”

*

Dorian is pleased to find that the steady trickle of loud people that Dariax used to invite to their room before is thinning. He still goes out drinking and partying a lot, and he still has guests over to play Mario Kart or some horrible drinking game, but overall Dorian’s having more peace and quiet than ever before since he moved into this room with Dariax.

On a Wednesday night Dariax is sprawled out on his bed flipping through his phone. Dorian wonders if he’s going through his contacts, considering whom to call on for some. Well. Drinking or sex, probably.

Dorian hopes it’s not sex. And if it is sex, then for sex that is supposed to happen far away from here.

“How come you never go out?”, Dariax wants to know.

Dorian looks up from the sheet music he’s working on. He’s humming along quietly as he writes down, erases, writes down again and corrects the song he’s trying to write. He finds that he actually likes working in companionable silence, even though he didn’t think this would be possible with Dariax as his roommate a few weeks ago.

Dariax doesn’t seem to mind not talking as long as there is some sort of sound in the room—and Dorian’s humming apparently counts.

“How do you mean? I go out all the time”, Dorian says and looks up from his paper, cocking his head to regard Dariax who’s head is now hanging off of the side of the bed so he looks back at Dorian upside down.

“Yeah but like, partying. Drinking. College stuff, you know. You just hang out with the scary lady and she seems to like partying.”

“First of all, her name’s Opal. And I guess she can be kind of scary, but only if you’re a dick. And second of all, I hang out with other people! I met this very nice faun in my bard class and we’re making music from time to time. And—I don’t know. Partying is just not. Uh... It’s just not...”

Dorian sighs and leans against the wall behind him. The room is so scrappy that some of the wallpaper is coming down in little flakes in some places. He absentmindedly starts picking at his pillow.

“I never really went to parties before coming here. It’s just. I don’t know. New. I’m not like you. You know, with all the drinking and partying and—and uh. Sex. I guess.”

He can feel his ears burning and his cheeks heating up as he mumbles the end of his sentence. Dariax blinks at him and drops his phone on his face.

“Ow, fuck—okay. Wait. Are you saying that you’re a party-virgin and an actual virgin?”

“Oh come on, man, why do you have to say it like that? I’ve been to parties! But not—you know? College parties! And I never really drank alcohol before. It seems... I don’t know. Shifty.”

“Shifty”, Dariax repeats and a shit-eating grin spreads over his face, lighting up his eyes with a shimmer of mischief that Dorian finds very disconcerting.

“So you are a virgin.”

Dorian throws his pencil at Dariax and misses.

“So what? There’s nothing wrong with being a virgin! We can’t all walk around like you sleeping with people left and right!”

Dariax chuckles, obviously pleased with himself.

“Very true, I’m one of a kind. So, okay. But you kissed people, right?”, he wants to know.

“Why is that even relevant?”, Dorian hisses. He decides to throw his pillow next and Dariax almost falls off the bed trying to dodge it as he laughs.

“It’s not, I’m just curious! You’re always super uptight and mysterious, I know shit all about you and you’ve basically seen me banging someone at least twice!”

Dorian tries and fails to keep his poise as he flails his arms around.

“I could’ve lived happily without having seen any of that!”

“So that means you never kissed anyone?”, Dariax asks again, his grin wide and his eyebrows offensively wiggling. Dorian wishes he had some sort of cake that he could press Dariax’ face into.

“No, never. Are you happy now?”

“Would you like to kiss someone?”, Dariax wants to know and leans forward on the bed. He seems to have decided that sitting upright is the better choice in case Dorian decides to throw something else at him.

“I—I mean. I don’t know? I haven’t found the right person to kiss yet!”

“Ah, you’re one of those guys”, Dariax says with a wise nod that drives Dorian up the walls.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know? Like a romantic. True love and shit.”

“I wouldn’t—I. I haven’t really thought about it much. It’s not that important to me.”

