#god I am an entirely different human being than I was 4 years ago

[roylustang]

Wild how you can feel ur body change through training. Litcherally insane.

[theorist-influencer-untitled]

10.29.23 Sunday

1:13 am

I feel bitter, I have this windblow....I wanna punch but it will be on air... I feel bitter angels!

I can't find my soul-mate... I can't find my own group... I mean new friends are different on your group...Group means more than new friends that you meet along the way....Group means it is like your some good old friends,who are willing to take you as you, no matter how crazy you are or how crazy you can be...

I'm still thinking of SEX with someone mutual with me willing to show genuine care and love...

I hope to meet him soon....I feel bitter!

3:43 am

Oh! My God... I don't know what to feel... Done, showering at 3:45 am... The leopard is hurting coz of what Miles or dread-locks guy did to me awhile ago... Miles or dread-locks guy or Miles' wife texted me this...

Miles' cute2x wifey... You are now part of my showbiz world but all my emotions are real... I miss my some old good friends... I need friends to share this in reality but all of them are gone, in a way they are in USA or other parts of the world or super busy on their own family...

I don't know... Where are my true fucking friends??!

It is shocking coz messages are supposed to be private... Or was it my WRONG SENT?? probably or possibly... Or typographical error??? hmm... it can be...

Miles is hurting me for this...

4:05 pm

I need to calm down though it hurts,angels...

4:18 am

I'm hurting angels... I believe I have sanity and maturity... That's life... SOME ALLEGATIONS ON ME OR ON YOU...

But still you love the person... He is a child... So sad...

4:41 am

Can't sleep...I have windblow... Whew! I feel sad....It is weird... I have to work and think of money and meet new souls... Religious,hygienic and someone will care and love me truly... A new set of friends hoping and praying....

Waiting for rewave and work is work...

11:10 am

Good Day! Angels... Mastering this "Kill Bill" hmm... Just like my first rap song that I learned the "Kiss Me More"... I practiced that around 100 times just to get the timing coz it was my first rap song.

Did I mention here that I used to be one of the singers in bar club here near the SM Bacoor, the "Water Village"....My voice was kinda different before actually we were 3 singers there...

We were 3 college graduate singers of Mr Pio or Daddy Pio, thanks to him for allowing me to heal and giving us our allowances those days and for taking care of us....We were 3 singers there, 2 from La Salle me and the other singer and the one from PCU? if I'm remembering everything correctly and one was my churchmate or religion mate in Iglesia Ni Cristo or Church Of Christ ( my old religion???)

I'm already a college graduate those years then whenever I got broken-hearted it is my way to heal my inner soul...

I stopped going to medicine school on my first year and I got a lot of side comments and bashers about me, not being able to pass my med school. But it wasn't work that way... It was my own personal thing to grow as a human adult. I finished B.S. Biology in "De La Salle" here in Cavite... But my entire first year was in " Far Eastern University or FEU" where I got good fair good grades until my 2nd year college that I transferred here in De La Salle Cavite.

Unzipping things that it is not actually my character... But these days came that I have to put my heart's content...

Whew! It is so childish and immature if I had explained my grades in FEU... But these days came that I have to put a shield on me...To be fair on some bashers, some old friends and some old teachers or some neighbour or even some old religion-mates who keep on saying that they care for me or just a reverse???

11:43 am

My grades in FEU angels are reverse here in De La Salle the grading system.... So,there you go the real explanation... But I was just an average student and I never kill anyone's ego or pride at the back stage without them knowing... There were "lazy days" and days of questioning a lot of things in my head. Days that I wasn't that "FOCUS" yet...

Well, anyways... It was my own personal life and my own life....It was about my shallow virginity and my innocent days...

My "shallow virginity"?? Does anybody cares for it these days??? It was a weird topic,you broke it and someone's got it and they caged you for 16 years and nobody wants to have it....So, it is just a shallow thing to talk about... But, it is something for someone but it didn't measure your entire whole being, even being brainy or not...

1:15 pm

You can't have a group with children and people who don't like you at all... I'm not gonna dwell on those people who couldn't just understand the rule in the world... Why, would I push my view and why should I care to let them comprehend the real flow in the world...

Still, waiting for rewave in Iqor... I have to dwell on my work status and I need money... I still wanna meet soul who can love and care for me and a group of people who can accept me...

Though, I never say I don't like HIM... I like HIM...

2:18 pm

2:29 pm

I always wanted an "orange" lip tint then I accidentally bought that "red orange" coz that was the only available color on that store that day... Then, I'm able to use it today to express my inner pain... Did someone make my lips bleed???

Anyways, it is Sunday here... Happy Blessed Sunday!!!

I feel bitterish and sad and depressing... Worrying so much of my future angels....I always lost spot in the crowd these days....Nobody actually like me these days... I feel sad and depressing... Still, thinking of money and my job... I still wanna see sand-dunes and some plastics at the right timing coz there is no LIFE here for me....But I need a job waiting for that fucking rewave in Iqor...

I still feel fat,old,wrinkled and ugly... I have so many complexities these days... I feel super old... I hate this "deep smile lines"... I wanna meet new soul who can care and love and new group just for me with intellectual mind.

5:09 pm

I still have windblow....Not my ideal life here with Uncle Jun... All my dreams fell apart since 2007... I feel bitter...

Thinking of money and my own future... I really wanna travel and to remove my deep smile lines... I have so many frustrations.

5:55 pm

Uncle DD is suddenly here... Shocking... Simply checking their house at the side...

Uncle DD told me that why I didn't tell him that they are already have an electric there... I told him, I thought Uncle Jun was the one who told him...

I'm not sure if Uncle DD is having ( present continuos tense ) sanity...

6:16 pm

This Uncle Jun seems strange as well... He commented on Ivan that when did he do his circumcision? Hmm.... Strange...

I need a job angels... I wanna have my own life,thinking of money...

7:24 pm

Done, eating dinner and tomorrow is an another voting day for baranggay or small councils in this fucking hometown...

Not really happy... Not happy being here but I have to be here for awhile....I need a job and money... I feeel bitter for not able to fix myself on the 2nd spin of my 2nd childhood...

This is so funny right? The term 2nd childhood can be used as negative or positive... If it is something positive meaning you have your job or success in life then you can fix your teeth again and perfect your nose probably, be skinny though you are old but supposed to be golden or perhaps having children and husband and doing my perfection on beauty like removing my deep smile lines and me with my baby John able to join dog show... These are positive 2nd childhood!

Everything fell-apart on me... My stars are not on the good alignment... I'm always defeated for 16 years... I lost my spot... I never feel beautiful... Sometimes, I wanna cry... Never got the chance to meet positive people on the other side of the world coz of the windblow or trap in this fucking hometown...

I just need to move on and get a job and work and hoping I can buy starbucks everyday....I know walking is sometimes healthy and it is sad you are accepting the fact that you will have your "death march" but then someone just broke your heart...

8:19 pm

I'm thinking of money and my rewave.... I'm still thinking of money and rewave...

I feel frustrated on SEX! I feel that someone just took my right to feel and to feel beautiful or my right to be loved by someone...

This is really serious angels... I feel depress for not being able to meet a good soul who is willing to show love and care and respect my needs...

"The Needs"....The "needs" on someone... I want someone mutual... I feel depress...

[dienamights]

Unfavorable Guidance | H.Shinso

​✎ Mindjack has been doing these kind of jobs since he was recruited as a hero, he is unmistakingly the best at them, doesn’t need anyone butting their noses in his business, especially you, the sly fox in disguise, offering your tainted helping hand.

✎ Protagonists: Hitoshi Shinso x Fem!Reader.

✎ Word count: 6.4K

✎Category: noncon/dubcon, Smut MDNI, Prohero!au

✎Caution(!):  noncon/dubcon, Smut 18+ MDNI please, , mentions of alcohol, mentions of murder, minor character death, sex under quirk use, spitting, degrading, swearing, manipulation, unprotected sex. 

✎ Author’s notes: I KNOW I’M LATE EUFGKHDFVBDFXL, but here is my contribution to @daisy-bakugo​ 2k event Vice City! Please take the time to read everyone’s work if you haven’t! Thank you so much for letting me participate.

I listened to this throughout the entire process of writing it, if you’re familiar with Kingdom Hearts, some names will ring a bell to you lol. also I hate the header and the summary but you’re just gonna have to live w it for now cause its 8 am I NEED SLEEP

» Masterlist | Requests | Taglist

The annual auction of Vice City is one of the biggest social events of the year. The wealthiest families and richest people in the world come from everywhere in attempts to win what is secretly considered the greatest treasures of all time. Greatest and most expensive.

Alas, the after party held later on is what people are all secretly actually waiting for, where the most exquisite and rarest artifacts of the year get auctioned off to whoever is lucky enough to even be included in the guest list.

While not all are there for the auctions, it certainly is the perfect opportunity for anyone who's anyone in the world to show off their wealth. Filthy rich people sway all around, laughing and bragging. Venetian crystal chandeliers, velvet carpets, gambling, and alcohol. Men with their cigars, men with their wives, and men with their arm candies, their escorts or mistresses.

Yet, Shinso isn’t here for the luxury, he isn't here for the fame and the fortune, nor the reputation people thrive for when they buy those - meaningless, he calls them - relics. No, he is here on a mission, one he certainly wants to be done and over with because he wants to go home. He loosens his tie with an aggravated sigh before knocking back the last of his only gin and tonic, the bitter taste prickling his throat as he surveys the crowd of people all around him while he stands idly by the bar.

He knew it’d be a pain in the ass the second he got the mission assigned to him from the agency, the words “intel” and “Vice City'' of all places forced a frown upon his face, yet, being the most suitable for this job, he couldn't really decline.

Mindjack isn’t the type of hero you see on billboards and magazines, isn’t the type of hero to kiss babies’ heads that get thrusted at him in meet and greets, he certainly isn’t one to have those adoring fan clubs that follow his every move, posting about his greatest conquests. Oh no, he is a hero that works in dingy jobs with filthy manipulative men in black markets and the human trafficking industry, undercover -lie through your teeth throughout the whole ordeal- kind of hero, the kind of hero that goes home at the end of his missions with no gratitude towards his work, because nobody knows who he is or what he contributes to the society.

For the longest time, Shinso accepted the life he’s living, he didn’t look for validation from the citizens, knowing his work is always beyond the scope of their knowledge and their awareness, but sometimes, just sometimes, the sour droplets of envy would foul his mouth when his amethysts for eyes scan over the extravagant heroes, making a show out of saving their cities and getting praised and awarded and loved for doing what they’re supposed to be doing, their job. 

“Squeeze that glass a bit more and you’d break it”

A voice just like silk, weaving around him and entrancing him, Shinso blinked twice before his eyes dragged over to you, oh so beautiful and oh so close. Your nimble fingers wrapped around his fingers, the lacey glove lightly scratches his hand before he lets go of the glass in surprise, dropping it into yours. You giggle sweetly, turning around to place it on the bar before ordering your own, but not without looking at him over your shoulder and sending him a smile.

“What will it be, sugar tits?” the bartender leans over the counter, towel thrown on his shoulder as he sends you what's supposed to be a sultry look. Your elbow is placed on the counter while you rest your chin on your hand, smiling temptingly at him. “Anything that’ll get you to stop staring at my boobs.” Shinso almost laughs at the contrast between your smile and your voice, sharp and venomous, and the man leans back so far from you like he’s been stung. Walking away to work on a drink for you.

Shinso’s eyes rake your body without his knowledge, he admires the dress adorning your body, hugging you in all the right places, cascading down to the floor, and that slit my god, your legs looking endless in those heels he wonders how you can strut so elegantly with them on. A snap of your fingers breaks his trance and he tries - keyword tries - to act nonchalant to his obvious ogling and you only laugh in return.

You hum lowly, “So,” you’re turning to face him as you lean back on the counter, pushing your chest out to grasp even more of his attention, “what's an esteemed hero like you doing in a place like this?” It takes Shinso a good minute before he narrows his eyes, left foot back and ready to either take you down or run away if you were to involve greater forces. No one is supposed to know about his true identity, no one is supposed to know that there is a hero within them.

But what shakes his demeanor is the way you dangle his wallet in front of him, like dangling a stupid feather for some silly cat, waiting for it to jump at you to entertain you. Shinso swallows with a struggle, deciding that using his quirk to retrieve his wallet back will lead to him leaving, and he didn’t want that. He’s been keeping an eye on the wanted man for hours now, and it’ll all go to waste because of your slimy little hands and your-

“Here,” you toss it back to him, and he stumbles a bit before catching it properly, eyeing you for any sudden movements, but you simply turn back around in time to hold the drink from the bartender’s hand with a smile dazzling your lips. “You’re getting intel on The Wise?” you mumble against your cup, sipping slowly, eyes never leaving Shinso’s glaring ones. How the fuck do you know?

“You’re not the first.” you smirk, finger wiping the smeared lipstick against the glass before circling the rim. “You all look the same, thinking you’re better than them because of your position in the society, only for that ego to come and bite you right in the ass.” It’s almost ironic how poisonous your voice could get while still maintaining that mesmerizing smile, and oddly enough, Shinso’s eyes keep drooping despite his desperate attempt to fight against them.

You hum again, the click of your heels sounding muffled to him, eyes blurring when you get so close to him your breath tickles his cheek. “But you’re different, hmm? You’re gonna make the bad guy go away?” 

“Yes.” it's rushed, almost desperate, and the hero is astonished at how he sounds. “Then, lemme help you… Hitoshi.”

A blink, and you’re gone just like you vanished right from under his nose, slipped right between his fingers. A low curse escapes Shinso’s lips and he turns around swiftly to question the bartender, hell bent on getting any information on the girl that just revealed his entire identity and mission to him in a matter of seconds. 

“How can I help you, sir?” the question boggles his mind, the big burly man with an attitude problem wasn’t there anymore, replaced by another sweet woman that held concern in her eyes at his sight. “You’ve been staring at the wall for a while there, need me to call your driver to get you back?” 

“Wa- but I- She,” Shinso’s body started heating up in anger, worry, embarrassment, he doesn’t really know, but what he wants to know right this instant is how long he’s been out of it and for god’s sake, why?

Shinso doesn’t really consider himself to be the sharpest tool in the shed, but dammit did he feel like a complete idiot letting you run off like that, a quick trip to the restroom for a splash of water clears his head enough for him to pull back his wallet from his pocket, flipping through it and finding something he was absolutely sure wasn’t there prior to your visit. A silver card, with ‘Surveillance room’ scribbled on a note behind it.

Caving in and accepting whatever help you were offering him, Shinso slides the card through the reader, sighing in relief upon the satisfying ding sound, followed by the door opening to the surveillance room.

“Now that’s what’m talking about.” life got so much easier now that he could watch The Wise through multiple screens, making it hard to miss a single move of his. The hero allows himself to relax a bit, hand messing with his hair and tired eyes blinking in irritation against the glare of the screens. The Wise was the mastermind of Organization XIII, as their name intel, they’re consisting of the same thirteen members that founded it years ago, nobody really knows how they started, what shocked the whole world is how grand their first crime actually was, bloodbath of the century -they would call it, seventeen slaughtered heroes, followed by their families, including women and children, thousands of millions of ¥ in money laundering atop of it, all within a span of 4 months, that was years ago, back in their prime.

Now, with eight of them behind bars, the remaining five were able to stay under the radar, distributing whatever money they were able to keep between them and fleeing to different parts of the world. Just because they were apart, didn’t mean they were any less dangerous, The Wise is a prime example for that, brutally murdering three of the undercover heroes sent his way to bring him back to justice, but they weren’t Shinso, he’d try to remind himself.

May their soul rest in peace, they were those heroes he felt dissociated from, the type of heroes to flaunt their powers, monetize the peoples’ knowledge of their quirks, uncover the secrets of their job, they were easy targets for people like The Wise, he’d know their weaknesses and how to take them down before they even think about pursuing him. Now, Mindjack was a different story, he wasn’t held on a pedestal by the people he saves, simply because they don’t recognize him, while he would loath that reality sometimes, he thanks the god for it today, as he’s watching the man’s call out for a drink.

Amethyst eyes scan the remaining screens, widening upon the sight of you looking right back at them, you are a vixen to him, eyes half lidded with a smile so intoxicating it does nothing but entrance whoever was lucky enough to catch its sight. Lace clad fingers wrapping around a piece of paper, you are so beautiful, Shinso tries to stop his mind from wandering, imagining what you wore underneath that angel crafted dress, envisioning what those fingers could do to please him, the same fingers that held the unfolded paper, the word ‘RUN’ smeared across it in lipstick.

Wait a minute, run?

Even before the poor hero could react, the similar satisfying -now dreadful- ding rings in his ear, before the door opens behind him, illuminating the room even more. Shinso stands to face two men, both as surprised as he is to see another occupant in the room. Right before any of them move, the hero opens his mouth and prays to god that whatever way he’s winging it works. “You got a permit to be here?”

Jesus one of you answer, and they both do - the left having fingers curving into talons while the right pulled at strings from the tips of his fingers, both ready to attack - and by god Shinso couldn’t be happier upon hearing a sound, because the minute the word ‘yes’ slips through their lips, Mindjack is smiling like a madman, welcoming the look of glossy eyes and heavy heads like a beloved relative’s return back home. 

“Great… Now,” the two manipulated  men face him, unaware of the dreaded fate bestowed upon them, while Shinso just can’t seem to keep the glint in his eyes at bay. “Why don’t you put on a show for me,” he breathes, smiling down at the ground before looking at them. ”Choke the fucking life out of each other.” The men don’t even blink, quick to face each other and jump, hands wrapped around throats like a vice, Shinso only moves away from the men on the floor as they thrash and kick at each other, limbs flailing as they try to force the life out of each other.

Turning his back against them, Shinso eyes the screen he was monitoring before their entrance, ignoring the groans and gasps of air behind him. He curses under his breath when he sees The Wise getting up from his place, heading towards a room that is supposed to be monitored by screen #6, but is purposely out of service. If he isn’t able to question The Wise or even keep an eye on him, then he’s gonna head on over to the next best thing. Gargled screams echo through the corridor as the hero makes his exit, making sure the door clicks shut behind him, he wouldn’t want to cause disturbance to the esteemed guests of the society of lowlifes.

Mindjack works in dingy jobs with filthy manipulative men in black markets and the human trafficking industry, killing machines that didn’t spare the live of the innocents, so why should he spare theirs? 

Shinso makes it back to the main event, immediately finding you between guests, sitting so pretty on the poker table, eyes drawing him closer, the grin adorning your lips now wobbly, easy for him to distinguish as fake, forced, a façade kept for the people surrounding the table. He is hasteful in settling himself in the chair near you, shoulders tense when different pairs of eyes fall upon him, the dealer shuffles the deck to draw cards for Shinso, but you hold your hand out with a smile. “He’ll sit this one out, by my lucky onlooker.” A round of laughter causes Shinso to flush in embarrassment, feeling degraded and looked down upon by all these lowlifes, petty thieves and criminals, thinking they’re better than him, oh he’ll show them.(1)

It takes a few rounds for the table to empty out, now occupied by Shinso and yourself, the dealer asks him to move over to the next chair before they start their game. “Place your bets.” you’re quick to slide over a few of your chips to his side - some black, others red and blue, he didn’t really pay that much attention to them- your eyes daring him to reject your invitation to take the money to play.

He only blinks at you, his eyes seemingly never wanting to lose sight of you as he fights with himself to sit straight to face the dealer again, the man proceeds to deal both of you the cards for you to review before placing your bets. “You tricked me.” Shinso is almost appalled at the hurt laced in his voice, as if the two of you had a bond that was never meant to be broken. “don’t believe so, told you to run didn’ I?” The mockery in your voice is a hoax, the single twitch in your brow catches his attention and he can only deem it as you being stressed, whether it be because of the ordeal regarding the surveillance room or not is beyond him. No, he was stupid and foolish and he will not fall for your silly games again. “Exactly, you knew they were coming.” you hum in response to his accusation.

“Call.” Dropping a few of your chips on the table, your eyes shift momentarily to him, “I did, I said I’d help you and here I am.” He slams his bet on the table, ‘Raise’ gritted right through his teeth at your words. “I don’t want your help!” He reveals his cards on the table, a way to show his disinterest in your assistance as the dealer announces ‘Flush’ at his hand. Your eyes meet again from above your cards, now narrowing down instead of the half lidded look you seem to always have “You don’t want it, but you need it.” The façade you held before is slowly but surely breaking, now a deep frown tugging at your lip as you reveal your own hand, brows furrowing even further in challenge as you hum in displeasure when the dealer announces your ‘Full House’ hand to be the winner of this round.(2)

Shinso moves swiftly to stand when he sees you do the same, right before his entire world starts to spin, lights and colors mingling together and causing his head to spin, he sits down again, head between his hands as he tries to calm himself down, it's probably the strain of the mission, maybe it’s the weight bestowed upon his shoulders to finish it up. The hero lifts his head up to ask you, about something he himself isn’t even sure of, he just wants to hear your voice, like a drug to him that he can’t help but ask for more. Except when he does, you aren’t there, the table is occupied by different people, the dealer is another man with longer hair and slimmer figure, and by god did Shinso want to rip his hair out.

The minute he feels like he could get back on his own to feet without falling down on his ass, Hitoshi is quick to check his pockets, adamant to find a clue your sneaky hands slid into one of his pockets while he was out, despite the tantrum he almost threw at not wanting your help nor guidance, and he does find something, a simple metal key, attached to it was a tag with the number XIII on it. 

In his shock, he almost drops the key on the ground but barely holds himself together to avoid any further embarrassment, Shinso takes deep breaths, knowing that the key in his possession is his entry to the heart of the organization, and especially to The Wise. 

Every year, specifically at the Vice City annual auction afterparty, The Wise holds a meeting with the most dangerous men within the continent, the most loathsome masterminds of the criminal world, all in the hopes of recruiting one of them into the organization, to uphold its name and spread its message. Every year, with no recruitment yet. 

With trembling hands, Shinso stuffs the key back into his pocket, eyes on the lookout for anyone who might’ve caught the key in his hand, but sighs in relief when he sees some engrossed in their meaningless poker and absurd talks, while the majority have made their way to the next hall over for the auction that is being held. He takes the stairs three at a time up the floors, facing a red oak double door, the same forsaken number engraved into it. After multiple failed attempts at inserting the key in the lock, he finally does with a huff, hearing the lock echoing in his ears before pushing the door open.

