#however the majority of the way it was is like. p much exactly what you're looking for i think

[tamelee]

Hi I'm the person who asked for education advice.

I would like advice on almost everything you mentioned, the learning aspect itself and breaking down goals mostly. Also just the fear of failure haunts me a lot. Also, you're in your 20s right? Do you live alone, on campus, with parents? Is that hard to adjust to, if you know about that? I really appreciate you answering asks and giving advice on things not related to Naruto specifically haha. Love your art! Can't wait for the chaptered manga you're making 💜

Hi! This took me a while as I was stressing over some things, sorry about that, and yes! Well, I live alone currently and am renting an apartment. It is not hard to adjust to for me personally because I used to live in a house that was empty since I was… well let's just say I’m used to it, but when I traveled and studied/worked abroad I did live with other people which I thought was more difficult to adjust to. All of a sudden there’s so much noise and drama aaahhh >< hehe. 

I hope my tips are helpful for you— long post, read when you have time and grab your notes! 」(￣▽￣」)

.📙⤵

Small note: this system may seem like a lot of work or tedious for majority of people, but setting it up like this is the only thing that works for me and aids my struggle to focus. This post focuses on studying, but I apply this to a lot of other areas as well. I’m still readjusting parts where I feel like it can improve— of course, you can change anything in any way you like! I tried to make it as clear as possible ^^! 

My documentation style: I personally use Notion (almost a year now) to track everything while documenting and organizing my notes. I love how you can create the most aesthetic pages and build your space anyway you like. It helps me structure my life so much better than the note-taking systems I used to have. I'm not kidding when I say it really changed everything for me. For studying, but also other area's, which is why I affiliated with them. There are paid subscriptions, but everything you need you can use for free!

I also have template recommendations if someone does happen to use Notion! (Let me know if you're looking for anything specific!) However, of course you can use whatever program you want to document things/your study. Whatever you use, even if you just write it down on paper, I do recommend keeping it all in the same place by creating a singular overview so you can track your progress more easily, but we’ll get to that later!

My roadmap to achieve (academic) goals:

Goal Setting 

I think the most important thing is to set effective goals that are clear. Proper planning is essential to reaching goals and achieving good grades imo, as well as breaking down your tasks into manageable chunks to avoid feeling overwhelmed. It’s learning how you work, what fits your productivity-style and finding ways to make it easier for yourself.

So take a moment to think what exactly you want to achieve!

You can use the SMART-method (setting Specific, Measurable, Achievable, Relevant, and Time-bound goals), to give yourself clear targets to work towards and there are many articles on it if you want to know more about it (you can also look for helpful templates, there are many free ones you can find!), but I combined this with "The 12 Week Year”-method by Brian P. Moran and Michael Lennington. 

(Although I would recommend this book, there’s quite a bit of fluff which will probably make it difficult to get through for people that are neurodivergent. If you’re interested you can also find summaries on Youtube in order to only gain the information you need if you want to use it to achieve goals, but I’ll break it down here as well. Summaries are incredibly helpful, but I’ll be honest and say I’m not sure how to feel about them yet.) 

The 12 week year describes lag and leading indicators in the context of goal achievement. I use these indicators specifically in order to make sure I can Measure my goals. 

I’ll explain with examples:

Regarding your previous ask, let’s take a goal like “getting high grades”. This doesn’t say much yet. 

There are probably several subjects you want a high grade for, so let’s break that down first. There are many smaller goals that exist in that. It’ll look something like this:

Overarching goal: Getting high grades

Individual goals:

Getting a high grade for subject A

Getting a high grade for subject B

Getting a high grade for subject C

Etc,—

Great start in getting clear what you need to achieve, but it’s still too vague, right? Let’s see these subjects as separate goals and break it down further with indicators:

Indicators: 

Lag indicators are the ultimate measures of success or results necessary to achieve your goals. They represent the outcomes. 

Leading indicators are the actions or behaviors that directly influence the achievement of lag indicators. They are individual tasks and the steps that you take to achieve the lag indicator.  

Note: Indicators must start with a verb (like: write, get, draw, finish, etc—) because it indicates directly what the action is you have to take.  Example: “Assignment” doesn’t tell you what to do. Transform it into “Finish assignment on [x] before 16th of May” or something like that. It depends on the goal. 

Now we get something like this:

(Overarching goal: Getting high grades) Individual goal: Getting a high grade for subject A

Lag indicators examples (what’s necessary to achieve the goal): 

Write Essay on [x] 

Finish assignment A

Setup project A

Start project A

Etc,— 

It’ll look different per subject and it may look different for you. Maybe you know exactly what you need to achieve per period or maybe they only let you know what needs to be done one assignment at a time, in which case you can focus on that alone and take it step by step.

It’s already nice to just write everything down and gain a clearer view of the things you need to complete. You’re not pressured to remember anything, because it's all here (I get stressed forgetting stuff). 

Now you have your overarching goal of wanting to get high grades and made a list of individual goals. We’ll consider these individual goals and focus on them because achieving those means your overarching goal will be achieved automatically. 

If you gathered the lag indicators for these individual goals, you’ll now know what (currently) is necessary to get a high grade for subject A and we can start breaking those down into leading indicators.  

It’ll look like this: 

(Overarching goal: Getting high grades) (Individual goal: Getting a high grade for subject A) Lag indicator: Write Essay on [x] 

Leading indicator examples (steps you take to achieve the lag indicator):

Understand exactly what the topic or thesis statement is 

Research topic

Organize, etc—

Write everything you are going to do in order to ‘write the essay on [x]’ as leading indicators. 

Reminder: as the SMART-method suggests: make everything as specific as possible so you can measure exactly what it is you need to do.  Example: “Research topic” can still be too vague but you can clarify what you need to research for what topic, once you understand what it is exactly you need to do. 

Putting in a little bit of effort and time now by breaking down goals like this helps me save a lot of time later, because I have to make less decisions and I’ll exactly know what to do and how much. Tracking your progress makes it a lot easier if you know what you’re tracking and as I said before: decision fatigue is a real thing and emotionally taxing! Making all the decisions before you start working really can help! 

Tip: before starting on the leading indicators, check whether your goals and its lag indicators are SMART. Make sure all of them start with a verb!  Tip 2: if you have trouble deciding where to start, you can refer to the ‘Swiss Cheese’ method which is a productivity “hack” that can help you identify which of your tasks takes the priority. This doesn’t help me personally, because if I planned out what I need to do that day it doesn’t really matter for me which has the priority because I have to rely on many other things, therefore I can’t plan what I do first. I feel like mentioning it anyway, because it can be helpful when making mindmaps. 

So in short:

Determine your overarching goal. 

Write down individual goals necessary in order to achieve the overarching goal.

Write down the lag indicators you need to complete in order to achieve your individual goal.

Break down the lag indicators into manageable tasks (leading indicators) and be specific on the action you need to take. (Example: don’t just put ‘writing the essay’, but ‘write [x]-essay for 20 minutes’.)

Now we can start planning!

Planning

Let’s say you have a week to finish this essay, once you have every leading indicator, you can start planning out what you will do on which day.

Efficient planning helps reduce stress, because you don’t have to wonder if what you’ll do today is enough. We’ll get to ‘tracking’ goals later, but stay open to readjust when necessary though! It is okay to re-plan because there’s always the possibility of something coming in between or you not feeling well! 

As I said before, I use Notion to document everything and I have a separate page for the overarching goals which include my lag indicators, but in my overview I created a table that shows all the tasks (leading indicators) that I need to finish per (current) week. It sort of looks like this: 

I automated it, so when I check off something the amount of times I need to do it (under frequency) that week, it disappears from my overview and I can quickly see my weekly (and overall) progress in percentages, but of course you can do this any way you like or just write it down somewhere. I think this way is great because I need less focus to see whether something's already done or not.

I know that sounds funny for people who don't have trouble with this, but genuinely anything I can do to make it easier for myself is helpful ><

We still need to keep deadlines in mind. I personally like to know what I need to do on which day within the week as well or I’ll end up having to do everything during the weekend. So, I divide these weekly tasks and assign a day to them on a simple weekly notepad I keep on my desk. It looks something like this: 

These days aren’t set, as I mentioned: it’s also important to allow life to happen and still stay on track somewhat :’)

When I finish something I color it!

So in short:

Once you gained insight on your leading indicators, you can start planning. This will look different for every subject, but the method stays the same. 

Create a weekly planning/overview somewhere depending on your deadline. And if necessary, divide the weekly tasks for specific days if you want on a separate planner.

Review your week on Sundays (or whichever day you like!) to see whether you’re still on track and readjust your planning for the upcoming week(s) when necessary.  

Combine Studying with your personal life

The reason why I use a written, separate, weekly overview is because I combine areas of my life on here.

Aside from dividing tasks for my study (the leading indicators) for specific dates, I add appointments that I may have (which I keep in my calendar app), projects, administration/financial-tasks or random things I need to do at home or for myself/others.

I know a lot of people that create to-do lists have trouble with it. If that’s you (me too), then we’ll take it a step further and plan our tomorrow every day.

I use simple note-paper and sort of write things down in order for that day, because it’s easy and quick to grab and scribble on. This really helps to focus on what matters right now. It looks like this:

This is sort of like compounding habits, but with tasks. Some things are much easier to do after one thing than another. A regular to-do list may not work because it doesn’t take into account the rest of your day like appointments or a personal routine you want to work on. It’s hard to gain clarity when all you see is a bunch of intertwined, random tasks— so here you’d organize them bit and add whatever is relevant. Like a little mini-planning for the day. 

On here I also write small silly stuff I have to do that day or keep notes I have to put somewhere else so I won’t forget. (Like appointments I suddenly get, or e-mails I have to reply to, something I want to check later, etc—) 

Tip: Let’s say after a while you still have trouble with this daily mini-planner, you can also just write down (3 or so) your most important tasks for the day and “eat the frog”. You focus on that first while ‘hiding’ all the ones that may not be as relevant immediately. (I’d still keep the other mini-planner though or transform your other tasks into “bonus-tasks”.) 

So in short:

Keep appointments in mind or days when you’ll be busy/outside when planning study tasks on specific days. Add the most important or time-consuming tasks first so you gain a clearer view how much time you have for the weekly study tasks.

Use this weekly planner to divide tasks throughout the week and then make a mini-planner for your specific day on a separate paper/document to organize the day.  

Keeping track

As I said during the planning-step, you can use Sundays (or other days) to quickly review your week and adjust the next if necessary.

A lot within my system is automated, but even if you’ve written it all down, it shouldn’t take too much time (maybe 10 mins, probably less), because you’ve done most of the planning already. You can easily see what and where it needs adjusting.

Be prepared to adjust a lot in the beginning though if you’ve never done this! Eventually it gets easier and you gain better insight how long you work on something or what is realistic for you to do in a day, which is totally fine!!

Tip: If you are more interested in self-development, you can also apply a review-session monthly, quarterly or per project to gain insight on yourself and where you’d like to improve. I personally do this quarterly, but let’s keep focussing on the study~! Tip 2: If you aren’t sure how to create an overview, there are also many, free SMART-method templates you can use. If you’re usually more a visual person, I’d recommend creating visual boards or just add images to make it more appealing. It may seem like it doesn’t do anything, but especially in this current world of distraction, images do help you connect information much easier and can influence how you feel even subconsciously. I do highly recommend doing so. (I personally use a theme per quarter/season >< it’s so extra lmao it’s a good thing I live alone let’s be honest because I'm embarrassing.) 

Studying & taking notes

Well this is a broad subject but I’d recommend sort of observing yourself for a while to really understand more specifically what it is you struggle with. (If you are.) 

Here are some examples for ways you can use notes. I used the ‘Second Brain’ method for a while as well, but I’m most comfortable with the Cornell method. I set it up like this: 

But the most important part here, is this: 

I can clearly see the subjects and the necessary information. (I usually hide them under some toggle text to keep things organized and not muddy up my overview.)

Study cards don’t really work for me, because I need to connect information together, but it’s worth looking into! It might be helpful for you. 

Tip: If you have trouble focussing because you get bored easily which makes you tired so you seek a quick dopamine rush even if that means you start cleaning your entire environment and you procrastinate, etc—… trust me you���re not alone. I do recommend researching whether a ‘dopamine detox’ will be helpful for you (which is not easy, I’ll tell you that). However, this may not work for everyone because sometimes there’s even more at play. That’s why a combination of strategies to make the actual act of studying as easy and clear as possible, is so important.  Tip 2: Always allow yourself to experiment with your routines and keep your health in mind, but if you continue to struggle, please do seek support. Tip 3: If you’re like me and you had to watch/listen to a lot of material, find transcripts or use subtitles! If you have to write an essay on a movie, it’s much easier to get back to information when it’s written down. (And it saves you so much time...) For many movies you can find subtitle files and you can convert them online to remove timestamps if necessary.  Tip 4: Ah, and for my fellow neurodivergent people… if noise annoys you and music doesn’t really help anymore, not even when it’s just instrumentals… see if ambient video’s that have slight random background noises (like a library for example) are helpful for you. For me personally, it’s such a game-changer holy sh- 

Fear of Failure 

Not sure if I can give you some advice on this, because I struggle with this as well. It gets a bit better though when I use this system because it lays down the groundwork for you and with that clarity it gets easier to focus on the task itself. Unless you plan it all out and then end up not doing what you set out to do, and you don’t readjust your planning weekly— it’s sort of hard to fail the action-taking-part. 

If it gets really bad and you end up avoiding your tasks entirely, because you get reluctant to take the risk of failing at something, sit down with yourself for a moment and think whether you may’ve set extremely high standards for yourself. See if you can allow a bit more room in your schedule. Refer back to the Goal Setting methods.

Tip: If you’re interested in making it a habit to study, I’d recommend you read ‘atomic habits’ by James Clear, or find a video that breaks the method down for you if that’s easier.

Know that whatever it is you want to improve in, there are ways to do it. If you feel like you get stuck on an area of your life, most of the time focussing on it with frustration will make it worse. Keep your ears and mind open for solutions while taking a break. 

I don’t think I’ve ever been anywhere, any school or anything where they teach you how to actually study in the first place. They should tbh. I think it’s ridiculous they don’t, especially because we get more and more distracted and everything is literally designed to grab your attention and hold it for as long as possible until the next thing comes by. And I’m not sure if that’s helpful to know, but I do believe that realizing that studying in general isn’t easy and schools making it seem like it is by treating it like it’s nothing ��you just have to do it” while not teaching you how to do it effectively... is bullshit.

Lastly, it’s all trial and error so please don’t beat yourself up over any of this. If you’re a perfectionist, please don’t feel like you need to set up a system perfectly before starting, because it’s an ongoing thing and not set in stone. It’ll only make you end up procrastinating for the sake of perfecting a system, which may make you feel like you're being productive but you don't actually get anything done and it's not what we want. That’s why it’s so important to be okay with readjusting when necessary! 

Hope there is something in all of this that can help you! Good luck 🌷^^~!

_______

Oh and thank you!! I also can’t wait to release the Manga. I practiced fic writing first and created a Cyberpunk-story, but I’m still a bit hesitant to share it >< (Perfectionism does make me slow as well, but I’m working on improving it 😌)

[wildissylupus]

So, I don't exactly know if you've discussed this, but I think it's clear about what this current season is going to lead up to, and why I think it's so important to be adamant and weary about Null Sector's plans.

The evidence is there, and the claim?

Null Sector is trying to start another Omnic Crisis.

However, this one is less 'a glitch in the system'

And more, 'hitting the factory reset button and installing a virus intentionally right after.'

Why?

WELL BUCKLE UP YOUR BAMF BELT KIDDOS CAUSE THIS IS A TRIP AND A HALF.

As we know from story missions, Omnics are being subjugated and indoctrinated across the globe, all at once, in almost every part of the world by Null Sector and those helmets that quite literally place them under a catatonic state and wipe the Omnic's memories.

Torbjörn's analysis on the helmet is very clear when he brings up a very important piece of information:

"I don't know...this device is a nasty piece of work. I think I can get it off, but the bigger problem is, I'm not reading anything in the Omnic's memory banks."

"He's still alive, but it's like the essence of who he is,...is gone."

Now, when we say essence, I'm pretty sure we're saying the Iris, or Aurora's essence that was implemented during the awakening. Now I get what you're thinking. 'Ok Anon #324, but if the Iris gets removed, then why is Ramattra talking about Iris? During the Toronto mission?'

And to you- I say- oh ho ho, my dear, that's exactly what we should be fearing. Let it tie into the fact that there's also one of these Voicelines from Ram when talking about his favorite animal:

"Ants. They build marvelous structures and cooperate when threatened. I find them... Inspirational."

Toronto mission, hell, even the humans are terrified. Everyone is swarming in groups. It's not just gameplay either, when Sojourn is directing the groups of scared Omnics onto the ferry boat, it only proves Ram's point more. People are scared, people are grouping together to fight back, hide, run, and that's exactly what NS wants.

Not only is Null Sector wiping the Iris and awakening out of the Omnics altogether, they're creating a brand new version of the 'Iris'...let's call it 'Pink Eye' cause from what I've seen it's highly contagious. Not only from wiping memories, but also using the memories of strong fighters as well. Human's memories. (*Cough Cough* Ana.)

Have you heard Ram talking during the Toronto mission? He specifically states:

"Together, our one minded purpose. We will make this world, our paradise."

"We welcome you into the Iris."

----------

You let me know what you think about this. I wanna hear some raw thoughts. Big brain mode, no idea is a bad idea. I'm hungry for knowledge.

All I know is that, a couple of things could happen.

If those helmets are taken off, someone is going to have to sacrifice their memories either to bring back the original Aurora awakening and reinstall essence to the Omnics. Wonder who.

If NS ends up indoctrinating a major part of the Omnic population, many will die when and if those helmets do something else. If they can send out a location signal, who knows what else they'll do.

If sentience is reestablished into Omnics and possibly other software coding, this'll be one hell of a trip for all those Null Sector bots.

Man you had a brain blast and I. AM. LOVING IT!

Honestly I love your theory and I don't think there is much to add! It also is a good way to bring in the Junkers cause apparently he found the secret to Omnic life in the Australian omnium-

That could be a way to bring all the omnics back, the Australian Omnium was the place where Aroura was built after all. They could end up brining a second awakening, some residual of Aroura left in the Omnium. It could also lead to the sentience of the Null Sector drones, specifically the bots that are based off of actual people.

Like the C-455 Sharpshooter, P-900 Warhead, S-900 Sentry, A-7000 Wargod and K-2000 Blademaster. If they all have the same glitch that A-7000 has them that is one hell of an identity crisis they're going to have.

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

All that aside, I want to present my own theory. A counter theory if you will.

And that is Ramattra doesn't know that those helmets are erasing Omnics, he just thinks they are in a catatonic state. There is no indication that Ramattra knows what the subjection helmets are actully doing to Omnics.

If you look back at Ramattra's short story there is no implication of Ramattra wanting to create a new Omnic society through hitting a reset button;

There is an indication of imprisonment, of taking away other Omnics choices in order to make them listen, but that is very different from hitting a reset button. Essentially killing the soul of Omnics. It's something I don't see Ramattra doing knowingly. However, there is a group of people who would not only do this, but has tried to do this before.

Talon.

Something I remember from the Story Missions is Torbjourn saying that the helmets put an Omnics mind in a loop. It's something I didn't think much about. Until I read "The Hero of Numbani".

In that book Sombra hack and installs a virus several Omnics around Numbani. A virus that locks Omnics in a constant loop, and gradually corrupts the Omnics memories.

Sound familiar? There is also the fact that a part of Doomfist's beliefs that are presented in that novel are anti-omnic.

Not only that but I always found it strange that Dommfist, someone who wants conflict, would help someone who has the motivation of "Peace at any cost". Ramattra goal has and still is, for freedom and peace. Something that if he were to gain, would go against Doomfist's want for conflict.

Unless Doomfist is just using Ramattra and Null Sector as a tool to create conflict, adding either an updated version of Sombra's virus (or what he thinks is an updated version), to remove Omnics souls and create a true Second Omnic Crisis.

Not only that but that could also lead into an explanation on what "The Conspiracy" is, maybe it's another God AI who wants to do what Anubis did but has learned from the mistakes of the first Crisis and is trying to make it so they are guaranteed to win.

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

Either way I am excited for both of these theories, with the first one it's going to be interesting to just explore that aspect of Null Sector, if they get Omnics back are they going to still have their memories, their souls? Are they going to resort back to their basic programming, are they going to go back to being under Anubis's control?

In the case of the second theory, how will Ramattra react if he truly doesn't know what the helmets are doing? Will he stop the invasion? Will he double down? Will he go after Talon?

It's all so interesting!

[woodswolf]

🌿🏜️🔪🪲?

writer's truth or dare ask game

🌿 ⇢ give some advice on writer's block and low creativity

honestly? just don't be afraid to step away. sometimes you're not in the right headspace for a project and that's okay. work with your brain, not against it - whether that's on a different WIP or just taking a break for a while. sometimes this means the WIP sits for a little while. sometimes this means you abandon it. roll with the punches, don't dodge into them.

like for example, i've been having One Of The Weeks Of My Life at my job recently and just feeling really burned out and depressed on the Major Fucking Crunch Time this project is getting into. i didn't feel like working on chapter 5 when i was feeling that terrible, but i was able to channel some of that energy into a side story. i've barely started it as of yet, but it's got a lot of potential, has required a lot of research, and just. it's helped burn off a lot of the negative emotion (because it involves a very similar kind of negative emotion and focuses on a kind of burnout recovery. lol)

🏜️ ⇢ what's your favourite type of comment to receive on your work?

long analysis comments are like the #1 kind of comment to get in my good books. i get an excuse to talk about Fun Details whether intentional or not and just generally feed information to someone who isn't fully aware of all of the complexities of a project yet (usually my partner lol)

however.

i personally consider that the highest honor i could ever receive would be recursive fanfiction. fanart as well, yes, but fanfiction in particular. it's more or less a reflection of my own process in a way; i write a lot of recursive fanfiction relative to my output, but i only write recursive fanfiction about fanfiction that really, really resonated with me, or that often were incredibly formative to me in their own specific ways. it's not enough for it to be a good story - it has to change something about me, alter my perspective or open my eyes to an entirely new world. often these end up feeling like (or just being) treatises on a particular subject; there are fics on hope, on grief, on forgetting, on becoming monsters. and it's just.... it's powerful.

i could link all of these if anyone is curious.