Dariax pulls a face and nods, as if he understands perfectly what it means to not much care about kissing, sex or relationships. Dorian doubts that he actually understands with the frequency in which he drags people into his bed.

“I guess it’s not bad to wait for someone special”, Dariax concedes with a lopsided smile. “My first kiss was a total disaster, I didn’t know what I was doing at all and the dude told me it was like kissing a bowl of rice pudding.”

Dorian stares at him.

“That’s such a horrible thing to say”, he answers and Dariax shrugs.

“Yeah, I guess. He could’ve been nicer about it.”

Dorian’s brain is reeling.

Dariax had his first kiss with a guy. Dariax doesn’t only like women.

“Oh gods, I wish you hadn’t told me”, Dorian groans and presses the palms of his hands on his eyes until he sees little, colorful specs dancing on the inside of his eyelids. “What if I kiss someone I actually like and it turns out to be a completely terrible?”

He lowers his hands and stares at Dariax who stares back at Dorian with an intensity that surprises him.

“I mean. I guess you could just practice”, Dariax says.

“Oh yeah, sure. I’ll ask the first random person I meet in the hallway—“

“I would do it. Practice with you, I mean.”

Dorian blinks. He can feel the heat rising in his face and knows that his cheeks are turning purple.

“I—uh. That’s. Well. That’s very kind of you. But I’ll—I guess I’ll just figure it out on my own.”

Dorian chuckles nervously and glances back at Dariax who looks at him for a second longer before flopping back down onto his bed.

“Sure thing, buddy”, he says quietly and it’s probably just Dorian’s imagination that he sounds a bit disappointed.

*

“Dorian. Hey, Dorian!”

Dariax’ voice cuts through a dream about flying through space naked and Dorian opens his eyes. He is met with darkness and turns his head over to look towards Dariax’ side of the room. It takes a few seconds for his eyes to adjust and the confusion and sleep to drain out of him.

“Huh?”

“Hey, sorry. I—uh. I kinda had—I kinda had a nightmare?”

“Sorry to hear that”, Dorian rasps and rubs at his eyes, “was it the one about the giant dwarven woman again?”

“Ah, no. Not this time. I—uh. Do you mind maybe just… I don’t know. Talking to me a little? Or, ah—humming? I would scoot over but your bed is probably a bit too small”, Dariax rambles and laughs nervously.

Dorian is too tired to get flustered about the prospect of cuddling with his roommate.

“You can scoot over. But don’t hog the blanket”, he mumbles and makes room in his tiny bed, pressing his back against the wall and lifting his blanket up, his eyes already falling shut again.

“Oh fuck yeah”, he hears Dariax whisper. There’s a rustling, the sound of naked feet on a wooden floor and then the mattress dips and Dariax climbs into bed with him, his body way warmer than Dorian expected it to be.

He’s wearing nothing but boxers.

“You sure this is okay?”, Dariax whispers into the dark and Dorian makes a noncommittal noise at the back of his throat before letting the blanket fall down over Dariax. His arms simply drops which is probably way too close to a hug in this position as they lie face to face on the mattress that was not made for two people to sleep on it.

“Thanks a lot, buddy. You’re the best”, Dariax whispers. Dorian knows that Dariax is pretty dense simply because he’s a dwarf, but while he drifts back off to sleep he feels the tension in Dariax’ body. This nightmare must have been deeply upsetting for someone as carefree and jovial as Dariax to ask for goddamn snuggles in the middle of the night.

Dorian starts humming. It’s faint and definitely not his best and probably not even a real song, but slowly, ever so slowly, he can feel Dariax relax beside him as they both fall asleep again.

What his sleepy brain did not account for when Dorian allowed Dariax entry into his bed was how they might wake up in completely different positions to the ones they fell asleep in and how his body was a mean betrayer set out to humiliate Dorian.

As he slowly comes back to consciousness Dorian realizes how incredibly warm it is. The next thing he notices is that there is a quietly snoring dwarf pressed against his side, one leg pushed over Dorian’s legs. Dariax, sometime during the night, has curled into Dorian so his nose is now pressed somewhere close to Dorian’s ribs. He can feel Dariax’ hot breath tickle his exposed skin.