To be honest, Shinso didn’t know what he was expecting to see on the other side of the door, he thought maybe he’d watch weaponry trade off, perhaps people brawling and fighting amongst each other for the title of being the new members. But he certainly didn’t expect to be engulfed in jazz music, men with their cigars laughing and chatting, without a single care in the world, as if their hands weren’t tainted with the blood of the innocents, oh how he loathed them. In an attempt to fit in, he grabs a glass of whiskey from the butler standing by the door, nodding to him in thanks before moseying his way over to the corner in the room, he’d be damned if he got caught in the crossfire of those lunatics.

A stage is set up in the front of the room, and it takes a second for him to acknowledge the pole placed right at its center, it takes him another few seconds to see the beauty dancing on that pole, Shinso’s eyes rake her body without his knowledge, he admires the lingerie adorning her body, hugging her in all the right places, garter snug against her thighs as she twirls, her legs looking endless in those heels he wonders how she can dance so elegantly with them on… wait a minute. 

As if predicting the minute he realized it was you, you twirl to face him, lips pulled into a smile yet again, a giggle interrupting your humming as your body twists and turns on the pole. Shinso isn’t really sure how long he sits there captivated by your body, the only thing breaking his trance is the clap on his back and the heavy weight that sits next to him. “Beauty, isn’t she?”

Bile rises to Shinso’s throat at the mere sound of the person next to him, fear stills him in his place, restricting any movement he’s even thinking of doing, all he could do is sit, widened eyes and sweaty brows at the sight of The Wise right beside him. 

“Don’cha love it when women like her,” The Wise points at you with his cigar, “work to please men like us?” His arm now completely wrapped around Shinso’s shoulder as the hero feels his soul levitating from his body. “Look aroun’ya,” and he does, and only then does he really pay attention, he should’ve seen it all along, the glossy eyes, the droopy heads, it's a sight he was so well accustomed to that his brain normalized it to him. With whatever courage he musters up, he shifts his eyes to look at the man beside him, noticing the ear plugs he wore, and right then the gears start to turn in his head. “My most prized possession I tell’ya.” 

Of course you would be, how else would you have access to all these things, the card, the key, the vanishing from thin air, it all makes sense now.

“Enjoying yourselves, gentlemen?” your words are flowing like honey to his ears, a low buzz ringing in his brain as you spoke to the men in front of you. His ability to frown is nonexistent, a relaxed look adorning his face as he looks up at you, so elegant and beautiful in whatever hugged that miracle of a body.

“Sure are,” The Wise jerks Shinso by the shoulder, and he realizes that was done to break whatever trance he was in, he could only glare back at you when you smile at them, that conniving smile that hosted all the lies you spouted to him.

“y/n,” He calls you and by God if this isn’t the most beautiful name Shinso ever hears, what a shame it's being tainted by the voice of this criminal. “Wadda ya say to takin’ this fine boy to the red room, hm?” The man urges him to stand and take your hand, which he did at the blink of an eye, his body moving on it’s own to graze his lips against your knuckles in a breathless kiss. “Treat’m real nice for me.” The hero’s feet take him to follow you, his steps light, like walking on clouds, the sway of your hips pulling him closer to you until his chest is flush against your back, pushing you to move faster into the room you are pointed towards.

Walking aimlessly through hallways, taking lefts and rights he would never be able to recollect in his current state, you both enter a room, red just like The Wise called it, crimson silk sheets fitted on a king sized bed, maroon loveseats and plush carpets, everything in that red hue that it's almost nauseating. 

Bringing your hands in a loud clap, the fogginess in Shinso’s vision dissolves, your creased brows and frown now more prominent to him than ever, his eyes catch the scar trailing from the back of your neck to your cleavage, confused as to why his usual perceptive self would miss it, but then again, he doesn’t feel like he was ever himself throughout this whole ordeal.

To say he was furious is an understatement, he never felt more played in his life, he is Mindjack, the most conniving hero of all of Japan, he was manipulative and sly , known by his people to get jobs done, no matter who his opponent is, he always comes back victorious. And when his ears pick up your sigh of relief, he could only see red, he is hurt, he is scared, but now its his act, his turn to fuck shit up, he wants to hurt, he wants to scare.

“Fuckin’ lying bitch,” It takes him all but two steps for his body to graze yours, tantalizing eyes boring down into yours as you gasp at the close proximity, “you were workin’ with’em this entire fuckin’ time?”

“N-no that’s not it,” you stutter, flustered at his overwhelming presence, trying to put some distance between you and the fuming man by pushing his chest, “Please, I need you to listen to me.” 

“Oh, now you’re beggin’ hmm?” his firm warm hands circle your wrists, tugging them away from his body and using them to pull you even closer to him, his breath now grazing the tops of your cheeks, “Didn’t your boss tell you to treat me right?” he breathes, “well, get to it, slut.”

“That’s not what this is Hitoshi, just listen-” for the love of all that’s pure in this world, why does the sound of his name exceed his perception of how happiness is supposed to reverberate in his ear? “Keep my name outta your mouth, or I swear,” He hisses at you, the grip on your wrists tightening as you whimper out in pain. 

“You think you can just toy with me? Have me running around and following your orders like a lil bitch!?” He sees you trembling, lips wobbly and in tears, how ironic, he doesn’t know a few words would get you to start tearing up, the change in demeanor from when he first met you confuses him for a second, but only a second, because he’ll be damned if he falls for any of your tricks anymore. “N-no, I swear it isn’t like that, just p-please, please c-calm down! Let me explain myself-” the ugly cackle he lets out shuts you up, teary eyes widening as they fall on his, the aura he’s radiating is terrifying to say the least, your knees shaking in dread at what’s about to fold.

“You think you can play my game and win?”

It takes you a minute to answer, the word no echoing in your head, throbbing in your brain so painfully you forget the words that follow it, but what you can’t forget, what you will never forget, no matter how delirious you feel, is the look of pure sin across Shinso’s face, grin rivaling that of the Cheshire cat, because you were now simply a measly little pawn in his game. 

Mindjack works in dingy jobs with filthy manipulative men in black markets and the human trafficking industry, criminals that broke every law in their way to get what they desire, so why couldn’t he indulge even a little himself? 

He lets go of your wrists, watching as your arms sway next to your body like dead weight before he turns around to flop down on the loveseat, legs spread wide as he waves his hand over to you.

“Waddaya waitin’ for,” he knows you can’t answer him, but it feels so fucking good to hold such power over you after all you’ve put him through. “Now, strip.” the surge of power he feels jolts his dick up in excitement as he watches you take off your lingerie, moves robotic and forced, eyes glazed over both with tears and his control over your dumb little brain. Hitoshi is no villain, he is a respectable hero, but he’s been called that all his childhood, he might as well live up to that expectation, one way or another.

Shinso stands when you’re fully naked in front of him, long legs circling you and taking you all in, the back of his hand grazes your nipple and he all but groans as it pebbles at his touch. But god, he was nowhere near being done with you.

“Spread your legs for me on that bed,” he grins at the way you follow his orders even before he asks, “will ya?” you settle yourself on the bed before slowly dropping your weight on your back, hazy eyes staring up into the ceiling as your arms bring themselves down to circle the back of your knees, pulling them up close to your chest to expose yourself to him. 

Shinso’s cock twitches in his pants again at the opportunity to just seath it into you without any warning, but he barely holds himself back, approaching your body and feeling himself salivating at the sight, what a sight it is, your pussy looking so fucking beautiful clenching over nothing, the sight tempting him to just dive his face right in to get a taste of your juices.

Taking off his suit jacket and rolling the sleeves of his shirt, Shinso presses his thumb to your clit, frowning when he notices how dry you are, of course you would be, he chuckles to no one, puckering his lip to spit right at the nub, watching it trail down to your clenching hole, the sight igniting a flame within him, he does it again, simply to watch your spit hide in your cunt, impatient to follow suit and bury himself in there. 

His thumb is quick to draw circles with your clit, needing for your orgasm to wash over you quickly, eager for the things he’d do to you after he preps you enough to take him. The usual comforting silence is thick between you, no moans escaping your ajar mouth as your arousal seeps out of your pussy, he prods your hole with his finger to collect your nectar, smearing it across your clit again to rub even faster against it.

The only indication of you coming undone is when your thighs start to shake, your body curling in on itself as your back arches, your cunt gushing on his fingers, and Shinso is almost disappointed to not hear you moan out his name in pleasure. But he isn’t that disheartened, he’s bound to hear you scream.

You on the other hand, are petrified at the way your body is being handled, feeling yourself looking down at the horror being folded in front of you, this isn’t you, this is a shell of who you are, wrapped around his finger, at his mercy, and you want out, no matter the cost. But, you are to regret these words, because you see him unbuckling his belt, you hear the zipper drilling in your ear, and you watch him lay atop you, feeling your lungs constrict at the weight settling upon it, and to your utmost terror, the only thing that breaks his bind on you is when you feel his warm head prodding at your entrance, right before seething completely in, your throat prickling when you wail hoarsely in pain at feeling like being split into two.

“No, nonononon, st-stop please, please!” You’re crying, legs thrashing and arms flailing trying to push this monster off of you, but you can’t, you think as your walls pulsate in pain at the intrusion, you’ll never be able to with him placing his entire weight on you like that, and the way he pulls out before impaling you again has you seeing stars in the worst way possible. Desperate for an escape, you grab a chuck of his hair, your nails digging into his scalp before you yank, your jaw throbbing at how tight you clench your teeth in pain and disgust and pure panic. The strength you muster to pull his head up is in vain, because it only jerks his face deeper into your neck, right where your scar trails, and he bites, so hard you’re certain it draws blood. 

Only then does he lift his head up, his upper lip smeared with a smidge of blood, your blood, before he spits right into your mouth. Sick to your stomach at the metallic taste invading your taste buds, you spit right up at him, mindless to the debris falling right back at your face, your mascara running down your cheeks as you sneer up at him. Even as he laughs teasingly at you.

“Don’t worry slut,” He rasps, his nose brushing against yours as his thrusts find a pace, pulling out to the tip before pushing himself fully inside, “It’ll feel good in a minute.” and it does, he feels more of your arousal coating his cock as he snaps his hips against yours, your wails and whimpers slowly yet surely are coated more with lust as you moan out his name. “See tha’, almost too easy…” almost too good to be true.

And it is, because when his eyes struggle to find yours, he is reminded by the feeling that overtook him this entire evening, and when he sees the corner of your lips pull lightly does he want to rip your head right out, but the minute he moves his hand, he is overwhelmed by how wobbly he feels, how your face distorts and misshapes before he is met with the sight of the ceiling, the sight you grew accustomed to when he was taking advantage of your unconsciousness. 

He groans when he feels you impaling yourself on his cock, pussy clenching so tight as you bop yourself up and down his shaft, your tits bouncing with you as he looks up at you, so mesmerized and entranced by your beauty all he does is hold your hips, helping you lift yourself up before dropping you on him, the squelching sound that follows it music to his ears.

You plant your hands against his chest, hips rolling as you pant at his lips, both of you so drunk on the feeling of each other and chasing your highs, “You gonna listen to me, when I ask you to?” His hand claps against your ass at your question, “Yes, yes oh God, anythin’ just don’t stop.” He can’t help but want more of you, want to feel his cock push against you even further, so he plants his feet firm against the bed, hand grabbing handfuls of your ass as he starts thrusting up at you, moaning against your neck when he shoots ropes of his cum inside of your sopping cunt, squeezing him so tight and milking him, and all of what Shinso remembers is the way you arch your back, pressing your chest against his as your whimper out his name, as he feels your juices dripping against his balls and down on the sheets beneath you. After that, all he could see was black.

Shinso awakes startled, eyes darting in alarm before he relaxes when he confirms he’s alone, the red silky sheets now draped over his lower body, pooling at his lap when he sits up to look around once more, desperate for any sign of you. Yet he only sees a brown folder on top of the love seat, impressively thick with the amount of papers stacked inside it, and when Shinso reaches for it, he catches the note that slipped off and draped down on the floor, reading it and scowling at it. ‘You promised you’d listen’

And boy is he more than lucky to listen to you when you asked him to. Because that folder has every tiny little detail he needs to know about The Wise, from the quirks of his circulating bodyguards to the keys to his multiple homes within the world. Pictures upon pictures of the man, decoded letters and basically intel on his entire criminal record.

Fucking finally, Shinso gets to just go home no that everything’s over and done with.

Limited Edition Sneak Peek:

It is way too early for Shinso, the sun glaring at him as he makes his way into the agency, the honking cars and chattering people feeding into his migraine so early in the morning, and he groans as he pushes his door open, ready to get back to his regular routine after the incident at Vice City.

It hasn’t been even a week, but it sure was eventful, using the folder you left him, Mindjack was able to capture The Wise the very next day, via the map of the routes he takes that was attached in the folder. They were able to ambush him, easily being able to bring the right heroes for the job to overcome the quirks of both his workers and himself. Now the mastermind of Organization XIII was behind bars, making the job of catching the remaining members now much easier.

It almost felt like child’s play, at least, that’s what the heroes made it out to be, flexing their powers and their potential, when they were well aware that all their efforts would’ve been in vain if you and your folder weren't there to aid them in every step.

To say that guilt ate him up is an understatement, he feels himself decaying from the inside out from resentment, he figures he spent too much time in the dark, that it started to mess with him, manipulate him, carve him into someone he isn’t, someone that isn’t fit to be a hero. He feels like was walking into a tunnel with no way out, engulfed and trapped in pure merciless darkness, that ate away at his soul every step he took further in.

Shinso trudges up the stairs with a heavy heart, the dread at what he did to you, especially that your intent to help him didn’t waver despite his actions loomed over him, and he couldn’t remember the last time he felt like he didn’t deserve the life that he’s living in right now. 

Yet, the saying ‘there's a light at the end of the tunnel’ rings in his ear, the minute he opens up the door to his office, eyes widening at the sight before him, smile so dazzlingly sweet, a voice just like silk, weaving around him and entrancing him as the words captivated him despite their simplicity.

“Missed me, Hitoshi?”

(1) its common in poker for women to be onlookers, like the wives of the players for example, the jab at him being an onlooker is basically just a sexist joke to make the people around the table laugh to ease their mind.

(2) to help gain more perspective about the poker scene you can read the elaboration here

Aaaand more about the reader’s quirk here!

Hope you enjoyed! Also, PLEASE if you could theorize with me after reading the fic I’d love you forever, ask me about the reader’s quirk, ask me about some hidden meanings between the scenes JUST ANYTHING. MWAH

Borrowers (taglist):

@hanji-is-life @anarchicmartyr @sleepykyan @yourprincess-maybe @wolfygirl1900 @tteokdoroki​

@theehoneybunii @nanamisbento​ (not sure if you wanted to be tagged for bakuhoe only of all my fics, so sorry if its the former!)

if you want to be tagged with for any of my fics let me know ♡

[keltonwrites]

Where no one knows your name

How many times is a person meant to make new friends? When I moved into an apartment in DC with an absolutely iconic girl from Craigslist, I wrote in my journal, “you never know when you’ll meet your next bridesmaid.” Charmingly juvenile, as I was 24 years old. Ironic, as I never had any bridesmaids. And embarrassing, knowing I wrote something that’s surely been embroidered on a bachelorette party t-shirt by now. My point was: you can meet people you fall in love with anywhere, anytime, assuming your heart (and calendar) are open. Now my heart and calendar are open and I am one of Elizabeth Bennet’s sad sisters, cloying and desperate for attention while everyone at the ball ignores me. Meeting people here is unnerving and hapless and eye-clawingly vulnerable. My first new friend told me she was moving away in a few months. Do you invest deeply in hopes of another faraway friendship? Do you just go back to waving as you pass on the street? I like this girl! What an embarrassing thing to have to say to someone! Do you just invite people to every and anything like a lunatic? I can’t even remember to call the people I am forever-and-ever in cahoots with. I’m also deeply bound by what I’ll call the Movie Trap: say it’s 3pm during not-a-pandemic, and you get the urge to see a movie. You look at the showings, and there’s one you really want to see at 7:15. You think to yourself, “I should make an effort,” and you text a friend. “Hey, you wanna go see This Cool Movie at 7:15 tonight?” No one ever says yes. Don’t give me an example of when someone has, because it’s always one of these answers:

“Oooh, I’m actually seeing it with Kate tomorrow - wanna come?”

“Can we go to the 9pm showing? Stuck at work.”

“Yeah but let’s see Movie You’ll Fucking Hate instead.”

Now maybe I’m just lighting flares guiding you to the worst parts of my personality, but this drives me nuts. No, Liz, I don’t want to go tomorrow. I want to go tonight. At 7:15. So I can be in bed by 10. And you’d have to drag my dead body and prop open my eyes to get me to see something like Marriage Story in theaters. The Movie Trap is a big reason I usually hang out by myself, or I make plans weeks in advance. (Don't I sound like a blast.) Just the idea of being like, “I like you! Wanna hang out in October?” makes me want to collapse into a puddle of sad adulthood. Which is why on Friday at 4:30pm, when a girl I’d met a week prior asked if I wanted to grab a drink, I just said yes. I put on a pretty dress, did my makeup, put stuff in a purse, and drove the 25 minutes to town. It was really fun! And how novel to have new contacts in my phone like “Maggie blue house” and “Jess concert friend” — a throwback to the days of “Greg guy on L train” and “Devon ad party.” The very concept of not knowing someone’s last name or even needing it, and a year from now updating their contact info and smiling at your origin story. But for the most part, no one is in our phones. In terms of phone numbers collected, here is the list:

Two friends we knew prior who thank god you guys exist.

New friend who is moving away.

New friend who is game to drink tequila and ride mountain bikes.

Neighbor-not-yet-friend who I really fucking like and am not sure how to cross hang-out threshold with.

​Not to say there aren’t any other prospects or people I’m platonically gaga over, but I don’t have their phone numbers. There are honestly a lot of people like this because when you live in a small town (and you’re from the Midwest) you say “oop, sorry” to every person/object you bump into, and you say “hi :)” to every person you see. These are the rules. If I drive by you and don’t wave, it’s because I was so deep in a daydream I probably shouldn’t have been driving in the first place. This isn’t acceptable, because in our urgency to tattoo our vaccination status on our foreheads so we can make friends, it turns out just driving by someone can be a viable strategy. A few days ago, a man was driving by our kitchen window and then our driveway, and then he reversed back up to the kitchen window and started waving. Ben went outside — it was that kind of wave. The man had seen from his car a smokejumper emblem on the back of a truck in our driveway. “Hey, are you a smokejumper?” We aren’t. But my dad was, and he was in town visiting, accompanied by the emblem on the back of his truck. The guy said we should drink sometime. Numbers were not exchanged. We’ll call that a node, because it’s not quite a connection. And it’s mainly nodes, waiting to be connected, to have relevance. But first, no matter who you’re trying to befriend, you have to answer everyone else’s Do I Care Quiz. The quiz is employed by 93% of locals to determine how they feel about you existing within their personal 50-mile radius. The first question is non negotiable:

1) Are you visiting?

Variations on this question include “how long are you in town?” or “what brings y’all to town?” or my least favorite and most insulting, “did you just finish Jeeping?” I know I have blonde hair and say y’all, but how dare you. (Also, to be clear, you can own a Jeep, customize your Jeep, mod out your Jeep, and love your Jeep, but you’re not Jeeping until you drive too fast through a tiny town so you can hurl your Jeep over a mountain pass without ever getting out of it.) So the answer to “are you visiting” is “no, I live here.” Which brings us to the next question, my favorite for how loaded the gun, kneeling in the grass, scope on, target locked it is.

2) Are you part-time or full-time?

The first time I answered this question, I didn’t realize it was essentially like asking how someone voted in the 2020 election. The judgment was cocked and ready and the palpable relief/joy/or at the very least, tolerance, exuded by answering “full-time” was like when the sun comes out from behind the clouds on a 40 degree day. I was fine, but wow that does feel better. The third question though does not have a standard hoped-for answer. This is where nodes turn to connections turn to phone numbers.

3) What brings you here?

It seems like the best possible answer would be saying you work in town, and you’re going to begin construction on displaced-worker housing to ensure the people who run this town can actually live in it. We’d have everyone’s phone number. Saying you’re a writer who works remotely and bought a house from a legendary and beloved local who could no longer afford it is really something you keep to yourself. But in the interest of making friends, I just word vomit my entire history. We might as well find out at the onset if I make your eyes roll back into your skull. Not at all threatening that all it takes is a single social signal misinterpreted to be the absolute death knell of my ability to make friends in a town of some 1400 adults. In fact, I’ll share one such interaction. I was hiking with Cooper, about 5 miles by foot away from my house. I was on a trail, crossing a sloped meadow, and a group was traversing up the hillside to the trail. I said hi, where y’all coming from. One girl answered and we talked about the trail. She eyed me up and down. “Did you just move here?” “I did!” “I served your family last week,” she said. “Oh,” that phrasing. “Must have been my in-laws.” “Heard you bought Jack’s house. Such a bummer when locals like that are forced out.” “We didn’t even know about his house,” I said. “We were looking at another house and he asked his realtor if he could get us to come see his house. We just loved it, and him!” She had no emotional reaction to this. “You moved from California?” she asked. (Dangerous question.) “Yeah, got these sea level lungs, haha,” attempting to disarm with humor was a failure, “but couldn’t be happier to be out of California.” “It’s not like this all year. Winter’s really hard here, you’re in for a rude awakening.” “Well California’s the last place I lived, but I’m not from there. I’ve lived in brutal winters. At least Colorado gets sun!” I laugh with cloaked loathing. “It’s different when you live at altitude,” she said, like no human aside from her had ever been literally anywhere. “Are you trying to go around?” She indicated the path behind her. “No, y’all go ahead, just gonna wait to give you your space. I’m sure you’re faster than me.” “K, good luck making it to the lake." Maybe she was thirsty. Maybe she was hungover. Maybe she just has vicious delivery, but it felt like every blade of grass was leaning against the wind to listen. She was with four other people and not one of them said a word. I left that interaction not wanting to see another human ever again. But that interaction, and her intimate knowledge of exactly which house I lived in, made me want to decorate like we lived in a gingerbread house, all candy canes and plum drops, screaming to any passerby that we’re friendly. One of the mayor’s first questions to me was “what are you going to do to the house?” There are rules here about what your house can look like, and I kept emphasizing we bought the house because we loved it, not because we wanted to change everything about it. And now, instead of wanting to decorate the interior, I want to put up shades so we don’t contribute to light pollution, I want to hang a sign by the water spigot saying “grab some if you need” for hikers and mountain bikers, I want to paint a sign for the wild mint by our door that says, “I mint to tell you to take some,” because our neighbors were openly panicked they wouldn’t be able to just grab mint from the cabin’s garden anymore. Without question, COVID makes things harder. Dinner parties feel like dares. Dropping cookies off at someone’s house feels invasive. Grabbing a drink feels like the ultimate sign of trust. But at least we have nodes who can connect who can think to invite us and who can see that despite having lived in California, we’re not all that bad. In the meantime, I’ll be painting signs about water and mint, hoping to garner the benefit of the doubt from the so beautifully, earnestly, and waiting-to-see-if-you’re-worth-it doubtful.