🔪 ⇢ what's the weirdest topic you researched for a writing project?

honestly all of the research i've done for DLD and other fics in the DLDCM (Dogs Leading Dogs Cinematic Multiverse) qualifies as really weird. outside of the semi-standard fanfiction-writer fare (e.g. symptoms of various injuries, or how to identify certain types of injuries like with that shoulder test), there are two broad categories of "what the fuck" research that i've gone into very extensively.

the first category, which i keep coming back to over and over, is all of the speculative biology shit. basically NONE of it is going to come up until more than halfway through catch/cradle at minimum, but at this point ive probably put close to ten hours of research into figuring out what the fuck is wrong with these things. (and that's just the research, not the processing that shit afterward.) i know what this guy breathes. i don't know exactly how his metabolism works, but i do have a general outline that seems approximately sound, and have a general principle for how it interacts with other metabolisms. i don't just know HIS metabolism by the way, i know like three other components' metabolic interactions and life cycles and to some extent their histories. and then we get into all of the other lore shit that is Very Present and Very Real and Very Probably Isn't Going To Be Written Down In Any Fics and also isn't strictly research based as much as vibes based but it doesn't have to be research based because my source is i made it the fuck up!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! but tl;dr there's a CRAZY amount of various kinds of biology lore and 90% of it is never going to see the light of day most likely

the second category which has generally come about more recently is primitive / historical technology. generally just a lot of how you would do certain things - such as making paper, or refining clay, or working metal or glass - if you were starting from (almost) nothing.

additional shoutout to when i did some brief research on akkadian for one of my recurive fic projects, that was fun but really overwhelming and i ended up not finishing it myself lol

🪲 ⇢ add 50 words to your current wip and share the paragraph here

from chapter 5:

The ship doesn’t need any additional explanation. “I’ll set the course,” it says. Brief and to the point. He can’t help but appreciate that right now. The controls shift ever-so-slightly under his hands as they start following a slightly different autopilot route. It’ll set them up for the approach path they discovered on the second day — one that doesn’t cut through as many of the giant trees.

thanks for the ask!! :D

[deadenedmind]

The Problem with Index Funds

If you've spent time looking into the financial side of social media, you've likely heard the term "Index fund." The vast majority of financial influencers who aren't actively trying to sell you a scam will tell you that you need to buy these things, but what are they exactly?

Well, in case you don't know, an index fund is a publicly traded investment fund (be it a mutual fund or exchange-traded fund) which invests almost exclusively in securities listed on a particular market index like the S&P 500. And, in case you don't know what a market index is, it is a list of publicly securities meant to measure economic performance. One such example that you may have heard of would be the Dow Jones Industrial average, an index that's meant to benchmark how well the American heavy industrial market is doing.

Historically, stock indexes have seen steady and consistently solid growth which means that index funds typically are a safe and profitable long-term investment.

Now, if you are a savvy investor who has the balls to dedicate to a long-term position and understands dollar-cost-averaging, index funds are generally a decent investment. However, if you are not a savvy investor and are easily disturbed by short-term market movements, index funds may not be the best choice. Rather than seeing the big picture, many, more casual investors tend panic sell index funds when there is a major dip. This is where index funds are especially problematic.

Due to the nature of their structure (or lack thereof), index funds possess zero risk management. Stock market indexes are not designed to make money or gauge an investor's risk tolerance; they are benchmarks meant to measure economic performance. The stocks on indexes aren't there because they are good investments; they are there because they represent certain sections of the business world. In other words, index funds are not an actual investment strategy.

This is bad because the economy can go any which way and ultimately doesn't care if your investments do good or bad. As a result, if a specific industry or the economy as a whole does poorly -which they often do- a corresponding index fund provides zero protection from market downturn. This means that the amount of money you can lose on trading an index fund is disproportionate to other, more carefully chosen investments during market crashes.

Generally speaking, investors should diversify their assets and purchase securities in a way that factors how much risk they want to assume in their portfolio. While you might not necessarily see as big of a return by being more deliberate and thought out in selecting what you keep in your portfolio relative to going all-in on an index, you will be far better insulated from economic upheaval.

All-in-all, index funds are like the junk food of investing; they're not the worst thing in the world provided that you realize what you're buying, but you shouldn't rely on it as your key method of building wealth. If you're willing to do research, you can find plenty of mutual funds and ETFs that provide similar returns to index funds with lower risk profiles. Consequently, you can find plenty mutual funds and ETFs that have a similar risk profile that yield higher returns than index funds.

TL;DR:

Index funds are not bad investments, but people have begun over-relying on them to an unhealthy degree.

SOURCES & ADDITIONAL READING:

PROFESSIONAL DISCLAIMER:

DEADMAN (a.k.a DeadenedMind) does not offer or render personalized financial advice through social media. This tumblr post should be used strictly for informational purposes only and does not constitute financial, tax, investment, or legal advice.

Viewers are highly encouraged to seek assistance from an accredited and experienced professional before making any financial decisions.

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[priestessofspiders]

Deeper Than You Think

Throughout recorded history, the underground has always held a certain macabre mystique. Countless religions have preached of some form of Hell or Underworld, wherein the damned shall be punished for eternity for their transgressions against the divine, deep below the surface. It is unclear where exactly this concept first originated and why it occurs in disparate cultures separated by vast gulfs of space and time.

Yet, similarly, despite this reverential fear of the underground, humanity has also always been fascinated by it. One can find ancient paintings deep within vast cavern complexes, the pigments placed there by human hands hundreds of thousands of years ago, far beyond any conceivable light from the entrance. To this day, spelunking is still a not uncommon pastime. What drives us to go deeper into the dark? What makes us want to descend into the bowels of the earth, to be surrounded by walls of stone, swallowed up by the world itself?

In the modern age, one is far more likely to find oneself underground in the form of a basement, subway, or maintenance tunnel than one is to delve into a cave of some sort. When contrasted against those primeval passageways, such structures are tame and mild in comparison, but that simultaneous combination of fear mixed with the call of the depths is still there.

What follows are accounts which describe various unusual experiences occurring in and around the modern Underworld.

- - -

Letter sent by Alana Jefferson to the Fortean magazine "Unknown Phenomena", April 2nd, 2004

I've kept up with this publication for quite some time now, but up until now I've never had any experiences of my own to send in. Last week, however, I had a strange encounter in the Seattle Underground

As I'm sure you're aware, when I say Seattle Underground, I'm not referring to a subway system or anything of that sort. After the Great Seattle Fire of 1899, a section of the city had its street level raised, leaving some tunnels and abandoned old ground floors left behind from the construction. They had some usage in the 1900s as various dens of inequity and whatnot, with gambling, smuggling, and criminal activities, but by the 1910s they had largely been abandoned.

Nowadays a few sections of the Underground have been renovated enough to be safe for visitors, and since I was spending a few days up in Seattle to visit family anyway I figured I'd take an hour or two to go on one of the tours. It wasn't really something I'd been especially interested in doing, I just happened to be in the area and had asked some friends as to what tourist attractions were worth visiting. Second to the Space Needle, this was the main attraction that was recommended to me, and since I have quite the fear of heights my choice was made for me.

In all honesty it was slightly disappointing. Sure, conceptually the idea of an underground tunnel network beneath the streets of a major city is intriguing, but in practice I was just slowly walking with a group of other tourists through the musty basements of long dead shopkeepers. Any of the excitement of exploring something long abandoned is rather lost when the place has been made OSHA compliant and routinely walked for years.

Anyway, all this is beside the point. At some point or another, I decided I was bored to tears with the tour guide's rambling and the "oohs" and "ahs" of all the other tourists as they were pointed out some historically significant bit of rubble. When everyone seemed distracted by some old storefront, I quietly slipped away down a side passage and decided to begin a little bit of exploring.

I had made sure to pack a flashlight (I hadn't been expecting the guided tour to be illuminated quite so brightly by all the electric lights set up to comply with modern safety standards), so I was able to make out my way quite well. Almost instantly I found the darkness made the tunnel system so much more interesting. It no longer felt like I was just following a path that had been tread a hundred times before, it now felt like an adventure.

I passed through various decrepit basements and passageways, shining my flashlight about to peer at all the odd nooks and crannies. I saw bits of old graffiti, a rat or two, some discarded beer bottles, all the sort of things you'd expect. The floor was often uneven and strewn with debris, so I had to watch my step carefully, which only added to the excitement.

There's something very odd about being completely surrounded by darkness. The tour route often was interrupted with little glass skylights which let sunlight from the outside world shine down, and what wasn't illuminated by the sun was kept bright by lamps and the like. Now that I was alone, every so often I would turn off my flashlight and just sit there, surrounded by the void. There's something deeply humbling about it.

After maybe 45 minutes or so of aimless wandering through the dark, I decided it was probably time to head on back. I knew I'd get a stern talking to from the tour staff, but I figured I could just pretend that I had gotten myself lost and had spent the whole time looking for the tour group. However, I soon discovered that I wouldn't need to pretend that I had gotten lost, as I realized abruptly that I had no idea where I was.

Now, I know anyone reading this is probably thinking to themselves "What an idiot", and frankly you're probably right. I began to panic, worried about how much battery life my flashlight had, whether or not anyone would come to find me when I didn't turn up with the rest of the group, how soon it would take for me to starve to death, etc.

At some point during my panicked searching for an exit, I began to hear the sound of multiple footsteps somewhere in the distance. My immediate thought was that they were coming from the tour group, and that if I hurried I could catch up with them. I began frantically rushing towards the noise, calling out that I needed help and that I was lost.

Here's where things got a bit odd. As near as I can tell, the Seattle Underground is supposed to only be one level. It should just be the old street level, nothing more. I've never heard anyone talk about stairs leading further down. But lo and behold, as I followed my ears towards what I thought was the tour group, I found myself standing before a set of stairs leading deeper into the earth. The footsteps echoed up from the depths, and without hesitation I began to descend, not even taking the time to think about how strange this was.

The stairs seemed crudely carved out of the very rock itself, with no hand rail or anything like that. The whole stairway seemed completely different from an architectural standpoint from the rest of the Seattle Underground, as if it was been added on as an afterthought for maintenance purposes. It also went down quite a long way, I lost count of how many steps but it must have been over a hundred, easily. I felt my ears pop from the pressure change as I went further down into the depths.

Finally I reached the bottom of the stairs, and I saw the source of the sound of footsteps. I should have realized sooner how odd it was that the sound didn't seem to move, that it kept emanating from one location.

Before me was a vast line of men and women all marching in unison, going down a long, unlit tunnel. None of them had flashlights or any other form of illumination to guide their way, they just seemed to walk forward, eyes open, smiling wide, their feet in lockstep. There were hundreds of them, all in a single file line stretching off into the distance.

The tunnel they marched down was just as crudely carved as the stairway that led to it, and had more in common with a mine shaft than anything that would make sense to see beneath a city. The smiling marchers seemed mostly to be homeless people, but I saw one or two folks in business suits or nice dresses. I didn't spend long gawking at the bizarre parade. They didn't seem to notice me at all, even after I passed my flashlight beam over their blankly grinning faces, but that didn't make me feel any less afraid. I ran back up the stairs as quickly as possible.

I did manage to reunite with a tour group eventually, though not the one I came in with. They didn't even seem to notice when I joined the group, they must have assumed I had fallen behind earlier. The rest of the tour was entirely uneventful.

Since I've gotten back from Seattle I've spent a bit of time looking into various urban legends and folklore of the area, but frankly I can't find anything that seems even remotely close to what I saw. The marchers didn't seem to be ghosts, none of them were dressed in any sort of antiquated clothing or looked dead or anything like that. They just seemed... empty.

In any event, I couldn't exactly go to the police with this sort of thing, so I decided it might be best for my peace of mind to submit my story here, perhaps some of your readers may have some ideas.

Statement posted to the defunct paranormal message board "RealSightings.net" by an anonymous user, August 27th, 2005. Grammar and spelling have been corrected.

I'm homeless, and I have been for about half a decade now. I'm typing this up on one of the computers at the public library. I'm not crazy.

I'm in San Francisco, though I'm trying to get out. There are fake people here. They look just like anyone else, I don't think most people notice there is anything wrong with them.. Most people don't pay attention to you when you're homeless. They just stare forward and ignore you if you try to get their attention. Most of the fake people pretend to be homeless, so I think that's why nobody ever takes note of how weird they are.

They're always smiling, ear to ear, like they're the happiest they've ever been. Nobody normal smiles like that for more than a few minutes without hurting their face but they do. They all have this blank stare as well, nothing behind their eyes. Like a TV set turned to static. The ones that are pretending to be homeless don't panhandle either, nor can you ever see them picking up cans to sell or scrounging through dumpsters or anything like that. They just will walk up to you and start talking.

"Hello sir or madam, are you hungry?" is the line that a lot of them open up with. Fucking weird thing to say. I've seen them walk up to people who are in the middle of eating and say that. They say it with such a weird cadence to their voice too, like they don't speak English and they're just repeating something phonetically without understanding the words.

When I first heard a fake person say that to me I figured that it must have been doing some of that PC shit about assuming someone's gender or whatever. I'm not what you'd call androgynous or anything like that, I've got a beard that reaches down to my stomach, so I was pretty confused as to why it was saying "sir or madam", like it couldn't tell. Then I looked up at its face and I met that vacant stare and circus clown grin and I knew right away this thing wasn't a real person. I mumbled out a "no" and excused myself, leaving it just standing there, staring at where I had been sitting and smiling like an idiot.

You've gotta understand they look completely normal, alright? There's no plastic sheen to their skin or anything, it's entirely something wrong with their heads. I bet if you cut one open it would have blood and all the right organs and stuff, but they're not human. I've never seen one eat, or sleep, or take a piss, they just wander around asking people if they're hungry, if they're cold, if they're lonely.

I used to have a buddy, Marvin, an old timer. He'd been homeless far longer than I had, and we occasionally talked and would try and wind up at the same shelters and the like. I don't really remember how we met. We weren't very close, mind you, but we knew each other. He was a veteran, I think, or at least claimed to be. He seemed to have something going on with his head, call it mental illness, PTSD or something. When you're out on the street for long enough, even if you don't get hooked on anything, your mind starts to go away from you. I read somewhere that if you're alone for too long you start going crazy, that your brain starts shrinking or something. Nobody ever wants to talk to a bum, so you find yourself isolated even in a crowd of people.

It gets cold up in San Francisco in the winter and sometimes there isn't enough room in the shelter or they kick you out for being on heroin or something like that. Well, Marvin got himself kicked out for some reason or another and pretty soon found himself with a nasty cold. He was really sick, coughing and wheezing till he was blue in the face. Frankly I was worried he wouldn't make it, it was raining really hard and he was just sitting there, getting drenched and dozing off. I was trying to talk Marvin into coming with me to a free clinic I knew about, but it was quite a bit away and I didn't know if he was going to be able to make the walk there without my help.

Now at this point in time I'd already seen a couple of the fake people, had sorta tried to warn other folks about them. How there wasn't something right with them. I'd told Marvin about them too, but it was always sorta hard to know what he did and didn't hear you say.

So I was trying to get Marvin up to his feet, and he was mumbling something about needing to sleep, how he'd be alright in the morning, that sort of thing, when from out of an alley came one of the fake people.

"Hello sir or madam, are you sick?" Its face had the same clown smile and empty eyes that they all did. This one didn't look homeless though, it was wearing a nice dress, like the sort of thing women at Christian charities would wear. I tried to tell it that we were fine, we didn't need help, but Marvin chose that exact moment to become lucid, and started babbling about needing a doctor.

The fake person's smile didn't change, there was no flicker of any sort of recognizable emotion on its stupid grinning face. It didn't seem to notice the rain pouring down on its head, didn't even blink as the water ran into its eyes. When Marvin finished talking, it opened its mouth again and said "I am sorry to hear that. I work for a free clinic. It's right this way. Will you come with me?" It opened its arms as if offering a hug.

I was about to drag Marvin out of there, but he stumbled into its arms and started sobbing and wailing. The fake person closed its arms around him and started stroking his hair mechanically, like an animatronic spinster with a stuffed cat. "There there", it said, and started leading Marvin into the alley it came from. I started to protest, trying to tell it he was fine, but it just ignored me entirely. It already had its prey.

It practically carried Marvin down into the alley, and I followed behind it, shouting for it to let him go. I couldn't bring myself to touch it though. I couldn't bring myself to grab a hold of it. Even now my blood runs cold just thinking about it. He was led down some stairs into a basement door. The stairs seemed to go down far deeper than they should have, and the door was strange. It was a hunk of solid rusted metal, like something you'd see on a submarine or something. The fake person slammed the door in my face before I could get a good look at what was on the other side, but I could have sworn it was just more stairs, leading deeper down. I pounded on the door telling the fake person to let him go, to bring him back, but there was no response. I waited by that door for hours but nobody ever came out.

Two weeks later, I saw Marvin again. I was out waiting in line to be let into a shelter, and he was facing the other way, standing off to the side, facing away from me. He didn't look sick anymore, and I approached him to ask what had happened with the fake person. He turned around and I saw his blank eyes, that mindless grin. "Hello sir or madam, are you hungry?" it said.

There's more of them every day now. I'm trying to get out of San Francisco. Hopefully there aren't fake people anywhere else.

Transcribed excerpt from the conspiracy theory podcast "Total Disclosure: The Truth is Now", hosted by Trevor Dyson, January 17th, 2006.

Alright folks, we've got some listener mail here that is very interesting. Last week we talked about how the government is hiding evidence of top secret underground military bases, subterranean clone labs, the Stephensville cover up, stuff like that. Well, since that episode I received an email from a listener who'd prefer to remain anonymous, and the experiences he describes seem like they may be relevant to that line of thought.

Without further ado, I'm just gonna start reading out this email verbatim. If what he says is true, and I have no reason to doubt this fact, then it reveals some very disturbing things about what's going on beneath our very feet.

"Hi Trevor. I'll admit I'm a relatively recent listener, I haven't really ever been too much into this conspiracy stuff. I'll be honest, up until recently I considered it to be just some paranoid tinfoil hat nonsense, if you'll pardon my bluntness. However, since taking my current job I've started to become a bit more open minded. I want to tell you about some experiences I've had working at the Denver International Airport.

Now listen, I know that everyone thinks the DIA is a hotbed for this sort of thing, but it's really not, or at least not from I can tell. There are some 'secret' tunnels but I've been down there and there isn't really anything of note, they're just service tunnels to transport luggage and stuff like that without the guests noticing. There is something very strange about the transit system however.

If you've never been to the DIA, let me explain briefly I'm talking about when I refer to the transit system. It's full name is the Denver International Airport Automated Guideway Transit System, and it's basically a glorified train that takes you from the main terminal to the concourses and vice versa. It's not anything especially ominous, and the furthest distance you can travel using the system takes about 11 minutes at most. Sure there's the mile long Deep Time / Deep Space art installation along the way, with some animated lights depicting caves and miners and the like, but it's more cool than creepy.

Anyway, like with all subterranean train systems, there is a maintenance walkway along the edge of the track. This allows access for repairs and the like, and isn't anything unusual. However, about every 6 months we find a dead body on this walkway.

The first time I saw one was about 2 years ago now. I'm not going to go into detail as to what I was doing in the transit system when I found it, I don't want this email to get traced back to me, but I was working on some minor maintenance, nothing that required the system to stop or anything like that. I was carrying some equipment down to the spot that needed some work done, and I just saw a dead man laying face down on the walkway.

Now he wasn't dressed like he worked at the airport, so I was worried he might have been a passenger, though I had no idea how someone could have gotten off the train and collapsed on the side of the tunnel. When I turned him over to check for a pulse, his face was blank and smiling, completely contented in death. I didn't see any wounds of any sort, he just was dead, like he'd had a heart attack or something.

I called security in a panic, but when I explained the situation to them, they calmly told me to wait there, to stay put and not touch the body. I didn't tell them that I'd already done so. A few minutes later, a group of guys in what looked like hazmat gear showed up and sealed the dead man up in a body bag before carrying him away on a stretcher. One of them asked me if I had any contact with the body, and I lied and told him no. He nodded and told me if this ever happened again I was to report a 'Code Black' on the radio with my location, and to not tell anyone about this or I would 'disappear'. That was the exact word he used, 'disappear'. I didn't have a chance to ask him what he meant by that before he just walked off with the others, the corpse in tow.

Since that first incident I've seen 3 more dead bodies, as I said with an interval of about 6 months between each one. They're always dressed in regular clothes, always have no wounds or other signs of violence, and they're always smiling. I have to assume they aren't passengers on the transit system, otherwise I'm sure there would be media coverage or something. Every time one shows up I call for a 'Code Black' and the hazmat guys show up, ask me if I touched the body at all, and then take it away.

I really don't know what to think about this. I wish there was some sort of easy explanation I could find to write all this off as something normal, something explainable, but it's utterly inexplicable. I don't know where the bodies come from, or where they take them. It's not like there aren't security cameras down here, so surely there must be footage of what happens, but I can't exactly go up to security and ask to look over the footage. I have a feeling I wouldn't have a job for long if I did.

I'm sending this in on a burner email and would like to request that you and your listeners please not try to contact me further. I don't want to 'disappear' like the man in the hazmat suit said."

That's the end of the email, and hoo boy what an email it was folks. Mysterious bodies appearing without explanation or warning? Threats of forced disappearances? This whole thing smells of a conspiracy. We're gonna take a quick ad break here for just a moment, then we'll be right back to the show folks.