This is the most skin-on-skin contact Dorian has ever had with someone who is not related to him.

Dariax’ arm is curled around his waist and Dorian has no idea how he’ll be able to get to the bathroom without waking Dariax up or alerting him to the fact that Dorian is suffering a terrible case of a morning boner.

Yeah, he definitely didn’t think this through when he allowed Dariax in here. If Dariax pulls his leg up a little more his thigh will absolutely come in contact with Dorian’s dick and he is not ready for that to happen.

Not even a little bit.

Dorian can’t help but notice that Dariax smells kind of nice. And the feeling of naked skin on naked skin feels so much better than he imagined it would. He should probably not think about skin on skin contact too much in his current predicament but Dariax decides that this is the right moment to move his leg.

Dorian makes an undignified noise in the back of his throat as Dariax’ thigh rubs against his erection and before he can really consider what his best course of action might be, he’s already shoving Dariax off of him.

Since these beds are tiny, that also means shoving Dariax off the bed.

There is loud thunk as Dariax hits the floor and bolts upright with a yelp, his hair tousled and untidy, his eyes barely open.

“I didn’t do it!”, he slurs loudly, holding both hands up in a gesture of surrender and Dorian can’t help but wonder what in the nine hells Dariax has been dreaming about.

“Sorry, man. You were—uh. Getting a little close”, Dorian says and sits up, carefully pulling the blanket over his crotch.

Dariax blinks up at him.

“Sorry, buddy. Didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable”, he mumbles and sways to his feet to stumble back over to his own bed.

Dorian immediately misses the warmth and the feeling of naked skin against his but he pushes the thought away and clears his throat.

“Did you sleep okay after your nightmare?”, he asks.

“Hmhm. Like a baby”, Dariax mumbles into his pillow. His face is pressed into it and he didn’t even take the take to cover himself with his blanket. “You have the most beautiful voice.”

Dorian’s cheeks begin to burn and he grips the blanket tighter.

“Thank you.”

“’S no problem.”

Dorian glances over at his roommate. Dariax looks surprisingly peaceful like this and it doesn’t take long for him to fall asleep again. The quiet snore returns and his mouth falls open slightly. When Dorian finally gets up to take a shower, he shivers slightly in the cold before carefully stepping over to the other bed and pulling the blanket over Dariax.

*

“You know what, I feel honored that you’re going to trust me with your first time”, Dariax says, looking endlessly pleased with himself.

Dorian sputters.

“Excuse m—“

“Your first time drinking, buddy”, Dariax explains and laughs as he sees the flush on Dorian’s cheeks.

They’re both sitting on Dariax’ bed—because Dariax doesn’t care about getting spots on his sheets at all—with a bottle of liquor that is bright red and looks a little radioactive.

“Well, I think I would just—uh. Prefer it… to try this out with someone I trust before I make a fool of myself in front of a whole party, you know”, Dorian says. When no answer comes, he turns his head to look at Dariax.

Dariax’ eyes are shimmering with something that Dorian can’t quite read but it makes his heart race in his chest. Dariax never looked at him like this before. His expression is almost soft with the barest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Glad to hear you trust me, Dorian. I trust you, too.”

Dorian clears his throat and looks away, the tension in the air between them suddenly too much for him.

“I am very trustworthy”, he jokes and grabs the bottle to unscrew it and smell the liquid inside.

“Ugh—it’s revolting”, he remarks and coughs a little.

Dariax chuckles.

“That’s how you know it’s good”, he says with a nod and gestures for Dorian to take the first sip.

Dorian has tried some champagne before, some beer. Some wine. But never more than half a glass. He never tried drinking any hard liquor and this stuff is burning his throat and sending heatwaves through his whole body immediately.

“Wow”, he coughs and hands the bottle to Dariax.