Subscribe to the newsletter at tinyletter.com/keltonwrites — high altitude relocation and renovation in a tiny mountain town.

[wangxianficrecs]

Follower Recs

Stories I haven’t read yet, but clearly need to put on my ever-expanding List.

~*~

Welcome back queen [Thank you, it’s so lovely to be back!] if ur still doing follower recs I gotta recommend I would wait for a thousand years by bleuett it’s soooooooo good

[This one was actually recced to me by two different people, the other of whom said, “ Maybe I'm crying a little so I feel like a should recommend ‘I would wait for a thousand years’ by bleuett on ao3.”]... it’s def. on my List!

I would wait for a thousand years

by bleuett (T, 10k, wangxian)

Summary:  During the worst of winter, a traveler comes to stay at Lan Wangji's inn. He wears a red ribbon in his hair.

“Do you see the rabbit?” Wei Ying asks and points at the moon. “That’s the moon rabbit, he helps make Chang’e more immortality elixir. He keeps Chang’e company.”

“I do not wish the rabbit for company,” Lan Wangji says tightly. “You are the one I want by my side.”

“And I’m here, Lan Zhan. If you go to the moon, I’ll follow you, I’ll always be here now.”

~*~

I just read a great fic by aisthuu "every love story is a ghost story", didn't see it in your recs so wanted to recommend it! LWJ is a guqin composer and teacher, buys a cheap guqin off eBay which ends up being attached to WWX's spirit from canon era. It's bittersweet, LWJ deals with Lan's homophobia (implicit in a Lan way) and his feelings towards the ghost. This is author's only ao3 fic and honestly I don't remember how I stumbled upon it, but I'm happy I did and hope you will enjoy it too!  [I’ve recently read this one, and loved it!]

every love story is a ghost story

by aisthuu (M, 59k, wangxian, my bookmark)

Summary:  The man is in Lan Zhan’s bed. Did they—he begins to wonder, eyes trailing to where the man’s body lies under the blanket. Had Lan Zhan—?

Then the sleep-fog clears and Lan Zhan realizes that the young man isn’t quite opaque around the edges.

“You’re a spirit.”

The spirit narrows its eyes. “I’m so much more than that.”

(Lan Zhan buys a guqin off eBay for a suspiciously low price, only to find that it’s haunted. And now there’s a ghost in his bed.)

~*~

Ok so I absolutely have to rec "see you yesterday" by glyphic. It's a wip, but it's currently at 101k so there's a whole lot there, and it's terrible and wonderful and beautiful all at once. The way the backstory of canon events is adapted to the modern-with-cultivation setting is brilliant, and then there's the amnesia, and then there's the time loop. This fic lives permanently rent-free in my brain.

see you yesterday

by glyphic (M, 101k, wangxian, WIP)

Summary:  

Wei Ying 21:09 hey lan zhan what’s the weirdest way youve died

Lan Zhan 21:11 Falling encyclopedias.

Wei Ying 21:12 omg no way that’s so rude turning books against you???

Lan Zhan 21:13 A betrayal I will never forget.

On Halloween night, an exiled demonic cultivator and a Lan disciple get stuck in a time-loop, find each other, and try to figure it all out.

~*~

If you are looking for recs for yourself I absolutely love (the complete!) story Just as the Snow Melts by draechali on AO3. It's a canon divergence where everyone lives, even WWX! ~ @airmidcelt

Just as the Snow Melts

by draechaeli (T, 67k, wangxian)

Summary:  Like a snowy mountain top in spring the residents of the Burial Mounds trickled down the mountain and joined the flow of society.

“I went to the Burial Mounds,” Lan WangJi said.

“Ah, yeah… I’m sorry Lan Zhan,” replied Wei WuXian, “I hadn’t thought anyone would come to visit. I am still not sure how it happened; I brought A-Yuan to Yiling to play by the river and then ended up somehow teaching a bunch of children swimming and writing along with him.”

~*~

Hello! It's come to my attention that you have not as yet read Grandmaster of Meme-onic Cultivation! Please do! It's the only thing that gave me joy during 2020 😆 like proper belly laughs and disney villain style cackling. It is a wip, and it is long but so so worth it!! The author has reworked the entire canon through these message crystals and still conveys complex characters despite the tricky format. It's just so good!! Highly highly recommend it! ❤ ~ @theladypeartree  [Oh!  I’ve been subscribed to this one, and know that @swaglexander-the-great is a reliable provider of Hilarity, so I’m excited for it to be finished!]

Grandmaster of Meme-onic Cultivation 

by Hades_the_Blingking (T, 49k, wangxian, WIP)

Summary:  The Untamed universe is exactly the same, except everybody has magical crystals that have a suspiciously familiar messaging system. The story is pretty much the same as the show, except everyone lives!! (so minor changes).

or in which Wei WuXian tries his darndest to date Lan Zhan, Jiang Cheng possibly has a aneurysm, Jin ZiXuan is still the most awkward human alive, and Xue Yang makes me write some VERY cursed things. Written in chatfic format! :3

~*~

Chomrafy on AO3 deserves love and encouragement; she’s written a body of compact, poetic, and eloquent shortfics each of which can stand alone, but that comprise an intricately cross-referential and mostly internally-consistent universe. They’re grouped as chapters in works according to theme; for example, “in cupped hands” focuses upon Jin Ling and his second-generation baggage; “Departure in Autumn” portrays the last years of WWX’s first life. Follow the tag “Chomrafy’s MDZS shortfics.” [I don’t see this tag?]

in cupped hands

by chomrafy (G, 2k, wangxian)

Summary:  Of secrets, of futures, of love. A Jin Ling-centric collection of 200-word fics.

Ch.1: Jin Ling repays a debt (JL, JC, & WWX). Ch.2: Jin Ling and a ghost in the mirror. (JL & JYL) Ch.3: A matter of friends (JL & the other kids) Ch.4: In this house we don't keep dogs (JC & WWX) Ch.5: In the end, he remains silent (JL & uncles) Ch.6: A first night hunt, of sorts (JL & the other kids) Ch.7: Jin Ling, forgiving, forgetting (JL & LXC & JGY) Ch.8: Jiang Cheng and Jin Ling argue (JL, JC, & WWX) Ch.9: Jin Ling and his father (JL & JC) Ch.10: Jin Ling speaks up (JL, JC, & WWX) Ch.11: Jin Ling and a piece of home (JL, JC, & WWX)

Departure in Autumn

by chomrafy (not rated, 6k)

Summary:  Four perspectives. A steady march to the end.

Ch.1: Because if anything happens to them, Wen Qing would never be able to heal with these hands again. Ch.2: As long as this is still home, Jiang Yanli will wait as long as she needs to. Ch.3: Five times Jiang Cheng reaches for Wei Wuxian, one time he turns away. Ch.4: Whether the road is broad or narrow, bright or dark, they would have to keep walking. Wei Wuxian digs Wen Qing's grave.

~*~

Hello, hope all is going well. I don't have an ask, by I do have a recommendation. I read this fic a while ago and found it again. I just wanted to recommend this for everyone. Let me know what you think please. Thank you. [Oh!  This one’s in my To Read list, but  I’d forgotten about it.  Mmmm, fox!wwx and dragon!lwj.]

Ten miles of Lotus Flowers

by Yukirin_Snow

M, 274k, wangxian

Summary:  He was a mischievous fox spirit, wreaking havoc where he went, about to depart on a journey that would span centuries.

He was a heavenly prince, a proud dragon destined to ascend the throne to become emperor.

Neither expected their paths to collide over the span of three lives.

~*~

I forgot if it was your blog 😥 that recommended “Bestseller” (when Wei Wuxian writes the Xianxia cut-sleeve equivalent of Fifty Shades of Grey, based entirely on his experiences with Lan Wangji, he doesn’t expect it to become the next big hit) (https://archiveofourown.org/works/21528316/chapters/51318766)

But OMG IT WAS HILARIOUS!!! I LOVED IT!! And if it wasn’t your blog, I’m so sorry for how weird this sounds 😭😭😭😭 I just loved this fic so much that I have to tell it to someone 😢 [It’s on my List, but I haven’t read it yet!]

Bestseller

by pupeez4eva

M, 8k, wangxian

Summary:  He had written the book to prove a point. It was never supposed to be a big thing, and he certainly never intended for everyone — Jiang Cheng, Zewu-Jun, the Juniors, literally everyone— to be reading about his sex life.

Oh God, he definitely needed to make sure Lan Zhan didn’t find out about this.

(Or, when Wei Wuxian writes the Xianxia cut-sleeve equivalent of Fifty Shades of Grey, based entirely on his experiences with Lan Wangji, he doesn’t expect it to become the next big hit).

~*~

I’d like to rec On Your Marks, Get Set, Bake! by @blackwiresgrowonherhead

It’s one of my absolute favorites and I laughed out loud so many times when reading it

on your marks, get set, bake!

by BlackWiresOnHerHead

G, 41k, wei wuxian & juniors

Summary:  Jin Ling resumes thumping on the door to room 721, and the small collection of freshmen starts chanting “Senior Wei! Senior Wei! Senior Wei!” with increasing volume until finally Wei Wuxian opens the door.

“Yes?” he says with his widest, most innocent eyes.

“Senior Wei!” demands Lan Jingyi, shoving himself to the front of the group. “Why didn’t you tell us you’re a contestant on this year’s season of The Great Gusu Bake Off?!?”

--

Several months ago, college student Wei Wuxian secretly competed in the most popular reality show in the country. The show starts airing in the fall. The freshmen in his dorm collectively lose their minds.

~*~

If you're in the mood for v. short ridiculous fun fic, may I suggest My chain hits my chest/When I'm bangin' on the radio by x_los It's 2k modern cultivators AU, featuring WWX calling LWJ's sword Bitchin' [omg I’m laughing so hard] and I think it's more fun going in blind?

My chain hits my chest/When I'm bangin' on the radio

by x_los

T, 2k, wangxian

Summary:  Lan Wangji finds he doesn't even need to call for help for Wei Wuxian to come running.

[why-this-kolaveri-machi]

it’s a fucking metaphor!

Titans 3.08

i’ve finally gathered the mental and emotional resources to do this thing, so let’s go! as always, i’m typing this up as i see the episode.

SPOILERS AHEAD

1. on watching this opening scene, i was thinking back to how gar was in s1, or even the early bits of s2. the way he idolised the others, particularly dick, and his readiness to go along with whatever they said, and the way he practically bled the need for acceptance. and here he is now, openly defying dick, fully open to and aware of the flaws of the people he loves and admires, knowing he is accepted no matter what and extending that generosity elsewhere. it’s a remarkable bit of character growth that’s... sort of blossomed in the background and so rewarding to see and acknowledge. 

1.25. i guess what i really love about this conflict over how to respond to jason--as clumsily as it is sometimes written--is how their histories and individual traumas inform each character’s reaction. dick is torn between his guilt over what’s become of jason and his drive to do what batman had essentially given up on doing: he is motivated to track down red hood at all costs but there’s a sense that he’s not completely sold on the idea that the only way to stop him is to kill him. (he might go the comics route and try to put him in arkham? god, imagine if the season ended with jason in arkham.) kory’s never had much of a connection with jason in the first place, and jason has done one of the worst things he could do in her book: track and kill a member of her newfound family and is threatening to kill more. 

and gar... sure. look. the idea of jason and red hood as separate entities appeals to him; that red hood emerged when jason was drugged to the gills by scarecrow and lost his usual inhibitions. gar’s struggled with what he becomes when he’s pushed to his limits, too--he did rip open that experimenting scientist with his teeth way back in 1.07, after all, and he was brainwashed by cadmus in s2 into becoming a literal monster. he needs to think, to know, there’s a dichotomy, a line that can only be crossed under extreme duress or by outside influence. 

and he says--and we say--that he was accepted back into the titans in spite of what he’d done, but was he really? gar’s always struggled with his footing in this group; relegated to the caretaker, the tech guy, the gatekeeper, and sometimes punching bag even though everybody’s paying lip service to how much of a family they all are. perhaps gar reaching out to jason and offering acceptance is aspirational on his part: perhaps this is the effort he hoped the titans put/or will put into getting gar back, even when it would seem like he’s too far gone.

1.5. anyway my point is that i don’t think it’s worth discussing this in terms of right/wrong decisions because all of their reactions make a lot of sense given their backgrounds/personalities. gar is doing a fine job here of tracking down jason’s friends and trying to find him that way, but we the audience know that jason is ultimately going to end up an anti-hero/eventually-hero character, so with that knowledge in mind we know that gar’s reaction is the right one. it’s knowledge that the other characters don’t have, so to judge them on it is... uh, unfair.

1.8. also, molly is awesome, yay!

2. dick and barbara flirting over the phone is so cute! i love to see this side of dick: lighter, peppier, willing (even if somewhat reluctantly) to put his mission aside to go out on a date with his girlfriend. and i love how easy this makes his dynamic with kory too: it’s all very domestic and utterly delightful. 

(also, re: the water leak in barbara’s office--you’re saying GCPD could afford fancy-schmancy table-wide touch screen computers and evil-lair lighting but needs its frickin’ commissioner to catch leaking water from above her desk with mugs and fishbowls????)

2.2225. this is probably a teeny tiny thing and i’m not sure i want to bring it up at all BUT. the fact that dick feels compelled to lie to barbara about not liking fancy gala food and eating something more substantial before the date? not a terribly great sign, though i wouldn’t call it a red flag per se. 

“this from a man who forced his students to eat cauliflower crust pizza...”

3. so.... conner and kom are a Thing. huh.

in theory i really like the idea of them bonding over an innate alien-ness and longing for a place they could really belong. both of them are alien twice-over: conner a mix of kryptonian and human, practically generated in a test tube, and kom being somebody that was born different and rejected by her own people, now stuck on a planet dominated by an entirely different species. i even like them exploring this bond physically. i guess it’s the sense of... uneasiness around what we do and don’t know about kom that makes this scene land slightly left of centre to me. i think titans, especially through s2, has cultivated in its audience a sense of distrust even until the final episode, just in case somebody vital to the season is suddenly revealed to have had ulterior motives (i’m even low-key suspicious of leslie). i really want to see this kom-conner dynamic play out but the anticipation of watching the other shoe drop is sucking out the enjoyment.

4. for fuck’s sake dick, gar’s not your gatekeeper.

TIIIIIIIIMMMMM \O/

4.5. i love this nod to tim’s origins in the comics, the way he just comes in and lays out all his evidence and makes it clear to dick that he needs tim’s help as robin. the fact that he was there at the flying graysons’ last performance, he was obsessed with their acrobatic moves, and was observant enough to connect those moves with that of robin and later nightwing... all of this came together to put him where he is right now.

(i also love how he can’t contain his giddy excitement when talking about the day dick grayson’s parents died... to dick grayson. even if dick weren’t nightwing, that would be a deeply uncomfortable thing! yet tim can’t help himself, and i love him for it.)

4.8. it’s a testament to how much dick’s caught off-guard that he can’t come up with a better response to tim’s allegations other than “uh... he stole my moves! as you know, no two gymnasts in the world are allowed to do the same moves. now, let me escort you out while pretending poorly that i’m not at all shaken by this...”

4.9. i’ve talked about this before, but i find the logic around secret identities in this universe utterly fascinating. the titans don’t make much effort in keeping their identities secret: everybody seems to know that kory is starfire for instance, or that gar is beast boy. dick grayson is seen hanging out with kory a lot, especially at crime scenes. it won’t take a lot of sleuthing to find out that the titans are currently camped out at wayne manor, and to put two and two together.

my theory was that superheroes and villains have become such an integral part of daily society that it’s almost not worth it to seek out their secret identities, or that it’s just not a big deal anymore. like politicians or diplomats, not everybody bothers to look into who exactly their local politician is, but the people who know just... know. it’s a sort of unspoken social contract.

tim’s broken this contract by confronting dick about his identity, and dick’s not ready to deal with it. not entirely.

look at him! *pinches his cheeks*

5. ngl, it was quite satisfying to see jason knock the scarecrow out like that. 

5.5. i guess... the question of jason’s culpability is always going to be a thorny one and would make for a great courtroom drama spinoff. there are a number of factors to consider: jason’s personality, the rough circumstances under which he grew up, his undoubtedly stressful transition to being robin, bruce wayne being... well, bruce wayne, never feeling accepted by the titans and having most of them turn on him, being roundly defeated and almost killed by deathstroke, alfred’s death, a fuckload of ptsd, his violent death, crane’s manipulations, coming back to life, crane plying him with a drug. but there is no easy line to draw between any of these factors to his actions. i think it would be a disservice to jason’s character to attribute his actions entirely to these things and rather irresponsible to do so. i think jason has to reckon with the fact that when he took crane’s drug, he wasn’t reckless and chaotic like the thugs he gave it to; the planning that went into hank’s death was meticulous and the way hank died--dawn essentially tricked into pulling the trigger that blew her lover into bits--is so drawn out and cruel. 

5.75. it’s occurring to me that crane might have given jason a placebo. maybe jason’s dependence is psychological, and he’s externalised his fears in such a way that he believes crane’s drugs literally wipe them out, however temporarily.

in any case, the boy needs (more) therapy.

6. “he walked like robin...” fuck, tim

“gait recognition sweep” god, this show. i don’t know whether to laugh or cry. hey, once we’re done doing this gait recognition thingy, can we get a goddamn plumber in the house??? or move the commissioner’s desk so that sewage water isn’t dripping on her head or the million dollar touchscreen desk???????

6.5. oh no dick!!!!!! i am delighted that you got hurt but i feel ashamed about it! that looked like it really hurt!

he’s really not having a good time of it, is he. from being shot by a sniper to slamming at full speed into an suv, he’s got to be really fucking battered by now. and that’s just the physical side of it.

“can you believe that just over a week ago i was sitting in san francisco eating cauliflower crust pizza and feeling good about myself for the first time in five years...”

7. kory’s having visions again! now that she’s figured what they are, do you think the show’s just dropped justin? it’s curious that HPG hasn’t been brought up in a while after featuring relatively heavily in the beginning. hmmm.

8. dick’s in hospital but... he looks remarkably whole for someone who took a spill like that. you’d think he’d at least have a bruise to show for it. on the other hand, i love that the first thing he says is ‘i need to call home’. reminds me of season 1 dick and his clumsy attempts to explain away his found family as an ‘alliance of necessity’ or some bullshit. what a long way he’s come!

*gasp* dick’s hallucinating again!!!!!!!!!!!! i’m doing the dick’s hallucinating dance! can you believe that we’re carrying over these huge honking issues unearthed in season 2 onto season 3? can you believe?!!! all that time and effort i spent talking about dick’s mental health from last season has not gone in vain!!

... ahem. anyway. more on this later.

“hold on barbara, i think kory gave me the number to this therapist that she kept calling Hot Psychiatrist Guy...”

9. just an interlude to say that i’m barely halfway through the episode and i’ve already written 2k+ words... ugh. i’m going to try and be more concise.

10. man i fuckin love it when titans goes all out with its weird mindscapes and i’m extra glad that kory’s the focus this time. is that baby kom or maybe a secret sibling that neither of them knew about? was that lady luand’r? and is this place where kory was circling where the secret sibling is? it’s all very intriguing. 

(if justin turned out to be that sibling... we’ve a real luke/leia situation on our hands.)

11. aw, i knew that nice security guard was going to die, but it still hurt to see him go :(

12. this show is so bizarre. like i get the mindscape as a narrative device, but jason using sex workers to try and vocalise his guilt about killing hank was just weird. like. i have to use tamil, sorry: idhulaan yaaru pa room pottu yosikara??? some things just can’t be translated into a second language.

i guess one way to interpret jason’s reckoning with what he did to the titans as a sign of him coming off crane’s drug, but i think it’s more to do with the disillusionment of realising that he was a mere pawn in a more sinister plan, and not, as he thought, a player in control of his destiny, rising to the purpose of liberating gotham of its fears in a way batman never could. along the way, he’s done some truly irreversible damage. it’s a bitter pill to swallow.

13. another hallucination! it’s really intriguing that it’s a young dick(?), younger than we’ve ever seen him, wearing an early-era robin costume from way before he even became robin. (this is also interesting in that it gives credence to the idea that ‘robin’ is an identity that dick created entirely on his own, and as a possible homage to his family.)

“old road, old house... it’s all gone.” i wonder what it all means.

13.5. it’s entirely likely dick’s hallucinating because of a brain injury from the accident, though just hallucinations without any other focal neurological deficit is unusual. he might’ve been microdosed with fear toxin at some point, though i wonder when... did jason do so after dick’s accident? did he get dosed at the factory from last episode? 

it’s also possible it’s a continuing manifestation of dick’s issues from last season--which, if you remember, he never told anyone about and therefore never properly addressed. maybe he was hallucinating bruce wayne in a psychotic episode accompanying an acute stress reaction and maybe that’s what’s happening now. nobody’s denying that he’s under an extraordinary amount of stress right now. another way to look at it is that this is how he externalises conflict that he can’t bear to suppress anymore; if in s2 halluci!bruce manifested his insecurities and self-loathing, then these hallucinations... something to do with his fears, no doubt.

yet ANOTHER way to look at it might be: rachel is reaching out to him through their, well, psychic bond. after all, they were able to use that bond unconsciously last season to get the titans back together; maybe rachel has learned to gain a degree of control over it in themyscira and is sending across warnings? it’s all very intriguing.

anyway:

“i hear you skipped over the discowing suit in your evolution to nightwing... how could you??”

14. can you imagine, gar did all the work of reaching out to jason via molly and jason wants to meet dick? smh.

14.5. “i’m just a regular guy doing regular things” he says, standing at the opening of a secret old tunnel, like a secret person doing secret things, confronting someone who can now officially be called his stalker. neither of you guys are ‘regular’

14.8. ‘my dad was a cop and he taught me how to investigate’ - hmmm. i guess they’re trying to Explain Tim but i don’t think that’s really necessary. so he’s smart and he’s obsessed with batman and robin--that should be enough, imo. 

15. that scene with scarecrow and his mother was... wow. i’m just laughing here helplessly, because what the hell? for a while i thought it was an extended dream sequence and i’m still not entirely sure that it isn’t...

anyway. i still love that titans is happy to throw out its plot in favour of extended character-exploration sessions.