Social media post by Roberta Hoffman, August 9th, 2006

!!! PLEASE DON'T SCROLL PAST THIS !!!

My husband, Mark, is missing, and I am very worried about him. I'm attaching a picture to this post of what he looks like, please spread this around as far as you can! I last saw him leaving for the subway on July 7th, he was walking to the Fifth Avenue-59th street station. If anyone has seen him, please contact me at xxx-762-1431 or via email at rhoffman@xxxxxx.net.

Diary entry of Roberta Hoffman, August 11th, 2006

Mark came back today. There's something wrong with him.

I'd been sitting by my computer and frantically checking my notifications, hoping against hope for a message or an email, when I heard a knocking at the door. I checked through the peephole and there he was. He was smiling, but it didn't reach to his eyes at all. His eyes seemed cold. Dead.

I let him in of course, hugging him and crying and asking where he'd been, but he was just completely silent, completely still, just smiling and staring forward. If it weren't for the fact I could hear him breathing and feel his heart beat, I would have worried he was dead, just propped up in front of the door to scare me. He smelled strange, a little bit like hospital antiseptic.

Eventually I pulled back from the hug, and he didn't even look at me. He just walked straight inside and moved over to the refrigerator. He pulled out a carton of eggs, and starting eating them, raw, one by one, just popping them in his mouth, chewing on the shells. I was dumbstruck, I didn't know what to do. He ate the entire carton while I just stood there, quaking with fear. The whole time he didn't stop smiling.

After he finished the eggs, he moved into the bedroom, where he started packing some clothes into a briefcase, haphazardly. It didn't look like he knew what he was doing. The mix of clothes he chose was very odd, a completely haphazard assortment of random items with no rhyme or reason to them. I swear he even took some of my panties and packed them up as well. I asked him what he was doing, and without even glancing up at me, still smiling as he stuffed the clothes into the overfull briefcase, he said "I am leaving you and moving away."

He said it with such a lack of emotion, as if he were a text to speech program reading out a script. There wasn't a flicker of recognition behind his eyes. There was no sadness, no sense of vengeance, no catharsis, nothing. It was as if he were a robot.

While I was trying to process what was happening, too shocked to even know what sort of emotions I should be feeling, he reached under the bed and pulled out a small metal lockbox, the one I knew he kept full of cash in case of emergencies. He packed it up in the briefcase as well, before finally closing it with a click and moving to leave the house.

I stopped him, my shock having faded just enough to feel angry. I shouted at him that he couldn't just leave, that we'd been married for 5 years, that if there was something wrong he could tell me, all sorts of things. I kept screaming at him and sobbing until eventually I couldn't say anything anymore and my throat hurt from the effort. The whole time he just stared blankly, grinning like an idiot.

I'm not proud of it, but I did slap him across the face, just to see if he'd react. He didn't even flinch.

After that I wasn't angry anymore. I was afraid.

"Please move out of the way" he said, completely neutrally, either ignorant or uncaring of the red mark on his face where I had hit him. His smile hadn't faded. I did as he said. He walked out the door and I watched him continue calmly in the direction of the subway station.

I don't know what to do. I called the police of course, but they just seem to think I'm overreacting over my husband leaving me. It just doesn't make sense. I don't know what made him act this way. I'm not even sure it was Mark. He looked like Mark, his voice sounded like Mark, but there was nothing behind his eyes, there was no soul. It was like someone had peeled off his skin and was wearing it like a suit.

Letter written by the late Dr. Elsa Humboldt to her daughter Hannah Humboldt, September 13th, 2007. The letter was taken as evidence by the police following Hannah Humboldt's disappearance on October 2nd, 2007.

Dear Hannah,

I fear that my appointment with the reaper is fast approaching, and while I've done my best to tie up all the loose ends and settle the last of my worldly affairs, there is one final thing I must do before I feel truly comfortable passing on my way to the other side. There is something I've never told anyone else, something I've had to keep secret for over a decade now, and it just wouldn't feel right if I didn't tell anyone.

You see your fair share of strange things as a mortician, and I've told you about many of the things I've seen in the profession which struck me as a little odd, but nothing comes close to the bodies they sent me from subways and underground parking lots.

The first one I ever saw showed up in 1989 I think, some time during the winter. I'm afraid I can't quite recall the exact date, you'll have to forgive the memory of an old woman. In any event, it was a John Doe, recovered from a lowest level of a parking garage downtown. There were no signs of violence or anything like that, but the thing that made them send the body to me to perform an autopsy was its face. It was smiling, an intense grin that seemed like something other than the rictus smiles that sometimes happen due to rigor mortis. They wanted me to see if there was any sign of poison or the like.

I won't bore you with the details of what I found out during the autopsy, because frankly it wasn't much. Almost everything seemed completely normal in every respect, nothing in the blood or anything like that. Everything except for the skull. I had almost finished up the autopsy and was going to call it a night when I noticed it, a faint scar in a ring around the circumference of the head, almost unnoticeable. Of course I had to check it out, so I got out the bone saw and cut open the skull. What I saw shook me to the core.

There was more metal than brain matter, a mess of silicon microchips and wires. I'm a doctor, not an engineer, so I don't really know exactly what any of it was, but I do know it has no business being on the inside of a man's skull, dead or alive. And judging by how healed the scars around the head were, he must have been alive for some time after that junk was implanted. Now I know that nowadays some people have those experimental implants to help with certain brain issues and things like that, but keep in mind this was over a decade ago, when such things were firmly in the domain of science fiction.

As soon as I recovered from the initial shock, I immediately called up my boss in his office and explained what I found. When I finished describing the body, he went very quiet for a few seconds. I was worried that the line must have gone dead, and was about to hang up and call again, but then he finally broke the silence and said "Wait right there. I have to make a call".

So I waited. It turned out I didn't have to wait particularly long, only about a half hour at most. Without knocking, a group of four men in black suits and sunglasses burst through the door of the autopsy room, moving in brisk lockstep. All of them were smiling.

Three of the strange men made themselves busy packing up the corpse into a body bag, sealing up the already removed organs in plastic bags. The fourth meanwhile came up and spoke directly to me.

"Hello sir or madam. I understand what you believe you may have seen is shocking and upsetting to you. It is in the best interests for your mental health to forget what you think you saw. The body you performed an autopsy on was completely normal in every way. If you ever think you see something like this again, please call this number." He pressed a business card into my hand, completely blank save for a phone number printed in black ink.

While he spoke, the other three finished sealing up the corpse, and one of them popped out the tape from the tape recorder I used to make autopsy reports and slipped it into his pocket. I felt dazed. Everything was happening so fast. The three men picked up the body bag and began to move towards the door. The remaining man moved to join them.

"Wait!" I cried out, "Who are you people? You can't just do this, this is evidence!"

The man who had spoken to me earlier turned on his heels to face me once again and said something I will never forget. Without missing a beat, he recited your name, Hannah, along with your address, your phone number, your blood type, and your social security number. The threat of what would happen if I talked about what I'd seen was implicit.

Over the years since then I've seen a number of more bodies like that one in 1989. I didn't have to cut open the skull to make sure, they all had the same grin and the thin white line around their head. They were always recovered from somewhere underground, always in a subway tunnel, or a parking garage, or a basement. One was even found in a cave. Whenever it happened, I'd dutifully call the number and smiling men in black suits would arrive, tell me to forget what I saw, and leave with the body.

The thing that bothers me is that, as time went on, I began to see those bodies with more and more frequency. At first they only showed up once every 2 years or so, but by the time I quit being a mortician in 2003 I was seeing them nearly every 6 months.

I'm telling you this because you're the only person I can tell. I don't care what happens to me at this point, the cancer has progressed far enough that I know there isn't any real danger to me, but I know they can still hurt you. After you read this letter, please burn it. Don't tell anyone what I've told you.

Letter by Michael Mora, sent to the Californian Unidentified Flying Object Society, November 3rd, 2007. It is unlikely that it was ever seriously investigated, as CUFOS formally dissolved on November 15th, 2007.

To whom it may concern,

I'm not really sure if you folks are the sort of people I should be sending this to. I can't say I have any evidence, not really anyway, and even if I did, what I saw is only tangentially related to UFOs at best. Let me start from the beginning.

I used to work in an office building in downtown Oakland. I worked in the basement, maintaining archives of all the necessary documents that are required for a company of that size to remain operating within the limits of the law. It wasn't exactly glamorous work, but the pay was decent and I appreciated the solitude.

I used to always take the elevator down to the basement, not really out of any real necessity to be honest, I'm more than capable of walking down the stairs, but I just enjoyed the feeling of motion. I know it sounds silly, but it was just a little way to brighten up my day a bit.

Anyway, around 3 months ago I remember pressing the button to go down to the basement level. I had just punched in to work, so I knew it was 9 o'clock in the morning. The next thing I knew, I was lying on the floor of my basement office, feeling incredibly woozy. I glanced at my watch and found it was nearly 11 o'clock. I had lost almost 2 hours of time.

Now I wasn't especially familiar with the various traditional "symptoms", shall we say, of abduction at that time. I wound up going to the hospital, worried that I had suffered some sort of stroke or something, but the doctors gave me a clean bill of health. I couldn't just let it go though, it was profoundly disturbing to have simply forgotten almost two hours of a day with no explanation of what had happened. I never felt comfortable in the basement anymore, and I would nearly have a panic attack at the mere thought of entering an elevator. None of my coworkers remembered seeing anything odd, but that's not much of a surprise given I often spent days without interacting with anyone I work with.

Eventually I wound up seeking out a hypnotherapist, to try and uncover what I figured must be some sort of repressed memories. It didn't take just one session, I had to keep coming back for weeks and weeks, but eventually I did remember what had happened to me. Now I almost wish I didn't. I really hope that the skeptics are right, that hypnosis simply makes one susceptible to suggestion, and that what I think I remember is merely fantasy. It would make everything so much easier. What follows is, to the best of my remembrance, what happened to me that day.

The elevator didn't stop going down. Normally it only takes about 30 seconds or so to reach from the ground floor to the basement, but this time it just kept going. I started to panic, hammering on the buttons to try and get the elevator to stop, but nothing worked. I could feel my ears pop from the change in elevation, like when an airplane begins its descent. After about 15 minutes, the elevator stopped with a loud clunk. Then the lights went out.

Shortly after I was plunged into what felt like total blackness, the elevator doors opened, and I found myself being grabbed by people I couldn't see. I tried to fight back, punching and kicking as best as I could, but to no avail. They just dragged me into the darkness and I was helpless to resist.

It wasn't pitch blackness as I had originally thought, as my eyes adjusted I realized there was a faint phosphorescence covering the walls of the tunnel I was being dragged through, and I could vaguely make out the shapes of the people who had taken me. They seemed to just be ordinary people, clad in normal street clothes. There seemed to be something vaguely wrong with their faces though, they all looked like they were smiling far too intensely. The tunnel was roughly cut into a rectangular shape, and seemed to be hewn from the living rock.

I had stopped resisting at this point, and when they noticed I wasn't struggling anymore they let me walk on my own, keeping a grip on my shoulders to make sure I wouldn't run off. As we proceeded deeper into the dark, we passed into a vast cavern of sorts, it must have been as large as a football field at least. Like the tunnels, it was dimly lit, but I could make out enough to get a general understanding of the size of the place. What made me gasp though was the object I saw in the center of the room; a large, metal disk about the size of a house, sitting atop three metal legs, like landing gear. Crowded around the object were various people with what looked to be welding equipment, and every so often I'd see sparks fly, like it was being repaired. I never saw it in motion, but I can only assume it was some sort of flying saucer. That's why I'm sending this letter to your organization.

Eventually we'd crossed the large room, which I can only think of now as a hangar, and I was led into a smaller, circular room, where I was strapped down to a cold metal table. That's when I saw one of them.

I'm sure you've read enough letters like this to know what they look like. It was short, like a child, and even considering the gloom I was surrounded by it was difficult to get a good look at it, like it was something my brain wouldn't allow me to see. It touched me with a cold, clammy hand and I wanted to scream, but I couldn't. I was completely paralyzed, whether by fear or something else I don't know. It felt wrong, it felt utterly unnatural. When I looked into its vast, black eyes, I felt nothing, no sympathy, no intelligence, not even cruelty, it was just empty. It pressed an odd metal object to my head, and my entire body erupted in horrible, burning pain. It felt like hours, but it must have only been seconds. When it removed the object I saw bright spots before my eyes. The thing gestured towards the exit where I'd come from and the restraints were lifted. The smiling people who had brought me here grabbed me and dragged me back out again. We passed through the hangar and the saucer was gone, as were the people who had been working on it. I was taken back to the elevator through the tunnel. Everything was blurry, and I felt vaguely as though I was drunk.

The elevator doors closed, and the light came back on, the brightness nearly blinded me. When it arrived at the basement, I stumbled into my office and collapsed on the floor, I must have blacked out after that. When I woke up I didn't remember any of it.

It doesn't really matter if you write me back or not. I don't even work at that company anymore, I quit shortly after I recovered my memories. I just needed to be able to tell someone, anyone about this. Thank you for your time.

Sincerely,

Michael Mora

- - -

While these accounts do not paint as clear of a picture as those of the Stephensville or Plainsfield incidents, they do seem definitely related. Further research is, of course, required, but after a certain point it has been difficult to acquire further information regarding events of this nature. Any documentation of similar encounters after 2007 are vague and difficult to verify, as though any information relating to these topics has been purposefully removed from the public eye.

Whether this is simple coincidence or signs of some sort of cover up remains to be seen.

Regardless, it is, perhaps, in one's best interest to avoid interactions with unusually smiling strangers, and to keep oneself above ground whenever feasible.

[fullmetalscullyy]

Can you write a fic about how Roy takes care of Riza while she's pregnant?

hey anon! thank you so much for your ask and your request 💖 i have actually already done this a few times before, so i'll link them below!

the way it was - what if riza never went to war? riza hawkeye has just married the man she loves. six months into their marriage, an unexpected surprise stops her from following roy to the military. a canon divergence au that explores what might have happened had riza been unable to join the military. there will be plenty of family fluff, angst, and royai.

about 2/3 of this fic is riza pregnant within canon events (although she's not in the military). plenty of family moments, domestic royai, and roy doting on her (as she deserves)

available on ao3 and ffnet

let you love me chapter 28 - Nervousness had settled into his body as soon as Riza had announced she was pregnant. Nine months later, that feeling still remained. It was constant. Every thought in his mind was concerned about both Riza and the baby’s welfare. Was she too hot? Did he need to turn the AC to a lower temperature? Was she comfortable? Was she hydrated? Was she in pain?

i don't think you need to read the whole fic to understand this chapter, but i think it does have the vibe you're looking for. the premise of the fic is riza has a son and roy moves in next door to her (and they fall in love ofc uwu) but this chapters specifically has flapping roy as riza goes into labour as well as him being supportive supportive throughout it all w some nice soft and family moments

available on ao3 and ffnet

royai collections chapter 45 - prompt: can you do a royai one shot where they're both married while still in the military (not a secret) and riza is pregnant but gets kidnapped and roy has to save her?

not 100% roy taking care of her while she's pregnant, but along the same lines w a bit of fluff at the end

available on ao3 and ffnet

[mrs-pondwater19]

I Miss You

Ichiban Kasuga x Fem Reader SMUT

I've recently played Yakuza 7 with my boyfriend and I've come to absolutely love Ichi. But was very disappointed to see very few x reader fics so I figured why not write one of my own, with some spice of course, seeing as many other people feel the same way. This is WAY longer than I anticipated and probably should be in two parts, but im lazy so it's just gonna be a long one so settle in. This is my first time writing on Tumblr so if my format isn't the best I apologize. Minors this isn't for you, please walk away. Enjoy

* Utsukushii: Beautiful (cause you all beautiful babes)

WARNING: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. Contains Smut Mega angst, sad boi hour, depression, mentions of death, slight intoxication, angst to fluff, estranged friends to lovers, spicy, slow burn, age gap, major consent vibes, porn with plot, clothed foreplay (f receiving), wholesome sex (p in v), praise kink, creampie, and cuddles

SPOILERS: Chapters 1-13

You settled into the plush cushion of your futon as you flipped to where you last left off of your book. You had finished a brutal eight-day stretch at the convince store you worked at and were looking forward to a couple of days off. You were hoping to get a couple of chapters into your book that was put on hold and just relax, the kettle heating up for a cup of tea, and some soft music for ambiance. You were able to get about six pages in before the sheer whistle of the kettle rang throughout your tiny apartment. You set the book down and made your way to the stove, removing the kettle and pouring the boiling water into the cup before turning the stove off. You grabbed the cup by the handle and went to sit back down, picking up the book once more and letting the now-brewing tea cool. About an hour went by and you were taking in the long-awaited relaxation you'd been craving, only to hear a notification from your phone. Taking a deep, frustrated breath you set the cup down and swiftly grabbed your phone off the coffee table. Your heart sunk a little when you saw his name pop up,

"Ichi"

It'd been a little while since the two of you had talked. Not that it was completely by choice, if you had the option to go out and have adventures with the group you'd be more than willing to. But you had an apartment to keep up with, bills to pay, and a job that required a good portion of your time, and Ichi knew that. He respected that you were trying to make it as best you could on your own and that you were trying to be independent. Frankly, that's a decent portion of why you're so fond of him because he's not one to overstep boundaries. However, you wished that were the full reason for not being as present with the group as you'd like to be. The real reason was quite sad and petty in your eyes as you reflected on it, it wasn't just about work or having to pay bills, it was more than that. The truth was, it was how big the group had gotten, and one particular member that had stood out to you.

Eri.

It wasn't that you disliked the woman, she was sweet, helpful, and genuine with everything and everyone.

But that was exactly what bothered you.

You felt as if you could never compete with her, whether it was with the street fights you got into with the group, spending some downtime with everyone, or whenever it came to Ichi's attention. She seemed to be so taken with him, and him with her, and the fact the two of them ran a business together only added salt to the wound. You didn't want to admit it, but you had grown so jealous of Eri. So much so that you distanced yourself and sorta stopped communicating with everyone. Ichi, always being inclusive, would text you regularly asking you to come to Survive and take some time to catch up. There were a few times here and there when you went and met Zhao and Joon-Gi Han, but other than that you always told him it was never a good time or that you just wanted to get some rest, which wasn't a lie, but not the whole truth either. Tonight would be no different, although you were a bit surprised at the urgency behind the text,

"Hey Y/N, can you come down to Survive tonight, we really need to talk." You sighed trying to think of a response, you really didn't want to go out tonight, but you wanted to be there for him too. Thinking of an alternative to what he offered you began typing,

"Hey Ichi, um as far as going out, tonight's not a good night. But you're more than welcome to drop by my place and chat if you like." You put the phone down and picked up your book again as you waited for a response. Almost immediately he responded,

"Are you sure you can't come to Survive, I feel it'd be best if the whole group were there for what I have to say."

"Tonight's not a good night to go out for me Ichi. If it was I would, you know that. The doors open if you still want to come by" you replied leaving it open-ended. You didn't want to have to stress about trying to look presentable to the group as terrible as it sounded. You loved them all but tonight you didn't have it in you to see them. You were tired, irritated, and just wanted to relax. Not to mention you were in no mood to see Ichi and Eri getting friendly with one another. If it was as important as Ichi said it was, then he'd stop by.

There was no response from him so you assumed he wasn't going to bother stopping in, which hurt, a lot. You turned the lights and music off, closed your book, and just sat in the dark. Tears well up in your eyes as you resist the urge to let them fall. You shouldn't be crying is what you kept telling yourself, you chose not to go, but you couldn't stop the tears from falling. You felt your heart sink deeper into your chest as you thought about the situation more and more, all you wanted was to be able to go and see the group without feeling overcrowded, to see Eri without growing resentment, to see Ichi without sadness in your eyes. You wanted it to be like old times when you first met Ichi. Adachi introduced the two of you not long after Ichi was released from prison, at first you thought he was a really weird, silly guy. But over time his quirks grew on you and you slowly began warming up to him, to the point where you were nearly inseparable. Granted he was a lot older than you, but that didn't matter to you, you were pals and loved him as a person. Until you fell for him, you didn't know how it happened, but it did and it did all at once. The way your heart skipped beats when you two were together, how your cheeks heated up when you two looked at one another, it made you go crazy but in a good way. Which is why it killed you when he and Eri began spending so much time together, but you didn't want to ruin your friendship with him either, you were between a rock and a hard place.

You wiped your tears and planned on heading to bed when there was a harsh knock at the door, causing you to jump.

He actually came.

You took a few deep breaths,

"I'll be right there," you squeaked as you tried to get yourself put together. You approached the door and opened up to see a disheveled Ichi. He was panting, his burgundy suit wrinkled, and the slightest smell of whiskey on his breath.

"May I come in," he asked in between breaths. You moved out of the way and motioned him to come in. He moved past you swiftly and made his way to the futon. You closed the door behind you and took a deep breath as you turned to him. His arms lay at his sides and his head hung over the top of the futon with his eyes closed, looking like he hadn't been this relaxed in days

"Can I make you a cup of tea," you asked not looking him in the eyes. He nodded and you rushed to the kitchen and put the kettle on. You waited until the kettle had reached the point of whistling and poured the water into the cup. Pulling out a green tea bag you plopped it in and made your way back to the living room. Ichi's eyes never left you as you set the cup on the table and sat on the floor across from him. A bit of silence passed before Ichi spoke,

"It's been a while," he said scratching the back of his head awkwardly before picking up his cup and taking a sip. You nodded awkwardly back to him,

"Yeah, been really busy at the shop." You looked down and fiddled with your fingers as he continued to try to make conversation.

"The gang misses you," he said looking at you with a sad expression settling in his eyes. You look up at him to exchange the same response. You missed them too, but you knew it would only cause more pain to see them. You nodded once more not responding this time and went back to fiddling with your hands.

