#i despise you and i think id rather die than you know how much i love you

[grinchfemmemoving]

Wrote a long msg to my ex abt my terminal illness and that i both resent them and still hold them in my heart with love. But I thought better of it.

[levmada]

oooh, levi with a sensitive overthinker. we all know how levi is and all that, but damn, i personlly would secretly cry at his comments or ("affectionate") roasts and would rather die a million times than ever admit that to him or show it😭

id honestly overthink it and be like "oh hes annoyed with me" or "im a burden to him" and start to distance myself and push him away avoid him as much as possible. Even if id eventually get used to how he is, id still feel like...off? ig. how do u think levi would react to something like that?

i hate making it feel personal, but for some reason my brain decided to not know how to word it in any other away.

ohhhh anon this is so me as well haha. if i wanted for some reason to strictly abide by canon without exception, then i’d probably have to have thick emotional skin to be with him, but I Can’t.

(and i’m not into modern au’s personally :P)

his reaction, i think (kind of based off of smartpass content :s) to the revelation that his jabs hurt you is painful to him too. you in pain is last thing he wants, of course, so that intensifies tenfold when it’s his fault.

he definitely picked up on it himself.

Levi is an unapologetic person when it comes to expressing his appearance, his personality, and his opinions. but his refusal to be someone he isn’t doesn’t mean he doesn’t despise some aspects of himself.

for instance, he’s easily annoyed. he won’t admit it, but your “weakness” makes him uncomfortable, because he had it beat into him to despise it in all forms, even though he empathizes. he can come off as rude and mean the opposite. he usually blanks when there’s a situation that asks him to be the slightest bit candid with his feelings.

so to say the least, he’s extremely, silently, apologetic. i don’t see him stopping himself so often to say “i didn’t mean that” or try to put it a different way.

but Levi is highly disciplined. he would (literally) tone down his crude sarcasm and be “softer” (i guess is the word) for you. that’s not going against who he is, in fact i think it partly penetrates the mean tough outer shell he’s built up over the course of his entire life. kindness and compassion and gentle feelings for the ones he cares about are intrinsically woven into the fabric of who he is.

and it’s a little easier to show you that side of him if it’s because you need it from him, because if there’s anything Levi does, it’s give himself lol.

[empty-blog-for-lurking]

How would kid react to being compared to keith? I assume not well, but i think its interesting bc to me it does seem like shes at least in some ways similiar to him, personality wise... Like shes a stubborn and scrappy reckless child who is also very very angry. And that's kinda who keith was when he was younger (dunno how hes doing rn)! Its like. She hates him she despises him and shed propably rather die than be like him but also she is. She is a little bit like him. Shes determined and capable and stubborn and reckless and i wonder if lance or kuron ever jokingly said she reminds them of him <- bet shes not too happy about that. How does she see herself in relation to him? How does she feel about the parts of her that are on some level similiar to him? Does she try to stomp down those traits ore does she keeps them in spite of it all, a 'fighting fire with fire' kind of situation? Keith has always been a stubborn fuck and its ironic that the same trait is what lead kid to seek him out to kick his ass... Idk if this makes sense but. yeah.

Also this image is very kid coded<3

image id- a screenshot of a tiktok saying "Stop blaming everyone for all your problems. Pick one person you hate and blame them for everything"

Pretty much yeah. Thing is Kid has never met Keith and Ara never really liked to talking about him beyond answering questions like who he is and what does he do. So in Kid's mind Keith is a let's just is a bit........different person than he actually is (she thinks he is a selfish arrogant asshole jerk who only cares about himself and clearly ripping off of the other paladins's hardwork while he fucks around and then steal the credit)

So to her she's nothing like Keith at all, cause in her head Keith's the biggest asshole in the universe, and she's like what normal? Everything she's doing is 'justified' so like whatever ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ (Kid is a smart kid with many skills but self introspection is not one of them). And this attitude is most likely going to carry on even when she meets Keith. To her Keith abandoned her and Ara without a word because he was selfish, while she left without a word to help Ara and not worry them. (Cause just like how Keith yelled at Pidge for trying to leave only to fuck off when the team really needed him, the hypocrisy is also inherited).