15.5. it seems to me that this scene with crane and his mother (i have no idea if there’s anything in the comics similar to this) serves to move forward this season’s theme of harmful legacies and how parents can damage their children in the name of their mission. in a way it’s been the underlying message of the entire show but we’re really seeing it being reinforced this season. the titans, serving as a foil to scarecrow, are using the damage to rebuild themselves and actually work through their issues together, instead of spiralling further and further into the morass of their issues.

other than that... god, that scene was painful to watch. i can’t say i like this version of scarecrow or how this actor plays him at all.

16. i wonder what’s jason’s play here. i think he’s smart enough to realise that the titans aren’t going to just forgive him and let him be a titan again after what he did, and that dick agreeing to it is just a bid to pin both him and crane down. maybe it’s a ploy to trap them, get back on scarecrow’s good books so that he can have the drug again. who knows.

17. i absolutely felt dick when he said “we’ll bring him in and then re-assess the situation.” what the fuck else is he going to say? the priority is to get him.

so kory and dick are both hallucinating while potentially trying to rehabilitate their murderous siblings. CONFIDE IN EACH OTHER ALREADY

18. TIM NOOOO! you beautiful, reckless fool!

18.25. just to quickly address it here because i know it’s been brought up before: i think it’s perfectly justified to not have conner take tim to the hospital via superspeed because a) i don’t think we’ve seen conner do that with anybody so far and b) it’s probably not a good idea to submit tim’s body to that kind of stress without knowing what it would do to him. the paramedics with actual equipment and experience would be there in a few minutes, so on a risk assessment, i would say dick and conner absolutely made the right call.

18.5. i guess we won’t know what jason really intended to when the titans came to the pump to see him, but this is definitely going to set a big wedge in his relationship with crane. then again, crane got what he wanted--using starfire’s powers to blast through to the underground pipes--so jason can argue that this is exactly what he was working towards, too. 

anyway, mortal peril, hallucinations, murderous family members, creepy visions and robins sprouting left and right. time to get rachel and donna on the scene, i think.

[turtle-steverogers]

she is very long so. enjoy😌

- Steve n Bucky going to the bodega down the street from their apartment. it’s open till like 4am and they go at all hours. sometimes they’ll go separately but they always go together when they go in between 12-4 am and no one who works there questions why

- they get a cat that they treat her like their child. it’s Alpine ofc😌 steve loves her so much but he knows it’s Bucky’s Cat and he’s fine with it

- you know how some siblings or partners or friends can communicate with their eyes and basically have telepathy? they totally have that and it annoys the shit out of every single person they meetjdksndks. someone will be talking to them and they will just make eye contact with each other bc it reminded them of an earlier convo they had or they both got annoyed by the other person or it reminds them of an inside joke or something and it just irritates EVERYONE. no one is able to intercept it and it’s just a thing that no matter what - even though they don’t mean to - you’ll feel a little left out when you’re with steveandbucky. it just comes with the gig. i like to imagine that depending on if it’s an au or not, its either really obvious or not. like in an au then yes it’s obvious they can have non verbal conversations, but if it’s not an au then it’s not entirely obvious bc they’re enhanced humans and they know how to hide their secret conversations. but everyone they talk to is essentially an enhanced human or has special abilities so it’s obvious to them and they catch them in the act LOL. if they’re interacting with regular people then it’s not very obvious though

- DATE NIGHT!!! yes they’re old yes they have date night. when they go out it’s usually to places in their neighborhood, but a lot of the time they like to stay in bc. they’re old men <3 steve is better at cooking and bucky is better at baking bc you can get creative with cooking and steve likes that more. he enjoys baking a lot too but he thinks bucky’s stuff tastes better. whenever they stay home though there’s ALWAYS a movie. always. they alternate choosing but there is always a movie to watch. bucky usually falls asleep nearing the end and steve plays with his hair😌 he rolls his eyes cause it happens every time but he actually likes when it happens bc he can braid strands of hair together

- pet names oh my god. so many pet names. every single one. mainly from bucky. steve uses them but maybe like two. he favors sweetie and buck and that’s it really. sometimes he uses hon. bucky though oh my god. every single pet name under the sun. so many variations of doll you wouldn’t believe - baby doll ofc, dolly, stevie doll. sweetheart. sweetness. blondie. pretty boy. hot stuff. stevie. baby. hon. honey. sunshine. angel. it’s just so many. and it’s like very sickening insane twisted etc but hot at the same time. most people are like jeez barnes do you ever shut up… but most of these people secretly think it’s a little hot theyre thinking damn where is that affection for me…. i need me a bucky barnes :| steve is the only smitten kitten outwardly even if he huffs and puffs sometimes but it’s obvious he enjoys it. like they are so annoyingjdkssn for real they aren’t a pda couple really but the petnames….. so many. so so so many it’s sickeningly sweet but bucky dgaf! steve is his sweetheart his dolly his baby his angel so he’s going to call him these things!

- steve knows his body is what is considered “perfect” but he still is insecure about it around most people and bucky knows this so when steve lounges at home in bucky’s boxer briefs and his own tee shirt or he kicks off his pants when he’s too hot at night in bed bucky is reminded of just how much steve loves him and feels comfortable around him which is something he always strives for - to make steve comfortable. not baby him because steve bitches at anyone that does that to him but to make him feel comfortable

- and on the subject of feeling comfortable i imagine that they always check in with one another but it’s very subconscious they hardly realize they do it. like steve will bitch at bucky to pick up his shoes from their doorway or to clean his hair from the shower drain but the next second he will ask him if his back still hurts from being kicked by sam and from where steve AND alpine scratched him (in very different ways)

- steve is the sweater husband and bucky is the sweatshirt husband. they trade off a lot but that’s just how their closets look

- steve takes a liking to crop tops 😌 but ONLY around the house bc again he’s really truly only comfortable around bucky. he wears em with boxer briefs or sweatpants but you can guarantee that the briefs and sweats usually just end up on the floor 9 out of 10 times

- hair ties everywhere. they can be found on the floor in the laundry in their bed in the couch on top of the fridge on their fire escape. they are literally everywhere. steve just picks them up and puts them in the bathroom but they always make their way back. he doesn’t say anything to bucky until he finds alpine chewing one and she ends up smacking herself in the face with the hairtie

- their fridge is always full with leftovers and food from sam or clint’s or whoever’s house or takeout. they always eat it all but they get and make a lot of food so the fridge is always full

- subconsciously bucky always has a hand on the back of steve’s neck. like it’s not ENTIRELY a possessive thing but he used to do it a lot when steve was small because it was easy and it was comfortable. for him and just for him and steve. it was like swinging an arm around steve’s shoulders or putting a hand on his shoulder. it was just natural and easy so he did it. a part of him back then prewar did it possessively too, but he always tampered that down bc steve wasn’t his. now he does it without shame

- steve really likes tofu and vegan meat, non dairy milk like almond and soy, and overall a lot of non dairy vegan foods, and a lot of fruits. he gets made fun of for a lot specifically about the vegan stuff but his reasoning is that there’s so much food accessible for people with allergies in the future that he wished existed a hundred years ago so he’s going to try it and stick with it if he likes it. people shut up after that

- he also tips a little more than he needs to everywhere he goes. everywhere. like it’s cool when steve rogers walks in to a restaurant bc he’s a superhero or whatever but its REALLY cool because he leaves a generous tip and that’s what really makes peoples day

- before they get legally married they are still very much married. like “i packed you lunch, meet me at the restaurant instead of me going to pick you up bc it’ll take longer, i got takeout let’s bitch together while we watch shitty reality tv, let’s bitch at EACH OTHER through the phone in public, let’s send each other ugly pictures of each other or funny texts while we’re right next to each other, i’m out with a group and you’re not there and i say multiple times ‘i miss steve/bucky’, let’s yell at each other from opposite ends of the apartment instead of getting up to see each other, steve i’m going to fuck you on the couch bc our room is too far, etc.” they are just very much married without the documents and legalities and it’s very obvious

okay all of these were ABSOLUTELY wonderful and im really going to restrain my urge to respond to each and every one but that might be futile

-okay YES they definitely go to that bodega at all hours, and usually it's for normal things when they go separately: milk, cereal, toilet paper. but when they go in the middle of the night, they almost always purchase some like odd assortment of candies and deli meat. also, they're always in their pajamas. like bucky's in plaid pj pants and a star wars sweatshirt, and steve is in like 5" shorts and a huge crewneck and they're both in slides and they definitely only speak russian to each other when they're in there after hours

-yes alpine! they also have a dog, that is more steve than bucky's!! his name is norman in my headcanon (and a couple of my fics) and he is best boy

-okay i need more of this in my general stucky life: steve and bucky being like,,, best friends as well as lovers and being so seamlessly close. like yeah, they definitely talk with their eyes, or just one glance, or half-sentences ("hey, did you ever get to--" "yup, on the way home. it was so--" "yeah, good. glad to hear") and they know exactly what the other is saying.

-yes to the date nights!!! and when they stay in to watch movies, they make Tons of popcorn. and they Have to make separate batches, because steve will Only eat his with like half a bottle of that powdered white cheddar on his

-YES we share the same fucking headcanon for petnames on god

Steve: love you, buck:)

Bucky: love you, pumpkin

-Steve definitely has body dysmorphia, probably even post serum (I have lots of thoughts on this, that might be a different post) and yeah, Bucky definitely knows its Big that he feels comfortable enough to be exposed around him (and he's even more honored that steve lets him be intimate with him, because that's really hard for steve, too)

-yeah! and easy check ins like "ur stomach still bothering you from last night?" "oh, no it was just a little bug turns out" or like "my head hurts:(" "i have meds in my bag. you want?" "yeah, just two" or like subtly checking on injuries, yeah

-yeah the sweater versus sweatshirt tracks tbh i picture steve in a lot of crewnecks so yeah

-STEVE IN CROP TOPS STEVE IN CROP TOPS and i raise you they're often ones he's cropped himself and he's also painted on! or bleach painted!! and theyre so cool and bucky never wants to make a big deal out of it, but he's so proud of steve for expressing himself like that

-ALPINE SMACKING HERSELF ALKFJALSDKFJA also steve always has a hairtie on HIS wrist in case bucky forgets one for himself

-they also always have Steve Staple Foods cuz i headcanon steve as a picky eater (adhd!steve + serum enhancements, it's down to a formula) so they have a lot of Kraft mac and cheese and easy heat up meals and lunch meats around for when he's having bad food days

-OMG and steve absolutely MELTS i raise you, too, bucky will especially hold the back of his neck when he needs to get steve to Chill Out. so like if he sees him stressing he'll put his hand on the back of his neck and squeeze and literally feel the tension drain from him or like if steve is having a panic attack, he'll hold the back of his neck while they breathe together

-yes and also any time that steve is Choosing food for himself and feeling motivated to eat it, it's a win, so people learn to back off there, too

-yes! he tips generously, but never awkwardly or offensively. he's also super kind and patient to food service workers!

-this last point is so perfect i cant. like yeah, back to steve and bucky just being,,,, the best of friends. ugly selfies galore, shoving their feet in each other's face, flicking each others ears. and yes, all the fucking gossiping. on the phone gossip, venting, fun gossip from around work. they talk about it all. and it's so great for them

thank you again for stopping by! your thoughts are impeccable!

[hazzoranstories]

Damon Salvatore x Reader One-Shot | Katerina’s Sabotage Part 2

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Includes: Nudity, angst, harsh language, and mentions of blood

________________________________________________________________________________

*Mystic Falls, Virginia; 1864*

The next day Stefan woke up abruptly, groaning loudly. He looked around frantically and saw he was near a river. He unbuttoned his shirt to see his bullet wound completely healed. His eyes then fell on a blue ring around his finger.

"Katherine had me make that for you weeks ago," Emily cut in.

"Where am I?" The brother questioned.

"The quarry just north of town. My brother and I brought you here last night. We found you dead in the woods," the witch answered.

"Where's Damon?" Emily nodded behind him, and he shot around to see his brother sitting near the water without a shirt.

"Am I -- am I a --" Stefan stumbled over his words.

"Not yet. You're in transition," Emily said.

"But how? I --"

"You had Katherine's blood in your system when you died," the Bennett interrupted his rambling.

"No. I never --"

"She's been compelling you to drink it for weeks, Stefan," Emily muttered with a frown.

"And Damon?"

"No compulsion was necessary. He drank from Y/N willingly."

~:*:~

Stefan walked towards his brother near the river, who didn't blink once, and sat down next to him. "I woke up last night. I didn't know where I was. I went to the church. And I watched them drag her inside. Both of them . . . . then they set fire to it. And the whole church went up into flames," Damon explained and stared blankly at nothing. He then looked up to his younger brother with such vulnerability that Stefan had never seen before. "They killed them, Stefan. She's gone," he began sobbing, taking shaky and long breaths to try and calm himself down.

~:*:~

The night previous was the worst night of Y/N's life since she found her entire family dead back in 1492. The love of her life was shot, she was taken by hunters, and betrayed by her sister. While the vampires were being loaded into the church, Katherine compelled one of the guards to let her go. Not both of them like she had promised. She promised. Y/N knew her sister, and she knew she wasn't the best person in the world, but when she promises something to her, she always keeps it. Only to her, though. Everyone else doesn't matter enough to Katherine to keep promises. Y/N was her only family left, and she'd never admitted it, but Katherine needed her.

But that night, she realized just how weak her sister really was. She got penetrated by her feelings for Damon, and that cost her to lose Katherine's respect towards her. Y/N was useless to her. So she let her rot in that tomb along with Pearl and all the others.

She was selfish and cruel, but she didn't care. Like she's done since 1492, she takes care of herself first. Not her sister. Not her friends. Or even Stefan. Herself.

~:*:~

*Mystic Falls, Virginia: The Church Tomb; Present Day*

"Look, he needs leverage. He needs to know that you're not going to shut the door when he gets inside. I get it. I'll go," Elena cut off the argument between Damon and Sheila.

"May I?" Damon sniggered and grabbed a torch. The vampire dragged the doppelganger inside.

"What is that?" Elena whimpered in fear.

"They can sense you. Now, where is she?" the 25-year-old mumbled. He ran off, leaving Elena by herself in a tomb full of vampires.

"Damon!" Elena cried and looked around in the darkness, getting slightly frightened.

Damon searched for Y/N or even Katherine as fast as he could, trying not to trip over the bodies of decaying vampires. He looked over the tomb three times before starting to get furious.

"She's not down here. She's not even here!" the vampire screamed in pain as Stefan ran down next to him.

"What is it?" Stefan asked frantically for once, concerned for his brother.

"She's not here!" the older Salvatore barked and threw the blood bag he had brought for Y/N into the wall before letting out another cry. Y/N had placed herself in the very dark and secluded corner when she first arrived in the tomb. She didn't take any of Pearl's attempts to comfort her, and she hadn't opened her mouth to speak in 145 years. The last words she said was a sad whisper to her sister as she was shoved into the church.

She heard the Salvatore's voices and soon saw Damon with Stefan chasing after him as he let out his anger. She tried to yell to Damon but could barely part her lips.

"It doesn't make sense they locked her inside," Damon uttered.

"If we don't leave now, we're not getting out," Stefan stated firmly, but Damon kept muttering to himself.

"Damon," Y/N croaked, that was so quiet she wouldn't have been heard if it wasn't for the amazing hearing provided with vampirism. The two brothers snapped their heads to where the voice came from and saw the dirty fabric of a corset poking out from the blackness.

Both Salvatore's ran over to the corner and saw a lean figure slouched down. "Y/N?" Damon whispered and reached into the darkness, feeling the decayed skin of a hand. The older vampire handed the torch to Stefan and nudged Y/N out from the corner into the light.

The brothers gasped once they saw the iconic curly black hair that came with the Pierce sisters. "Y/N? Y/N, love, here. Come here," Damon bit his wrist before bringing it to Y/N's lips. Once it fell onto her tongue, she snapped alive and clutched onto her lover's wrist.

"Damon!" Elena shouted, but everyone ignored her until she ran in. "Please," she begged, but once she saw the eldest Salvatore feeding a vampire, her expression softened.

"Come on, Damon. She can feed later," Stefan rushed, and Damon stood Y/N up. She stumbled, but Damon caught her and picked her up bridal style. The three started running out, with Y/N clutching onto Damon's leather jacket. Once they got out, everyone let out a sigh of relief.

The fire went out, and the two Bennetts started panting as they unlinked hands. Stefan pulled Elena to his chest, but the younger Salvatore looked over to his older brother. Damon was looking at Y/N in pure horror at what's happened to her but also such joy that she's in his arms again.

Stefan let go of Elena and went over to his brother. Without one word, he patted Damon's shoulder and gestured up the stairs.

~:*:~

Back at the Salvatore boarding house, Damon walked up to his room without another word, with Y/N still encased in his arms. He set her down on his bed and walked into his large bathroom, turning on the shower. He went back over Y/N, who was still too weak to move well.

He slowly stripped her of her dress and other garments until she was completely bare. He lifted her back up and brought her to the shower. He set her down on the ground, and with his clothes still on; he washed the Pierce with tenderness.

~:*:~

Once Y/N was fully washed, dressed in some of Damon's clothes, and fixed up, Damon went downstairs and got her two blood bags. When he arrived, he sat down in the bed next to her and pulled her into him. As she downed the blood bags, her skin began to lose the greyness and plump back to its original form. Once she was done, she exhaled in euphoria.

Damon grabbed both bags and set them on the nightstand. Now, Y/N moved almost to her full ability and felt both physically and mentally stronger. She turned around to face Damon, who's face was serious. Every feature was tensed, and it looked almost sad.

"Thank you, Damon," the Pierce whispered and smiled lightly. She was going to kiss his cheek when he dodged her, making Y/N shoot him a hurt look. "What's wrong, love?" she questioned and ran her cold hand across his neck. He looked so different from what she last remembered. She knew the transformation would change him but not this much. His jaw was sharper, eyebrows thicker, hair shorter and straight, which she didn't particularly enjoy. His hair was one of her favorite parts of him; he looked older even though he couldn't age, shoulders were broader and more muscular, which made him heavier. However, he was still lean, and his eyes . . . . oh god, his eyes. They didn't look bright and lively like they were when he was human. They looked duller, sadder, and the most noticeable feature was how if you looked at them the right way, they pierced into your soul. Not in a good way. In almost a scary way. Or at least, it was scary for Y/N.

"Talk to me, Damon," she pleaded.

Damon's sharp eyes fell on hers and, without blinking, asked, "what the hell happened?"

Y/N was taken back by his language even though it wasn't bad, but Damon never swore. Ever. She pushed her shock aside and looked at him straight in the eye even though she didn't enjoy it. "That night in 1864, Katerina betrayed me. She compelled the guard of the church to let her go. She had a plan to escape long before they caught us, and she even talked to me about leaving Mystic Falls," she began explaining as Damon showed no emotions. "She promised me that we would escape together and that once we turned you and Stefan that I could be with you forever. Just like we planned. But I guess she changed her mind or something because she only compelled the guard to free her. Not me. So, I was left in that tomb with the rest of them. I don't know where Katerina is or why she did what she did, but it's something I can't deal with right now," once she finished, Y/N went quiet as Damon gazed at her.

"I'm sorry . . . . I'm sorry I didn't save you that night. I promised that I would protect you against my father, but I guess I was too weak. Hell, I couldn't even get the damn door down," the Salvatore groaned and placed his hands over his eyes. He took a deep breath and soon removed them.

Before he could look at Y/N again, her lips collided with his. He grunted in surprise but quickly kissed back. He had been starved of her kisses for too long, and he finally got to taste her again after more than a century. He was finally back with his love.

[transsexualhamlet]

I feel like Exposing Myself online today so here's a completely unasked for, in depth bulleted list explanation of why I kin which bsd characters. the short answer is i am very mentally ill feel free to come into my asks and roast me bc of this

NIKOLAI

first of all thats my gender sir. i wish to dress and present myself like him

superiority and individuality complexes to the extreme

would kill/die/commit heinous acts for my good sir fyodor dostoyevsky (and anyone else I cared about)

if i think about society too hard i want to murder everyone and am filled with existential horror and disgust

that good old deep set desire to make everyone i love despise me so they'll know who i truly am

"I am completely sane /neg"

if anyone slightly normal likes anything about me i need to change it immediately

every torment i experience is entirely on purpose and my fucking fault

every single way i am perceived is wrong yet please i need to be perceived objectively because i as a human cannot see myself from all angles

DAZAI

called the FUCK out by irl dazai's works

strong desire to fuck around and find out as in "if i am reckless and put myself into dangerous places and situations then I might gain calvin+hobbes style 'character' and my own feelings will then be valid"

acting silly and speaking of serious issues like jokes to distract from Constant Internal Crisis

my one true love, unhealthy coping mechanisms

no filter and no idea of what is socially acceptable

generally just kind of a shitty person who says "i'm gonna change" and keeps doing the same goddamn thing because they can't be bothered to go through the emotional pain so has just decided that they are a Bad Person and not do actually put effort into becoming better

"i hate pain" as an oxymoron

goes through elaborate hoops to make sure people don't think of them highly

hasn't managed to keep any friends from more than 4 years ago (for understandable reasons)

the mortifying ordeal of being known

deep emotional need for people to call me slurs so i feel special<3

RANPO

lists off the entire autism diagnostic criteria and related symptoms

i like literally every single thing i could think of that i kin him is related to neurodivergency ie:

his blunt style of speech, sounding rude, knowledge in academic areas but deficient in social, always a complete mess, different way of thinking about Everything, age under/overestimated etc etc etc

oh also i love his awful style he is wearing his tie backwards me too buddy

praise praise praise praise praise gimme gimme gimme gimme

takes any criticism absolutely HORRIBLY aka rejection sensitive dysphoria

POE

GENDER GENDER GENDER GENDER

desire to always have my hair entirely covering my face

spending insane amounts of money on people i care about

remembering people for years as a huge impact on my life and having them not remember me at all

trying to be "mysterious" and ending up just a huge nerd

always carrying around giant stack of books

literally always writing and a large amount if not all of my writing is to please those few people who understand me

KYUU/Q

kyuu is. not an important character and has not appeared since the guild arc. there is not much to go off of however i think it's very important

gender. i rest my case

i am not god's strongest soldier if subjected to any amount of pain i will scream and murder anyone i can to get rid of it

there is so much rage there is So Much Rage pent up in that tiny fucking body and if anyone underestimates me or provokes me they're getting the goddamn electric chair

i am just a little guy do not do this to me please sir im just a little guy and it's my birthday

hey besties if i were given the nuclear launch codes we would all be dead

horrible distaste for any medical professional and Extreme Problems with giving anyone especially said medical professionals access to my body or any knowledge thereof

objectively someone should probably lock me up

FYODOR

hey he's got stand up and pass out immediately disease same he is a frail young lad

give me my blood back it is falling out

hyperempathy and low empathy working together manifests as "we should all just die" disease which is objectively not true and never something you should base your political views on but it sits there in my brain it sure does

as like with nikolai society and living within it and the way it is structured ie capitalism makes me want to enter jeff bezos's house and start my life of crime right then and there

ROMANTICIZE ROTTING INTO THE GROUND WITH YOUR LOVED ONES BY GOD

not to be that guy but if i was in any way capable of helping i would so join the DOA excluding fukuchi fukuchi doesnt exist fyodor runs the doa and anything about fukuchi is a mass hallucination /j

and of course CHUUYA

I feel like there are many chuuya kinnies who have much more claim to him than me and I will cede that however have you considered short overpowered trans man who is always feeling 73 emotions and 60 of them are variations on anger

feeling alienated/like i'm an imposter at being human (although this is a theme of the whole series and nearly everyone in it)

i bite and kill medical professionals<3 (you can sense a theme here)

i always get adopted into friend groups and then they fucking Leave (thankfully not by dying in my situation. as far as i know)

i had my newly out transmasc era too chuuya *points at picture of 15 chuuya's outfit and haircut and general demeanor*

i know i have said this on nearly all of them but by god his gender

concluding this you can tell i am an on fire garbage can

[andraaste]

I am not your enemy - Lance fanfiction Part 4

I have a question for you guys. In French, we say "une oreille à qui parler" literally "an ear to talk to". Do you say that expression, too ? I really don't know, but that's the title of my chapter aha.