"I miss you," he said looking down at his cup and looking more upset than before. This made your heart ache. You looked at him and put your hand on his, causing him to flinch,

"I've missed you too Ichi, more than you know, it's just been a rough go around lately." He knew what you meant when you said that. He knew the struggles you went through, and how you just wanted to make it on your own. You moved back into your previous sitting position and proceeded to ask,

"What's going on Ichi, your text sounded urgent." He looked up at you and you saw tears beginning to swell in his eyes. What he said next made your heart drop into your stomach,

"Arakawa's dead." His tears began to fall down his cheeks as he put his cup down and buried his face in his arm. Sobs filled to room as he continued,

"My boss, the man who took me in as one of his own, treated me like a son, gone just like that. Shot and thrown into the ocean like trash. We were gonna catch up on all these years we missed Y/N, we had all the time in the world. And now, now he's gone!" You shot up and sat next to him, embracing him as he cried out in pain. You ran your hand through his poofy hair as he rested his face into the crevasse of your neck. Your heart began to race and the heat in your cheeks rose in response, but you managed to hide it.

"I'm so sorry Ichi, I had no idea. If I'd had known sooner I would've come to see you all," you said quietly to him resting your face on his head. There were no words to explain how guilty you felt about the situation. Ichi had mentioned Arakawa a few times in the past and how he was really like a father to him throughout a portion of his life. If you had known it was that important you would've put your pride aside and gone down to Survive to see him.

"I'm so sorry Ichi," was all you could manage to say as you lightly kissed his head and a few tears dripped from your eyes from the immense guilt and grief for him. The both of you sat together and cried for a bit before he picked himself up to look at you. His face was all red and puffy and tears kept falling from his eyes as if they were an overflowing faucet. He took his thumb and wiped away the few tears from your face, looking deep into your eyes. He pulled you into his chest and you wrapped your arms around him,

"I hate seeing you cry," he whispered to you. You gripped his coat as if it were the only thing keeping you alive. He was so kind and caring, even at his lowest, most painful moment, he still took note of your pain. You pulled away to look at him once more, placing your hands on both sides of his face, wiping his tears away as he did yours, your heart beating out of your chest as your eyes met with his grey ones,

"Ichiban," you said giving him a half smile. He brought his hands to yours and began to lean in to close the gap between you. This made you panic and pull back,

"What's wrong," he asked worryingly. You looked away as the sadness flooded in.

"What would Eri say," was the only thing you could ask him at that moment. His face contorted into exaggerated confusion,

"Y/N what are you talking about, why would Eri have anything to do with this?" You froze. Eyes widen and you were almost as confused as he was. He looked at you with the realization of what you thought his and Eri's relationship was,

"Did you think Eri and I were together?" You nodded in embarrassment, your face as red as a tomato. He giggled to himself as he shifted closer to you, pulling you into a hug. You were so confused not sure how to react or respond,

"It was never anything more than us being business partners and friends. I explained to her that we needed to keep our relationship professional and that I had feelings for another woman," he explained to you as he nuzzled his head into your shoulder. Your heart stopped when you heard that last bit. You knew what he meant, and part of you was screaming with joy, while the other was terrified.

"Ichi, when you say there's another woman, do you mean me," you spat out. He pulled away from your shoulder and looked you in the eyes,

"Yes, Y/N, it's always been you," he said swiftly grabbing your cheeks and kissing you. Your eyes widen in surprise but you soon melted into him. Your hands roamed up and around his broad shoulder and pulled him in. His lips were soft with the contrast of his stubble and his hands slowly moving down to your hips. It started soft and passionate, you could tell he wanted to do this for a long time by the way his body reacted, he savored you and your touch. The kiss began to get more heated when he licked at your lips, asking for permission to explore. You obliged and parted your lips, letting him in. Your tongues danced as his hands harshly gripped at your hips, enough so that they would leave hints of bruises. You both pulled away for air, panting in want and need for him to touch you more,

"Ichi,"

"Yeah?"

"I need...more," you said looking down.

"Are you sure that's what you want? I don't want you to feel like I'm pressuring you into anything you don't want to do," he said taking a hand to your chin and gently bringing you up to face him. He looked at you with his goofy smirk, showing that he wanted you to be comfortable. He was asking not only out of respect for you, but because of the age difference as well. He didn't want to make it feel like it was anything but two consenting adults partaking in adult activities. You smiled,

"Ichi, I'm happy you care so much to make sure I'm comfortable. But yes, I'm sure this is what I want. I want you, Ichiban Kasuga."

With that, he kissed you again. It was heated and full of passion as before, but also needy and rough at times. Soon he began roaming down and kissing your neck softly, before leaving dark love bites behind. Your gasps and stifled moans ran throughout the small apartment he left bites all the way down to your collarbone. He anxiously began to run his hands up your shirt, feeling the soft flushed skin under it. You fell back on the futon and brought him down with you so he was positioned on top. Your heart never beat as fast as it did in the current moment you were in. His hand roamed your torso as he kissed you again gently,

"Is this ok?" he asked breaking away from your lips. You nodded in response, guiding him to the hem of your shirt and assisting him in getting it off. Your upper half was left bare for him to see, being as you didn't put a bra on earlier thinking you were going to be alone for the night. A shift came upon the man above you, his gaze dark and lustful as his eyes burned into your body. Your heart skipped a beat as he lowered his head down and brushed his lips lightly against your exposed chest. Your nipples harden at the thought of what he was going to do and the arousal between your kegs grew by the second as he latched his lips onto you. A loud moan escaped from you as his tongue swirled around your bud, and his hand played with the other. His free hand began to slowly make its way down your thigh, looking up at you for permission,

"Please Ichi, touch me," you said throwing your head back into the cushion as he gently rubbed your now soaking womanhood. You wished you could feel his fingers against your heated skin, but you weren't complaining either, it felt good. Not holding back anymore, your moans rang out as his fingers moved swiftly against your pussy. He was careful not to hurt you, making sure each movement earned him complete pleasure from you. Your torso was painted in scattered love bites and you felt yourself coming undone beneath him. But he pulled away before you finished, giving him a disappointed groan. He chuckled as he stood up and began to take his suit off,

"Patience Y/N," he said seductively as he slowly removed his tie and unbuttoned his shirt. A deep shade of red appeared across your face when he removed his shirt, revealing his toned figure. Your eyes wandered down to see his fully hardened cock through his pants. Your eyes widened as you stared, not expecting him to be as big as he was,

"Like what you see," he teased as he removed his belt. You turned away in embarrassment at his remark, your hands covering your face. When he finished striping he walked back over to you removing your hands from your flushed face,

"Don't hide from me beautiful," he whispered as he kissed your forehead. You stood up and removed your pants and underwear, now completely naked in front of him. Doubt quickly flooded in and you tried to cover yourself, only to be gently stopped by Ichi,

"It's ok Y/N, you have nothing to be ashamed of," he said, releasing your hands, laying you back on the futon, and climbing on top of you. His hand on either of your shoulders as he poisoned himself at your entrance,

"Are you ready utsukushii?"

"I am."

He pushed past your slick folds and sunk into you effortlessly. You moaned out in pure bliss while he grunted in response. His pace was slow and sensual, making sure to savor each sound, move, and look you made from his actions. Moans, gasps, and grunts as well as the sound of skin on skin filled the small space. One of your hands ran through his poofy umber locks while the other gripped at his back, nails digging at his tattoo.

"Ichiban, fuck," you whimpered as his pace quickened.

"Y/N, God you're so fucking beautiful. So perfect, fuck," he groaned as he left small kisses on your neck. He continued praising you,

"Every part of you is so beautiful. The way your body molds into me, the look in your eyes, the way you hold me, it's perfect, you're perfect."

"Kasuga," you plea out to him. That sparked something in him, something you hadn't seen all throughout the night until right then and there.

"Say that again utsukushii."

"Kasuga"

"Louder darling," his pace was becoming sporadic, but never rough, and his cock was harder than before. You could tell his orgasm was quickly approaching, as was yours.

"Kasuga!" Your orgasm washed over you like a tidal wave, you clenched around him as tight as you could and shook from the overwhelming amount of pleasure.

"Fuck, I'm cumming," he gritted his teeth and clenched his eyes shut as he unloaded his cum inside you, moaning a few sighs of satisfaction. He pulled out of you, a trail following him as he plopped beside you. You both laid there as you both caught your breath before he got up and fetched a few washcloths and helped clean yourself up. It was a good thing you were on birth control or you would've had a major problem on your hands. But thankfully that wasn't the case. Exhausted you both wrapped yourselves in a fleece blanket and cuddled up to one another. Ichi looked at you while he played with your hair with his sweet goofy smile that made your heart melt. You placed your hand on his cheek,

"I love you Ichiban Kasuga," you said as you dozed off.

"I love you too utsukushii."

[beevean]

So after reading "Let Go," I gotta say for a self-proclaimed non-writer you made a story that is on the higher tier of short story I've read. And this is as someone who has a writing major and so read a lot of stories to get that lol.

Like you could have bahsed on Surge since she's not your fav, but instead you actually made her be somewhat sympathetic even if she still lashes out.

It's a very solid and I'd say good piece. Inb4 an anon shows up to blindly go "lol Let Go sucks lmao wht trash like Misery Tastes"

bu-- wha--

Thank you so much, this means a lot to me 😭

Honestly I was just on a roll the last few days. Usually I have to pull words out of my mouth like teeth, but this time I knew exactly how to convey what I had in mind. It was a fun experience! Especially changing Sonic's behavior so that he'd be more in line to how I imagine he'd behave in the games, kindhearted but still no-nonsense.

Like you could have bahsed on Surge since she's not your fav, but instead you actually made her be somewhat sympathetic even if she still lashes out.

I hate character bashing. Unless you're deliberately writing a parody (and even then some jokes stop being funny, I wouldn't like Yandere Amy even in a parody), I believe in respecting the canon source. Even canon you don't like :P I fixed what for me were the biggest mistakes of #50 (Sonic's whole behavior, Surge's confused traumadump that also makes Sonic's blasé attitude look more callous, Sonic wasting time asking for a truce and not immediately trying to save Surge when she's about to fall), but I re-read many issues to stay as consistent as possible, especially the Imposter Syndrome arc.

I don't like Surge's surface personality, and in IS she made me roll my eyes a lot - she isn't that likeable, and not even in a love-to-hate way. She's a braggart and a bully, and that's really it. I'm also pretty disturbed by how Kit is treated by her, but that's another topic.

However, the fact that her annoying personality is fake? And that it makes sense for it to be this way, because Starline sure doesn't hold Sonic in high regard? That is a clever way to explain it. I was also taken by how self-aware Surge is throughout, she does understand that her hatred comes from nowhere, but still, when she has the confirmation that her thoughts are not her own? ... she doubles down. Because you try to break out of 232 sessions of brainwashing. So you have a rational yet irrational character, and that's what makes her intriguing for me.

Plus, y'know, tying her whole self esteem around Sonic and beating him can't be healthy. I was disappointed that her short appearance in #51 had her bounce back so quickly from failing the one thing she has going for in her life now (although it gave us Surge looking totally lovestruck and that's funny) - I think she should have had at least one temper tantrum :P Also, I've complained a lot about #50 lol, but I really like when Surge comes to the conclusion that nobody cared about her, because she either volunteered to be a guinea pig for Starline, or nobody looked for her if she was kidnapped. Add to this that her "little brother" was brainwashed into not having an identity outside of her, so his unconditional support is fake too, and I'm pretty sure her self esteem is in shatters by now. Or should be. We'll see. I still have my headcanon that her insistence in the first half of IS to be constantly validated for her feats comes from a deep insecurity.

I think that, if we could get a glimpse in Surge's head in the comic, she'd be even more interesting. And if she had one redeeming quality, like for example a violently protective affection towards Kit, I'd genuinely like her :)

Anyway, you made my evening, thank you ^^ I'm glad you liked it!

[baby--swiss]

TW: HARMFUL THOUGHTS, IRRATIONAL THOUGHTS OF MURDER, MORE OF THE SORT. VERY DARK, PAINFUL VENT. PLEASE SKIP IF ANY OF THESE TRIGGER YOU.

| so, i had a moment today. a very bad moment. the causes of which are complicated and are not what i'd like to adress. my reaction is, however, much more what i need to talk about. i feel it is slightly important that i have been on prozac since end of last year, and i have been consistently taking my prescribed dose (other than a few days recently when i was throwing up and didn't just want to accidentally waste a pill.), and i took it today, as i always do. this is not about my medicine though. me, my mom, my brothers, and my baby sister got home from the store (brothers 8 and 6, sister just under a year old.), my sister was crying and my brothers were doing their usual, basically nothing to help. not an exaggeration, my brothers just walked inside, did not help unload, did not assist with my sister, nothing. i was already overstimulated by then and was avoiding people outside my house. i eventually seem slightly calm and go back inside, even if to just go back in my room. i was hungry so i go into the kitchen where we usually have our bags until someone can go and put things away properly, lo and behold no one has brought the bags in.

||major tw next paragraph, please turn away if you're triggered.||

(mom: pink, me: purple)

i walk in, look at my mother.

"no one brought the bags in?"

"no, i was gonna unload after i changed your sister's diaper."

"i'll do it."

"take one of your brothers to help you."

"no, it's okay."

"no, take the older one." at this point, she calls him into the room and he's upset because he now has to help.

"no, its okay."

i was yelling. i barely yell in a non-joking way, especially with my mom. for a frame of reference of what comes next, i have never wanted to hurt anyone in my family, especially not murder. not in the slightest. not out of anger, not with intent to hurt. if anyone is ever hurt, it is either because i was joking too heavily or i didn't know my own strength.

i walked into my room and shut the door.

seconds later, i hear my mom's voice.

"come back here. i will not be spoken to like that." completely understandable answer. i would be upset too if i didn't know the full scale.

so i walked back.

here it gets blurry with anger--with too much.

my mother basically sends my brother with me after some weak protests from my brother.

i heard his voice, and that was it. i was about to grab him, hurt him i wanted to tackle him, hit him, break something until he knew. what? i don't know exactly. i wanted to bash his skull in, make him bleed, anything, everything, to the point the only way i could be stopped i would have to be pulled off him. so much, too much, i almost did it. i almost spiralled. it hurts now, thinking about it in a calmish state of mind. i don't want to hurt him. he didn't do anything wrong, but it was still the thing that pushed me over the edge.

i am not a violent person. i am by no means weak, however the only times ive ever wanted to fight or do anything to anyone wasn't like this. this? i wanted to hurt him. no reason. i just wanted to make him hurt. other people ive almost fought? been out of protection for someone, teaching a lesson, something. not like this. when i get angry like this, i'm like a different person. there are no moral obligations, no lines that will remain uncrossed. i probably won't even remember it, i barely remember almost doing it, no rational thoughts, just pure, bare emotion. i really, i don't want to hurt people. however when i was like that? no sympathy, no empathy, nothing for people or myself. very few people are exceptions. my sister, my mother, someone i hope will identify themself, and some others. very strong words of warning, if i ever get like this around you, very stiff, weird tonal inconsistency in my voice, potential yelling, etc, leave me alone. if someone is hurting me pr pushing me further, please, please, for my sake and sanity and theirs, take them away from me. i know it is no one's responsibility but my own, but if they don't listen to me, please, force them away. i hate feeling that way, and i will definitely be talking to my therapist about this, however god knows how things will end up.

writing this (typing this?) has helped some, however it doesn't give it full justice. please, if anyone reblogs thing, tag it properly. i do not want to trigger anyone. please tell me if any tws need to be added as well.

[scribbleseas]

The Indignant Pawn, Chapter VI: The Importance of Pluck

Description: You are Y/n Y/l/n- formerly known as Princess Helena, the runaway princess.

You're an assassin for hire who only agrees to find the worst of London's criminals at the business end of your knife; until a mysterious woman hires you to end the likes of Ciel Phantomhive, the King of the Underworld. You find yourself trading your weapons for your abandoned family crest in order to infiltrate his home as none other than Princess Marie-Louise, your twin sister. What's to happen when you find that the young Earl is more than a callous businessman?

OVERALL STORY WARNINGS: sexual assault, objectification, misogyny, death, detailed description of blood/gore, detailed description of murder, lying, impersonation, theft, weapons, detailed panic attacks and flashbacks, symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder.

Author’s Note: Hi! Thank you so much for enjoying this story so far! I can’t wait to take you down this wild road with this cast of characters. As always, if you have any questions or concerns about the story warnings, please don’t hesitate to contact me! Please note that the warnings are subject to change by each chapter.

-Dan

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. . .

FEBRUARY 14TH, 1892

LONDON, ENGLAND

“Y/n!” Andrea’s calloused hands pulled you into a tight bear hug, causing you to stumble forward, uncoordinated by the sudden movement of the door and her springing towards you and Autumn. Reluctantly, you melted into the embrace from the sole reminder that this was the same woman that showed you the separation between your traumatic childhood and reclaiming this facade. Not to mention, a few phrases of conversational Spanish. 

“Buena noches, Andrea,” (Good evening, Andrea) you greeted halfheartedly, your foul mood having yet to completely subside from the front of your mind. Without Doña’s need to meddle, you never would have needed to leave the warmth of the guest quarters in the middle of the night in the first place. The mission was completely under your control- the objective remaining as crystal clear as it was on day one. Killing Lord Phantomhive was not nearly the challenge your subconscious was making it out to be.

“¿Dónde está Doña?” (Where is Doña?) You asked once Andrea released you and motioned towards the reins that you clutched in your hand. Asking for the location of a local stable would have been next on your course of action. However, she seemed to know exactly where to keep Autumn for the time being.

“Inside...still waiting for you. Diego will show you the way,” the woman gestured to the familiar man as he crossed his arms in the doorframe. The same playful smirk tugged at his lips, suggesting that he heard some kind of joke that he didn’t dare repeat. Andrea started off with Autumn in tow, the horse’s tail flicking back and forth lethargically.

“The dress hugs tight,” Diego commented patronizingly as he led you through the hall. You could tell by his comment that Diego was only trying to provoke your outrage, no matter how you tried to keep your face neutral. Of course, the dress fit your frame better- you were eating three meals a day alongside some form of an extravagant dessert. There was no shame in enjoying good food while it was available to you.

“You’re one to talk,” you glared at Diego’s back as he walked. His black trench coat was tied around his lean frame tightly, the bottom shifting with each step that he took. The outline of his gun holster was clearly fastened around his waist beneath the coat. There was nothing more ridiculous than the thought of a man like Diego having the morality to murder someone. But you supposed if that was the case, he wouldn’t affiliate with women such as Doña-  or yourself.

“Doña, she arrives,” Diego stopped short before a small living room. The vicinity was warmed by a tame fire in the fireplace, the orange hue painting the rest of the room. As the rest of the rooms were, this room was notably empty- save for two sofas and a single table between them. 

The lady herself, Doña, occupied the middle of one of the couches, nursing a rum-spiked coffee, her thin fingers wrapped around the thin stem of the glass. The scent of the over-proofed rum drifted about the room, causing you to cringe. You’d never understand why Spaniards preferred their coffee with hard liquor mixed in- according to Andrea, the combination was called a carajillo.

“Lovely,” Doña’s painted lips spread into a satisfied grin, the corners of her mouth pulling upwards. “Sit Y/n. Sit,” she said, patting the cushion next to her with a free hand. You made it a point to sit in the middle of the empty sofa across from her, your hands smoothing over your petticoats as you regarded the light ecru Doña wore. The majority of the top layer was made of tulle so to create a softer ambiance to oppose her burgundy lip color- such as a shade that was forbidden for royalty, or any self-respecting woman.

“I’ll go help Carmen with the...bebé,” Diego cringed as the sound of Doña’s wailing child sounded from the floor above. “Excuse me.”

“I haven’t all night, Doña,” you snapped impetuously as you watched the woman’s face, contemplative as she listened to her daughter sob. You heard Carmen seethe ‘¿Por qué no podemos ponerla en adopción ya?’ and in response, Diego only laughed. Andrea was still putting your horse away, but the sobbing would likely stop the second she entered the baby’s line of sight.

“If only you had the same sense of urgency in completing the mission I assigned a month ago,” Doña took a long drink of her carajillo, her face twisting at the taste. “Did you not guarantee me seven days at most?”

In a fit of haughtiness, you had made a claim that went something along those lines. After all, the longest you spent on one mission before this one, was waiting for the servant rotation of Agatha Tolton to switch in your favor. The woman was rarely alone and you preferred to only kill your targets during a mission.

“There are unforeseen obstacles inside the estate,” you lied. In truth, you spent plenty of time alone with the Earl- three meals a day and occasionally, time in the foyer at night. Hiding your dagger in the folds of a nightgown and stabbing him wasn’t out of your capabilities and yet, you were postponing it for the comfortable treatment- even if it was all stolen from Marie’s identity.

“Unforeseen obstacles in the estate,” Doña repeated, unfazed by your lie. “What sort of obstacles could possibly be new to you?”

“There’s something...uncertain about his butler,” this concern nagged the back of your mind from the moment you got there. From the second he greeted you in flawless German and subtly as each day passed on. Despite being the head butler of the estate, he was too capable at some points- always being prepared when you and the Earl requested tea or hot chocolate in the dead of night, answering questions that you purposely keep from saying. His speed.

“Sebastian Michaelis?” Doña’s frown deepened, making her look at least five years older. Creases from constant scowling marred the corners of her lips and between her symmetrical eyebrows. “We discussed his role in Phantomhive’s life. You said-” her accent butchered the Earl’s name, turning the i into an e, which resulted in his name sounding more like Phantomheave, rather than Phantomhive. 

“Doña, I’m aware of what I told you,” you hissed as she brought the flute of spiked coffee to her lips and drank again. “I said that he wouldn’t present an obstacle to my objective.”

“And yet?” She asked, goading your temper, tempting you to take the drink out of her hands and dump the rest of its steaming contents down her nightgown. Your fingers curled into fists, as you compelled yourself to stay seated on the couch. Your nails dug into the flesh of your palm, the sensation tolerable, but something to focus on, nevertheless.