So to answer your question, she will fucking hate it but more because to her it's just plain wrong and these people clearly don't know her, because she's nothing like that asshole how dare you 🤬🤬😡😡?

(Lance brought it up once and she bit him so he never brought it up again cause it clearly upsets her and Definitely Not because he doesn't want to get bit again haha Definitely Not Jesus Christ what are her teeth made of?? but like he and Kuron and even Ara all Know™, it's very clear to them where certain habits and mannerisms of her are coming from)

That being said once she grows up a bit more and realizes that oh shit she was a lot like Keith, then it's a critical hit psychic damage. It's just full on Shinji pose for days, she will not survive that Realization™ it will actually kill her on the inside, even if this hit at the age where she has mostly calmed down

[thespoonisvictory]

question- how much of technos pov have you watched? it feels like a lot of your longer posts take every opportunity to take shots at c!technos character and storytelling, even when they feel a bit out of thin air- if you have watched his pov id love to hear more extended thoughts! (genuinely not trying to be pissy here im just curious, im also not trying to be like one of those “you can only have an opinion on this character if youve watched every stream theyve ever been in” people, it just seems like a recurring thing for you & feels a bit different when youre specifically going at his writing, yk?)

I've watched all of the c!techno lore streams my guy! (I've watched pretty much every cc!techno stream from the past year and a half ish in general as well, if that means anything to you lol)

I think he's a neat character, but I've grown to kind of despise the way a lot of people talk about his quotes. His "you want to be a hero tommy, then die like one!" is a good animatic line, but how does that line up with anything that c!tommy is doing? tommy doesn't want to be a hero, he says as much in that moment, and c!techno would know that because all c!tommy talks about is wanting his home back.

the quote itself doesn't bother me as much as the fandom reception does, because the fandom cut out c!tommy's part and portrayed it as a cool badass Moment! rather than techno chronically misunderstanding the guy that was supposed to be his ally.

on doomsday, techno says "I'm a person" and "people are more important than discs/the government!" (roughly), more quotes that got cheered on for being cool. but the first one makes no sense, because, well, tommy has never treated techno differently than any of his other friends? and for the second, tommy is literally giving up his pursuit of the disc with techno to side with his friends and home instead? it just- doesn't reflect what's actually happening in the narrative, but uses those buzzwords that make it easy to quote.

once again, the quote itself isn't the problem. c!techno can and should be biased, have incorrect assumptions, etc etc. the thing that makes me frustrated is seeing so many people venerate this as absolute fact or truth, using those quotes fully unironically, and cutting out tommy's responses.

techno's words sound nice because he's a convincing speaker, but oftentimes I find that the meaning behind them is lacking or hollow, and yet they're so often still treated uncritically by the fandom. the fact that his quotes often get more attention and praise than the more understated ones from people like tubbo, niki, or even ghostbur, makes me a bit annoyed (although this is partially due to their range in popularity), because his monologues feel impersonal or detached from the narrative at times for me.

for example, him ranting about the evil of l'manburg when it's like, five poor people who he can all beat, isn't an epic girlboss moment as much as it is a little embarrassing for c!techno to feel so threatened. his character fulfills that archetype of the badass hero who fights for what's right and what he believes in, but it falls flat when he's stronger than literally every character other than dream, who he allies with.

I just like make jabs at him because I'm petty, and because I think a lot of my early experience in the fandom was so populated with techno being hailed as the greatest speech giver to ever exist that I find it a bit amusing to poke fun at it. It definitely is a little bratty on my part lmao and I should probably keep that out of more formal analysis, but he's a better explanation of it.