So, here's chapter 4 !

(Link for Chapter 5 here)

Chapter 4 : Someone to talk to

Lance walked in front of me with a sure and confident walk, while my stomach twitched slightly at the thought of what Huang Hua wanted to talk to us about. Why hadn't the leader of the Sparkling come to me in the first place, when it was clearly necessary ? Why leave it to Lance, supposedly the person I should have the least interaction with, to do it for her ? I didn't understand her intentions.

I observed the broad shoulders of my companion. He had changed a lot in seven years. His hair had grown and his body looked even better built. But beyond the physical, the dragon had a much calmer temperament. It was probably due to age or ... to everything he surely had to go through as a result of the battle. How did all this happen for him ? For my part, I couldn't yet think about all that. The battle, the death of Valkyon and many Eldaryans ... I couldn't. Something in my head seemed to be blocking these thoughts and maybe that was why I was able to tolerate the presence of this man by my side. Because I hated him, I couldn't deny that we had compatible characters.

How can we manage such a situation ? How do we accept the fact that we appreciate the presence of the person who has hurt us the most ?

My thoughts were halted as Lance branched off in the direction of the HQ's huge meeting room, which immediately intensified my burgeoning stress. Before opening the door, he gave me one last indecipherable look. I let him know I was ready and he let me in before stepping back. Puzzled, I questioned him.

- Aren't you coming in ?

- It seems to me that Huang Hua wishes to address us separately.

Upon hearing my arrival, Huang Hua stood up and offered me one of her bright smiles to which I could only respond weakly.

- Andraste, here you are at last ! I am glad to see you. How are you, my beautiful ? Eweleïn told me about your worrying wound yesterday.

I could already imagine Lance's disapproval of me keeping these facts to myself, but I wasn't going to give her that pleasure. I just wasn't ready to tell anyone what was happening in me.

- I'm better, thank you. More fear than harm, I guess.

- Good. This is precisely what prompted me to bring you both here. As Lance must have told you, I put him in charge of keeping you safe for a while. At least until your condition improves and you are at the peak of your senses.

I then cut it unceremoniously.

- Huang Hua, about this story, should you not have told me first, before handing this mission to Lance ? Why am I the last to know ? It's me that concerns, all the same !

- Because, whether you like it or not, he's the only one here who can take on this role. I didn't find it necessary to consult you beforehand because I knew that you would be against this idea, and I wanted to let you rest as long as possible.

- Obviously I was going to be against it ! Do I remind you that for me, this was all just a few days ago ?

- Andraste, my decision is made and as long as you do not prove to me that you are able to defend yourself, it will be so. We can't allow something to happen to you.

I ticked off that answer. Keeping me safe obviously didn't seem to be in my sole interest to her. What was she hiding from me ?

- I also have a question for you. Have you felt your aengel powers manifest since you woke up ?

Hesitantly, I tell her the truth all the same.

- No not right now.

- That is what I thought. I don't know if this has to do with your physical state of health or if something more psychological is blocking you, but it is still a point that we must emphasize.

- What are my powers of aengel doing in there?

Huang Hua looked at me for a long time.

- You do not realize the extent of your powers, my dear Andraste. Know that it is not trivial if it is you that the Oracle has chosen, and that your presence in this Crystal has most likely granted you new abilities. You are a very valuable asset of the Guard. But this power, as good as it is, is not necessarily viewed favorably by everyone. This is where the boys come in. In addition to your protection, I would like Lance and Leiftan to intervene in your training.

- My training ?

- Your powers seem to have fallen asleep for the moment, moreover, the leader of The Obsidian made me understand that your physical capacities in combat seemed much lower than at the time.

Lance, what a swelling.

- And what kind of training is it ? I inquired.

- Nothing too intense or complicated, don't worry. They will relegate only to help you train for combat and try to awaken your powers. As aengel too, Leiftan will surely be able to guide you for this last point and as for Lance, despite your completely understandable reluctance, he remains the most qualified to get you back in shape.

- And in that it's about my "security" ? I agree to train with him, but I don't need a bodyguard !

- It will be so as long as I deem it necessary, my orders will not change as to its subject.

Realizing that my word would have no weight in the balance, I capitulated bitterly.

- Alright, I guess if that's what you decided, it must probably be the best thing to do.

A thin smile appeared on the lips of the young Phoenix.

- I'm glad to see you accept my decision. If you have nothing more to add, I'll let you go.

Tired of this interview in which, I was not going to hide it from myself, I had not had my say, I crossed the door to leave the great room. I came across the dragon who looked at me silently for a moment. Seeming to want to say something to me, he opened his mouth when Huang Hua's voice sounded to tell him to come in too. No words finally crossed his lips before he left me alone in the hallway.

Hearing the door slam behind my back, I froze for a moment, staring into space.

Was it just me, or did Huang Hua not tell me everything ? Not understanding anything any more, I decided to go out for the air to put my ideas back in place.

HQ had changed dramatically since I remembered recently. It was clearly seen that prosperity had returned and that life had become easier here. Feeling my stomach growl, I finally visited Karuto in the hope that there was still something to eat despite the lunch hour well past. Fortunately for me, I was able to help myself abundantly and went to sit in a quiet corner of the room.

The room was still quite lively. Several groups of people chatted happily around their empty plates, which made me realize a fact that I had tried to ignore.

I didn't really have any entourage here anymore.

Certainly, Chrome, Karenn or even Jamon were still here, but when I was talking to them, I felt that many years had passed. Our relationships seemed different. I had missed too many things and that weight was crushing me a little more every time I interacted with them. But it was the right arm of Sparkling that hurt me the most. I didn't think I'd find a Nevra so distant and it broke my heart a little more each time.

I was also ashamed of this truth, but to be quite honest with myself, the only person I had felt with in the last few days was the one I should have despised the most. Lance was until now the only one who had not made me feel that I was a foreigner.

What was wrong with me...

Thinkingly nibbling on a piece of bread, thoughts light years away from what surrounded me, I was surprised to see a young man sitting in front of me. A smile to the ears overhanging with big brown eyes, his jovial air made me feel immediately.

- Hi !

I observed him, astonished. I was intrigued by something about him, but I couldn't put my finger on it. I answered him in the same tone.

- We haven't been introduced to you and me yet, but I've been dreaming of meeting you for a long time ! By the way, my name is Mathieu.

- Enchanted Mathieu, I'm Andraste.

I gave him a smile that was meant to be encouraging.

- You're cute. You introduce yourself when you are certainly the most famous person here, perhaps even as much as Huang Hua, that is to say.

I was scowling slightly.

- Oh, really ? You're exaggerating a little bit.

- No, no, really ! Finally, I wanted to meet you so I could finally talk with another human, I sometimes feel a little lost here.

I stared at him for several long seconds without saying anything. Did he really just say "another human", or had I dreamed ? My brain tilted so much that I wasn't surprised he heard himself.

- Wait, are you human ?!

Ok, maybe I said that sentence a little too loudly. And probably with a little too much gusto.

My interlocutor burst into a frank laugh at my reaction.

- We could not be more human !

- But how did you get here ? Has it been a while since you arrived in Eldarya ? Don't you miss Earth ?

- Oone question at a time please ! he asked me with a big smile. It's been about a year since I landed on Eldarya, probably the same way you did. So, there are some aspects of our world that I miss a bit, but to be quite frank, I've always dreamed of fantasy. At first it was complicated, but I don't leave much behind me. I always thought I wasn't cut out for such a bland life.

The more he spoke, the more my bewilderment widened. My god, it was a human !

- You can't imagine how amazing it is for me to talk to another human, I thought that would never happen again !

Mathieu's laugh and jovial jokes had finished relaxing me entirely. His presence totally invigorated me and I felt, for the first time in a long time, that I had found someone to talk to.

The days finally passed without being punctuated by a specific goal, which began to seriously hit me on the system. And to my surprise, Lance had shown so little after his interview with the young Phoenix that I thought he had changed his mind.

Until he showed up one fine morning in my room without any invitation.

With a sword I never knew in his hand, he casually threw it at my quilt as he opened my curtains energetically. Sitting on the end of my bed, he rested his arms on his knees while giving me a challenging look, his expression slightly cheerful.

- Come on, we have training ahead of us today.

(Chapter 5)

[cherry-toxic]

Fic writer questions!

I was tagged by @introvertia - thank you so much :) Your answers were really interesting!

How many works do you have on AO3?

Only 8

What's your total AO3 wordcount?

141754

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

Four: Beyblade (gen fics mostly), Shizaya (Durarara), Grimmichi (Bleach), and Harringrove (Stranger Things).

I usually sit in a fandom for a quite a while before I actually start writing anything. I'm amazed by those people who can get stuck in right away (how do you do it!?!)

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1. end the fight; before the fight ends you

2. Bound to Happen

3. Year of You

4. Broken Boys and Butterflies

5. So come take a drink (And drown your sorrows)

All Harringrove aside from 'Bound to Happen' - which I'm rather surprised came in second because the Grimmichi fandom is waaaaay smaller than the Harringrove fandom.

'end the fight...' is also the only wip here. The rest are completed one-shots.

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

Yes and no. It depends. I want to respond because comments really do mean a lot to me and I love rambling with people, but I have issues with online communication. Like, sometimes I write out a response and when I read it back to myself my brain just goes 'no that's terrible you sound like an idiot delete it now' and then I go 'yessir you're completely right how silly of me.'

When it comes to wips, I tend to reply to every comment when I'm getting ready to post the next chapter, that way it's like a little heads-up - new stuff incoming soon!

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

Y'know as much as I love angst I actually prefer to have my fics end on a relatively positive note (angst with a happy ending is my shit).

But I suppose 'So come take a drink (And drown your sorrows)' is overall pretty angsty and I left the ending open so if I ever felt like continuing it I could do so easily.

Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you've ever written?

Big nah. Kind of like AU fics, they just don't interest me that much.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Yes, but it came from someone who was just making the rounds on a bunch of Harringrove fics and they were highly suspected to be an anti so it didn't really bother me that much because I knew they were trolling.

I've had a few like, vague comments/back-handed compliments that got under my skin a bit though.

Do you write smut? If so what kind?

Yes, occasionally I do. Generally I'd say I'm pretty vanilla, but I am currently writing an a/b/o fic, though I think it might go under non-traditional a/b/o because, again, vanilla lol

My smut usually comes with a lot of introspection, like they'll be doing the deed and one of them will be internally streaming a 5000+ word monologue (I do this with Grimmjow sometimes because he's a big virgin who views sex as silly human nonsense).

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Parts of a fic, yes. I came across this fic that was clearly plagiarizing from several different authors (they forgot to change the characters names and everything) and I found entire paragraphs that were copy/pasted straight from one of my fics.

The thing is, this was over 10 years ago, something I wrote when I was... seventeen, maybe? So... I don't get why they copied it because it was pretty bad to be honest...

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes, an old one called '10 Miles in Your Shoes' (beyblade) although it was never completed because well, firstly, I never completed the original, and secondly, when the translator asked me how long I was planning on it being I said around 20-30k and uhhh... lets just say I overshot that by a mile!

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No. While I think it would be interesting to try I honestly don't know if I could give up control like that!

What’s your all time favorite ship?

Hard to say because I tend to go for characters over ships. Like, I got into Grimmichi because of Grimmjow and Harringrove because of Billy.

But since Grimmjow is my all-time favourite character then, I guess Grimmichi, but Harringrove is definitely a close second because the fandom has spoiled me rotten with all their amazing fics (in terms of reading material, Harringrove is my fav).

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

'10 Miles in Your Shoes' - the bodyswap fic.

It's been a long time since I engaged with anything related to beyblade but I have a lot of fondness for this fic because it was the second I ever started writing and it was the fic that allowed me to truly grow as a writer. There's a huge improvement from the first to the most recent chapter (most recent being 5 years ago...) to the point where it looks like it could have been written by two different people, and I received so much positive feedback and encouragement throughout those years. I wish I had it in me to go back and finish it off but I struggle enough while writing for my current obsessions so it's looking more and more unlikely...

At the very least, I think I might transfer it to AO3 since ff.net seems to be slowly going under. Even if I never complete it, I don't want it lost forever.

What are your writing strengths?

This might sound ridiculous but I don't know? I always feel like I'm winging everything!!

I guess. One thing I've been complimented on a lot is my ability to portray messy (for lack of a better word) situations in a realistic way. I've been asked a few times if I've ever studied psychology and -

Nope

Just winging it!

What are your writing weakness?

EDITING!!!

I really should get a beta because I miss so many stupid little mistakes, like - okay - I always used to write in past tense, it was never something I even thought about, past tense was just the default. And then suddenly, around 2017/18, I began transitioning to present tense completely unconsciously and now every time I re-read 'Bound to Happen' I get angry because I bounced between tenses all the way through that fic and I didn't even notice until a year after I posted it.

Also. Incredibly slow. Lack of consistency. Perfectionist until I get stuck and then I feel like you can spot exactly where I lost momentum. Utterly hopeless when it comes to descriptions of setting/scenery. I don't think I'm very good at building atmosphere either. Dialogue, although I am improving at that.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I can't say I really have any thoughts on this? I don't do it much myself.

What was the first fandom you ever wrote for?

Beeeeyblaaade! I was fifteen when I wrote my very first fic (now deleted because it was awful!)

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

Oh god, this is hard!

If we're talking completed fics only, then probably 'Year of You'. That was my I-Do-Not-Accept-Billy's-Death fic but I WILL take all of the angst material from S3 and ride it hard.

If we're including wips, then both 'end the fight...' and 'metamorphosis' are probably my favourites right now.

'End the fight...' is my BIG Billy redemption fic which I started plotting out not long after S2 and there's so many scenes I'm looking forward to writing (yeah I know its been a while since i last updated but the past year has been rough okay)

'Metamorphosis' is the a/b/o fic which I was kind of nervous about at first because its not a trope that i read a lot of but i'm enjoying how its turning out so far!

Whew! That was a lot!

I'm tagging: firstly, whoever wants to do it because I like reading about peoples writing experiences (make sure to tag me!) And then: @shadowthorne @bentnotbroken1fanfiction @callieb @backwardshirt @memes-saved-me @murderlight @magniloquent-raven @aeon-of-neon @louhetar

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: The Confession {5}**

Chris Evans x Best Friend Reader

Warning: Cursing, Angst, PLENTY OF WORDS, Moderate NSFW, Moderate SMUT, DO NOT READ AT WORK

Words: 6.3k

Summary: Not this time.

Note: Thank you for reading lovelies! 😘😘

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***Loosely Edited/Proofread***

***Mildly Interactive***

Previous Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 

-Chris-

  “You did what!”

 Scott gaped at him as he sat on the couch in the backyard.

 “You’re shitting me. You did not,” Scott continued. His shock was evident. He looked at him as if he’d said something even more surprising. Scott gulped down his beer and slammed it to the wood top of the table between them. Then he slid to the edge of the seat to gape at him some more.

 “My God, stop it already!”

 “Excuse me for being astounded that you actually told her.”

 Crinkling his nose, he looked at Scott with his brow raised. “Actually told her? what does that mean?”

“Oh come on. Did you think I didn’t know that you’ve been in love with her for most of your life? Come on, Chris,” Scott finished fanning him off before he walked to the cooler to retrieve another beer.

 “Wait, wait, hold the fuck up. you knew?”

 “Yes, I knew. I knew, mom knew, Carly, Shanna—brother, this has been the worst kept secret.”

 He groaned and dropped his head back, staring into the blue sky. It was a beautiful day. He heard Scott’s “humph” and looked to see him holding out a beer for him.

 “Thanks,” he said as he took it, opened it, and drank half down.

 “Wow. Why didn’t anyone say anything?”

 “We all thought you would get it together eventually. We thought you’d both have this “duh” moment, and that would be it,” Scott explained.

 He couldn’t believe his ears. His entire family knew how he felt; all these years, they knew and never let on. He could have laughed, but he was too on edge after everything. It had been two weeks since your talk, two weeks since he sat in your living room and told you everything—well, mostly everything. One week and you hadn’t called, stopped by, or texted. Nothing.

 “I don’t know if I should have told her. I think I fucked up—bad.”

 Scoot took a deep breath and sighed out before he took another swig of beer. When he lowered it, he didn’t speak. That made his panic and fears increase.

 “What if I’ve ruined everything?” He grabbed his head and scraped his scalp.

 “Why the hell did you wait so long?”

 Springing to his feet, he paced around the couch. “I was scared. Have you seen the guys she’s dated? Jesus Christ, business tycoons that have billions of dollars and corporations, athletes that are built like no one’s business. All these guys are just—not me.” Voicing one of his fears felt more difficult than any of the stunts he’d done in his career. This was something he’d thought about for years, and it always gave him anxiety and stress.

 “Are you serious right now?” Scott scoffed and shook his head. “You’re a world-famous movie star. You’re Captain fucking America! Even then, you know none of that matters to her. It never has. What’s the real reason.”

 Dropping back into the couch with a loud groan, he finished his beer in one raise. Sitting with the words in his head, he was reluctant to voice them. If he said them out loud, then they’d be facts, irrefutable facts.

 “Spit it out!”

 “She deserves better,” he blurted out before he brought his face to his palms and continued. “She’s seen everything Scott, all my--.”

 “Whoring ways?” He could hear the amusement in Scott’s voice.

“Not funny.” His voice was impassive.

 “It is—from the outside looking in, hilarious.”

 He sprang to his feet again and paced back and forth. “She’s seen the women. She knows how I’ve treated them. She knows my Dorian Grey, and you know my Dorian Grey is seriously ugly.” As he spoke, every dirty thing he’d done over the years flashed through his head, the women, the experiences, the cheating, everything.

 “Ah, I see. You’re afraid she knows too much and knows you too well to see you any other way than a complete male gigolo out for sex.”

 Turning around to give Scott another warning look, he rolled his eyes. “You’re still not funny.”

Scott chuckled and leaned back. “I totally am.”

 “She deserves the world, Scott,” he began rubbing the back of his neck as he sat at the edge of the couch. “I’m sure I fall short,” he finished in a crestfallen tone. There it was.

 A few moments of silence passed before Scott spoke again. “Wow. Wait, you’re being serious? You really think this?” When he didn’t answer, Scott continued. “Chris, we want the person we end up with to know everything about us. We want them to understand we’re not perfect, that we’re human and want to be better with them, for them.”

 When he didn’t look up, he heard Scott’s footsteps before he dropped on the couch beside him. “Listen to me. You want her to have seen your ugly so she can weigh it with your good. Look, I’m your brother, and yeah, your ugly is ugly, but you’re a good guy. Shit, you’re the best man I know, next to dad. Y/N has seen it since we were kids.”

 He knew he should have known this, but when it came to you, it was a different case.

 “I was always afraid to hurt her. I was scared I’d fuck it up somehow, and because of it, fuck us up,” he confessed.

 “So you just kept quiet about it. I’ve always known you were in love with her. I just knew one day it would come out naturally, and the two of you would fall together like natural clockwork. You weren’t supposed to wait until she had a fiancé, you jackass!”

 Groaning again, he nodded. “I know, fuck, I know.”

 “What were you expecting?”

 What was he expecting? He’d asked himself this question since that ill-fated night he texted you the words. He hadn’t come up with an adequate response.

 “I don’t know. I was drunk when I did it, drunk and wallowing,” he began. He thought back to the night in your living room then straightened up. “When I looked in her eyes as I said it, Scott, there was something there. I saw it.”

 “What’d you see?”

 The words teased his tongue as they’d teased his mind the entire week. He hadn’t said them out loud because what if he was wrong. The more he thought back to the look in your eyes, the more he knew that he couldn’t have been wrong.

 “She has to love me too. Right?” Looking at Scott for confirmation, he was met with an unsure look.

 “Let’s say she did. What do you expect to happen?”

 Crinkling his nose again, he gave Scott a crazy look. “What? Obviously, call off the wedding so we can be together for real,” he plainly declared.

 “Have you thought that through? What if right now, with the idea of her being married off to someone not you is playing with you, making you feel like you want this relationship? What if this is the draw of what you can’t have?” He’d thought about this long ago but dismissed it before it came up again. He didn’t feel like that was it.

 “I’m not like that,” he professed.

 “How do you know? This is the first time you’re in this situation,” Scott countered.

 “Scott. It’s Y/N.” That was all he felt he had to say.

 “Exactly. I know another reason why you held on to this for so long was because you were afraid of this. You were afraid that once you got what you thought you wanted, you wouldn’t want it anymore, and then it would have been too late. How do you know?”

 Bringing himself back to the night it all became clear for him he clued Scott in. “I was sitting there thinking about her, and I knew Scott. I knew.”

 Scott nodded and took his words in.

 “Okay.”

 “I don’t want her because I can’t have her now. It’s not because I’m scared of losing her to someone else. I’m not nearly as self-centered and narcissistic enough for that. I want her because—because I love her,” he responded with certitude. He felt this in his bones.

 “Okay.”

 “We used to talk every day, several times a day, all day even. I haven’t spoken to her since that night at her place. She won’t answer my calls or messages.” It hurt to say. It hurt a hell of a lot more than he ever imagined it would. It felt like rejection, a rejection he had no experience with that was made worse because it was you.