“And yet, I’m reassessing my strategy because of him,” you lied. Sebastian made for a decent excuse, above all of his other uses.

A brief moment of silence passed before she asked, “must I eliminate him for you, Y/n? It would be a shame to need to aid my hired killer-...almost as distressing as wasting a handsome face such as his, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Looks have nothing to do with anything, Doña,” you ignored the turn of her curt grin while she finished off the rest of her carajillo with a sigh. She put the empty glass on the low table that sat in between the two of you, the bottom landing with a soft clink. “If I have to kill Sebastian Michaelis, I will do it myself.”

“We can share tactics with you,” Diego offered from the side of the room, where he and Carmen were standing. The baby had stopped wailing several minutes ago, moments after Andrea returned from putting your horse away. “You seem as if you need many,” he teased, sharing a patronizing laugh with Doña. At your glare, his face sobered, although a smile seemed to taunt the corners of his lips.

“Your tactics,” you scoffed, “what skill does it take to pull the trigger of a gun?” You could recall the weight of the handgun you had used at fourteen, successfully killing two men within minutes of each other. How could Diego pride his reliance on a weapon? 

“You bitch! You’ll, you’re going to bloody p--” James screamed, glowering at you as he struggled to get his fumbling hands in place. But he was too slow. He fell to the ground, blood beginning to blossom near his lower ribs.

“You’re a clever one, Princess,” Diego chuckled, showing the palms of his hands in defeat. “I might ask you for tactics for how you look so detached,” he quipped, shaking his shoulders to create an animated shiver. 

“Princesa de Hielo,” Carmen mumbled, which caused Doña to laugh again, the effects of rum beginning to seep into her cold personage. Her deep brown eyes settled back on you, hardening as you met her gaze. Eye contact was quite a fragile social concept- you weren’t confident with Spanish customs, but in Germany, it expressed attentiveness but in excess it expressed pride. 

“The two of you...go retrieve Y/n’s horse. She’s souring the atmosphere,” Doña shifted on the couch to turn her back to you, and the liquid in her glass flute hit the side and slid down again. There wasn’t much to the drink when you sat down in the first place and now, the glass was nearly empty.

Doña waited for Diego and Carmen to leave before she lazily got to her feet and stood before you, her expression sobering as if she hadn’t finished off her drink. With her proximity, you could smell the faint tinge of rum from her lips.  “And as for you- I want him dead. I don’t care how it’s done- simply finish him off and you’ll have your compensation. Do you understand?”

Her pupils were nearly swallowed whole by her umber irises, the threat in them ever-present.

. . .

FEBRUARY 15TH, 1892

LONDON, ENGLAND

Within the first few minutes of riding back to the Phantomhive Estate, snow began to fall, dropping from the clouds in fat flurries that rolled down your neck and made it nearly impossible to see fifteen feet in front of you. The wind whistled in your ears as you encouraged Autumn to continue her steady gait, even as the snow began to stick on the cobblestone streets of the city.

The distance from the manor to the heart of the city was sizable without the beginnings of a blizzard, but the horse’s hesitation, as well as your own, had severely delayed your arrival time. In fact, by the time you were scaling the wall of the manor, the sun was beginning to ascend the horizon, starting the day as the snow continued to pile and stick. Your fingers were numb since you had to remove your thick gloves to properly cling to the stones that jutted out of the main house’s foundation, leaving them vulnerable to the sharp surfaces and cold air. You were lucky that your quarters were located on the second floor, but that wouldn’t matter if Mey-Rin found the room empty upon entering to wake you.

The moment you reached the window beside your bed, you swung one leg over the still and then the other, reveling in the fact that you had, in fact, managed to return before Mey-Rin entered to wake you. Your trembling hands made messy work of tearing off the sides of the gown that were pinned to the stays on your coset, letting each piece of your riding habit fall carelessly to the floorboards until you were left standing in your corset that sat over your white shift- the base of any dress. Unlacing it was never this challenging when you sported middle-class clothing articles, leaving you to tug at the strands that kept the constrictive item together as several pairs of footsteps began to grow closer to the closed door of your quarters.

Your front teeth sunk into the inside of your lip as your descent into panic worsened with each passing second, fruitlessly attempting to untie the knots that you had secured yourself. Clearly, you had made some kind of mistake in re-dressing yourself prior to leaving for Doña’s new home.

This was exactly what you had feared.

“And you absolutely certain she isn’t here, Mey-Rin?” Sebastian’s posh voice questioned, moments before the door swung open, revealing you half-dressed and positioned in front of your open window. Mey-Rin and Sebastian were behind the Earl, the maid’s eyes glassy as if she was about to cry, and the butler’s face completely impassive, like a statue’s. Instantaneously, the Earl’s gaze fled to the ceiling, the floor, anywhere as long as it wasn’t on you.

Your hands fell to your sides and in the most delayed reaction, you exclaimed, “raus!” (out!). You turned your back to the doorway and hugged yourself.

“I believe she is far from missing, thank you,” the Earl’s voice was steadier than you would have anticipated, “my apologies, Your Highness,” the sound of rapid steps that implied his and Sebastian’s departure down the corridor followed as you released a weak exhale. 

“I came to wake you and you were missin’, yes you were,” Mey-Rin said . “I assumed the worst, I’m sorry Your Highness.” she asked for permission to undo the thick knots that you couldn’t undo. You nodded once, facing her as she nimbly undid each one. “The young master is going to want to know where you were off to...he was awfully concerned havin’ just returned from Lady Elizabeth’s…” if Mey-Rin wasn’t paid to fuss over you, you might’ve pitied her.

“I love the snow. I wanted to be outside on my own- I thought I could return before you notice I went out,” you explained, the lie was on the tip of your tongue from the moment you fell behind your plan. Mey-Rin breathed a sigh of relief and began to properly lace the corset and fasten a new stomacher, this one was a deep shade of red, resembling claret with its notes of magenta. The rest of the gown matched the shade.

“The snow is much prettier here in the countryside," Mey-Rin agreed as she continue to prepare you for the rest of the day; twisting your hair into another tight bun, brushes of powder over your face and shoulders and gentle hands of rogue on the apples of your cheeks. Within several strokes of a brush, your familiar blemishes disappeared- like a wave of a magic wand. 

Each step from your room to the main dining room maximized the nostalgic pit in your stomach. You sat to the Earl’s side at the breakfast table, as per usual. He was uncharacteristically quiet, leisurely lifting his steaming cup of tea to his lips and taking a long drink, his eye having yet to properly leave you. Lord Phantomhive did well to remind you of Governess Lydia and the countless instances you were scolded by the woman after an unbearably long silence. 

As a grown woman, you were too old for this. 

“Lord Phantomhive-” you started, only to be swiftly interrupted by the loud clunk that punctuated when he aggressively returned his teacup to its saucer on the table. Droplets of tea ran down the porcelain and pooled on the small dish. What waste.

His voice was fatally calm and as per usual, each word was punctuated to the syllable. “I am entrusted with your life, Your Highness. I thought it was clear that you aren’t to leave this estate unaccompanied without myself or Sebastian,” he said, “My duty to Her Majesty is to protect you to the extent of my capabilities and beyond that.”

“I was within the perimeter of this estate!” You countered, your hand pausing as you were about to spread a healthy bit of margarine over the head of a muffin,  that Sebastian had decapitated for you. Instead, the continent fell from the smooth blade of your knife in a heap before you began to spread it. “If that is your grievance with this morning, then your contention is certainly misplaced. It should not be a crime for me to wish to be outside. Alone.”

“Your Highness, there is a death threat over your head. Your going outside unaccompanied is a point of contention for me, yes,” the Earl said, as if this information should have been obvious. Granted it made logical sense- defenseless royalty needed to remain within lines of defense, however, you posed as a needy princess who was unacquainted with the concept of no. “If you are so fascinated with snow, a commonality in your home country, then you might wait to ask-”

“Thank you for your concern,” you intervened icily, aware that you had waged a losing battle from the moment you protested. “Keep in mind that it’s quite easy for the walls of this mansion to grow dull, My Lord.” 

. . .

FEBRUARY 17TH, 1892

LONDON, ENGLAND

The world outside of the windows was blank- completely grey and white. For the third day in a row, you were trapped indoors, hiding from the dense blizzard and idly roaming the layout of the estate. Every single room was familiar to you now- studied not once, but multiple times, making it simple for you to find the source of the rich violin that reverberated throughout the second floor of the mansion. Each step you grew closer to the frantic melody, vaguely aware of how clumsily you moved from the haste of your curiosity. The dramatic violin picked up, growing louder, steadier and more urgent the closer you came. The violin belonged to a special place within your battered heart- the noise caused goosebumps to erupt up and down your arms, despite the plentiful warmth that generated throughout the manor.

From under the closed door, a metronome prudently clicked away and your fingers immediately tapped against your petticoat in response, corresponding with it as your eyes stared into the painted wood of the door in front of you, your dominant hand resting on the gold knob.

One and a two, one and a two, one and a two...

The piece was executed flawlessly- until a new passage began and gradually fell behind the tics of the metronome and your fingers as they continuously tapped your skirt. It wasn’t long until the instrument abruptly paused, leaving the mansion to silence once again. 

“Your technique leaves much to be desired, which is why you fell behind. Perhaps a proper audience might motivate you, sir,” Sebastian suggested, his voice muffled by the door. You were in the process of turning back to the library to continue the book you had abandoned to stretch your legs, but instead, Sebastian opened the door behind you. 

“Your Highness, it would be a privilege for my master to entertain you with his most recent selection: J.S Bach’s Partita for Violin Solo,” Sebastian explained, forgoing his typical use of German, “it would be terribly rude to allow you to listen from outside as he would otherwise have it,” he said pointedly, showing you to a plush loveseat as the Earl stood, his violin and bow poised in hand while he glowered at the score on the music stand in front of him.

“I appreciate it,” you took the offered seat and watched as Sebastian started the metronome once again and pushed up his glasses, which seemed special to his role as a tutor. 

“Again, from the twelfth line. This time, perhaps watch your spiccato and left hand articulation- the aim is to hear every note unequivocally, yet remain up to speed,” Sebastian said, but you suspected that the Earl had properly tuned him out in order to prepare to lift the violin and prepare to play again. 

Your gaze was drawn to his fingers as they danced along the neck of the violin, pressing and moving every second with the tact of a seasoned player. In the light, the gems on his rings winked as the light’s perspective on them changed as he played. It was mesmerizing in a sense, watching the Earl focus on one task entirely. His eyebrows furrowed thoughtfully, drawing closer together during more difficult areas of the piece. You watched his expression remain the same during each time he ran through the section that Sebastian requested as he slowly worked through the tense parts until the butler excused himself in order to begin the preparations for supper. 

“Have you played for long?” you asked, watching as he loosened the string of his bow and began to wipe it with a small, neatly folded cloth. 

“About four years now, I believe,” he cautiously laid the bow and the violin to rest in their case. “Do you play?”

“No,” you said, without thinking. “I am much more partial to the harp- my sister played the violin,” you attempted to maintain the neutrality in your face upon recognizing your mistake. Marie was a mediocre violinist, which meant that the proper answer would have been ‘yes, but not quite so well’. Instead, you implied that Marie was a harpist and the missing, presumably dead princess played the violin. It was a fact that the royal family did not understand until you had left and there was no one playing the harp in the castle. However, it was not common knowledge that either princess had proficiency with the harp in the first place.

He wouldn’t catch such an inconspicuous mistake. 

“The harp,” Lord Phantomhive mused, as if the thought amused him. “Fitting, I reckon.”

Frankly, you couldn’t remember the last time you touched the delicate strings of a harp, the sensation of their vibrations against your fingertips. As a girl, it was the only outlet that you could express yourself without breaking any rules- for the most part, at least. 

. . .

The thick blankets of puffy snow on the ground made it so even the postage arrived late that evening, since roads leading to the countryside out of the city had yet to be cleared. Thus, the Earl flipped through the Westminster Review and you pretended to consciously read the English Woman’s Journal post-supper, between taking turns in a slow-moving chess game, rather than reading through the news at the breakfast table. 

You absentmindedly fiddled with the corner of the thin printed paper as you instead watched the Earl regard the ornate chess set that sat in the middle of you, his side black and yours white. For the second time that day, you were met with his face of complete thought and focus- even if the game was already won on his part. 

Frankly, the Earl was an aggressive player and you weren’t accustomed to someone who played sharply and meticulously at once. Not to mention, the last time you played chess, you were about twelve and huddled up in layers of clothing inside, attempting to stay warm in the conman’s measly shack as the two of you hid from the winter that nipped at your noses. “Checkmate,” he sounded as if he was much too accustomed to saying it. The smug tilt of his head merely exaggerated the false humility of his.

Even though you expected him to make that exact move, your shoulders slumped anyway as you huffed impertinently. You were never the best at losing graceful; not in the castle, not with the conman and certainly not by yourself. Especially coming off of your second loss that night. 

“This evening was the first as well as the last time I’m playing chess as your opponent, Lord Phantomhive,” you rolled your eyes, tentatively scoffing as you began to reset the board, abandoning the newspaper entirely.

“Competitive, Your Highness?”

“Everyone is,” you responded, “the nature of humanity is to win; be it a war, or a simple game of chess. I despise any loss and I’m certain you feel the same, My Lord,” you ignored the piqued quirk of his eyebrow to properly finish setting the pieces to their starting square. 

“I do fit the requisites by simply being anyone- or a human, at the very least,” Lord Phantomhive seemed almost too amused by the statement- and the entendre went above your head. What was the alternative to not being human? You weren’t one to believe in anything you could not see and if there in fact, gods and demons among civilization, surely you might have attracted one, given the life you led. However, you didn’t entertain the thought beyond a stoic chuckle. “Why don’t we begin the next round, best out of five?” he suggested.

“You’re only after the satisfaction of winning five matches against me. Two ought to be plenty,” you accused, not that you blamed him. If your strategic mind could translate to ornate pieces on a board as it did with your profession, then you would happily play the Earl time and time again simply to win.

“Fine, then. Why don’t you choose the next game?” Lord Phantomhive gestured lazily towards the armoire that stood against the wall. Sebastian opened it earlier to retrieve the chess pieces from their velvet box and among the shelves were several boxes of games- several produced by the Funtom Company. Picking one of those would be nearly an instantaneous loss, considering he had a hand in creating it. You decided to settle on a classic and gingerly pulled the box that was labeled draughts. 

Draughts was an easier game in comparison to chess- while each had clear winning objectives, draughts was a straightforward game- capture the opponent’s pieces with your own. Each had equal strength until later in the game, whereas chess was a complex strategic war from the start. Playing draughts, there was much less room for error as games ought to be. Besides, you took pleasure in watching the Earl struggling to move pieces with equal power across the board while you played checkers countless of times against the conman and his friends, on the occasion.

Before you could finish the rest of your newspaper (the poetry bit was rather strenuous to get through), one of your double-stacked pieces- a king- double jumped his, decisively ending the first game of checkers of the night. “I thought you would show more of a fight, My Lord,” you scooped a victorious hunk out of the cheesecake that Sebastian delivered minutes prior. The rich Quark cheese was sweet, marrying the tart raspberry compote that was drizzled on top, syrupy in nature as it pooled around the remnants of the cake slice.

“Chess and draughts require different sets of strategies,” Lord Phantomhive responded, feigning nonchalance so as to take the loss civilly but nevertheless, he wore his frustration on his tightly pursed lips and a lack of eye contact which he normally provided in excess. “I’d bet I could win the next round now that I’m...acquainted with your style of playing.”

“Fine,” you aquised, “one last round for tonight because I simply must see you defeated again.”

. . .

FEBRUARY 24TH, 1892

LONDON, ENGLAND

If this pedal harp had eyes, it would have glared at you from across the music room. It was taller than you- glorious and intimidating, the dozens of strings perhaps daring you to pluck at them. The column was made of solid gold and with Lord Phantomhive’s fortune, you could assume that it was as genuine as the rest of the novelties that lived among the estate. This harp was perhaps the most intricate one you had ever laid eyes on, besting the rich mahogany instrument that you learned on as a girl. It was mandatory for the princesses of Schleswig-Holstein to practice womanly, demere hobbies and paradoxically, Marie was by far the worst violinist in Europe in spite of displaying every other desirable trait a young princess could wish to emote. 

You were the most gifted musician out of the four heirs to the German throne, which was a fact that Governess Lydia preferred to keep to herself. Nobody needed to know that it was Glücksburg Castle’s Devil Child who was producing fiercely beautiful Mozart concertos from the confinement of her quarters after a good repremandment for misbehavior. 

“My master requested this pedal harp to be handcrafted for you by George W. Lyon and Patrick Healy, the founders of Lyon and Healy- an overseas company that qualifies as the cornerstone of quality instrument creation. He corresponded closely with the two men over the past week,” you could hear Sebastian’s overly saccharine simper, even as you closely inspected the floral engravings that decorated the harp’s crown, straight down to its foot. The golden column must have been polished recently but even so, it couldn’t completely outshine the work that was put into styling the harp’s wooden soundboard and the neck, which was its signature concave top. “I do hope it's to your satisfaction- the Lord Phantomhive was eager to present it himself, however-”

“He is occupied with hosting his emergent business meeting,” you interrupted haphazardly. The Earl wouldn’t care about the Funtom Company once he was dead and besides, you couldn’t seem to find out why water damage within a single cacao refinery was such a major issue. There were dozens of cacao refineries that Lord Phantomhive funded- nosing through his official documents had told you so. “Well...think nothing of it, I suppose.”

“Of course,” Sebastian bowed, his hand over his heart, “your leniency is much appreciated, Your Highness.”

“I would appreciate being left to my own about now,” your fingertips brushed over a red string, which indicated that it was a C. On the harp, the strings were colored, indicating different notes and as if in a trance, you were tempted to play more of them as Sebastian left the room. 

The blue strings were F strings, A string was the string in the middle of the groups of three, if your memory served you well. It had been about a decade since you last touched one with the intent to sit down and play. You doubted you could, the longer you stared at the abundance of strings and yet, you claimed the upholstered chair behind it anyhow, sitting down. You cautiously pulled the harp back towards you until you found its balance point and allowed it to rest gently against your chest- practically weightless.  

Your the rest of your body seemed to recognize this more than your mind as you subconsciously repositioned the front of the harp to angle it. You could hear Lydia’s seething tone telling you to keep your arms “Halten Sie Ihre Arme in einem Winkel von 45 Grad zur Senkrechten!” (Keep your arms 45 degrees from the vertical!) properly from your body, your wrists curving gently towards the strings. 

Playing the harp was your escape as a child and there you were, once again in need of an escape. Being in a strenuous position with no clear course of action...maybe you hadn’t grown nearly as much as you thought you had.

Or at all.

The back of your neck provided an affirmative stab, causing you to bite your bottom lip, paying the chapped skin over it no mind. Ignoring the reality of the situation, did you well- it chased away nightmares, the interrupting thoughts and ironically, you were sitting before an instrument that used to help you do just that. Except, all it was doing for you then was stir thoughts and memories that could have used to remain secluded for at least one more day. 

“Mozart himself would have treasured your talent, dear girl,” Ida, one of the many maids that were assigned to prepare your sister for important events said. She was tying the back of Marie’s dress from the back, the satin laces a deep abrugene to match the rest of the garment. For young girls, clothing was quite simple- pinafores, dresses, sensible flats or boots. You weren’t introduced to the horrors of training crinolines and corsets until it was the year you went missing and stayed that way. 

“It was nothing, Ida,” Marie-Louise yawned, extending her hand out to another maid, Lotte for her to slide a lace glove onto it, pulling it up to reach her forearm. The team of three maids worked around her like bees in a hive, hovering and flitting about, making useless conversation to please a girl who was nowhere near half of their age. “Music comes easy to me.”

No, it didn’t. The extent of Marie’s musical ability was to pick up a violin and brandish the bow, only to force the poor instrument to squeal about a few noises before she gave up. Marie liked everything to come easy to her- she liked to be a natural talent, a prodigy with anything she attempted. 

Music came easily to you, but within the walls of Glücksburg Castle, all you knew how to accomplish was wreak havoc and delay plans. It didn’t make sense for music to come easily to you and so, no one believed you, no matter what you said or how you said it. 

“They ought to organize a recital for you, Your Highness. Her Majesty would adore hearing you play,” Lotte suggested with a smile that seemed forced- like clothespins were pinching the corners of her lips and cheeks in place.

“Why do that when Mr. Brahms and Mr. Strauss performed for us already?” You couldn’t help but interject, their words irking you as you stood on the other side of the large quarters- in front of your own separate vanity and armoire. Two other maids, Emery and Katharina were assigned to you were also whisking around you like overeager bees, but they didn’t bother to coddle your self esteem. You appreciated that they did their job and silently at that. Nothing could convince you to forget the disappointment that furrowed their faces when they learned that they would be tended to you instead of your mother or your sister. They were treated with stiff contempt from the minute they introduced themselves in lieu of it. “They’re musical geniuses and you’re a princess.”

A lying princess, at that. 

You were asked to remain looking forward while Emery caked your face and neck in thick powder and rouge and Katharina tied a chain of pearls around it. It was the exact ensemble that your sister’s team was assembling for her, except Ida and Lotte were much less time-efficient. The point was, Marie-Louise was free to face and glare at the side of your head, her seven-year-old mind trying to formulate a witty, yet tactful response. 

“You’re a princess as well, Helena,” Marie-Louise hissed, “but you just can’t ever be normal and act like one.” It always had to come down to that, didn’t it.

“Just when did Governess Lydia teach us to lie in Etiquette Class?” You turned to your sister, which was admittedly, the equivalent of staring at a scowling mirage of yourself, who seemed to be on the verge of shedding frustrated tears. Satisfaction bloomed in your chest. “I must have properly missed such a lesson, considering everybody seems to abide by it.”