[thermporia]

Oh I absolutely want to hear about the other two. Tell me everything.

college is sapping my energy, so i will just write this in bulletpoint format. cw suicide self harm and all that fun stuff

poppy

funny little man

he has to constantly be on something, otherwise he is actually going to have a nervous breakdown. he has nervous breakdowns anyway.

he hates talking to people. hates it.

like, hed rather run a cheese grater up and down his arm. he has done this before, and will do it again.

he legitimately wants to die a lot of the time, but hes weirdly apprehensive about actually doing it.

he likes to play russian roulette with the LD50. will this dose kill me??? lets find out

his vision is horrible without glasses he cannot see jackshit

smells bad. id describe it as blood and isopropyl alcohol.

cant drive

hes stuck forks into sockets just to feel a little something

lives in the basement, with his 2d gf baiken (its a body pillow and its covered in everything imaginable)

hes pretty sure his insides are rotting and peppered with holes

he wants to prove it but he cant without dissecting himse-

he has the thought above and thinks its a great idea to quell his anxiety surrounding the theory

he literally gets hospitalized because of this (joke)

that one picture of the anime girl holding her hand out to you through a noose

he is constantly being tossed between "i could not care less. i want to return to the soil" and "i am going to die, i dont want to die yet"

weird fetish guy.

really weird fetish guy. hes playing 5d fetish chess.

iris

pathetic taller man

he owns a gun, i dont know how he got it. he calls it his raifu in private

raifu

he talks a lot of shit for someone who will legitimately cry if you dont think hes the coolest guy ever

"why wont people like me im an alpha male and im really smart"

he believes that he was meant to be born as a cis guy but is not because his mother ate a lot of tofu or something

like he will not eat soy bc he thinks itll fuck up his transition

he wears shoes that give him a height boost

he despises it when people are taller than him

hes trying really hard to be the cool unaffected aloof guy and hes just not very good at it and hes SO upset

he really likes how some of the people he hates present themselves but hed never say that

like hed wear dresses and even more pink, shit from claires? but no, hes so fucking obsessed with being "A Real Transgender".

even if he did, he'd still say hes A Real Trans and not a Trender bc (convoluted reason)

he falls for misinformation hook line and sinker if it slots in neatly with his worldview

he needs attention, affection, and adoration. without it, he withers like an overdramatic houseplant.

hed never do drugs by himself, but if you peer pressure him?? yeah.

he gets really offended by the idea of talking about sex stuff in public, like he wont shut up about keeping stuff in the bedroom

if you so much as imply you fuck he will not shut the fuck up

smells bad, like too much expensive cologne.

also a weird fetish guy, he hates this part of himself more than anything

[hottestthingalive]

If the fake fic titles are still open: id like to suggest “its too quiet” as a fic title (if they arent open feel free to delete this)

ooooohhhhh this is gonna be fun

-It’s quiet when Logan wakes up.

-Far too quiet, he thinks, because he lives in a castle, and there’s always some noise by the time he wakes up, even if it’s just the birds or the wind or the creaking of an old building in the winter. 

-He cannot hear any of these things. 

-Logan is the advisor to royalty. He did not get this job by having bad instincts, and so he sits up and gets dressed immediately. 

-The castle is empty, he thinks at first, because it’s almost past noon (and why oh why did he sleep in so late?) and no one is there. The throne room, the kitchens, the gardens, the library, even the town outside -- not a single person seems to be there but himself. 

-And then he checks the rooms, and he understands. 

-They’re asleep. Everyone in the castle (and he can guess the town outside, too, and possibly the whole land) is fast asleep, and no matter what he does, he cannot wake them. He does his best, desperately tries to wake King Thomas, but he fails. 

-He fails, and it is so, so quiet. 

-And then there is noise. 

-“Get away from our father, witch!” yells a familiar voice, though one he has never heard quite so desperate, and the twin princes crash into him, dragging him to the floor, knocking his head against the tiles as they stand over him with swords they must have pilfered from the guards and helmets and shields that are too large for them. 

-“Roman? Remus?” he says, because he cannot believe they are awake, and the five-year old crown princes’ eyes widen in recognition. 