 “She needs time, Chris. You just dropped the mother of all bombs on her for crying out loud. It’s not just any bomb; it’s an atomic bomb that complicates her life. She has a fiancé. She planned a wedding, one that is happening in six weeks,” Scott reasoned.

 He knew all of this, and he’d even tried to drill it into his own head, but it never stuck.

 “Give her some time to get her thoughts and feelings in order,” Scott finished.

 He looked down at his entwined fingers and sighed. “I feel like I’m losing my shit just waiting around. I feel like I’m waiting on a judge to decide the rest of my life,” he spoke. The silence stretched between them, and his anxiety reached its peak.

  “I don’t know what I’ll do if I fucked everything up, Scott.”

~~~~~~~~~

-Y/N-

 “I love you, Y/N. I love everything about you.”

 Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump.

 “I love how you are my family.”

 Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump.

 “You’re my home, always have been. I’m in love with you.”

 Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump.

 “The sight of you together kills me.”

 Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump.

 “I want you, Y/N. I always have. That hasn’t changed since we were sixteen, and it will never change. I love you.”

 Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump.

 “I can’t lose you.”

 Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump.

 “I love you, Y/N.”

 Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump.

 “Y/N!”

 The scent of roses, lilies, and cedar filled your nostrils and bringing with it your current reality. You took a deep breath, but one wasn’t enough. You took several more. It had been a hard week. You should have still been floating on could nine, and part of you was, but it was an exceedingly small part. The rest of you was in suspended animation tangled with stress, anxiety, and confusion. When you got like that, the only thing that seemed to help was work.

 However, no matter how much work you did, you didn’t forget. You didn’t forget the words he said to you, didn’t forget the look in his eyes as he crowded you in the kitchen. Didn’t forget the way his fingers on you felt exponentially different than they had before. You couldn’t forget how your skin tingled, or how you didn’t move right away. When you got there, you blamed it on shock and nothing else.

 “Y/N. Do you need help?”

 Pressing your forehead on the cold glass, you took your final breathes and plastered a smile on your face before you walked out of the dressing room. As soon as you did, everyone gasped and fawned all over you. After stepping onto the pedestal, you looked at your reflection in the floor to ceiling mirror and nearly toppled over. You wore the wedding dress you’d picked out two months ago that was now half altered. The A-line ballgown was massive but gorgeous. You loved how it made you look as if you had no waist and plenty of hips, and not to mention the bustline did wonders for your breasts.

“My god, Y/N, you look incredible,” your mother sighed out as she clasped your hand. You could see the unshed tears in her eyes. She’d dreamed of this day probably since the day you were born. Every mother plans her daughter’s wedding in her head the moment she takes her first steps. She’d been with you through this entire process lending you strength and guidance.

 “Thank you, mama.” You looked at yourself again and took another deep breath to let it out in a rush.

 “Don’t like it anymore?” The question belonged to Jaxon’s mother, Anita. Smiling, you looked at her.

 “No, I still like it.”

 “Jaxon said when he came in the other day, he was tempted to look at it before he paid for it,” Anita informed.

 Turning to her fully, you cocked your head to the right. “I’m sorry, what?”

 “Calm down, Y/N. He didn’t look. The superstition is intact,” Anita remarked.

 “No, no. Not about him seeing it. He did what?”

 Anita stopped smiling and gave you a confused look before she continued. “He paid for it,” she said matter of factly like it was no big deal. The bubble of anger you felt raise within you rose so quickly smoke nearly shot through your ears.

 “What’s the problem? My son makes a lot of money. He has influence and the means to do what he pleases. You know that is one of the reasons you agreed to this—expedited wedding,” Anita slid in.

 “Excuse me?” You took a step forward, forgetting you were on a pedestal.”

 “Y/N,” your mother cautioned making you stop in your tracks and bite back the insult you were going to return back to her.

 “Jaxon has assured me it’s not because you’re pregnant, so it leaves this. No?”

 You had the sudden image of leaping off the pedestal right on top of her and wrapping your hands around her neck.

 “Anita,” your mother began stepping toward her. “I know we don’t know each other well, but you will soon come to realize that I go to bat for my baby with anyone who dares disrespect her. Listen here, your son asked her to marry him, not the other way around. You’ll do well to remember that when you speak to her and remember that it’s a good thing when a man finds a wife—that is if they don’t cheat and find another younger one.”

 Your jaw dropped. She took - it - there. Your mother didn’t shrink back or cower; she held her head high and puffed out her chest. You pressed your lips together, pleased at the reminder that you were her daughter. Anita had a high and mighty look on her face before she slinked away to the seats. Once there, she sat.

 “Let’s also remember that love is why we’re all here, Jaxon’s and Y/N’s for each other,” your mother finished. When Anita didn’t speak again, your mother turned back to you and gave you a nod.

 “Let’s carry on.”

 Soon after, your sister Sharice arrived with your niece Adella along with your aunts Florence and SherryAnne. Once they arrived, the tone of the parlor drastically changed. They laughed, joked and chatted as if they didn’t care where they were. You didn’t mind; it distracted you. For the remainder of the appointment, the seamstress worked her magic pinning, measuring, and altering according to your specifications. You always had a glass of champagne in one hand and your phone in the other. Just because the majority of the day was dedicated to this didn’t mean you wouldn’t work.

 Halfway through, Anita made an excuse to leave. Before she left, she pulled you in to a hug and kiss while making you promise to make it to the mayor’s mansion for dinner one night during the week. Reluctantly you agreed, and she pranced out of the parlor as if she hadn’t disrespected you in a significant way.

 Once she’d left, you dropped onto the couch with all the flounce of the dress around you.

 “Ignore her. She’s just mad her precious only son puts you above her. She’s jealous,” Sharice said.

 “Jealous or not she should get the fuck over it. she purposely told me about Jaxon buying the dress. He’s told her about how I act about him doing things like this.”

 You were angry and had every intention of ripping him a new asshole for doing what he did plus telling his mother something that was between the two of you.

 “Your man is well off, enjoy it. You’re going to be married, what’s his will be yours,” your aunt SherryAnne explained.

 “I understand that Aunt Sherry, I get it. That does not mean he can throw his money at me. I’ve worked hard for everything I have, and yeah, I don’t have millions or a mother who is a Mayor that comes with connections and pomp, but I sure as hell have my own. We talked about the dress. I said I was going to pay for it. He undermined me and did it behind my back. He didn’t even tell me,” you ranted.

 “Maybe he doesn’t know how serious you are about it,” your mother hypothesized.

 Rolling your eyes, you knocked back the remainder of the champagne and held out your hands, a silent plea for them to help you up. As they did, you all giggled.

 “Are you sure you want this dress?”

 “Yes. Don’t worry; I’ve already eyed the reception dress,” you announced as you walked back to the dressing room to change back into your clothes.

 Ten minutes later, you reemerged dressed and ready to go. The group of you walked out to the sidewalk and said your goodbyes. When they all walked away, your mother turned to you and studied your face before she gently caressed your cheek.

 “Are you alright, baby girl?”

 Sighing you thought if you should unburden yourself, but the second you thought to, you decided against it. What was the purpose?

 “Yeah, I’m fine, just tired.”

 She nodded and pulled you in for a hug. “Maybe go hang out with Chris for a few hours. He always works magic with ironing you out.”

 The sound of his name filled you with so many conflicting emotions that you knew he was the last person you needed to see. When she pulled back, she kissed your forehead and tapped your cheek before she walked to her car. Waving goodbye, you watched her car drive off. Checking your watch, you saw you had fifteen minutes to meet Jaxon at the market as you’d promised. After the events at the parlor, that was the last thing you wanted to do. Part of you didn’t trust yourself well enough not to blow up at him in the middle of the produce department. Resigning yourself to your fate, you hailed a taxi and got on your way.

Thanks to traffic, by the time you got to Whole Foods, you were running a little late. As you got out of the taxi, you saw Jaxon standing outside talking on your phone. You took a deep breath and approached him. When he saw you coming, his smile widened as he held his hand out for you. Deciding against taking it, you held onto your purse with the hand he reached for instead. Not picking up your cue, he leaned in to kiss you, but you turned your cheek and continued walking into the store.

 Jaxon tried to wrap up his conversation, but after a few minutes, you could tell he was being roped into an even longer dialogue. Pushing the cart through the aisles, you placed items in while he trailed behind you. When he put his hand on your hip, you pushed forward, breaking the contact. Every time he tried to stop you from moving, you didn’t allow it.

 After almost ten minutes of this, Jaxon abruptly ended his call. “Okay I’m done, they’re gone. It’s just you now. Tell me how was the dress fitting,” he began wrapping his arms around you, making you face him.

 “Call them back. I’m fine. I don’t need your attention,” you said, pulling from him and walking ahead.

 “You don’t—what?” His hurried footsteps echoed behind you before he was pulling you back to him.

 “What’s wrong?”

 “Nothing,” you lied.

“Bullshit. I’ve known you long enough to know when something’s wrong. What did I do?”

 “Interesting you know you did something,” you slid in before walking away again.

 “Come on, Y/N, don’t play games. If I fucked up tell me what I did so I can make it right.”

 “How? By throwing your money around some more?”

 The way he looked at you said he knew what this was about. When he opened his mouth to no doubt explain it away and brush it under the rug, you walked away yet again. Turning down another aisle, you looked at the products as you passed them, trying to remember just what you had on your list. When you got halfway down the aisle, Jaxon fell into step with you.

 “Let me explain,” he began before you cut him off.

 “Explain how you undermined me and went behind my back to do something you knew I wouldn’t want? Explain that?” The impatient look on your face only grew to one of annoyance.

 “Baby, it wasn’t like that.”

 “This is not the place to talk about this. Let’s just get this over with and get out of here,” you suggested while putting products into the cart.

 Before Jaxon could speak again, you heard a familiar voice call your name. Your back stiffened.

 “Chris, my man,” Jaxon began.

 “How you doing?”

 “Good, me and the soon to be Mrs just getting some groceries for dinner,” Jaxon informed. Slowly you turned to face him. He wore a low tipped baseball hat, his signature incognito look. It was stupid. You’d told him before that it was his beard that got him recognized.

 “Hey, DeeDee,” Chris said. You nearly snorted out loud hearing your nickname.

“Hi.” Again it was barely above a whisper.

 “How are you?”

 “Great--I mean good--fine,” you stuttered.

 Silence fell between the three of you, an awkward silence.

 “So come over for dinner tonight, Chris,” Jaxon petitioned. Your head snapped to him, confused how he’d deduced that you being angry at him meant to invite a third party to dinner so you couldn’t talk. The man was nuts.

 “Uh—are you sure? I don’t want to impose,” Chris began before Jaxon cut him off.

 “Nah, no imposition, right babe. Any best friend of my other half is a best friend of mine. Plus, I’m sure you guys would love the time together. I know the planning of the wedding is keeping this one busy, so yeah, we’re sure,” Jaxon monologued.

 Another thing you hated was him talking for you. He’d toned it down over the months, but every now and then, it would spark up. Chris was looking at you as if he was waiting for your final word. He knew how you hated being spoken for. While you wanted to tell him that tonight wasn’t the night the puppy dog look in his eyes broke your heart. Sighing, you nodded.

 “Come to dinner. You gotta eat right.”

 “Okay. Dinner. Your place?”

 “No, we’re at mine tonight,” Jaxon corrected. “Don’t worry, in a few weeks we’ll have it together in the new house,” Jaxon finished.

 “Uh, we should go if there is any hope of actually having dinner ready,” you voiced, turning away from both men and walking away toward the checkout. This was going to be a long night, you thought to yourself.

 When you got back to Jaxon’s place, the argument that was had went on for nearly an hour. It was really one-sided. He listened to your gripes, apologized, and promised to check himself when he felt the urge to spoil you. The way he didn’t even put up a fight made you feel like he wasn’t listening to what you said or considering it in a real way. He said all the right things, but he’d done that before only to flip and do the offense again.

 You went your way to the bedroom, and he went his to the kitchen, and that was where you remained for the next forty or so minutes. You needed the time to cool down. You knew you’d grown up differently and knew you two had different ideas of gender roles, but you didn’t think it was a major discrepancy or too much that you couldn’t work through it. This recent move had you wondering if maybe it was something that couldn’t be worked on.

As you stared at yourself in the walk-in closet, you closed your eyes and pinched the bridge of your nose. You could feel your migraine and wanted to do nothing but sink into a hot bath with a cup of lavender tea. One man was giving you a headache from his lack of care about what mattered to you and the other from his overabundance of caring at the wrong time.

 You felt arms wrap around your midsection, which jarred your eyes open. For some reason, you expected to see Chris.

 “I’m sorry, really, really sorry. You can’t be mad at me anymore. I can’t take it. You know how I feel about leaving things unspoken and holding on to slights. Things like that can seriously hurt a relationship.”

 You knew he was reminiscing on his parents. Their fairytale marriage fell apart because of one too many unspoken things and slights that created caters between them that turned into separate bedrooms and his father’s affairs. Sighing, you dropped your head back onto his chest, allowing him to kiss your bare shoulder.

 “Forgive me?”

 You remained silent and just stared at him through the mirror. His hand moved from your belly to your pelvis, where he raked up your skirt.

 “What’re you doing?”

 “Sssh,” Jaxon softly lulled, continuing what he was doing until his fingers were softly scratching a path on your inner thigh in an upward motion. “Let me make it up to you.”

 “How?”

 “By taking that migraine,” Jaxon answered before his fingers slid underneath the material of your underwear to rub against your sex. Groaning, you attempted to move, but he kept you where you were by pinching your clit. Sucking in a breath, you locked eyes with him.

 “Let me do all the work, darlin’.”

 Once the words were spoken, Jaxon wasted no time with teasing. He intently circled your clit in tight, quick motions. You leaned against him, sighing out, quickly getting used to how good it felt. Every few seconds, he changed the direction he swirled his finger and the speed of which he did it. After only a few minutes, you were close. With your eyes closed, your moans and pants echoed in the closet as Jaxon’s free hand held you tightly at your hip. You felt his finger leave you, which made your eyes flutter open to see him sucking it clean. In the same breath, Jaxon stepped before you then dropped to his knees.

 “I’m sorry,” he repeated before he lifted one of your legs and draped it over his shoulder and kissed your bud.

 You groaned and dropped your head back and focused on the pleasure he was giving. Once your eyes closed, the face you saw was not that of your fiancé, the man on his knees before you giving you pleasure. It was Chris’s. You saw him as if he stood right before you. He was watching you, his eyes boring into you, looking deeper into you than anyone had ever seen—just him. You gasped and held onto Jaxon’s head feeling your orgasm get closer and closer. Still, Chris in your mind, stared. It was as if he was taunting you, silently asking if this was what you wanted if Jaxon was doing it for you.

 Feeling the pressure of Jaxon’s suck increase, you whimpered and began bucking your hips riding his face. The slurps echoed in the closet, and Chris’s stare intensified. The blue in his eyes beckoned to you, spoke to you, told you that you were making a mistake and that you should stop pretending. When you felt your orgasm whip through you, you felt an urge stronger than any you’d ever felt before to scream his name—Chris’s name. Biting your tongue, you rode the wave until you shook, and your knees buckled. As you fell to the floor, Jaxon’s arms caught you.

 “I got you, sweetheart.”

 When you opened your eyes, you saw Chris’s face and not Jaxon’s, and that was what fueled your actions.

 “Make love to me,” you whined while trying to remove his pants.

 Jaxon didn’t protest, he obliged and quickly undid his pants to free himself from his undid zipper. When he slid into your slickened heat, neither of you went slowly. There was a time to take your time, and this wasn’t it. Jaxon moved your body with the strength he possesed and fucked you with frenzied thrusts. It was what you needed to unsee Chris's face, to push aside the unrecognizable desire you felt for your best friend. The desire wasn’t only for him, though.

 Feeling the power of Jaxon inside of you, you knew it was him you were making love to, you knew it was him your body was reacting to, but you also knew Chris was also causing some reaction. Planting your feet onto the floor, you sped your movements, not wanting the ability to think properly for the next however long. You’d worry about what this all meant later—much later.

  ~~~~~~

 -Chris-

He hated it here. At your place, he saw pieces of your life with him, but here he saw the other pieces that put together the full picture. There were framed photos everywhere, along with boxes that Jaxon explained away, stating you were in the process of moving into your new house—together. It was a painful thought, one he tried to push to the back of his mind. This was the first time he’d been here. He was always able to get himself out of coming by, but tonight it seemed like his luck had run out.

 When they made it to Jaxon’s mancave, he saw accolades, accomplishments, pictures galore of all the influential people he knew, and even awards. It all presented like he was a good guy. It only made him want to hate Jaxon even more, but he hadn’t mistreated you in the time you’d been together. He couldn’t remember a time you came to him crying about something he’d done or how he’d hurt you. There was no representation of his bad character. He had no reason to hate him, none but one—you. This man had you.

 When he first walked in, he could smell him on you. You didn’t smell like your usual self, and that told him all he didn’t need to know. From then he had to pretend that the sound of his voice didn’t make him sick, that the pictures of how happy you were together didn’t boil his blood and the thought of you in his kitchen cooking for him night after night didn’t give him the strongest bout of jealousy he’d ever felt. He was an actor, but he doubted he was playing his part well tonight.

 “Dinner!”

 The two of them made their way back to the dining room to see you’d filled the table with the food.

 “Smells amazing, baby.” Jaxon wrapped his arm around your waist and kissed your cheek.

 “Let’s eat,” you rushed out, breaking contact with Jaxon to get to your seat, a seat he pulled out. He nearly vomited in his mouth.

 Dinner was awkward and painful. He expected it to be, but it was increasingly so. Jaxon kept a hand on you at all times; he could see his grip on your bare thigh through the glass dining table. As he spoke about everything under the sun, he noticed you looked distracted. Every now and then, your eyes met and lingered before you looked away with a guilty look in yours. He wondered what you were thinking, what you were feeling. Every time he tried to read your body language, it told him nothing, but you were tense. Was it the dinner, or was it something else besides what he’d told you?

 Like clockwork, every few minutes, Jaxon found a way to make even more contact with you than his hand placed on your thigh. He’d either lean into you to kiss your forehead or an exposed shoulder or even pull you in for a kiss. He could see the tension in you increase every time Jaxon attempted affection. All the while he sat there watching the two of you, he knew what he felt and why he felt it, but it didn’t make it any easier to handle. It broke him.  

 “So you know we’re moving, the move is happening in a little while. Can we count you in to help?”

 “Jax, god, we have the moving people for that,” you began.

 “Yeah, but you even said you didn’t want them moving everything. I’m talking about those things,” Jaxon clarified.

 “No, Chris is busy. He’s not here to be at our beck and call. He has a family to spend time with.”

 “I thought as your man of honor; he’d want to help out,” Jaxon continued.

 “Man of honor?”

 You slapped your forehead and closed your eyes.

 “You hadn’t told him? She didn’t tell you?”

 “Tell me what?” He looked at you and waited for you to explain.

 “I was—it’s nothing.”

 “No, it’s something. What?”

 You sighed and finished your glass of wine before continuing. “I was going to ask you to be my man of honor the next time you were in town. Then—things—yeah,” you trailed off.

 His heart sank. You wanted him to stand beside you over your sister or even all your friends.

 “It was stupid,” you continued.

 “You don’t want it anymore?”

 “What?”

 “Would you rather someone else do it?”

 Your eyes locked, and he was able to read you clearly for the first time in weeks.

 “No, I want you. Only you,” you whispered. It felt like you meant something else.

 “So whaddya say?” Jaxon’s voice broke the moment.

 “Uh, let me check some things, and I’ll get back to you,” he said, barely above a whisper as he avoided your eyes. This night had just gotten one hundred times worse.

 Once dinner was finished, Jaxon retreated to his office to take an urgent call, which left him to help you with the dishes. When he walked into the kitchen with the last of the dishes, you were finishing loading the dishwasher.

“Dinner was great,” he professed.

 “Thanks, you whispered.

 He stood beside you in silence for a few moments. “You’ve been avoiding me,” he began.

 “Not avoiding. Busy.”

 He scoffed. “We’ve both been busy before and still managed to talk all day. You’ve been avoiding me. Why?”

 “Chris, I have a lot going on with work and this wedding.”

“So cancel the wedding.”

 Your head snapped to him so fast he nearly laughed out loud.

 “What?!”

 “You heard me. Cancel the wedding,” he repeated.

 “Why the hell would I do that?

 “Because I love you and you love me.”

 You rolled your eyes and looked back to the dishes. “Of course, I love you. you’re my best friend.”

 “You’re in love with me,” he flat out said, not caring if anyone heard.

 “Chris. Stop. I love Jaxon. We’re getting married in six weeks.

 “Are you in love with him? You and I both know there is a difference. I don’t think you are,” he cockily said though he didn’t feel so confidant in his declaration.

 “Yes, I am,” you answered. Again, his heart sank.

 “And me?”

 You looked at him again, and he saw the conflict in your eyes. There should be no conflict where resolution resides, he thought before he took a step to you, closing the distance between you.

 “Y/N, come on,” he pleaded before you took a baby step back.

 “This is not the place or time. Jaxon is in the other room.”

 “I don’t care like at all. How do you feel, Y/N?”

 “Fuck, I don’t know how I feel. I don’t know what I feel,” you blurted out in an urgent fiery whisper.

 “Yes, you do. Okay yeah, it was a shock, but that was two week ago. You know how you feel, how you’ve always felt I’m suspecting.”

 You rubbed your forehead and sighed out. “Jesus, okay. Let’s say I did know. What does it matter? I’m engaged to be married to a great guy.”

 “Why would you marry someone you don’t love in the right way? Why would you resign to live the rest of your life with someone you don’t profoundly desire on every single level? Why would you want that especially knowing there is a better choice, the one who loves you as fiercely as you love him?”

 He could have just pulled you to him, something said you wouldn’t have stopped him, but he didn’t know if he had that level of asshole in him—not right now.

 “I’m sorry about that,” Jaxon said as he walked into the kitchen, breaking the bubble, making you move away from him to approach Jaxon. Once at his side, he watched on as Jaxon kissed you. It hurt to see, especially when his hand gripped your hip in a possessive manner. While it hurt, it also showed him what he wanted. He knew, without a doubt, his reasons weren’t for anything other than you were the woman of his dreams.