“Please, that is quite enough, miss. Supper is nearing and we wouldn’t want to present you both late. Poor form is unbecoming,” Ida, the most experienced maid only scolded you in the process of intervening. That was to be expected. 

You didn’t respond and simply allowed Emery to part and braid your hair into a tight bun as Katharina secured your boots in tense silence. Most of your life up to that point was in tense, furthering silence anyway and yet, the royal family had the audacity to be surprised when you fled.

Supper was always the same. Your older brothers, Albert and Christian sat prudently on one side of the table, you and Marie-Louise were across from them and your mother was absent, visiting the Hampton Court Palace to see the Royal School of Needlework to its opening, since she was its first president. While she was one of the most active people in the royal family in charity work, her duty as a mother ended the moment she pushed the twins out of her womb. 

“Helena,” Christian said, acting as if he had lived through the many experiences of a king in only sixteen years. “Your Royal Guard came looking for you in the cricket field this morning- again. Where were you off to today?”

“I was with Hanna,” you lied, puncturing the rough exterior of the sausage on your plate with the tip of your knife before properly slicing it. In truth, you hid yourself in the stables because the animals were better company that anyone on castle grounds. “We were-”

“When did Governess Lydia teach us to lie in Etiquette Class?” Marie-Louise mimicked your words from prior, purposely making a mockery of your voice as she scrunched her nose. “Thora went out to sit with the pigs and the filth, Christle,” she explained employing the frankly bothersome, nicknames that your grandmother started. 

Christian ignored her and instead gave your father a long look, trying to get him to instead chastise you but to no avail. His Majesty was much too occupied with attempting to stab a piece of sausage whilst reading a letter. Kingly duties- and this was what your older brothers wished to embody. 

“It’s getting cold. If you’re so compelled to ignore your duties, may as well do it safely,” Christian mumbed gruffly, causing Albert to snicker in turn. Albert had the right of it as you fought a grin, setting your utensils down to signify that you were finished with your meal- the tips of your fork and knife met on an angle at the top of your plate, similar to a triangle.

“Very well, Christle,” you stood up from your chair, breaking the code of the highest ranking individual needing to finish his meal before anyone else left the dining table. In which case, that would be your father who was still satisfying himself with a serving of knödeln- potato dumplings. He mouthed each word that he read because it was likely written in French or English. “I ought to go to amuse myself, then.”

You showed yourself back to your quarters, Ida’s pleas for you to return to the meal and properly wait for His Majesty to end it. You hesitated in front of the closed door, the impertinent anger from your sister’s mere existence returned in seconds, causing you to impulsively go to the games room, where the harp was kept, and do exactly as you were forbidden to. 

You were forbidden from playing while Marie-Louise was occupied elsewhere- a rule that Lydia had threatened you over. But the moment that servants understood that it was your mastery that filled the castle corridors, they would detest it. Marie-Louise could live with being a little less affable in their eyes and even if she could not…

Some deserved not to. 

You opened your eyes, unconscious to when they had closed. Your fingers froze, the skin on them raw and burning familiarly, your wrists protesting the angle you held them at. Your hands trembled having expertly recalled the daringly simple melody of Pachelbel’s Canon in D Major, but before you could try to recall some piece by Liszt (the name was lost to you), Mey-Rin entered which was likely for the better. You were prepared to sit on that chair until your fingers bled, in spite of what it made you recall. 

“Lunch is about ready,” Mey-Rin’s eyes were red and bleary, but you made no effort to question it, thankful that she refrained from commenting on your playing. “Are you feelin’ alright ma’am? You’ve gone a bit red.”

“Yes, thank you. I might’ve overexerted myself,” you suggested, which was true. Your head pounded the moment you tried to stand. 

“Why don’t I bring it all up to your room,” she offered, “you just rest.” She briefly looked down at her boots, presumably checking the laces because tripping was quite a common occurrence for her. How the fragile antiques that Lord Phantomhive collected remained whole was beyond you when the only maid was a clumsy and slightly gullible...täuschen, or half-wit, as the conman might’ve said. But in this case, she had a point. Nothing sounded more appealing than having lunch alone in your room- without his (snarky) Lordship.

. . .

There were no time constraints at the estate- absolutely none that told you when you could play or when you couldn’t. 

This was exactly how you found yourself before the harp once after your nightly routine concluded. You were pulling the harp back to lean on your shoulder like a woman possessed, hungry for control of some kind. Whether it be dragging the blade of a knife across your victim’s throat or more realistically, pulling the strings of a brilliant instrument that must have cost half of a fortune to commission. Besides, if you killed Lord Phantomhive, you would have to leave before having at least a few more chances to make the beautiful instrument sing.

The hour called for something demure, rather than you experimenting with what your muscle memory could or could not conjure. You immediately began with Pachelbel’s Canon in D Major once again, willing your gaze to remain on your hands, actively fighting off any intersecting train of thought while you played. You focused on every flick of your wrists, the shift of your slipper on the pedals all while your hands knew exactly where they needed to be and when. 

At least they did before the shrill vibrato of a violin interjected the alto hum made by your harp. It came from the next room over, the Earl’s office, no less clearer than it would have been from a few feet in front of you. The violin took the melody that you willingly surrendered for the sake of keeping the piece uncluttered and subtle, as it was intended to be. 

This was how Lydia wanted an accompaniment between you and Marie to play out- you vaguely recalled the sheet music that she painfully attempted to teach her. Clearly, your counterpart was never able to grasp the music well enough and the accompaniment never took place- even after you embarrassed her that night. After your father dismissed your siblings, she came to the music room and had an... entirely becoming temper tantrum in your face- such a display would have ended with you being locked in a closet for several hours. Ida simply escorted her back to the quarters you shared and made her a glass of chamomile tea to calm her down.

As the piece came to a mutual decrescendo, it slowly faded away, ending with a soft glissando. It was unlike Lord Phantomhive to give you the last word without so much as the irked look or in this case, an irked trill.

Tags: 

[tuancore]

Lost You (Part 16) Final :

Starring- Jinyoung x reader

Genre- Angst, fluff

Summary- It's your choices and actions which made you miserable.

It was taking you a whole lot of time to accept and embrace the reality, even when it was much better than the little imagination of your head. Sometimes you still wondered if it was really nothing but just a figment of your imagination, your mind playing tricks on your unconscious body and damaged brain.

It's strange how a human body functions. You visited the neurologists for the best treatments and therapy that you could receive. Examining your brain, the doctor concluded that your hippocampus which is responsible for the memory has certainly been damaged resulting in retrograde amnesia, since you don't remember anything apart from your so called traumatic imagination. Fortunately you were still able to recognise people who were your close ones.

Everyone has been very understanding and nice to you even when you've clearly dumped each and every memory you had shared with them, a river of guilt soaking you wet with each passing second whenever they tried to tell you a certain piece of your memory of how you used to be. A sad smile adorning your face, it had become like you never lived with others and Jinyoung for so many years. You lost majority of your memories with Jinyoung, you did know that you were madly in love with him but everything turned upside down for you.

Undoubtedly it was your brain who played your life in such episodes which didn't even take place, though it felt so damn real. According to the doctor, It rarely happens that some patient who is suffering from a concussion and is in coma is precisely living in their mind. You didn't really tell them about Jisoo, you just termed her as some girl you wouldn't want to ever meet in your life.

Although you've certainly accepted the loss of your memories but you still needed time to let Jinyoung in again, you didn't feel a lot comfortable around him, he sure treated you like some princess but you couldn't bring yourself to accept him, so you kept yourself far from him as much as possible. Whenever he tried talking to you, you've been cold to him, you were worried if he would grow upset and leave but no, he didn't. Instead he stuck to you.

"Jinyoung, I'm sorry" You muttered softly pulling your hands from his grasp, standing up on your feet your back facing him,"I—I know that you've been hurt and how happy you're to see me again, but..... Jinyoung" You fiddled with your fingers nervously,"I need some time,I'm not ready to love you again, it's not like I don't trust you, it's just...—".

"Shhh~" Jinyoung cut you in between standing from the couch,"I understand how you're feeling right now,you were just handed with the most shocking news of your life. I won't force you into doing anything which you are uncomfortable with, trust me...." He expressed softly, a warm smile spreading over his sharp features as he stood in front of you.

"Thank you" You smiled back,for him being so understanding, "And I'm so sorry for putting you through this—".

"Aigoo, you talk too much" He chuckled, "Neither do I require your thank you nor sorry. All I require for living is you. If you're happy then I'm happy bab—", he stopped biting his tongue, "I'm sorry for that".

"It's okay you c—can still c—call me that", You cleared your throat avoiding the eye contact, he grinned inwardly probably thinking how cute you were being right now.

"I hope we can start off as friends then, as housemates. I promise no funny business", he asked raising his pinky finger for you to entangle in his which you did with a hesitant smile.

Since then you and Jinyoung have been sleeping in two different rooms, you're quite surprised at the amount of patience he has. He probably does everything which an ideal husband should. Yes, a husband and not a boyfriend. It sometimes makes you wonder what kind of memories you actually shared with Jinyoung, how was it to be newly in love with him, what all things about him intrigued you, what was that about him which really made you fall for him.

You started spending your time with others, you did say that you no longer consider your traumatic experience, yet in some corner of your heart, you were terrified since it was the only thing that you remember, that's it. The hardest was to meet with Youngjae. However, he showed you the photo albums which had both of your past times captured, he also took you out to the places, where you both used to enjoy hanging out and playing around with eachother.

Jinyoung mostly spend his afternoons and evenings in his office working diligently but always managed to call you once in a while to ask you if you had eaten your lunch, had your medicines on time, if you were reading anything in particular. You were mostly bored at home, unless one of your friends took you out with them. Jinyoung made sure you had no household chores to be worried about, he used to clean and arrange the entire house before you could open your eyes in the morning, mostly he went office without you knowing, your breakfast already prepared, ready to be consumed.

BamBam and Mark often came over to play video games with you whenever you were alone, Yugyeom and Jackson taught you some of their dance moves which was better way to stay fit than gyming out according to them while you went out with Jinyoung and Jaebeom to book stores and coffee shops, and you genuinely appreciated each one of their efforts. They have always been your family but now the picture was getting more clear.

On his days off, Jinyoung used to take you out on small dates, exactly how you liked. No fancy restaurants with people wearing tuxedos and silk dresses instead you liked strolling around the streets at night, playing at amusement park, eating ice creams, spending that quiet moment at Han river, you didn't really recalled that you liked those until Jinyoung informed you.

You knew that behind that adorable smile and soft affectionate eyes was a hurting heart, he was sorely hurting himself more and more just to mend yours. At the beginning you were somewhat scared of Jinyoung, of course he felt foreign to you, but you weren't to him, Most of the times when you tried putting yourself in his shoes, it broke your heart every single time.

"Noona!" BamBam and Yugyeom nudged your arm from either side.

"Yeah yeah", You answered staring back at them. "You've been zoning out, are you okay?" Yugyeom asked.

"I'm fine, just thinking about something", You replied still staring into the void. "Something or someone?" BamBam smirked. Had it been some other time you would have smacked them, but it made you blush.

"Can I ask you guys something?", You said aloud gaining all six of their attentions, eyes watching you intently,"Go ahead", JB motioned.

"Do you guys think that I'm hurting Jinyoung?" You asked nervously. They all laughed softly as if you could not say something more stupid than this, "I really did....".

Youngjae shrugged BamBam and Yugyeom from beside you, conquering the right side on the couch while Jackson sat on the left, tears brimming in your eyes.

"Shhh~" Youngjae wiped your tears lightly pulling your cheeks, "You can never hurt him, this is just a hard phase that you both will eventually get over with, together".

"What made you think that you are hurting him?" Jackson added, you faced him with a sad eyes,"I—I don't know....it just feels so, he is always smiley face whenever he's with me, but blame my heart because it says that he's somewhere hurting real bad", You explained.

"That's true, he is hurting real bad", JB began as soon as you locked eyes with him, he smiled "But not because of you, he is hurting because of the distance you both have, he's not blaming you for any of that actually he's happy because you....." He pointed at you "You are his heart, is with him but not within him. You know we've seen him crying and mourning over you the entire time. But other than consoling him and encouraging him we had nothing to do".

"He barely ate, barely slept. He kept on switching between you and his work yet managed to do both of them perfectly. We are aware about your condition, and please don't feel as if you asking for sometime was wrong. It was right in your place" Mark explained, "But we also have seen him longing for you, praying continuously for your well being to God, he was dying to hold you in his arms where you belonged".

"Your brain might've deceived you, but your heart won't, the feelings, the emotions and the love that you hold for him will forever be engraved there, because you both love eachother", Youngjae expressed while others nodded in approval.

Tears flowed constantly down your cheeks to your neck, not bothering to wipe them you still listened to each of their views with blurry eyes.

__________

Jinyoung called you in the evening letting you know that he'll be working late, with a quiet yet affectionate 'I Love You', which you obviously didn't reply back.

It's been six months already since you and Jinyoung restarted off as friends. Not even once did he cross the line, although he had every right to hold you in his arms and behave like a possessive boyfriend, instead he gave you so much freedom, just for your sake. He never touched you, not even your hands and it was about time you knew that he is the one for you, he didn't had to really touch you to make you feel things, to make you see how much he loves you because his eyes were enough to tell that you are his world, You are his life, And if you are not here, Then he won't be able to survive.

And the way he took care of you for past six months without asking for anything in return, if this isn't love then you were genuinely not interested in knowing it's actual definition.

Thinking everything to yourself, you drifted off to sleep hugging onto a pillow. Later when Jinyoung arrived home, it was 2am in the morning he was always cautious of his actions and he didn't want to wake you up right now at any cost. He gently pushed open the door to your bedroom, seeing you sleeping peacefully with your luscious hair sprawled over your pillow and some of the locks cascading your face, Jinyoung smiled softly feeling content, walking towards your form, he crouched down on his knees to see your face.

The moonlight landing on your face, making you look ethereal to him, the way your skin shimmered with the moonlight. He could sit and watch you like this for day and night without even blinking. Jinyoung lightly raised his fingers to side your locks being extra careful to not to touch your skin.

"I'm sorry, I promised not to touch you but it's just it's hard to hold back", Jinyoung apologized, finally caressing your head lovingly. "I'm sorry that I'm busy with all these office works and I'm unable to give you time, it's been hectic lately. Sometimes things get so.......so—that I just want to run to you telling you about my problems, like I used to. Your eyes, your smile was enough to say that everything will be alright.....but nothing about you is same anymore, why are you still so uncomfortable with me? I want you back please......When will we be like before?".

"Baby....I am not blaming you for any of that, I can understand. When you were admitted to the hospital the doctors almost gave up, they said that— that.... Maybe y—you won't survive, but I wasn't ready to let you go...hell I won't ever be ready to let you go ever......before losing you I would want to die, seeing you on that hospital ward was enough to wreck me, God knows how many times I wished it was me rather than you lying lifeless ".

Jinyoung has been keeping his feelings bottled up since then, and today they spilled out. He sobbed caressing your hair, "But the look you gave me when I first tried to hug you, I can never forget how hard it hit my heart. You were scared of me...... but I'm glad that you didn't leave me, you decided to stay with me....under the same roof and that was enough. I won't ever give up on you on our love, I love you and I've faith on my love that one day you'll feel the same for me.....till then I'll wait, I'll wait baby".

He stood up from the floor, pressing his lips lightly to your forehead which lingered for awhile, "I Love You so much....". With that he tip-toed out of your room closing the door behind him.

Tears rolled from either side of your eyes onto your pillow, you were asleep but when you heard his voice. You woke up, sobbing to yourself. He sounded so broken. It's not that he didn't listen what role he played in your imagination, it already pained him but the fact that it was making you act accordingly to your imagination in front of him, was stinging his heart.

________

You squirmed under the the sheets as soon as the sunrays landed on your face, seeping through curtains, the blinding light making you squint your eyes still trying to sleep even when you were awake by then. Suddenly you no longer felt the warmth on your face, opening your eyes. You were met with the most pleasant sight ever, and you finally admitted it.

Jinyoung's head blocking the sunrays, locking eyes with his soft alluring ones, you couldn't help but stare at them quite for some time, how can you not look at him when he was staring at you with so much love and affection. You almost lost it when the corners of his mouth tugged upward into a dazzling smile reaching his eyes and you swore it was the first time you noticed him smiling that wide, his eyes crinkling.

"I didn't mean to wake you up" He chuckled nervously, standing up on his feet from the exact spot he was sitting the previous night, sitting up on the bed, you smiled, "It's okay. I was up anyways".

"I brought you breakfast, it's not much though. I woke up late as well, so it was the fastest that I could prepare", He stated, rubbing his nape in embarrassment. That's when your gaze landed on the small glass table in your room, a tray which had french toast and a glass of orange juice.

"You're still here?" You inquired since Jinyoung is barely home in the morning due to his early departure for the office.

"Today's Sunday".

Nodding a little, you got up from the bed standing right in front of him, "Did you eat?".

"Not yet—"

"I'll just go and freshen up, let's eat together", You beamed brightly at him, which for sure made his heartbeat escalate to the sky, "S—Sure", he stammered picking up the tray, leaving your room immediately.

The breakfast grew quite awkward which you both knew about, he informed you about him being free today so if you wanted to go somewhere or wanted to do something, you were yourself feeling very nervous, fidgeting with your finger you asked, "Can we just stay home?".

"Yeah, of course".

"So would you like to have a movie marathon or something?".

Jinyoung got scared suddenly as to why were you not in the mood for movies, as far as he has come to know the new you, you liked watching movies and playing video games on Sundays, then why were you acting so strange.

"If I did something wrong unintentionally then please forgive m—".

"Jinyoung, can we have a reading session?" You suggested, cutting in.

"Yes of course!" He agreed happily, "I have a whole lot of books to read, you can sit on the couch, and I'll sit there", He pointed at the bean bag at the corner of the living room.

You could see how his eyes glowed just by hearing the term 'Books', which also made you smile. Within a minute he was back with a bundle of books in his hand.

"I didn't know which one to pick so I brought all, you can pick any one", he said, extending his arms for you to choose a book from. Instead you grabbed the bundle from his hands.

"Not here, in our room", You chimed, running to your room. The feeling of your unstable heartbeat wasn't foreign at all, instead it felt home. Jinyoung on the other hand dumbfounded by your words. Did you just say what he thought he heard?

Jinyoung felt as if he was falling for you all over again, and that he was trying to approach you, living young love once again. He stood awkwardly waiting for you to command him further, you've been so quiet and simple around Jinyoung, always talking to him in monotone, that he didn't even dare to move a finger against your will. And now when you're finally being soft to him, yet he doesn't have any idea what to do.

You gently held his wrist dragging him to your bed making him sit, he watched you with those lost puppy eyes, "I know that you like to read while laying down on bed, with your head against the headboard, I've seen you reading in that room".

Reluctantly he positioned himself on the bed, his head against the headboard. You immediately placed a pillow on his back so that it won't kill his muscles. Motioning him to begin reading, you flipped through the pages of your book, sitting on the bed beside Jinyoung.

Two minutes into the reading and you could already see Jinyoung with his nose buried deep into the book, while you kept on stealing glances at him, for the first time you were paying so much attention to Jinyoung after waking up from coma, the way his soft black locks were parted revealing his milky forehead,to his perfectly shaped dark eyebrows, to his beautiful almond shaped eyes, to his long straight nose, to his soft plump pink lips.

Holding the book firmly in your hand, you climbed on the bed, taking advantage of Jinyoung's concentrated mind you gently laid your head on his thighs, a shy smile adorning your face as if it was the most normal thing to do. You stared at the words and sentences blankly written in the book, hoping for Jinyoung to say something.

Jinyoung flinched slightly feeling your head against his thighs, more than anything he was surprised to see you initiating the physical contact with him. Lowering his book, he glanced at you who was busy reading, or maybe pretending to be busy with reading.

"What are yo—you d—doing?" He croaked out, his throat drying, he knew how much you disliked to have any sort of physical contact with him. Finally getting a response from him, so the tables have turned now. He was being scared of you.

"What do you mean?" You teased him, with your head still on his thighs. "You—I mean.....it's—", he couldn't even form a proper sentence.

"I'm lying on my Jinyoung's thighs, you got a problem with that?"

Your response shocked the hell out of Jinyoung, his heart stopped for a moment, keeping his book aside, he fixed his gaze on your face which had a pretty grin.

"What did you just say?" He exhaled desperately.

"You are my Jinyoung" You remarked softly, your heart hammering against your chest cavity so loud that you could actually hear it. Swiftly crawling up his legs, you settled on his lap straddling his hips, "You're mine right?", You asked cupping his face in your hands staring deep into his hypnotic eyes.

"Only yours", He whispered both of your faces merely an inch apart, he was getting high just by inhaling your intoxicating smell, it was taking every single fibre in him to resist the urge to kiss you then and there.

"What are you doing?" He whispered, without breaking the eye contact, "Don't—". You shushed him putting your index finger on his lips, "I'll speak and you'll listen".

"I'm sorry. I never wanted to hurt you.....it was just....I genuinely needed some time to put myself in place. But trust me, I never hated you, I was just being cautious. I'm sorry", You cried. Wiping your flowing tears from his thumb, he shook his head, "Don't apologize, I know how difficult it was for you".

"I shouldn't have distanced you from myself when all you did is love me and care for me without asking for anything in return, and not even once did you try to claim me. You selflessly kept me first when your own heart was in pain. Jinyoung.....I can't bring back the old me but I promise that with my new self I'll love you the way you love me, maybe more but nevertheless".

He was speechless at your confession, he never saw that coming from you atleast not like this or anytime soon. The position you both were in was already quite intimate and none of you wanted to let go of eachother. The shimmer of love heavily clouding both of your orbs, were enough to pull both of you to eachother, sending you both overdrive.

"So, Will you forgive me for putting you through all of this alone?", You asked your thumb caressing his cheeks ever so lightly.