-“Lolo?” Remus says first, and tears up, and he drops his sword to fall into Logan’s arms, already sobbing. “What’s happening? Why is everyone asleep?” Roman joins the hug quickly, and Logan sits up holding them both, and does not care that his tunic is soaked with their tears because he is so glad to see them. 

-“I don’t know,” he admits. 

-They leave the castle, eventually. Though the food does not rot and everything still works, they are all getting sad and scared and angry staying in this empty palace, and besides, Logan says they must look for a cure for whatever this is. Once they have waited two weeks, and know the sleepers do not need food or water or cleaning (once they have waited two weeks, and have been alone with just each other for so long, the quiet creeping into their bones and hearts and souls) they leave the castle.

-Everywhere has been affected, Logan starts to think. Nothing rots, nothing decays, but every living thing they see in their travels is fast asleep. They take food with them, and when they run out they borrow it from the more affluent homes they pass. Roman and Remus change from their princely attire to clothes better for traveling, and though Logan does his best to seem respectable at all times, he does as well, too. The twins grow out their hair, and he teaches them to braid it, keeping his own tied up as best he can. 

-It is months before they meet Virgil and Patton and Janus, before Logan wanders into a pub when the princes are fast asleep to try and get a drink, Virgil popping up from behind the bar with wide eyes, a confused expression, and a sleeping baby in his arms. Patton is a toddler, who calls Virgil “Ver!” and Janus is so young, barely old enough to eat foods other than milk. Logan does not question the scales that cross one side of Janus’ face, nor Patton’s green-tinged skin and webbed fingers, or Virgil’s sharp teeth and purple and green eyes, but his princes do, incessantly. Virgil does not seem to mind. 

-“Are Janus and Patton our new brothers?” Roman asks one day, whispering it to Logan as he and Patton play “Patton-cake” (A name Logan despises, for the record) and Virgil rocks Janus to sleep, Remus tracing the scales on the baby’s left side with careful curiosity. 

-Logan exchanges looks with Virgil (Virgil who has begun to sit closer to him when the children are asleep, who exchanges stories and points out stars and is a shoulder for Logan to cry on, who he thinks is quite pretty and maybe, just maybe, could be something a tad different from a friend to him) and smiles, soft and sad. “They might as well be,” he says, and the young prince just grins, and takes Patton’s chubby hands in his own, and says “You hear that, Pat? We’re brothers, now!”

-Patton giggles, and says “Ro!” and “Re!” and “Lo!” and “Ver!” and “Ja!” and then “Mily!” 

-Virgil looks over, still holding Janus, and frowns. “What’s ‘Mily’?” he asks, stepping closer. 

-Logan might have guessed that it had been Patton’s family, before, but Virgil had told him one night, in a hushed whisper, that Patton had never met his parents, Virgil’s brother and his partners, that they had died when he was a baby and Virgil had taken him in. Janus was a more recent addition to their little band, a changeling left to die in the forest before Virgil had rescued him. 

-“Family,” Remus says, in the way of his that almost seems unnatural, how he and his brother always seem to know what one is thinking, and perhaps they do. (This correlates to Logan’s theory -- that they remain awake because of magic in their blood. Virgil has confessed that he is a witch, a healer, primarily, that his brother had had the gift too and had thus given magical blood to Patton. Then there is Janus’ changeling nature, and Logan’s own magical descent from a human father and faerie mother. No one knows where the twins came from, just that the king and his partner had adopted them, and they could very well have power running through their veins, enough to know a toddler’s thoughts, or when someone is not looking so they can steal cookies from the kitchen, or to tease Logan about his ‘crush’ on Virgil.)

-“Family?” Logan says, and Patton repeats it; “Mily!” 