“Good stuff, right?”, Dariax says and

“It’s terrible!”

“Yeah”, Dariax says with a wide grin and a twinkle in his eyes.

“I don’t think a thing can be both good and terrible at the same time”, Dorian remarks, his face still in a grimace as he tries to get used to the burning sensation of hard alcohol in his throat.

“Nonsense, those are like, all of my favorite movies!”, Dariax says and takes a huge swig out of the bottle before handing it back to Dorian.

Dorian feels weirdly honored that Dariax decided to stay in on a Saturday night just to hang out with him and test the waters with his roommate while no doubt all his friends are out there partying.

“Like what movies”, Dorian wants to know and takes another careful sip out of the bottle. His mind provides him with the terrible thought that this might as well count as an indirect kiss, something that is entirely idiotic and not useful at all.

“Okay, so, you know when someone asks you a question about yourself and suddenly you have forgotten all of your interests and hobbies and favorites and pretty much everything about yourself?”, Dariax says, his brow furrowed as he tries to think of a movie that is both terrible and good at the same time.

“Tell you what. I can say that two of my favorite movies of all time are Pacific Rim and Mad Max, and those are not terrible, mind you, they’re just good. But if I manage to think of one that is both terrible and good, I’ll tell you immediately.”

Dorian has neither seen Mad Max nor Pacific Rim. When he tells Dariax as much his roommate looks aghast.

“Oh my gosh, Dorian. Buddy. My boy. That is—no. No, I can’t let this stand. Grab your laptop, we’re watching Pacific Rim right now”, Dariax orders and looks at Dorian expectantly.

This is how Dorian ends up crying about giant robots. And maybe also brothers.

Dariax hands him a tissue and sniffs.

“Good stuff, right?”, Dariax asks and empties the bottle as the end credits start rolling. Dorian nods and watches as Dariax throws the empty bottle to the side before pulling out a second one from under his bed.

Dorian is definitely tipsy. He drank way less than Dariax, of course, but he can feel a faint buzzing in his head and his vision seems to be slowed. There is a feeling of heaviness in his legs as he accepts the new bottle—this time the liquor is bright blue and tastes even worse—and drinks.

The new sensations in his body aren’t unpleasantly.

In a way, his soul feels lighter like this, less anxious, less unsure about things, which is pretty nice.

“So, what’s your favorite movie?”, Dariax wants to know.

“I—hm. I don’t know. I’m not much of a movie guy. I suppose I liked Lord of the Rings when I watched it a few years ago”, he says, thinking about the movies he has seen and which ones he enjoyed the most. Weirdly enough it’s exactly as Dariax said—now that someone asked about what he likes, Dorian can’t seem to remember much about himself.

“Good choice”, Dariax says with an approving nod that makes Dorian feel weirdly pleased.

“I guess we could totally do a Lord of the Rings marathon, you know? Get some snacks, order pizza, get fucked up. Hey, we could make it a drinking game!”

Dorian isn’t sure why there’s a tingling sensation under his skin, or why his heart starts beating faster in light of Dariax’ suggestion. Maybe it’s because he feels happy that Dariax wants to spend more time with Dorian. Maybe it’s just because the alcohol is getting to Dorian.

“What about your other friends?”, Dorian asks.

“What about them?”

“Well—wouldn’t you rather spend more time with them? You know—partying. Going skinny dipping. That sort of thing.”

Dorian knows that he’s fishing for compliments. He knows and he feels embarrassed about it but he can’t stop. Validation is something that he craves way too much for his own comfort, but the alcohol has lowered his defenses—or raised his stupidity. Either one of those.

“Well—you know when we went skinny dipping and they fucked me over, that was like. Not cool? And you got me outta there, even though you don’t really do that sorta thing, you know? So—that was not the first time I got fucked over by people I called my friends, but it was totally the first time someone bailed me out of stuff. So yeah. I’d rather stick with you, if that’s alright with you”, Dariax says, taking a few long gulps from the bottle of blue liquid.