Already drowning in your captivating essence, he nodded like a puppet.

"Will you forgive me for keeping you away from your love?".

Nod.

"Will you let me make things right between us?", Your fingers gliding from his cheeks to his jaw.

Nod.

"Will you let me love you all over again?", Your thumb caressing his bottom lip.

Jinyoung was thrown to some trance called you, the way you were straddling his hips with both of your chests pressed against eachother. Such unexpected loving confessions coming from you, in your sexy husky voice was driving him insane. His gaze switching between your inviting lips and your adorable eyes.

"Yes.."

Without any second thoughts, you pressed your lips against his soft ones into a small yet passionate kiss, just to seal your feelings for him, Jinyoung was too dumbfounded to comprehend while you pulled back.

"Did you— Did you just express......that you love..me?".

Pouting childishly, you stared at the wall pretending to be thinking, "Maybe....", Your taunting voice made him smile too.

"I'm sorry for making you wait so long but now, when we finally have eachother I don't want to stay away from you even for a second".

"That means I've full authority on you then?" Jinyoung teased back, with a grin slipping his hands behind your back pulling you closer to him. Your heart literally skipping thousand beats per second, "Yes your highness".

"I don't think that kiss was a real kiss", He smirked, putting your arms behind his neck, you encouraged, "Why don't you show me then?". And he didn't have to be told twice, he pushed you off his lap, pinning you on the bed with your hands on either side of you.

"Are you sure?", He breathed, slightly grazing his teeth over your ear, the sensation of him being so close to you made you blush in different shades of red, you faced the other side closing your eyes shut, "Where did my bold little angel go?".

Had it been earlier you would've cowered away, hearing 'Angel' from him. But the reality is where you will reside with your love, with your soulmate, with your Jinyoung.

"She's right before you, so will you kiss me or not" You provoked him with a sly grin. He chuckled heartily, attaching his lips to your plump ones again, both of your eyes closed. The kiss started slow but passionate, your hand flying to his nape bringing him closer to you if that could be possible, both of your love and emotions entirely poured into the kiss, none of you wanted to pull apart.

If there could be a proper definition of drugs then it would definitely be Jinyoung for you, you cursed yourself in your head for not doing this before, for not letting Jinyoung in sooner. His arms felt home and you were more than happy to be back in your home and God, you will never let anyone come in between you both ever.

Reluctantly pulling away from eachother for oxygen, you both inhaled heavily still staring at eachother affectionately. A fond smile appearing at both of yours lips, resting his forehead against yours, Jinyoung whispered, "I really missed you, I promise to look after you all of my life and not to do anything which will cause us to lose eachother. I love you angel, I love you so much".

"I Love You more Nyoungie", You smiled back, closing your eyes.

__________

"Lisa! Lisa! Here here!" BamBam and Youngjae shouted waving their hands at Lisa who looking here and there trying to locate the sources. Finally finding BamBam and Youngjae waving and yelling frantically, Lisa ran upto her boyfriend hugging him tightly. BamBam twirled Lisa around in his embrace kissing er head.

Youngjae made gagging noises, the same way BamBam did seeing couples showing PDA. Lisa grinned happily, greeting Youngjae.

"It took you so long! You said it would be three day thing and you're returning after a week!" BamBam whined.

"I had to attend the fashion event, the last minute. I couldn't back out" Lisa whined back convincing BamBam, "Leave all this how's unnie and Jinyoung, are they......".

"Yeps they are together finally! Noona accepted all of us and she can't wait to meet you, she didn't really get to meet you earlier".

You and Jinyoung along with other decided to call for a celebration, since you both have finally found way back to eachother plus Lisa was also coming back to Seoul today.

"The restaurant is quite impressive", You commented sitting beside Jinyoung who was cladded in a gorgeous Black Armani suit.

"Thanks to Mark hyung's friend, he owns this pretty restaurant", Jinyoung replied pecking your cheeks despite everyone eyeing you guys. The place was definitely expensive, one can tell just by looking at its interiors and fine lightings.

Lisa entered with BamBam along with her new friend which she met back in Australia who was surprisingly one of the youngest female CEO's of an IT company in Seoul. BamBam immediately rushed upto his friends hugging them one by one. Lisa glanced her friend whose gaze was focused on certain someone.

Nudging her friend's arms, Lisa warned quietly, "I hope you are not still crushing over him, Jinyoung is a taken man....Jisoo".

Facing Lisa with an innocent smile, Jisoo replied, "Of course not....", Thats when Lisa was summoned by BamBam, she motioned Jisoo to follow behind.

Watching Lisa walk to them, Jisoo smirked, crossing her arms to her chest, "I am not crushing over him Lisa.... because I love him".

"I am looking forward to know you personally, Park Jinyoung", her gaze fixed on Jinyoung who was whispering something into your ear making you giggle.

Part 15 // Part 16 (End) // ___________________________

(A/N: So I'm finally done with this FF, I hope you guys enjoyed it. See you next time. And thank you~~~) __________________________________

[spaceskam]

I know you posted those prompts a long time ago hausjeb but if you're interested maybe 36 "you've shown me what love can feel like" for davenzi? (btw you're writing is p amazing)

i’m sorry this is like a million years late and i mixed the prompt up a bit, but I hope you like it! 

ao3

“Stop it!”

Matteo jumped, looking over at David with wide eyes even as he reached over to stop Matteo’s leg from bouncing.  David had his head tilted toward him and his lips pursed, silently telling him he basically didn’t have a choice but to listen.

“Stop what?” Matteo asked, tapping his fingers against the back of David’s hand.  David captured his fingers in his own, huffing in disbelief despite the smile on his face.

“Fidgeting!  You’re making me nervous,” David said, rubbing his thumb into Matteo’s knee.

“I am nervous,” Matteo nearly whined before he sighed, slumping heavily against David, “I’ve never brought anyone to meet my mom before.” David hummed, pressing his lips to Matteo’s head.

“What, you think she won’t like me?” he asked.  Matteo wiggled his fingers out of David’s hold and began tracing the lines on his palm.  He wished they weren’t on a bus.  It’d make it easier to curl up against him.  Maybe he’d be less freaked the fuck out.

“No.  It’s impossible to not like you,” Matteo mumbled, closing his eyes as he leaned more into David and felt his lips press harder against his head. “She’s super religious.”

“Why does that sound like a warning?”

“Because it is.”

David hummed in response, trailing kisses from his temple down to his lips.  It was a short and very chaste kiss, but it had Matteo feeling slightly dizzy and took away some of his stress. It was still there and thriving, though.  Even when he opened his eyes and got a lovely view of David’s face, he was still nervous as fuck.  He was regretting agreeing to this mess more and more by the minute.  Maybe they could bail and just go home.

���I thought you said she was okay with you being gay, with you dating me,” David said. His words held an unspoken meaning, kindly asking if they were about to walk into an environment he would much rather avoid.  Matteo nudged his nose against David’s chin.

“She said she is.  I’m still scared. I… I don’t want you thinking anything,” Matteo mumbled, turning his face into David’s shoulder.  Take me home instead, please.  He couldn’t ask out loud.

“Baby, why would I think something about you based on what she does?” he asked, weaving their fingers together.  Matteo groaned, squeezing closer into his side.  “Talk to me.  What’s so scary?  Talk it out.” Matteo let out a steady breath, slightly regretting telling David about his therapist’s advice.  The whole ‘talk about it, don’t let it built until you burst’ thing was absolutely fantastic when the troubles were mainly about his own brain.  This was about someone else’s and that always upped the fear.

However, he knew David was serious about it.  He always was.  They both had issues with talking out their problems and it really helped when they were able to push each other from a point of understanding. It made it less scary to admit.  The difference was they typically spoke about these things in the dark of their bedroom at who-the-fuck-knows in the morning and not on a bus.  Still, he might as well talk before David gets annoyed with him.

“I… I don’t know.  I just want her to get it.  I want her to see that I’ve found someone who taught me I’m lovable, taught me how to love in a healthy way.  I want both my parents to see it,” he admitted softly, prodding his thumb against the seam on David’s pants.  Eye contact wasn’t an option.  David slipped his hands into his hair.  “But it’s not even because I want them to think we’re cute or out of pride of my lucky fucking catch.  I really, really want to make them feel guilty.  I never came first with them, I was a major afterthought at best.  I was an accident and not a happy one.  I want them to realize that it took me eighteen fucking years before I realized I wasn’t just a burden to every single person I loved. I feel like if they don’t see it, if it just goes right over their heads, it’ll be the worst thing in the world.”

Now he really wanted to go home.

“I understand that,” David whispered, pulling back Matteo’s hair and placing a kiss to his forehead.  “I don’t know how I feel about being brought to dinner as a giant middle finger of love, but it’s okay.” Somehow, Matteo smiled.

“Middle finger of love sounds like a weird 60’s hippie rock band,” he mentioned.  David snorted, shaking his head before placing another kiss on his cheek.  He wanted to be smothered in David kisses.  How did he ask that politely?

“Maybe so.  But, seriously, it’s going to be fine.  We’ll go in, we’ll have dinner.  If she doesn’t see the progress you’ve made and if she doesn’t see how loved you are, then that’s on her.  Don’t feel bad for what she can’t provide, it isn’t your fault,” David promised, draping his spare arm around Matteo’s body and pulling him impossibly close.  Matteo folded into him, letting go of his hand so he could wrap his other arm around him. David knew him too well, it was like a godsend.  He hugged him so tightly that it almost made it hard to breathe and that was exactly how he liked it.

“I think she’s better.  Or getting better, trying.  Trying to be there for me.  Doesn’t it make me kind of a dick for wanting to rub it in her face that I had to find someone else to help me?” David sighed softly, giving him a tight squeeze.

“Matteo, don’t ever feel bad for the way that you feel.  You’re allowed to be hurt by how they treated you when you were growing up, you’re allowed to want to show how much you’ve grown.  I don’t think you should make it worse, but I definitely think you’re allowed to have feelings about what happened.  That’s what shaped you.  And while I’m so, so thankful that she made you, I also have my own issues with the environment they raised you in.  But, still, I’m not going to be a dick about it because the world still turns.  The world is always turning no matter how bad something hurts you, so don’t feel bad about feeling it, it’s just a minute in time,” David told him.  Matteo swallowed the spit in his mouth, opening his eyes to look at David.  What the fuck did he do to deserve this?  Surely nothing that good.  There’s no amount of good karma that he put in the world that could’ve produced David for him.

“I really fucking love you,” Matteo murmured, pressing a kiss to his lips.

“You’ll love me even more when I say we can stay in bed for at least 24 hours after we get home,” David said against his lips, giving that satisfied little smile.  If he didn’t love him before, Matteo definitely loved him now.  He couldn’t wait to slip back into bed with him.  That was his favorite part of the day, of life even.

But then the bus strolled to a stop and he was rudely dragged back to reality.

“C’mon, it’s gonna be fine,” David insisted, pulling him to his feet.  Matteo took a heavy breath, letting him take his hand and lead him off the bus.

It was going to be one hell of a night.

[uriduriragwaenchana]

All of your attention pt1 || Wong Yukhei (f)

a/n: a very cute anon requested this a while ago. I'm sorry it took so long I was trying to make sure I had enough information on the subject to write about it😅thank you for bearing with me

genre: fluff! cafe!au Its a little dramatic but so am I so..

words: approx. 2.6k

summary: Why would he think ignoring him was something anyone could do on purpose?

☕

"I brought you help," He smiled with all of his teeth, his eyes squeezing shut as he tossed a look back to where he'd left the stranger, the new boy, petting the animals. That was exactly how it started.

Johnny had worked at the puppy cafe for quite a while before you'd been hired and he'd done a number when it came to marketing and advertising the small place, tucked away on the far end of a busy shopping district.

His face helped, he wasn't bad looking; he was actually quite stunning and he was even more charming and friendly once you got over thinking how people really weren't allowed to look like that-- coupled with the visual of his tall frame feeding and caring for small animals and making frappecionos with a towel over his shoulder-- well, you can imagine why there were always people in the store and a small line down the street.

Aside from that he made a mean cup of coffee and kept little cute flyers with him so that even when he was approached randomly or met someone at a supermarket or elsewhere, he'd hand it to them and smile and then they'd come running through the door the first chance they got.

He was sociable and easy to talk to and sometimes he invited his friends to watch him work, which usually consisted of them ignoring him and spending the afternoon playing with cute pups. They were wellmannered and just as goodlooking and made easy conversation with you when they weren't giving their undivided attention to the animals or when you tended to their glasses for refills.

The days when Johnny was off were noticably more quiet and easy going, which you preferred. Sure, you enjoyed his company but when it was busy, it was hard for you to concentrate and stay focused, and most of all it was hard to make out what any one of the customers were saying when there was soft music from the speakers, puppies barking and growling and chatter, with 'ooohs' and 'aaahs' directed almost always toward Johnny.

Oh and the puppies.

Today was no different, save for a few middle schoolers sipping distractedly on iced coffee with two, mild mannered labs sat on the seat next to them, eager for any sort of attention.

You didn't expect Johnny to come in today because he'd called in earlier about his practice running a little late and you most certainly did not expect for him to bring friends. Luckily you were facing the door, cleaning up after Yuki; the toffee coloured shitzu, otherwise you'd have missed the little bell on the door ding and Johnny coming in, followed into the store by another giant boy with the biggest, most endearing eyes and an oversized blue sweater and messy, soft brown hair.

The puppies went straight for the stranger like they'd been waiting for his return (even if you were sure you'd never seen him before) and started licking and wagging excitedly as he ran his hands over them, eyes alight in jovial delight.

☕

Ever since then, the tiny, fairly profitable puppy cafe had had a new addition to its staff. Lucas-- who reminded you so much of Sushi, the doe-eyed beagle mix that always found the strangest assortment of accessories from god knows where around the store and dropped them at your feet-- wasn't much older than you were and probably half as capable. He was a clutz and a little bit of a ditz and you suspected that it was that naïve charm about him that was so endearing to the customers. They never seemed to get mad or impatient with him when he mixed up an order or put a little too much sugar in the drinks and he drew the younger kids in by the boatload. The coffeemaker was his nemesis and the trio of pugs that were brought in by one of the usual customers-- a high school boy with soft smiling eyes and beautiful lashes--named Blondie, Raven And Carmine respectively, always made his life miserable.

You would admit, however that Lucas was kind of cute. His hair was always a fluffy storm, like he'd ran his hands through it too many times in one second. His hands dwarfed the puppies and most of the kitchen appliances and utensils. His mannerisms were also kind of adorable; he mumbled a lot to himself--which you found out when he was training, and only because you'd been looking at him directly. He was asked to make a basic iced coffee and when he moved behind the counter to begin, immediately started the inner and sometimes outer conversation with the appliances. You could read his lips but at some point you'd decided there were multiple languages involved and you wouldn't try to decipher that.

Overall, very cute.

He wasn't however, as articulate or friendly as Johnny; who now spent more time out of the store now that Lucas had begun his shifts more regularly. He'd been a recurring staff member for a little over two months now and during that time, Lucas hadn't tried speaking to you unless he had to and tended to side step you altogether. You hadn't minded at first, you were a little shy about certain things about yourself and it was fine, if only a little hurtful but you weren't going to make trouble unless he was being rude.

You were perfectly content to remain cordial colleges; you each had your routine duties-- he took out the trash and cleaned the dog's sleeping area, you cleaned and stacked chairs on close up and took care of the counter and kitchen area. You both fed and cared for the animals and washed the dishes in peaceful silence-- and you were comfortable enough in his presence to get through the day without major upset. Until one day he broke part of the coffee machine and you'd decided to make the executive decision, after calling Johnny and talking about it for five minutes; to close up shop about an hour early, put the pups away to their little room in the back wih sufficient food and toys to entertain them, and try to fix the machine since it only seemed like the lever had detatched itself in Lucas' all-encompassing grip.

"What do we do?" his hands found their way into his hair as he turned to you when you'd came back, shoving the phone into your apron.

"We can try to fix it, no biggie," You assured the little big baby standing and staring, absolutely distraught. He was truly adorable.

It in fact, was a biggie and before the minute of faux repairing was up, there were more loose parts than you knew what to do with and very little idea of what to do next. You did not want to call Johnny with this information. You wanted to believe you were more than capable of doing this on your own. You were not inept; the coffee machine was Lucas' enemy, not yours.

☕

Some time during the next half hour, Lucas had managed to find a toolbox in the storage room, the cafe had been closed for much longer than you'd have liked and both of you were still no closer to fixing the machine than you'd been when you started. Your patience with the contraption was starting to wear a bit thin and Lucas was visibly agitated-- kind of the first truly negative emotion you'd seen him express.

"This isn't working," you didn't hear the metal wrench clank against the tile countertops, but you did see Lucas plop down into the plushy seat Johnny had purchased at a flea market and stuck behind the counter for 'atmosphere', his full lips pulling together in an exaggerated pout. "Oh geez, its all my fault too."

"Not really." Yes really... "You've actually been doing really great so far," You were not entirely sure what prompted you to respond, honestly. He wasn't speaking to you, but you'd managed to make out what he said and he looked like very much like a wounded puppy. You wanted to at least lessen whatever he was feeling and your heart may have lurched a little when he looked up at you from his seat, eyes wide and a little bit of a smile dancing at the corner of his mouth.

"I mean you put a little too much effort in sometimes but... " you rushed, letting the sentence hang and turning away as your face began to sear, back to your task at hand. If you looked him in the eye again you were sure you would crumble and right now, you wanted nothing more than to fix the stupid machine and get back to work.

There was a beat before you felt movement at your back and spun, immediately met face to chest with Lucas' mass of body.

"You're doing it again," he said crowding your space like it wasn't even yours to begin with. Everything was a blur and before you realised what had happened, your lower back was met with a lever on the machine and you were sandwhiched between the two, confused and flustered. Your most innate reaction was to try to put some space between the two of you. He was much too close; you could practically feel his body through his clothes and your brain was starting to dissasociate with this personal space nonsense. You forced your hands up though, and angled your body away as best you could without impaling yourself further on the now, broken coffee maker.

"Doing what?" you sputtered, trying to keep eye contact with him somehow so you could try to pick up what he was saying but also trying to regain some of your composure. Lucas wasn't having any of it though, completely oblivious to your struggle as he tilted his head to look down at you.

"You're ignoring me. You've been doing it since I got here; I try to talk to you or ask you questions like when we do dishes and stuff because I'm really trying and this is really hard, but you keep ignoring me and I'm kind of hurt and annoyed." His eyebrows furrowed and he was pouting again. You were very hyper aware of all his facial details and not the not so subtle changes in his expression; the unreal process of a frown glossing over his features was kind of mesmerising.

Why was he so... pretty?

He was too close.

Your breath got stuck in your throat and you froze as the implications of what he had said dawned on you. Of course Johnny hadn't told him; he was too kind, too Johnny. He would want your business to be your business. He would let you confide in Lucas on your own like you'd done with him. A very small part of you kind of wished he had told him so you wouldn't have to go through this again now, but you realized that potentially would have been worse than his entrappment. Apart from this being the most he's ever said to you-- well now you knew that probably wasn't true-- you had a good few of reasons to be taken aback.

Why would he think ignoring him was something anyone could do on purpose? Surely he was aware of how large he was; physically and personality-wise as well? This did seem to explain his occasional mild standoffishness and you thought back to all the times your back must have been turned to him and he'd probably tried to say something to you.

Poor kid; he was trying his best and struggling and he was just trying to talk to you or make a friend. You wanted to facepalm but your hands were keeping you alive so you settled for groaning softly. Would apologising even help?

Not if you weren't going to tell him.

You swallowed another groan and attempted again to put some space between you. This time Lucas got the message and took one tentative step back. That did nothing, but it was enough for you to bring a hand up to brush some of your short hair behind your ear, revealing the tan aid you had in today. You didn't usually wear them, but you were kind of glad you did because now you didn't have to focus on explaining, just keeping the anxiety and embarrassment from showing on your face. People very rarely cared, most did however and decided against any type of relationship with you because of it.

"I don't ignore you on purpose," was all you could get past your lips at this point.

Lucas retook the space he'd just barely given you, reaching a hand up and out to you. You held your breath; your first instinct again, to move. Move and then panic although the latter seemed to sprint ahead first. What if he was trying to touch it? You were not an animal. And you were going to  muster some annoyance to tell him off or at the very least move away, but his hand stopped short, grazing your skin, stroking your cheek ever so lightly before he pulled back half second later. He was staring and all that served to do was make your skin hot and your knees waver in and out of stability. This was a very bad idea and he needed to stop looking at you like you were... normal. He wasn't staring at it, although he had briefly glanced, but rather he was staring at you, his eyes settling on yours.

"What?" you tried to keep the anticipation out of your voice. This was killing you. His eyes ran over your face endlessly, what he was looking for you weren't exactly sure. What you were sure of however, was how ridiculously easy it would be to stare at his eyes forever without wanting for anything else. They were so pretty and bare and screamed of his harmlessness. He could probably kill you if he hugged you too tightly and the damage he had made to coffee maker was minimal, but even if he looked like a threat to most inanimate objects and short people, you knew he was harmless. He probably just didn't know his own strength.

"So... you just weren't hearing me?"

You winced and dropped your gaze. This was so embarrassing and talking about it so casually was just making you want to crawl inside yourself. You weren't embarrassed to be hard of hearing, nor were you embarrassed of the aids; you'd needed them since you were very young, and you knew you weren't an anomoly-- there were tons of people like you and you liked yourself because of it, not in spite of it. These conversations were always uncomfortable though because you never knew what type of reaction you would get. You finally grew some balls and slid out from practically under Lucas, sliding across the edge of the counter. Now you could almost breathe again, although now there a was a familiar, Lucas-sized indent in your memory and on your body.

"Yea," you didnt elaborate or offer any types of explanation. Anything that would prolong this conversation was not something you wanted to do right now.