-They find a way to break the curse, eventually, after three years, after they find the Dragon Witch and she warns them of a sorcerer who had plunged the world into an endless sleep. They have been living in a cottage built by Logan and Virgil and Janus’ budding telekinesis for years, now, the princes nine and strong and fast and brave, Patton six and an unusually fast swimmer and so, so kind, Janus nearly four and in awe of his brothers, toddling along after them at any opportunity. Virgil insists that they need to find this sorcerer, break the curse, when the children have been put to bed and he and Logan and the Dragon Witch sit at the kitchen table. The Dragon Witch (DW, as she insists they call her, refusing to give her real name, wary of Logan and Janus and their fey descent) says it is too dangerous, alone, and he reminds her they are three, seven with the children too. Logan sides with DW, though he sees Virgil’s point, and eventually he is swayed. 

-Logan has long since fallen in love with Virgil, though he has not told him. He hopes Virgil knows that the long hours sitting on the bench under the willow tree outside their cottage and the mornings of cooking together and sleepy conversations and the nights spent in the same bed after the nightmares from being alone became too much for them both mean more to him than anything else in the world, save for the children they raise together. Sometimes, he thinks his feelings might be returned, and those are the days he feels like he might be glowing from the inside out. 

-And when the sorcerer aims a spell at Virgil, says “If you are so lonely without the human-kind, you may sleep with them!” Logan jumps in the way, finds himself staggering and falling backwards into Virgil’s arms, sees horrified glowing purple and green eyes just before his eyes close. “I love you,” he whispers, and then he drifts away. 

-And then he wakes up, and Virgil is clutching his face in his hands, eyes wide with shock, tears wet against his cheeks, and he says “Logan Logan Logan!” like it is a prayer and pulls him into a hug.

-“What happened?” he asks, and Virgil turns a furious shade of red, and DW laughs and laughs. “True love’s kiss!” Patton exclaims, eyes wide and shining with glee, and Logan finds himself blushing too. 

-As in every fairy tale, true love’s kiss does indeed break the spell. The king is shocked, to see his sons so grown, but he is also more than happy to accept his new ones. “I do not want to make it seem like you are not their parents, as well,” Thomas tells Logan and Virgil, “for you are, and it would be selfish of me to think otherwise. Thank you, for saving me, and for caring for my sons.” He and Logan are rather good friends, after that, and when Logan is made a lord (and a rather powerful one, at that) it is only surprising to him. 

-Virgil lives in the palace with them, and Logan finds himself flirting and holding hands and blushing far too often. They kiss again a few months later. They are married when Roman and Remus are eleven, Patton nine, and Janus five, and the king himself performs the ceremony. Patton scatters flower petals when they walk up the aisle hand in hand, Roman and Remus ties the long black and purple and blue ribbons around their wrists, binding them together, and Janus presents them with the knives they had given each other, as tradition dictates, to put in marriage sheaths at their sides. The Dragon Witch (who has long since told them her name, by now) makes the sky explode in color for them, and watches the children while Virgil and Logan dance together. 

-Logan finds his family in the quiet, and yet he loves them for the noise they bring into his life. And in the end, he would not have had it any other way, even for all the hardship, for he cannot imagine a world without them. 

I really do have a brand, and it is Analogical™. But I loved loved loved writing this piece, and I might expand on it in the future for funsies because sometimes family is a half-fey advisor to the king, a witch/healer, two slightly magical princes, a small frog child and the witch’s nephew, a tiny baby changeling, the king and his partner, and a dragon witch pretending to be mean who’s really just a big softie. 

Send me a fake fic title and I’ll tell you what I’d write for it!