Dorian feels a rush of heat under his skin. It’s not unusual for him to feel strongly about being praised or validated, but it usually doesn’t hit this hard.

He swallows and laughs nervously, grabbing the bottle from Dariax and taking a big sip that burns his throat.

“Yeah—yeah, alright”, he croaks and Dariax beams at him.

“I’m sorry, by the way. That—uh. That those people left you behind”, he adds quietly and hands the bottle back to Dariax.

“Oh, you know. I suppose it’s on me. I’m not very smart and I’m not good on my own, so I tend to follow people’s leads and they—uh. I guess they get bored with me, or something? Anyway. It’s not really important. Hey, how do you feel about watching Mad Max, too?”

*

“Hey, my friend is throwing a party on Saturday. Do you want to come?”

“Are you kidding? Do I wanna take your partying virginity? Hell, yes!”

“Dariax...”

“Sorry buddy, I got carried away.”

*

Dorian is still thinking about rice pudding on Friday.

The fact that somewhere out there is a person who would tell someone else something mean like this makes him nervous to try and kiss anyone. What if he actually likes the person he’s kissing and gets told that his kisses feel like a bowl of rice pudding?

Or worse, something even slimier?

He’s trying to get another song for one of his bard classes done, but he’s unable to concentrate.

“Hey, Dariax”, he says and looks over at Dariax who’s watching cat videos on YouTube, “can I ask you something? About—uh. About... kissing?”

Dariax looks up at him with bright eyes.

“Sure”, he says and grins.

Dorian swallows.

“Uh—I was thinking. How—uh. How did you get better at kissing? Did you practice with anyone?”

“Nah, not really. I mean, not like that. I just went for it again and again until I got better at it. Guess it would’ve been nice to have someone around for practice, but I made it work anyway. No one’s been complaining for a while now.”

Dorian chews on his bottom lip and pokes the paper he’s working on with a pencil.

“So—uh. You said—“

“Yes”, Dariax shoots back immediately, as if he knows what Dorian is going to say next. Dorian feels the familiar heat rise up in his chest as he looks at his roommate who seems very intense all of a sudden, leaning forward and shutting his laptop, his eyes fixed on Dorian.

“I—uh. I don’t. I don’t really... I don’t like... guys?”, Dorian says and his voice sounds way too hoarse in his own ears. Dariax’ shoulders sag a little but he shrugs.

“Doesn’t really matter for this, right? It’s just kissing.”

“Right. Okay. Uh—so. If I—if I wanted to try this...  how do you—how do we make this work?”, he asks.

His heart is beating so fast, Dorian is afraid it’s going to break his rib cage and fly out of the window. Dariax puts his laptop to the side and pats the mattress beside himself, his eyes still fixed on Dorian’s face with an intensity that makes heat pool in Dorian’s lower abdomen.

He pushes the feeling aside and gets up from his own bed to sit down next to Dariax.

“I know what this is about”, Dariax says with a sly grin.

“Uh—you do?”

Dorian doesn’t know what this is about aside from his own nagging sense of anxiety and the fact that he can’t stop thinking about kissing Dariax—which is entirely Dariax’ fault because he offered this whole practicing thing in the first place.

“Yeah. You’re going to check out some ladies on that party tomorrow”, Dariax says, his grin widening as he scoots closer to Dorian. Dorian can feel Dariax’ body heat and he presses his back against the wall, his fingers digging into the blanket crumpled below his legs.

“Ah—yeah. You got me”, he lies and laughs nervously. Dariax winks and gives him fingerguns.

“Don’t worry, buddy. I gotcha! I’ll be the best wingman ever. Here, just lemme—“

And Dariax climbs into Dorian’s lap, straddling him, his face so close to Dorian’s that Dorian can feel his breath on his cheek.

He holds his breath as he notices all the freckles on Dariax’ face, his scruffy beard, his hazel-brown eyes...

His heart is stumbling in his chest.

“Thanks”, he rasps.