"Oh my god?" you and Lucas jolted, spinning around to where the voice of pure distress had come from. Johnny's large frame shimmied between the beaded curtain seperating the puppy room from the main cafe, his hair hanging low in his eyes and coated in sweat like he'd ran all the way from practice. He wasnt panting, but he was breathing raggedy as he stared between you both, who looked like you'd kick the shit out of the coffee maker and won. Secretly, you were ecstatic that'd he'd come despite you begging him to just let you deal with it. Even without knowing, he was saving your behind. "I thought you said it was just a lever?!"

[notsodailykanji]

Hi! Your blog is absolutely great, it got me in the frame of mind to start practising Japanese again, so thank you! ^_^ I have a question about studying hiragana/katakana (ik this blog is kanji but I assumed you're pretty good at kana too?) : how does one become fast at reading? I know all the kana characters, but it takes a while to decode things, even without trying to translate at the same time. Maybe I just need to practise more? Do you have any methods for speedier reading? Thanks again!

Firstly, I’m honoured to have motivated you in your studies! I think my blog is only a humble affair but I’m glad to have been some help.

I may be wrong, but I’m going to make a deduction based on what you said that may get to the heart of the issue. If the following assumptions that I make are way off the mark, forgive me. If you’re like me, you’ll have prioritised learning kana, and then vocabulary and maybe some grammar, whilst probably leaving kanji to one side, largely untouched. The result of this is that you might know a lot of vocabulary in kana, but not in kanji, and trying to read sentences entirely in kana can be very difficult because kana alone does not give you many “cues”. Let me give you an example.

なんじですか？　

Now, you probably now this phrase inside out, and most other people reading this could probably guess at the meaning of that sentence. Of course, it means “What time is it?”. You can probably seperate the words into なん、じ、ですか？. The reason you can easily disect all of that hiragana into seperate words is because you learned them seperately. And for small sentences, this works fine. However, the real problem with trying to read a sentence entirely in hiragana is that there is no “cues”. You can’t obviously tell whether the first word is なん or なんじ just by looking at the sentence - but you know because you’ve learned it. Again, in small sentences, this doesn’t pose much of a challenge, but when it comes to reading larger sentences in entire paragraphs of text, the lack of “cues” to tell you where one word ends and the next one begins becomes far more problematic. Let’s look at a more complex sentence. 

さんじからよんじまでテストがある。

Already, it becomes more difficult to see where one word ends and the next begins because kana doesn’t offer any reading cues. Is it じから or is it じ、から? Immediately when I see a sentence written all in kana, this is the struggle I face. I waste half my time trying to figure out where each word is so that I can say the sentence correctly, and instead of being able to read it fluently in one go, it’s more of a case of patch-work until I figure it all out word by word and then read the entire sentence again. From the way you phrased your question it seems as though the reason why you read slowly is because of an over-dependence on kana. We’re all guilty of this in the early stages, especially in the weird “more than a beginner but not quite intermediate” phase, where we know far more kana than kanji. Let’s have a look at that same sentence again, but this time by replacing most of the kana with the equivalent kanji.

三時から四時までテストがある。

三時から四時までテストがある。

三時から、四時まで、テストがある (Comma to indicate change in cadence)

三時　= 3 o’clock. 

から　= from 

四時　= 4 o’clock

まで　= until

テスト　= test

がある　= to exist

“There is a test from 3 o’clock to 4 o’clock.

Replacing all of that kana with kanji helps me find the cues for the words in the sentence. By using kanji, the words から、まで、and the particle が all stand out from the rest and provide a frame of reference. In this way, I know that the first word is 三時 and that it does not include から. I know that the second word must begin after から, and that it ends before まで, so I read 四時 as one word. Besdes that, after learning the compound kanji 四時, you’ll be able to recognise that it is a distinct word very easily, however with kana this is much more difficult. These cues help me avoid running one word into another and getting confused about where one ends and the next begins. It can be hard to get into the swing of this at first, but with practice you’ll find a natural cadence that would be extremely difficult to achieve if only just reading the sentence in kana. If you look carefully you’ll find that the majority of sentences with kanji are split up in this way, between particles, words that don’t use kanji, and also furigana.

In Summary:

My advice is to try and “pair up” the vocabulary you already know in kana to the equivalent kanji and try reading sentences with kanji in them. With practice, your brain will be much quicker at recognising a two/three kanji compound instead of large words written in kana characters. By translating more and more of your kana vocabulary to kanji, your reading speed will increase, as well as your overall literacy. You’ll also find that when speaking sentences aloud, you come closer to the natural cadence of a Japanese speaker by using kanji, as these cues are present in native speech.Granted, it’s going to take a long time. I myself am in the process of this journey because I’ve learned a lot of vocabulary without learning the equivalent kanji.

Well, I hope you found this helpful. If I completely missed what you were trying to ask exactly, feel free to get in touch again and I’ll try for round 2. :P

[qqueenofhades]

You're going to think I'm such a weirdo because you're my go-to person for whether particular British monarchs were gay, but I have another question along those lines. Was Queen Anne in a lesbian relationship with Sarah Churchill? And if not, was she gay? I read one book that explained she wasn't "because she hadn't heard of it." Needless to say, I didn't finish it.

Ahaha. We’ve all gotta be known for something, right?

Short answers to both your questions: No and no, but also in both cases sorta, and which reflects a really fascinating entry point into a discussion of the female side of seventeenth/eighteenth-century LGBT culture. (Seriously, guys, the eighteenth century was HELLA GAY. I’ve written about the male side of it, but there is just as much or more to look at from the female. It’s also why you should continue to laugh at Certain Unnamed Persons telling you gay people did not exist before the 1960s.)

Anyway, so, Anne. As girls, both she and her sister Mary (the future Queen Mary II) had a passionate attachment to an older woman, Frances Apsley, and wrote letters to her that reflect this romantic imagining. (p.1648-49). The thirteen-year-old Mary addressed the twenty-two-year-old Frances as “my dearest dear husband” and called herself “your faithful wife, loyal to your bed […] how I dote on you, oh I am in raptures of sweet amaze, when I think of you I am in ecstasy.” In fact, when Anne began her own correspondence with Frances, Mary was jealous of her/seemed to have viewed her sister as a romantic rival for Frances’ affections. In their letters, Anne cast herself and Frances as star-crossed lovers from the play Mithridates, and there was an atmosphere of unabashed hedonism and sexual liberty at the Restoration court of Charles II. The girls were mostly kept away from this, but there were plenty of plays, novels, etc that centered around themes of female same-sex desire. Eighteenth-century English literature (see p. 261-62) had all kinds of exploration of it, and indeed reflects a vernacular for LGBT relationships arguably more detailed than what we have today (if by nature pejorative): “sodomite” and “molly” were the terms for the active and passive partner in a male homosexual relationship, and “sapphic” and “tommy” were the equivalents for a female homosexual relationship. (But of course, I forgot, we didn’t have LGBT people before the 1960s.) 

What Valerie Traub calls “the renaissance of lesbianism in early modern England” wasn’t just a literary phenomenon either. The habit of women sharing beds at all level of society, from working class to noblewomen, and the usually all-female social circle of young women offered a convenient environment for practical explorations of the kind of passionate desire seen above. At least one contemporary commentator had no problem with it (see p. 54) and viewed it in pragmatic terms:

Calling himself “neither their censor nor their husband,” Brantôme maintains that “unmarried girls and widows may be excused for liking such frivolous and vain pleasures and preferring to give themselves to each other thus and so get rid of their heat than to resort to men and be put in the family way and dishonored by them, or to have to get rid of their fruit.” As for the homoerotic exploits of married women: “the men are not cuckolded by it.”

In other words, female same-sex activity might not be optimal, but it’s essentially harmless, preferable to unwanted pregnancies, illicit abortions, or the spoiling of marriage prospects. And since everyone knows (according to bountiful eighteenth-century medical wisdom) that women are “hot” and need to relieve their humors with sex, lesbianism (though it wasn’t yet called that) was fine as an option. This of course was not the only view on it, but it does absolutely make it the case that yes, Anne (and other women of her class and era) would have heard of it. (Seriously, do these Str8 Historians just… assume that nobody ever mentioned same-sex relations/desire/literature, because gay people are “so modern” or… what? I’m baffled. On that note, Emma Donoghue’s “Passions Between Women: British Lesbian Culture 1668-1801″ is also a recommended read.)

Anyway, back to Anne and Mary themselves. It’s highly unlikely that their ardor toward Frances Apsley ever went beyond letters, and Mary did not have another relationship with a woman of the same intensity; after a very rocky start to her 1677 marriage to William of Orange, she fell quickly in love with him and devoted herself to him. However, Anne continued to have the same sort of passionate attachments to women, including that to Sarah Jennings, later Lady Churchill, the Duchess of Marlborough. Sarah is a fascinating historical lady for many reasons, and through her relationship with Anne over several decades, was able to exert considerable influence and prestige. She was a strong-willed, well educated, politically ambitious, and formidable woman, and I think the assessment of her relationship with Anne in the Oxford Dictionary of National Biography (login needed for full text) is essentially correct:

Anne wasemotionally vulnerable and always depended very much upon her near circle offriends; Sarah wasthe closest of these. Anne wasromantically, but platonically, in love with Sarah, who, for her part, understood very well theimmense value of her relationship with the princess. So close did Anne feel to Sarah that from about 1691 she insisted thatthe aliases Mrs Morley and Mrs Freeman be used between them, to overcomeany undue feeling of formality when in private. Although Sarah eventually found the princess’sattentions irritating in their childlike ardour, she responded with genuineaffection, but not with love. She later wrote that she had little in commonwith Anne; she usedher periods of exclusion from the court to widen her reading, including Shakespeare, Dryden, Milton, Montaigne, and Seneca, whereas Anne remained stubbornly non-intellectual. Nonethe less, their political interdependence and genuine affection kept theirpersonal relationship alive.

I would say in my view this is about right. Anne was definitely in love with her, while Sarah liked her, but saw the overall value in being attached to the princess (later queen). They fell out over differing political opinions (Sarah was a Whig, Anne was a Tory) and both had devoted relationships with their husbands. Sarah’s was John Churchill, Duke of Marlborough, the statesman, political player, and hero of the War of Spanish Succession, and Anne’s was Prince George of Denmark. Sarah and Churchill had seven children, while Anne had at least seventeen pregnancies by George, but only one living son (William, Duke of Gloucester, who died at the age of eleven).

George has generally gotten a bad rap as a total unambitious dullard, and there has been some attempt to portray Anne and Sarah as lovers while Anne was unavoidably saddled with George and only kept having sex with him in hopes of a Stuart heir, which I think is both inaccurate and unfair to George. He had almost no political ambition at all and was absolutely happy to let his wife rule and be queen and to support her decisions, which was the reverse of Anne’s sister Mary and her husband William (Anne’s immediate predecessors). William refused to let Mary be crowned as sole queen, even though Mary and Anne were both daughters of James II and the hereditary right was Mary’s (for her part, Mary refused to countenance rulership without William and never wanted it much, but accepted it in the name of the Protestant cause/saving England from Catholic monarchy under her father). So by the time of Anne’s reign (1702-1714) it was still not at all negotiated how exactly a new (female) constitutional monarch, post-1689 and Bill of Rights, would rule by herself, but Anne did pretty much that. She didn’t have constitutional strife, she took England from the chaos and civil/religious wars/Commonwealth/etc of the seventeenth to its emergence as a major world power in the eighteenth, and George was a-okay with all of this. He declared that “I am her Majesty’s subject, I will do naught but what she commands me,” and they adored each other. George’s death in 1708 absolutely devastated Anne and was one of the reasons that snapped her fraught relationship with Sarah, as one observer wrote:

[George’s death] has flung the Queen into an unspeakable grief.She never left him till he was dead, but continued kissing him the very momenthis breath went out of his body, and ‘twas with a great deal of difficulty my Lady Marlborough prevailedupon her to leave him.

Sarah and Anne’s relationship had been steadily deteriorating over political differences, Sarah’s domineering personality, and Anne’s affection for a new female favorite, Abigail Masham. Indeed, Anne’s Whig opponents (and Sarah herself) fanned rumors that Anne and Abigail’s relationship was that of lovers, including by scandalous poetry (see pp. 157-8):

Whenas Queen Anne of great RenownGreat Britain’s Sceptre sway’dBesides the Church, she dearly lov’dA Dirty Chamber-Maid….

As Traub points out, Sarah’s accusations are more likely motivated by jealousy at losing her position as favorite to Abigail, and Anne herself never forgave Sarah for insinuating lesbianism (as in the physical act of it, rather than romantic feelings) in their relationship. Again as Traub comments: “It was the result of a transformation in discourse, whereas intimate female friends, including matronly monarchs with seventeen pregnancies behind them, could be interpreted as purveyors of sexual vice.” In other words, the accusations flung at Elizabeth I, the woman ruling alone in the late 16th-early 17th century, had been that she had inappropriate male lovers; now the charges against Anne, a century later, were of inappropriate female lovers, and reflected, as discussed above, the emergence of this entire construction and visibility of same-sex female desire. Accusations or intimations of homosexuality were nothing new to the Stuarts; both William and Mary (especially William) had been painted as having inappropriately intimate same-gender relationships, and William’s Jacobite enemies had likewise gotten considerable mileage out of pamphlets portraying him as a “sodomite.” (Which, again, they had political reasons to do, so there is that, but it’s fascinating, if unfortunate, that this had now become the preferred currency of political slander, as that was not necessarily the case before).

Overall, Anne certainly had strong emotional relationships to women for her entire life, and in some cases, those relationships were accused of being explicitly sexual (reflecting a culture that was, as noted, really hella gay for both women and men, and this gayness was both accepted and reviled in turn) but for the benefit of her enemies (Sarah’s unflattering depiction of Anne was basically accepted as fact until the late 20th century). So in one sense, Anne and Sarah were in a long relationship that ended badly, and Anne was absolutely biromantic. Sex (or the lack of it) is not the only defining marker of a relationship, but if we mean a lesbian relationship in the modern sense of the word (where they are both romantic and sexual partners) then no. Anne and George were known for being devoted and faithful to each other (as noted, not at all the norm in the Stuart court) and Anne’s seventeen pregnancies make it clear they had sex throughout their marriage. Anne herself took the accusation of physical lesbianism with Abigail Masham as an unforgivable slight on Sarah’s part; i.e. the feelings or the rhetoric were acceptable to her, but the action was not. We have no reason to think she was being a hypocrite about this, or willfully concealing/ignoring it. Because, surprise! People’s attitudes and identities toward sexuality are complicated and shifting and partial and evolving, and conditioned by class, time, place, religion, society, etc.

Anyway, since this is another novel: we could definitely classify Anne as queer in the modern definition (having romantic feelings/romantic-if chaste-involvements with women, but lovingly and faithfully married to her husband who was her sexual partner), but probably not actively and certainly not exclusively lesbian. She was traditional in her views and devoted to the Protestant church (and to George), so yes. I would classify her as biromantic with a preference for/sexual activity with men, but whose long relationships with women were both politically and personally influential and absolutely deserve attention within the context of eighteenth-century LGBT history and literature.

[winter-is-ending]

Flower ask: Anemone, baby's breath, daffodil, hyancith, hydrangea, iris, poinsetta, rose, sunflower, daisy, tulip, petunia, and lilac (my question for lilac is: If someone wrote you in a fanfic, would you make guesses on what you'll end up actually doing in the story before your official story/chapter debut is uploaded, or keep your actions a surprise? Regarding this, what do you predict you'll end up doing by yourself or with Tracey and Barry by the time you're in Subzero Hero (my fanfic)? :P

Anemone: how old were you when you first started writing?

I was either 13 or 14. I was a freshman in high school at the time when I first found out about fanfiction.net

Baby’s breath: about how many fics have you completed?

Full chapter stories: 3 

Oneshots: Too many haha

Daffodil: do you prefer to write about an OC or an unnamed reader (y/n)?

I prefer to write about an OC (as the numerous stories with OCs tell you). I like to be able to create a personality and backstory on a character rather than reader insert. That’s just my preference though. I do read plenty of both OC and reader insert stories.

Hyancith: do you prefer to write angst or fluff?

It honestly depends on my mood when I write and whatever is happening in the story, but I LOVE fluff. If I read something with really fluffy stuff I will be smiling the entire time. Fluff is also how I’ve met some friends on here and on fanfiction like @thewintersoldierdisaster when I read her storTuy where Bucky was babysitting Steve’s son. So cute!! I was smiling through every chapter haha.

Hydrangea: what inspired you to begin writing in the first place?

I think I’ve always liked to write even when I was little. I wrote two short stories for some assignments back in elementary school (I just found one of them recently actually). But to start writing fanfiction I was inspired by this anime/manga I used to watch and read called D Gray Man. My friend let me borrow the third book one day and I was hooked. I developed a crush on one of the characters (as 13 year old me does) and fell in love with the story and the world. I created a character in my head and it wasn’t until that same friend or another friend told me about fanfiction.net that I decided to build up the courage to start writing. Looking back at that fanfic I cringe so much at the cheesy-ness and the horrible writing, but it shows how much I’ve improved through the years!

Iris: do you prefer writing about a man or a woman character? why?

I prefer women because that’s all I’ve been writing for mostly. I’m not sure why though. I think it’s because I can relate to some things that happens to my character or because I’m a woman and know how we think. However, I do want to write more for men I’m just horrible at creating male characters, but I need to practice more if I want to get better.

Poinsettia:  is it hard for you to make up names for characters in your fics?

Sometimes. Sometimes the names come to me in an instant and other times it takes me forever to think of a good name. I’ll have a character already in development and ready to start writing for but it will take me a few tries to get a name just right. For instance, one character I created was for the anime Fairy Tail and I had her look and personality finished, but I couldn’t think of a good name until I talked with @the-argosy and got a better name from her than what I had at the moment.

Rose: which of your works is your favorite? why?

The Winter Series because it’s the first series that I have actually successfully finished chapter stories in. The number of chapter stories I have started I have failed to complete. I also love the characters I have created, they’re my trash children. 

Although one story that holds dear to my heart is my Four Brothers story. It’s a story I started and had a lot of plans for that I haven’t touched since high school, but I have this feeling that one day I’ll get back to it and continue it. I love the characters from the movie and I love the character I created. I hope to one day get back to it.

Sunflower: what is the best feedback/compliment you’ve ever received regarding your writing?

That’s honestly the hardest question to answer out of all of these. I can’t remember the best feedback/compliment I’ve ever received. I’d have to look through all my stories to figure that one out. But there is one recent review I’ve gotten that was from the recent chapter of What Happens Now? 

Loved this chap. I just want to say that no matter how long between updates, I will always follow this series until its completion! It is one of the best fics I’ve read for Avengers and it is amazing. You will always have my views!I know that, for me at least, I need someone to tell me they are still reading my story even after I haven’t updated in a while. So, I’m doing that for you! Can’t wait for your next update!SuperWhoLandLocked

Seeing this review after nearly of year of not updating made me smile a lot. I’ve been feeling down about my writing and my story. I feel like the series hasn’t been doing as well as it did when I first started and that I lost readers. I also have been really busy which has kept me from writing which has always been a stress reliever and a hobby of mine which has made me a little upset. Not upset to the point I’m depressed every day, but just upset when I try to sit down and write and nothing comes to mind. But this review honestly made me really happy. Reviews have always encouraged me to continue writing and have let me know that I still have readers who are waiting for what will happen next. Seeing this review made me so so happy and this person is one of the sweetest people I have talked to in the past. So thank you so much for this review it definitely made me a lot more confident after posting the recent chapter!!

Daisy: would you ever consider a career in writing?

Yes! I am studying journalism as my minor along side my fashion retail major. I hope to one day write for a fashion magazine. But for now I am working on a fashion blog at mstreetfashion. It’s not the best, but it’s a start. I’m still developing it and learning how to edit the blog itself so it looks 10 times better than what it is now. I also am thinking over the name and trying to find a new name for the blog.

I hope to one day have a strong following with the blog and inspire people to be themselves and dress how they like to dress! Fashion is a way of expressing yourself and my clothes show my personality and my favorite things like my graphic tee shirts I wear every now and then. I want to be able to show that it’s a great way to express yourself and be who you are. 

Tulip: what is your favorite writing blog on tumblr that you feel deserves more followers and reads?

That’s a hard question. I have a good number of friends who write that deserve readers and followers! There’s @booksthegreatestweapon @herebesparrows @thewintersoldierdisaster @step-into-my-office @the-argosy and @puffandproud. And you, you have a lot of good stories on your account. There’s so many more that I could tag and one day if I ever reach my next 100 followers I’ll do a follow forever or just tag people who deserve recognition because I know way too many writers on here who deserve recognition.

Petunia: who is your favorite character to write for? why?

Out of my OCs definitely Tracey. She’s grown so much on me over the years and she’s the OC I’ve written the most for. 

Out of canon characters that’s hard. It’s a tie between either Clint, the Maximoff twins, Sharon, Sam and Bucky. They’re just a few of my favorites. I also like adding Sharon into the mix of the series because she needs more screen time than what she got in the two movies she was in. Pietro and Wanda because I love their relationship so much! Clint because he’s a little shit. Sam because he’s Sam. He’s cool. Bucky because he is such a dynamic character and it’s great to show a happier side to him but also get to write a dark side to him.

Lilac: 

It depends on the story. If I come in right away I can’t exactly guess on what I’ll do because I’m not sure where the story is going. If I appear in the middle of the story I could take a guess as to what I could do. It also depends on the author because it depends on how well they know me personally to get my actions and personality down for whatever situation I am thrown in. 

What I’ll be doing or what the twins will be doing in your story is a mystery to me. The twins could either end up being teachers somehow in it or you could have made them teenagers and part of the student body. The same goes for me. I’m excited to see what you’ll do though!

I am sorry for the long post. I still have no idea how to do the whole “keep reading” thing. If anyone knows I’m all for a tutorial haha