 It was clear what he had to do now. He had to prove it to you. He had to up the ante and prove to you that he really felt what he felt. He also had the double task of showing you that you loved him as much as he loved you. He had to prove to you that he was the better choice for you, not Jaxon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ***If you want to be tagged please SEND AN ASK SO IT WILL BE EASIER FOR ME TO KEEP TRACK OF. Thank you for reading!!! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

TagList:

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***There are a few that are bold that I tried to tag but your @ wasn’t coming up. I’m not sure why. I’m sorry.

[gingerbreadart1]

Really loving the latest artwork and lore! You are so creative! Can't wait to see what's next! No rush though, I know the good stuff takes time.

Oh my gosh thank you!!!!! I'm having a bit of a writer's block when it comes to the actual story, so I've been kinda messing around and doing research about different things. Idk if it's obvious yet, but I'm a huge nerd. I especially love science and sci-fi(duh) as well as biology! I actually wanted to be a doctor with some kind of focus on congenital disorders when I was a kid. Weird kid, I know. Anyway, I love thinking about lore and nerdy shit, so I'm gonna take this opportunity to do just that! Beware under the cut is a very long essay about space, civilizations, rambles, and math. Lots of math.

So, I have no idea where I want to start, but I know what I want to talk about so I'm gonna pick something and roll with it. First thing's first, the Kardashev scale.

Because this isn't an English class and I don't have to re-word shit, I'm gonna copy and paste from wikipedia for this one: "The Kardashev scale is a method of measuring a civilization's level of technological advancement based on the amount of energy it is able to use. The measure was proposed by Soviet astronomer Nikolai Kardashev in 1964." Cool? Cool.

So yeah, basically it's an easy way to say how advanced a civilization is, and it's broken up into three types.

A Type I civilization, also called a planetary civilization—can use and store all of the energy available on its planet.

A Type II civilization, also called a stellar civilization—can use and control energy at the scale of its planetary system.

A Type III civilization, also called a galactic civilization—can control energy at the scale of its entire host galaxy.

Just to give you a grasp of what that means relative to us, humans are estimated to be a type 0.73 civilization. We're expected to get to type 1 in a few hundred years or so. Here's where math comes in. Note: I hate, and am not good at math. So, take all of this with a grain of salt.

So, a Type 1 civ. is usually defined as one that can harness all the energy that falls on a planet from its parent star (for Earth–Sun system, this value is close to 1.74×10^17 watts), which is about four orders of magnitude higher than the amount presently attained on Earth, with energy consumption at ≈2×10^13 watts.

Before I go any further, I want to ramble a bit about their star

For my own personal headcanon that the Irken planet is slightly dimmer than earth, I'm gonna make the Irken star a K0 type star. For reference, the sun is a G2V star, meaning it's a yellow dwarf. A K0 star is kind of inbetween red dwarfs and yellow dwarfs. Quick explanation on the letter-number thing, (as best as I understand it, disclaimer I am not an expert) The letter is the classification of a star based on heat and luminosity, going O, B, A, F, G, K, M, L. O being the brightest and hottest (and largest typically) and L being the opposite. The number is size. A higer positive number means a smaller star. A G2 yellow dwarf is smaller than a G-3 yellow dwarf.

Make sense? God I hope so. Anyway, I picked a K0 star for a couple reasons.

They live longer. Our sun has a lifespan of about 10 billion years, but a K type star has a lifespan of 18-34 billion years. Because of this some scientists think they're a prime place to look for life because of their long stability.

They emit less ultraviolet radiation, which can damage DNA, making the developement of life less likely to be hindered by this star

They're 3-4 times more common that G type stars, so it's literally more likely that the irken sun is a K type anyway

They're dimmer and cooler (but not by much) than G type, which fits into my own personal HC about a dimmer sun.

ANYWAY now to get back into the first topic, the Kardashev scale. The irken sun has a temperature of 5,240° Kelvin (8,900° F/4970° C), a radius of .85 (367,445 m/591,345km), a mass of .78 (3.42^30lbs/1.551^30kg), and a luminosity of .40 or 1.531^26 watts.

Compare all this to our sun (Temp of 5,780°K, radius 1, mass 1, and luminosity of 1, being 3.827^26 watts), basically the Irken sun is smaller and less powerful.

Back to the Kardashev scale. Modern day earth is .73, right? I imagine that Irkens are somewhere in the high 1's, like 1.7. The reason I'm not placing them in two is because I don't headcanon that they've built a dyson sphere or a matrioshka brain.

For those who don't know, a Dyson sphere is a hypothetical megastructure that completely encompasses a star and captures a large percentage of its power output. These bad boys are imagined to look kindof like this

Cool as hell right? Also not something I think Irkens would be focused on. they're more about outward and conquering expansion rather than efficiant energy consumption and useage.

With that in mind, I'm going to say on the civilization range Kardashev scale Irkens are 2.000279. The reason for that tiny decimal amount is because a level 2 civ is one that has full control over their solar system, and a level 3 is one that has full control over their galaxy.

Galaxies are huge. Really huge. The Milky Way galaxy (In W&C Irkens are in the Milky Way as well) is on the smaller side, but it still has 100 billion stars, and 100-400 billion planets. Of those planets, an estimated 300 million to 50 billion may contain life, but most people stick it down at the low end of 300 million. So I'm going to use that number as well.

To figure out where they are on the scale, I have to figure out how large the Irken Empire actually is, so I looked at some other fictional empires.

In Star Wars, there are 1.5 million planets under the galactic empire, and an additional 60 million colonies (which can be as small as a space station or something idk)

But in Star Trek, there are only 150 planets in the federation.

In Dune, it's the whole Universe.

So there's a lot of variation here. Personally, I think under a thousand planets is a good number for a rapidly growing Empire that has unrealistic visions of grandeur, so I placed the amount of planets under their control to be 837 and called it a day.

Thus, 2.000279 on the scale.

Now with that number I'm gonna assign Irk a year. Physicist Michio Kaku suggested that it will take a few thousand years for humans to reach type two status, so I'm going to use that as a starting point to work on.

One might tack on a few thousand years to 2021 and call it a day, but I can't do that because the Gregorian calendar is religion based, and irkens probably don't have Jesus so it would be weird to base make a year for them based off of the Gregorian calendar. So instead I'm going to use the Holocene calendar. If you haven't heard of it, you're missing out! It's a very cool calendar that respresents and encompasses all of human history, and it's a very simple change: It adds 10,000 years to the current calendar, so for example, it is the year 12,021 on the holocene calendar. Cool right? The reason for this 10,000 year addition is 12,000 years ago is right around the time humans actually started settiling and building structures and beginning to farm. Thus, the birth of human civilization.

So I'm gonna be unrealistic and apply that 12,000 year first farm -> cell phone period to Irkens, and then tack on... idk let's say 2700 years. Cool beans, now we have a 15,700 year old Irken calendar. Except, 15,700 human years isn't equal to 15,700 Irken years. They're different planets, with different rotations, so they have different years. I have a previous post where I mention some basic statistics about the planet, go check it out! But for here, know that an irken year is 1.3 times longer than an earth year, so their calendar is actually going to be in the year 20,410 in the same amount of time. Let's say it's 20,417 just for funsies.

Hip hip hooray, Irk has a calendar! A year! Woohoo!

And with that, this post is long enough so I'm gonna end it here, but I plan on making a subsequent post that deals with evolution, speciation, and whatnot so stay tuned!

[drivingsideways]

Misaeng review

Ok, it's been almost a week, so I feel like I can get my thoughts (somewhat) in order. As usual, I'm late to the party, given that Misaeng aired 6 years ago, and is already considered a kdrama classic. Still: thoughts!

(under the cut)

I came to this drama with quite a lot of expectations, both because I'd seen it on a lot of rec lists, and also because I'd watched director Kim Won-seok's Signal and My Mister, which are justifiably as beloved as Misaeng. I'm happy to report that Misaeng mostly lived up to those expectations!

The writing & direction work together to make Misaeng a very immersive experience, which is good, considering the entire run time is over 20 hrs. The level of seemingly mundane detail of the operational aspects of running a trading firm that they delve into (and other dramas might have avoided for sake of pacing) seemed odd to me at first, but eventually result in a world building that's incredibly well fleshed out. The (formerly unlikely!) high stakes of a misplaced piece of paper or octopuses in a shipment of squid end up being parts of an emotionally wrenching narrative whole fairly seamlessly. Still, at 20+ hours, Misaeng also does get into the kind of pacing issues that most of the slice of life kdramas I've watched so far have. And it didn't need to! I think it had a wonderful ensemble of characters, and if they'd maybe given a little more time and space to characters other than Jang Geu-Rae (Im Si wan) and Oh Sang-sik (Lee Sung-min), the mid portions may not have felt quite so, well, stuck.

But more than the strong writing and direction, it was really the actors who delivered. They made what could have easily been a dull-ish office drama into a heart warming story about human connection and the joys and troubles of leading an "incomplete life". I'd never watched Lee Sung-min in anything before, and about half way through the series I was like, HOW IS HE MAKING A SHORT TEMPERED, ALCHOHOLIC MIDDLE MANAGER SO SEXY? Like, serious props, dude. Lee Sung-min is by turns annoying and brash and too shout-y and stubborn and funny and so incredibly vulnerable as a man trying his best to live by his principles in a world that thinks they are an impediment to "success", that you forget that he's playing a fictional character-- he's someone you know, he's someone you've seen in the mirror.

His performance as Oh Sang-sik is very ably matched by Im Si Wan's Jang Geu-Rae. This series would not have worked if these two actors didn't have the chemistry they do, and play off each other in every scene. I had watched Im Si Wan recently- in JTBC's "Run On", in which I liked his performance quite a lot, but I absolutely loved him as the naive and endearing Jang Geu-rae. Misaeng, is in part, a bildungsroman narrative centered around Jang Geu Rae. Im Si wan brought a kind of vulnerability to the role that might have felt cloying and emotionally manipulative in the hands of other actors, but Im Si-wan manages to do it with a light touch. I feel he's one of those actors that uses his whole body in a scene, not just relying on facial or verbal expression, and it's a joy to watch.

Each of the other actors in the ensemble also bring that dedication and talent to their roles, even if it's in a single scene. There are lots of one-off characters that we meet during the course of the series, and every single one of them leaves an impact.

But! I'm going to pick a fave from the supporting cast and that's Byun Yo-han, whom I'd last watched as the broody, troubled (and very sexy) swordsman Lee Bang-ji in Six Flying Dragons. I can't imagine a character more in opposition to that one than Han Seok-yul in Misaeng, but Byun Yo-han just knocks it out of the park as the scheming, cheerful and mostly inappropriate clown with a heart of gold; Han Seok-yul is the definition of Chaotic Good, and you're equal parts horrified by his antics- which include sexual harassment dont @ me -- and yet charmed by him. I wish they'd given him a few more scenes and a larger plotline to work with, but I also suspect that he might have just walked away with the entire series if they did that. (Am I plotting that series in my head as I write this? MAYBE.)

Alright, this is getting a bit too long, so I'm going to get to the bits that disappointed me. That's really one major thing: the gender politics. I don't know how different the show is from the web toon it's based on, so I can't tell whether they made significant changes to the basic plot and characters. As in- I have no idea if the webtoon was as male dominated in every way as the show is, so I'm not sure how much of the show's treatment of women as a class, and its female characters in particular, I should lay at the door of the original writer vs the screenwriter and director. I'm also lacking the Korean context in which this was written and made and aired, so you may take my criticism with a pinch of salt, if you please!

That the show features mainly male characters is perhaps unsurprising and realistic, since we know that the kind of corporate life it depicts is very male dominated, top to bottom. The show also portrays the very real and horrific overt and subtle misogyny that women face in the workplace and out of it; mainly in the character of Ahn Young-yi, played with steely determination and quiet suffering by the lovely Kang so-ra. There are only 3 other female characters that have any sort of real speaking role- Sun Ji Young (played by Shin Eun jung), a senior manager at the company, Jang Geu-rae's unnamed(!) mother (played by the amazing Sung Byoung-Sook) and Oh Sang-sik's unnamed (!) wife (played by Oh Yoon-Hong, who's a delight in every tiny scene she has). There are other women who appear but in very minor roles, and often in "comedy" moments that often rely on sexist tropes to start with.

Anyway, right there you can see one of the problems- 4 women characters that have any kind of real screen time, and only 2 of them are named. Aigoo! Screenwriter Jung Yoon-jung is a woman, and like, I don't like putting the burden on any one woman to y'know fix structural misogyny, but I can't also help feeling disappointed that she overlooked even this "small" thing among the larger things.

But that apart, the main issue for me was that while the show doesn't shy away from depicting egregious sexism in the form of sexual harrassment, verbal and physical and certainly emotional abuse, in a manner that's clear that we are meant to be horrified by it--it falls short of depicting how women deal and work with it. It just doesn't give enough space to women or their worldview.

It's very comfortable depicting victimhood, but doesn't put work into depicting the ways in which women survive by finding solidarity with other women. We have a scene or two where Ahn Young-yi who is this show's poster child for female victimhood interacts with the older women who offer sympathy and understanding, but no real strategy or support. And yes, we see men also being targeted by their seniors for the grossest verbal and physical abuse; and it's men who help Ahn Young-yi strategise on how to deal with her situation. Real life experience tells me that it's the women who do this work for other women. I have certainly been on both sides of this equation, for one, and so has every woman that I know in corporate life. And yes, one of the show's core philosophies is that those who endure, survive--but it is none the less extremely painful to watch Ahn Young yi "endure" the kind of abuse she does as a coping strategy and a survival strategy.

At the end of it, when she slowly manages to gain the support of her sexist team, it's shown as a victory-- though naturally imperfect, because this show takes its Realism very seriously (right until the end where it makes a tonal shift into quirky that I was a little ?? about)-- and y'know, sure, it is a victory. And I absolutely understand the choices she makes and why she does it-- I guess I just got annoyed by the fact that other antagonistic figures in the narrative get a more straightforward comeuppance for their egregious behavior, but Ahn Young-yi doesn't even get a goddamned apology from her abusers. Instead, we have a half humourous, half serious moment where she comments on how she's working at turning herself into "someone cute"- because she understands now that sometimes the right strategy is to "go with the flow". Be the water that slowly wears away at the rock. It's an interesting moment- the men she tells this to are taken aback by her bluntness, but also a little clueless about what she means. It's the kind of nuance that I would and do enjoy. Unfortunately, it also closely follows one of the show's most annoying scenes at the tail end of the series- where it tries to play off workplace sexism and misogyny as comedy- boys being boys-Reader, when I tell you that I had to WORK to unclench my jaw--!

I'm not saying we should have a single and obvious narrative of female emancipation. I'm not against realism in fiction, but god, sometimes, please do remember that when we look for escapism, we are actually imagining a better world. The first step toward liberation is allowing yourself to imagine it.

And the show does allow other characters its moments of unfettered fantasy- Im Si Wan parkour-ing all over the rooftops of Amman- and having a semi mystical + Indiana Jones moment in the deserts of Jordan--so why, I ask, are the women not given that gift?

*looks into the camera *

Tl;dr: I enjoyed it, it made me cry every episode, and I cared about all the characters, and if you haven't watched it yet, treat yourselves.

PS. Yes, Han Seok-yul is a disaster bi, sorry, I don't make the rules. Yes, hotties Oh Min Seok and Kang Ha-neul are canonically naked in a hot tub six feet apart because they are bros. Yes, I will be writing the fix it in which they fuck like angry bunnies. Yes, I am going to put my shipper cooties all over this gen slice of life show, deal with it.

[deans-haunted-baby]

The Ones Left Behind

Alrighty time for some truth bombs. I’ve had almost a week to absorb the end of Supernatural and season 15 as a whole. And I think this is the moment where I need to throw in my two cents. For all intents and purposes I won’t go in-depth into 15x20 seeing as that conversation will just open up a whole other can of worms and I don’t need that headache. I have my reasons for being less than indifferent with how the Winchesters’ story concluded. So I won’t go there.

Instead I’ll be focusing all my energies on the unsatisfying conclusions of 4 particular characters. Two of which were main cast members (one that was on the show 12 years and one 4 years) while the other two (played by the same dude) were brought back after a decade long hiatus for a much-anticipated comeback only to be wasted and mangled unfairly by Dabb and his hack horde of a writing staff. Call this a follow up to my last post. If I sound bitter I am because these people don’t have a single clue on how to helm these characters, their relationships or their storylines 😠 Nor do they deserve them.

And yes I’m well aware of Kevin Tran, Rowena, Ketch and several others who got the shaft on this show. Those could be future posts for another time.

But I cannot stress this enough; ADAM MILLIGAN, JACK KLINE, MICHAEL AND CASTIEL ALL DESERVED FUCKING BETTER. There is no arguing these facts, none whatsoever. Not one of these characters deserved that exit to be the final chapter in their story. I won’t do an entire analysis of each character’s arc and role in the show as I’ve already done that in my rant about 15x19. But I will highlight how much season 15 royally screwed over these characters and tossed them aside like trash; as if none of them were ever part of/contributed anything to Sam and Dean’s history/world building of Supernatural’s universe.

*WARNING* This is going to get heated.

Before I dive into the heart of these issues I want to state this is not a “shipping post”. I don’t ship anyone on Supernatural, hopefully this blog has been pretty self-explanatory. So I have no arguments/opinions in those areas. I’ve been a fan of this series for 15 years because of the characters, the familial bonds and relationships formed between characters throughout its run. And I’m well-aware that the Winchesters are the lead protagonists of the show, no need to remind me. These are purely my own thoughts based what I’ve obtained from show canon. Let me just say I can’t get over just how much these writers contradicted and ignored what they put forth in the journeys of these four individuals. its a real headscratcher.

You mean to tell me that after TWELVE DAMN YEARS of Castiel being a rebellious warrior angel, searching for his own identity and meaning in life; making that promise to Kelly Kline about raising Jack as his own/risking his life for him. After sacrificing himself for his son a year ago, acknowledging he was satisfied with his role as a father which restored his faith; that it was all because of/for Dean Winchester? 

You mean to tell me that after Michael, THE PRINCE OF HEAVEN and PROTECTOR OF HUMANITY, was locked away in a cage with a human whom he emotionally bonded with for thousands of years (10 years our time); who was abandoned, betrayed and manipulated by his neglectful/abusive father. After choosing free will and aligning himself with TFW for humanity’s sake, just sided with the Earth’s destruction because his little brother called him names? 

You mean to tell me that Jack, A THREE YEAR OLD CHILD, who’s barely just beginning his life and spent his entire duration on the show wanting to be normal and not wanting to be special. Connecting and being integrated with humans; a child who’s biggest fear was outliving everyone he ever loved. Is suddenly ready to walk away from his family, his home and his teddy bear; to give up being a kid forever and run the universe?

You mean to tell me that Adam, SUPERNATURAL’S MOST INNOCENT CHARACTER and FORGOTTEN THIRD-WINCHESTER BROTHER, after being eaten by ghouls; pulled away from his mother out of Heaven, manipulated by angels, trapped in Hell for thousands of years because Sam and Dean left him there to rot. After coming back and helping his neglectful siblings save the world only to be ripped away from his best friend and THE ONLY OTHER PERSON who gave a damn about him; is sentenced to a life of loneliness, homelessness and turmoil until he dies and ends up in Hell where he’ll mostly be tortured and turned into a demon?

NO. I DO NOT AND WILL NEVER ACCEPT THIS BULLSHIT! 

Season 15 not only manages to contradict itself where these characters are concerned (while assassinating them before the final curtain). But the writers deliberately discarded them before giving us that *sarcasm inserted* epic solo-Winchester conclusion. Regardless of how you feel about Adam, Castiel, Jack or Michael, ALL OF THESE CHARACTERS are connected Sam and Dean’s story and part of Supernatural. And when you throw them away like they mean nothing, you’re essentially throwing away a part of the show’s history. You’re ignoring 15 years worth of story building. 

As I said I’m not going to go into 15x20 for reasons, it doesn’t offend me as much as what was done before that finale. Because I think those other show exits really affect 15x20 even worse than people realize. You want to know why, I’ll explain.

Lets start off with Castiel and Jack, OH BOY! We know where they end up; running Heaven and the Earth together which is all fine and dandy. I love my Dadstiel father/son duo being an endgame family unit. But here in lies the problem, we never saw it. Not even a cameo. And technically their onscreen storyline ends at 15x18 and 15x19 which is an ugly, anti-climatic bookend to an incredibly deep relationship that had 4 years of development. First you have Castiel who completely forgets why he made that deal with the Empty to begin with. HIS FUCKING SON. Not to mention it wasn’t about true happiness it was about giving himself permission to be happy; there is a difference. And then you have Jack wandering around next episode, vacuuming up power cause suddenly he’s a machine now, acting like he doesn’t give a shit over losing his dad to an entity HE’S BEEN DREADING ABOUT FOR A FUCKING YEAR. 

Towards the end of season 15 I noticed neither of these characters were acting like themselves. Their motivations, their personalities and strong ties to one another had mysteriously dissolved. Castiel became less concerned about the danger his son was facing after 15x15 (what the hell was that in 15x17?) and more about speaking when spoken to by either Sam or Dean. Does he know how Dean truly feels about Jack; proclaiming the child is “not family”? I doubt the in-character version of him would let Jack leave with Dean after that insult. Castiel’s not even worried whether or not his son is alive or safe before he makes the big confession later. And for some reason Jack (who’d become heavily suicidal) was more concerned with clinging to the Winchesters, willing to die for them, instead focusing on himself and the one person who’s shown him nothing but unconditional love and given him strength since birth. Both of these characters are canonically depressed and suffer from low self-esteem that was never resolved which makes me furious. 

When Chuck killed Jack at the end of season 14, this devastated Castiel in the first half of season 15. He actually got to grieve that loss throughout the episodes and deal with his anger over it, allowing the audience to anticipate the day they’d be reunited one last time. This part of Castiel’s S15 arc also ironically mirrors Jack’s S13 arc of mourning Castiel’s death until resurrecting him. And when this son finally returned to his father, who got to rescue him, it was such a poignant moment between the two. It was a cathartic payoff after witnessing Castiel in so much pain over Jack. There was so much building up between that Dadstiel reunion in 15x11 and the Empty’s pact in 14x08; this was suppose to be a tragic yet pivotal plot-point in both Jack and Castiel’s stories. And with SPN wrapping up we all expected something BIG. Yet somehow the writers retconned the whole thing by making it all about Dean, which is such a gross disservice to these characters and 4 years of storytelling.

For instance, since 15x18 was Castiel’s exit episode, why wasn’t he allowed to hug his son or Sam goodbye one last time? Why didn’t he have more of a focal role instead of standing around majority of the episode with barely any dialogue as so much precious air time was wasted on frivolous things? Why didn’t he get one last badass fight scene with someone like Death instead of being choked out and tossed around like a powerless mortal? Why did the group need to be split up to begin with when it served no purpose either than that *ugh* moment? Why wasn’t Jack allowed to call Castiel “dad” once before the show ended? He deserved to hear his son address him as dad!