“No need to be nervous, I’m sure you’ll be way better at this than I was the first time around. Just lemme take the lead, okay?”

Dorian nods.

If he gets hard now, Dariax will definitely feel it.

Fuck.

Dariax raises his hands and tilts Dorian’s chin up while his other hand gently cups Dorian’s cheek. It’s already almost too much for Dorian. His lips open slightly and his eyes widen as Dariax gets closer still, his nose gently touching Dorian’s.

“If you want me to stop, just smack me real hard”, Dariax whispers and his breath tickles Dorian’s lips before the distance between their mouths is closed and Dariax is kissing him, his hazel-brown eyes closed.

Dariax’ lips are warm and a little chapped and Dorian gasps against his mouth helplessly—something that Dariax seems to take as encouragement. He tilts his head to the side to get a better angle and then his lips press against Dorian’s in earnest.

Dorian’s heart stops for a few seconds before restarting with doubled speed.

His whole body seems to be on fire all of a sudden and he can’t help but raise his hands to touch Dariax—just touch him anywhere. He needs to ground himself, hold onto something, or he might just get lost in the feeling of Dariax’ warm lips carefully moving against his.

It’s a slow kiss, almost sweet, but Dorian’s skin is set aflame.

I don’t like guys, he thinks as his whole body decides that he must get closer to Dariax, wrap his arms around him, pull him in, cup the back of his head so he doesn’t move away—

“This okay?”, Dariax mumbles against his lips and he sounds so out of breath as if he just sprinted a whole mile.

“Yeah—I. Yeah.”

“You wanna try with tongue?”

Dorian swallows. There is still heat pooling in his abdomen. He should say no. He should stop doing this. This feels dangerous and stupid.

But it also feels so good.

“Yeah, okay”, he whispers.

Dariax doesn’t wait for another invite, he immediately leans forward again to close the distance between them and as Dorian’s hands dig themselves into the back of Dariax’s shirt and his heart starts racing even faster Dariax slides his tongue into Dorian’s mouth and Dorian’s mind goes blank.

There is a sound that is dangerously close to a moan and it takes him a few seconds to realize that it’s coming from him.

He holds onto Dariax like a drowning man before he manages to kiss back.

The second their tongues slide against one another there is a sound from Dariax too, one that shoots directly into Dorian’s lap. His hips buckle up involuntarily, his arms wrap around Dariax tighter and Dariax presses closer, his hips grinding down against him.

Dorian is lost.

And he’s so, so fucked.

It feels so incredibly good to kiss Dariax. He forgot why he even started kissing him, all he knows that he doesn’t want to stop, that he wants to get closer, wants to touch more skin—

He’s hard by now, and so is Dariax. Dorian can feel his erection through the jeans that Dariax is wearing.

Dorian buries his hands in Dariax’ hair and pulls. Dariax makes a helpless sound and bites down on Dorian’s bottom lip before sucking on it lightly and Dorian is afraid that he might come in his pants just from kissing and the delicious friction of Dariax’ crotch rubbing against his.

Shit, shit, shit, shit—

Before Dorian can make a fool of himself Dariax pulls back.

He’s panting, his eyes are glassy, his lips red and wet from kissing and he looks so pretty, Dorian is momentarily stunned by the revelation that he might not be into girls or guys or pretty much anyone.

But he’s definitely, terribly, irrevocably into Dariax.

Fuck.

“S—sorry”, Dariax gasps and clambers off of Dorian’s lap. “That was—I’m. I—uh. I got carried away a little. Didn’t mean to overstep any boundaries.”

Dorian swallows and stares at him, his eyes wide and his heart pressing against his rib cage.

“It’s okay”, he rasps. “I—uh. I got a little carried away, too.”

Dariax throws him a lopsided smile.

“Well. I’d say you’re good to go.”

And he gets off the bed and stumbles over to the bathroom, leaving Dorian behind with a rapidly beating heart, tingling lips and the revelation that he has the world’s worst crush on Dariax.