AND WHY THE HELL COULDN’T JACK FEEL CASTIEL’S DEATH THE MOMENT IT HAPPENED? 

The show already established to the audience the significant cosmic bond these two characters shared since before Jack was even born. It was so powerful it boosted Castiel’s grace. Jack could remember who Castiel was from the womb and that he’d protected his mother. Not to mention HE FUCKING RESURRECTED CASTIEL OUT OF THE EMPTY ONCE WITHOUT GOD’S POWER. You’re telling me Jack couldn’t feel his dad being taken away forever despite how far apart they were? No, he’d feel it in his heart. Had we’d been given a scene like that at the end of 15x18 (something of substance) with actual grief shown in 15x19 maybe the episode would’ve faired better for them. 

That said it wasn’t, because Jack was treated the exact same way in his final exit. Hardly any lines and just a bunch of scenes of him standing/walking around until that pathetic reveal at the lake. HE DOESN’T EVEN GET TO INTERACT WITH JAKE ABEL’S MICHAEL/ADAM which would’ve been a great follow-up to the AU!Michael storyline in seasons 13 and 14. I swear these directors didn’t give Alex and Misha any motivation during their last three episodes and it’s evident in their hollow performances. But why would they when the scripts are basically telling their characters to quickly fuck off so the brothers can have their final outing. Jack doesn’t even behave like himself after he becomes the new God. His personality is apathetic, cold, alien, stiff and way too mature for the 3 year old child so closely connected to his family/the human world. In that moment I saw Alex Calvert not Jack Kline. It’s bad enough he doesn’t get a meaningful farewell but again Castiel, HIS DAD, is a complete afterthought to this kid 🥶

And that’s what we’re left with. Forever. A frigid, hollow ending to one of Supernatural’s most healthy, touching, family dynamics. It makes you wonder what was even the point. I can’t even fully enjoy the fact that its canon Jack and Castiel are together fixing Heaven because of what the show presented onscreen as their last hurrah. It’s not sitting right and it makes 15x20 even less appealing to me.

Moving onto Michael and Adam. Get ready for this. I could rant forever about how dirty my boys were done by this show. How they were discarded in the SPN series finale recap etc. just as they were FOR THE LAST TEN FUCKING YEARS. Was there even a plan going on here or was this just everyone making things up as it went? Their ending is the most unsatisfying and cruel thing because its INCOMPLETE. There is no real closure or resolution with them thanks to the monstrosity that was 15x19. AND NO ONE CARES ENOUGH ABOUT THEM TO GIVE A SHIT. 

Much as I’ve enjoyed this show for many years, it NEVER deserved Jake Abel, his talent or his time. I keep seeing so many anti posts about Dean Winchester’s final fate in Supernatural and all I can think about is “try being an Adam Milligan fan for the last decade”.  I’ve had to watch this boy go through hell with nothing to show for it either than years of memes. ridicule and the show’s mockery in forgetting him. Actually he’s the ONLY CHARACTER in this series you’re encouraged not to remember 😡 Also quick question: why give us this really interesting and healthy relationship between an archangel and its vessel if nothing was ever going to become of it? 

At this point I don’t know why Adam or the idea of him was even introduced way back in season 4 let alone revisited in season 5. Because the only thing I see when I look at this character now is SAD WASTED POTENTIAL. Storylines never explored. Relationships that never got off the ground. Backstory we never got to see (like for instance his past with John Winchester and his time in the cage). A character’s birthright (Men of Letters) that was never actualized. AND the unexplained factor that Adam could look directly at Michael’s true form without his eyes burning out (making him a special case). And the thing is he could’ve been a really great character, both him and Michael. They could’ve easily reached popular status just like Castiel given the chance since Jake is a freaking acting-powerhouse. We were given a taste in 15x08 just how awesome these characters could be and how they could’ve contributed so much to the story and its core group. But unfortunately it wasn’t meant to be.

Michael will never redeem himself after years of scrutiny and being made out to be some kind of unhinged monster. This show constantly enjoyed pounding into our brains how fearsome Michael was. Warned us via Lucifer (LUCIFER, PEOPLE!) that he wasn’t rational, compassionate and didn’t care about anything except war, death and destruction. And that he was incapable of feelings and emotions. This is how Supernatural saw Heaven’s Prince and guardian of the Earth. Christ, they actually did a two-year storyline about an evil Michael from the AU world who enjoyed torturing and killing while trying to destroy the universe. I want to know WHAT THE HELL THIS SHOW’S WRITERS HAD AGINST THESE CHARACTERS? Why they felt the need to bring back Jake Abel, AFTER A DECADE OF FANS WANTING THIS, if it was simply to piss all over his characters one last time before the show wrapped. This is absolutely unprofessional and childish; the fact that Jake is taking this bullshit in stride makes it all the more shameful 😡

We could’ve learned so much more about Michael’s past and his present relationship with Adam. These characters didn’t need to sit in the cage for a decade they could’ve easily been incorporated back into the show as far as season 8 or 10! And been an asset to the Darkness storyline in season 11.There were characters and storylines introduced that served no purpose. Why did we need to keep seeing characters like Charlie Bradbury or (as much as I like him) Crowley or Garth (love him too) or Lucifer or Abaddon or the Wayward sisters? I would’ve much preferred having Adam and Michael around and got to know them instead; especially after 15x08. I would’ve wanted to see what their dynamic with TFW could’ve become had they been long-time allies. Did John ever tell Mary about Adam’s existence? I’d like to see what her reaction would’ve been like had the Winchesters remembered him during that damn 300th episode. I guess that’s another loose end untied.

But because of what Supernatural did to these two characters, it forever taints Sam and Dean. I don’t think Dabb or purist fans realize this. But when new viewers come into this show about two brothers preaching important things like “saving people”, “family first” or “family don’t end in blood” they’re going to see how badly the main protagonists treated their innocent half brother. How Castiel and Jack were treated. They’re going to see the heroes of the story abandoning this kid in Hell forever with no intention of EVER rescuing him. And that’s why their final appearance leaves such a bad taste going into 15x20. Cause as much as Dabb and co didn’t give a shit about Adam and Michael they also didn’t give a rat’s ass about protecting Sam and Dean’s integrity. That’ll be a stain they can’t undo. 

So through all of it, we’re stuck with the abomination that is 15x19 aka the eye-soar to an unfinished/unpolished story of two horribly disregarded characters. Michael gets the pleasure of being character assassinated right before he’s stupidly killed off instead of going out a hero or becoming the next God (as it was his birthright and the setup was there in the narrative). And Adam gets killed off-screen, OUT OF HIS OWN DAMN BODY, then brought back by Jack only to live a miserable, isolated existence since his brothers have nothing to do with him (the dog and car are more important); his best friend is dead, he has no job or money or a fucking home and he’s legally dead! Really what is there left for him besides the brutal fate awaiting in Hell when he dies?  

SERIOUSLY THEY COULDN’T GIVE US ONE SCENE WHERE THE WINCHESTERS CHECKED IN ON ADAM TO MAKE SURE HE WAS SAFE?! 🤬 His last scene pretty much sums up this shit for what it is. Tragic. I feel like crying for this poor sweet boy.

Congratulations Dabb, BL and co for giving us these much deserved broken story arcs of characters you destroyed and made OOC before leaving the airways. You did your show’s protagonists justice by doing this *sarcasm inserted* after 15 years of being onscreen. I doubt these idiotic decisions are going to age well in the long run. They certainly don’t look good on the Winchesters. Anyway that’s my hot take for the day. 

ALL THESE ACTORS AND THEIR CHARACTERS DESERVED BETTER.

[howwelldoyouknowyourmoon]

Religious Trauma Syndrome: How Some Organized Religion Leads to Mental Health Problems

By Valerie Tarico

Marlene Winell interviewed March 25, 2013

At age sixteen I began what would be a four year struggle with bulimia. When the symptoms started, I turned in desperation to adults who knew more than I did about how to stop shameful behavior—my Bible study leader and a visiting youth minister.  “If you ask anything in faith, believing,” they said. “It will be done.” I knew they were quoting [3] the Word of God. We prayed together, and I went home confident that God had heard my prayers. But my horrible compulsions didn’t go away. By the fall of my sophomore year in college, I was desperate and depressed enough that I made a suicide attempt. The problem wasn’t just the bulimia. I was convinced by then that I was a complete spiritual failure. My college counseling department had offered to get me real help (which they later did). But to my mind, at that point, such help couldn’t fix the core problem: I was a failure in the eyes of God. It would be years before I understood that my inability to heal bulimia through the mechanisms offered by biblical Christianity was not a function of my own spiritual deficiency but deficiencies in Evangelical religion itself.  

Dr. Marlene Winell is a human development consultant in the San Francisco Area. She is also the daughter of Pentecostal missionaries. This combination has given her work an unusual focus. For the past twenty years she has counseled men and women in recovery from various forms of fundamentalist religion including the Assemblies of God denomination in which she was raised. Winell is the author of Leaving the Fold – A Guide for Former Fundamentalists and Others Leaving their Religion [4], written during her years of private practice in psychology. Over the years, Winell has provided assistance to clients whose religious experiences were even more damaging than mine. Some of them are people whose psychological symptoms weren’t just exacerbated by their religion, but actually caused by it.  

Two years ago, Winell made waves by formally labeling what she calls “Religious Trauma Syndrome” (RTS) and beginning to write and speak on the subject for professional audiences. When the British Association of Behavioral and Cognitive Psychologists published a series of articles on the topic, members of a Christian counseling association protested what they called excessive attention to a “relatively niche topic.” One commenter said, “A religion, faith or book cannot be abuse but the people interpreting can make anything abusive.”

Is toxic religion simply misinterpretation? What is religious trauma? Why does Winell believe religious trauma merits its own diagnostic label?

Let’s start this interview with the basics. What exactly is religious trauma syndrome?

Winell: Religious trauma syndrome (RTS) is a set of symptoms and characteristics that tend to go together and which are related to harmful experiences with religion. They are the result of two things: immersion in a controlling religion and the secondary impact of leaving a religious group. The RTS label provides a name and description that affected people often recognize immediately. Many other people are surprised by the idea of RTS, because in our culture it is generally assumed that religion is benign or good for you. Just like telling kids about Santa Claus and letting them work out their beliefs later, people see no harm in teaching religion to children.

But in reality, religious teachings and practices sometimes cause serious mental health damage. The public is somewhat familiar with sexual and physical abuse in a religious context. As Journalist Janet Heimlich has documented in, Breaking Their Will, Bible-based religious groups that emphasize patriarchal authority in family structure and use harsh parenting methods can be destructive.

But the problem isn’t just physical and sexual abuse. Emotional and mental treatment in authoritarian religious groups also can be damaging because of 1) toxic teachings like eternal damnation or original sin 2) religious practices or mindset, such as punishment, black and white thinking, or sexual guilt, and 3) neglect that prevents a person from having the information or opportunities to develop normally.

Can you give me an example of RTS from your consulting practice?

Winell: I can give you many. One of the symptom clusters is around fear and anxiety. People indoctrinated into fundamentalist Christianity as small children sometimes have memories of being terrified by images of hell and apocalypse before their brains could begin to make sense of such ideas. Some survivors, who I prefer to call “reclaimers,” [8] have flashbacks, panic attacks, or nightmares in adulthood even when they intellectually no longer believe the theology. One client of mine, who during the day functioned well as a professional, struggled with intense fear many nights. She said,

“I was afraid I was going to hell. I was afraid I was doing something really wrong. I was completely out of control. I sometimes would wake up in the night and start screaming, thrashing my arms, trying to rid myself of what I was feeling. I’d walk around the house trying to think and calm myself down, in the middle of the night, trying to do some self-talk, but I felt like it was just something that – the fear and anxiety was taking over my life.” Or consider this comment, which refers to a film [9] used by evangelicals to warn about the horrors of the “end times” for nonbelievers.

“I was taken to see the film “A Thief In The Night”. WOW.  I am in shock to learn that many other people suffered the same traumas I lived with because of this film. A few days or weeks after the film viewing, I came into the house and mom wasn’t there. I stood there screaming in terror. When I stopped screaming, I began making my plan: Who my Christian neighbors were, who’s house to break into to get money and food. I was 12 years old and was preparing for Armageddon alone.”

In addition to anxiety, RTS can include depression, cognitive difficulties, and problems with social functioning. In fundamentalist Christianity, the individual is considered depraved and in need of salvation. A core message is “You are bad and wrong and deserve to die.” (The wages of sin is death [10].) This gets taught to millions of children through organizations like Child Evangelism Fellowship [11] and there is a group organized [12]  to oppose their incursion into public schools.  I’ve had clients who remember being distraught when given a vivid bloody image of Jesus paying the ultimate price for their sins. Decades later they sit telling me that they can’t manage to find any self-worth.

“After twenty-seven years of trying to live a perfect life, I failed. . . I was ashamed of myself all day long. My mind battling with itself with no relief. . . I always believed everything that I was taught but I thought that I was not approved by God. I thought that basically I, too, would die at Armageddon.

“I’ve spent literally years injuring myself, cutting and burning my arms, taking overdoses and starving myself, to punish myself so that God doesn’t have to punish me. It’s taken me years to feel deserving of anything good.”

Born-again Christianity and devout Catholicism [13] tell people they are weak and dependent, calling on phrases like “lean not unto your own understanding [14]” or “trust and obey [11].” People who internalize these messages can suffer from learned helplessness. I’ll give you an example from a client who had little decision-making ability after living his entire life devoted to following the “will of God.” The words here don’t convey the depth of his despair.

“I have an awful time making decisions in general. Like I can’t, you know, wake up in the morning, “What am I going to do today?” Like I don’t even know where to start. You know all the things I thought I might be doing are gone and I’m not sure I should even try to have a career; essentially I babysit my four-year-old all day.”

Authoritarian religious groups are subcultures where conformity is required in order to belong. Thus if you dare to leave the religion, you risk losing your entire support system as well.

“I lost all my friends. I lost my close ties to family. Now I’m losing my country. I’ve lost so much because of this malignant religion and I am angry and sad to my very core. . . I have tried hard to make new friends, but I have failed miserably. . . I am very lonely.”

Leaving a religion, after total immersion, can cause a complete upheaval of a person’s construction of reality, including the self, other people, life, and the future. People unfamiliar with this situation, including therapists, have trouble appreciating the sheer terror it can create.

“My form of religion was very strongly entrenched and anchored deeply in my heart. It is hard to describe how fully my religion informed, infused, and influenced my entire worldview. My first steps out of fundamentalism were profoundly frightening and I had frequent thoughts of suicide. Now I’m way past that but I still haven’t quite found “my place in the universe.”

Even for a person who was not so entrenched, leaving one’s religion can be a stressful and significant transition.

Many people seem to walk away from their religion easily, without really looking back. What is different about the clientele you work with?

Winell: Religious groups that are highly controlling, teach fear about the world, and keep members sheltered and ill-equipped to function in society are harder to leave easily. The difficulty seems to be greater if the person was born and raised in the religion rather than joining as an adult convert. This is because they have no frame of reference – no other “self” or way of “being in the world.” A common personality type is a person who is deeply emotional and thoughtful and who tends to throw themselves wholeheartedly into their endeavors. “True believers” who then lose their faith feel more anger and depression and grief than those who simply went to church on Sunday.

Aren’t these just people who would be depressed, anxious, or obsessive anyways?

Winell: Not at all. If my observation is correct, these are people who are intense and involved and caring. They hang on to the religion longer than those who simply “walk away” because they try to make it work even when they have doubts. Sometimes this is out of fear, but often it is out of devotion. These are people for whom ethics, integrity and compassion matter a great deal. I find that when they get better and rebuild their lives, they are wonderfully creative and energetic about new things.

In your mind, how is RTS different from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder?

Winell: RTS is a specific set of symptoms and characteristics that are connected with harmful religious experience, not just any trauma. This is crucial to understanding the condition and any kind of self-help or treatment. (More details about this can be found on my Journey Free [15] website and discussed in my talk [16] at the Texas Freethought Convention.)

Another difference is the social context, which is extremely different from other traumas or forms of abuse. When someone is recovering from domestic abuse, for example, other people understand and support the need to leave and recover. They don’t question it as a matter of interpretation, and they don’t send the person back for more. But this is exactly what happens to many former believers who seek counseling. If a provider doesn’t understand the source of the symptoms, he or she may send a client for pastoral counseling, or to AA, or even to another church. One reclaimer expressed her frustration this way:

“Include physically-abusive parents who quote “Spare the rod and spoil the child” as literally as you can imagine and you have one fucked-up soul: an unloved, rejected, traumatized toddler in the body of an adult. I’m simply a broken spirit in an empty shell. But wait...That’s not enough!? There’s also the expectation by everyone in society that we victims should celebrate this with our perpetrators every Christmas and Easter!!”

Just like disorders such as autism or bulimia, giving RTS a real name has important advantages. People who are suffering find that having a label for their experience helps them feel less alone and guilty. Some have written to me to express their relief:

“There’s actually a name for it! I was brainwashed from birth and wasted 25 years of my life serving Him! I’ve since been out of my religion for several years now, but I cannot shake the haunting fear of hell and feel absolutely doomed. I’m now socially inept, unemployable, and the only way I can have sex is to pay for it.”

Labeling RTS encourages professionals to study it more carefully, develop treatments, and offer training. Hopefully, we can even work on prevention.

What do you see as the difference between religion that causes trauma and religion that doesn’t?

Winell: Religion causes trauma when it is highly controlling and prevents people from thinking for themselves and trusting their own feelings. Groups that demand obedience and conformity produce fear, not love and growth. With constant judgment of self and others, people become alienated from themselves, each other, and the world. Religion in its worst forms causes separation.

Conversely, groups that connect people and promote self-knowledge and personal growth can be said to be healthy. The book, Healthy Religion [17], describes these traits. Such groups put high value on respecting differences, and members feel empowered as individuals.  They provide social support, a place for events and rites of passage, exchange of ideas, inspiration, opportunities for service, and connection to social causes. They encourage spiritual practices that promote health like meditation or principles for living like the golden rule. More and more, non-theists are asking [18] how they can create similar spiritual communities without the supernaturalism. An atheist congregation [19] in London launched this year and has received over 200 inquiries from people wanting to replicate their model.

Some people say that terms like “recovery from religion” and “religious trauma syndrome” are just atheist attempts to pathologize religious belief.

Winell: Mental health professionals have enough to do without going out looking for new pathology. I never set out looking for a “niche topic,” and certainly not religious trauma syndrome. I originally wrote a paper for a conference of the American Psychological Association and thought that would be the end of it. Since then, I have tried to move on to other things several times, but this work has simply grown.

In my opinion, we are simply, as a culture, becoming aware of religious trauma. More and more people are leaving religion, as seen by polls [20] showing that the “religiously unaffiliated” have increased in the last five years from just over 15% to just under 20% of all U.S. adults. It’s no wonder the internet is exploding with websites for former believers from all religions, providing forums [21] for people to support each other. The huge population of people “leaving the fold” includes a subset at risk for RTS, and more people are talking about it and seeking help.  For example, there are thousands of former Mormons [22], and I was asked to speak about RTS at an Exmormon Foundation conference.  I facilitate an international support group online called Release and Reclaim [23]  which has monthly conference calls. An organization called Recovery from Religion, [24] helps people start self-help meet-up groups

Saying that someone is trying to pathologize authoritarian religion is like saying someone pathologized eating disorders by naming them. Before that, they were healthy? No, before that we weren’t noticing. People were suffering, thought they were alone, and blamed themselves.  Professionals had no awareness or training. This is the situation of RTS today. Authoritarian religion is already pathological, and leaving a high-control group can be traumatic. People are already suffering. They need to be recognized and helped. _______________________________

Statistics update:

Numbers of American ‘nones’ continues to rise

October 18, 2019

By David Crary – Associated Press

The portion of Americans with no religious affiliation is rising significantly, in tandem with a sharp drop in the percentage that identifies as Christians, according to new data from the Pew Research Center. …

Pew says all categories of the religiously unaffiliated population – often referred to as the “nones” grew in magnitude. Self-described atheists now account for 4% of U.S. adults, up from 2% in 2009; agnostics account for 5%, up from 3% a decade ago; and 17% of Americans now describe their religion as “nothing in particular,” up from 12% in 2009.

https://www.csmonitor.com/USA/Society/2019/1018/Numbers-of-American-nones-continues-to-rise

_______________________________

Marlene Winell interviewed by Valerie Tarico on recovering from religious trauma Uploaded on January 31, 2011

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fIfABmbqSMA

24:12

On Moral Politics, a TV program with host Dr. Valerie Tarico, Marlene Winell describes the trauma that can result from harmful experiences with religious indoctrination. Dr. Winell explains that mental health issues are widespread and need to be understood just as we understand PTSD. There are steps to recovery, treatment modalities, and resources available as well. She now refers to this as RTS or Religious Trauma Syndrome. _______________________________

Links:
 
[3] https://www.biblestudyonjesuschrist.com/pog/ask1.htm 
[4] https://marlenewinell.net/leaving-fold-former 
[8] https://journeyfree.org/article/reclaimers/ 
[9] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/A_Thief_in_the_Night_%28film%29 
[10] https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Romans+6%3A23&version=KJV 
[11] https://valerietarico.com/2011/02/04/our-public-schools-their-mission-field/ 
[12] http://www.intrinsicdignity.com/ 
[13] https://www.maryjohnson.co/an-unquenchable-thirst/ 
[14] https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Proverbs+3%3A5-6&version=KJV [15] https://journeyfree.org/category/uncategorized/ [16] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3qrE4pMBlis 
[17] https://www.amazon.com/Healthy-Religion-Psychological-Guide-Mature/dp/1425924166 [18] https://www.humanistchaplaincy.org/ [19] https://www.christianpost.com/news/london-atheist-church-model-looking-to-expand-worldwide-91516 [20] https://www.pewforum.org/2012/10/09/nones-on-the-rise/ 
[21] https://new.exchristian.net/ 
[22] https://www.exmormon.org/ 
[23] https://journeyfree.org/group-forum/ [24] https://www.recoveringfromreligion.org/

_____________________________________

Get God’s Self-Appointed Messengers Out of Your Head

Valerie Tarico Which buzz phrases from your past are stuck in your brain? “God’s messengers” were all real complicated people with biases, blind spots, favorite foods and morning breath. They were not gods and they are not you. So how can you get them out of your head or at least reduce them to muffled background noise?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ElfyYA420F0