[kareofbears]

Ok. . . but can you give an in-depth explanation as to how you feel about akeshu?

yes. 

rest is under the cut since this is going to be a long answer 

im a big big big big big fan of enemies to lovers. love it. loved the initial hate, the heightening tension between two characters with conflicting situations or personality types. i love the anger, the arguments, the sighs from everyone around them because they’re tired of the repetitive beef. during quarantine, i even wrote out and gave a verbal presentation to my beta explaining how an enemies to lovers arc would work through writing and all the needed dynamics in order to justify a person falling in love with their enemy. 

and yeah, the process is the best part of it. i want to be able to see the transition between worst enemy to begrudged partner to lover. that’s the best part!!! the character development!!! the molding around each other and learning to accept their character flaws!! the willingness to defend that flaw in front of other people!! 

but here’s where the problem lies: akechi goro. 

oh akechi. oh akechi goro, the bane of my existence and the object of affection by everyone in this god forsaken fandom. look, i get it. it’s really really fucking hard to resist the charm of akechi goro, i admit it. he’s so interesting, he’s so in-depth, he’s so cool and rugged and he’s such a bastard that you end up kind of being obsessed with him, and that’s fine. I'm also kind of obsessed with him. 

but i don't like him. because he isn’t a likeable character. there’s a huge difference between thinking he’s a fantastic character and loving him. because i don't love him. i hate him. i despise him. he’s caused so, so, so much grievance, so much pain to so many characters in persona that it honestly impossible to give him a redemption arc. it’s not possible. even if you go down the Black Star route (amazing fanfic, brilliant work) it still doesn't redeem him. he killed futabas mom (which literally led her to her spiraling depression and self hatred and manifested intense mental illness that led to her isolating herself from the world and made her lose her mom that she loves so much) and killed haru’s dad (how on earth can you justify that one??? god, haru wanted nothing more than to just see her dad happy again) and killed so many other random people!! and don’t feed me that “oh he had a sad life” shut the fuck up literally everyone in p5 had a sob story and you don't see them killing people. he’s complex, not likeable. 

but here’s the good part: the game doesn't want you to like akechi. i mean it. they never said what he did was okay (never. they never said it was okay), they never said that you had to like him. all they said was that you had to work with him. even in the third semester, the one people are so insistent on calling a redemption arc, isn’t a fucking redemption arc. they just want you to see who akechi really is!! without the facade!!! all they want is for you to see how complex he is, see him spiral and angry and bitter and they want you to see him turn out the complete opposite of akira. 

and here’s where we actually start talking about akeshu

akechi and akira are two halves of the same coin. akira chose the side of justice (by ironically being a criminal) while akechi chose the side of vengeance (which is ironic, since he’s a detective.) see, even with that whole crime vs justice thing, they’re connected. the person who ruined their life is the same person (shido), they both have had hard lives. but they turned out as opposites, with akira having a much better life than akechi--which is why akechi is so obsessed with akira. what does akira have that he doesn't? why did he turn out happy when he’s still miserable? and that creates a tension (which we will talk about later)

akechi and akira are rivals. they are connected, they always will be. it’s a hero/villain narrative that we all love, it’s an interesting character dynamic. it’s fun to see them interact. 

but by god, it does not mean that akechi and akira are good for each other. i would go as far to say it would do akechi a huge disservice as a character if you made them end up together. 

remember how akechi is a complex character? if akechi ends up with akira, you would essentially be ripping out all of his complexity just to have both of them date. akechi doesn't want to be with akira, and if you honestly think akechi is in love with akira id be surprised because he’s not--he’s obsessed with akira, infatuated with him. what he’s feeling isn’t love, it’s the feeling of frustration. he doesn't care about akira, or anyone. he cares about himself, and that’s it. which is what makes him so interesting because this never changes throughout the entire game!!! that's so FUN!!!

and the game never wants you to forget that complexity!! because they never gave akechi a redemption arc!! they want you to remember him as someone who’s willing to die for himself. (and, in a way, that’s the extent of akechis mercy. because before shidos palace, he wasn't even willing to die for himself, you know what i mean? he was willing to die in shidos palace because that’s what he wanted, he wanted to defeat shidos cognition of himself, he wanted to save the thieves because they were the first to listen to him and understand him, but he didn't really do it out of empathy. he did it because he’d rather die than continue living shidos lie--funny because that how he ‘dies’ in the third semester. nice one atlus)

and i get it. the game gives them such an undeniable tension that its super easy to see it as love, but its not. it’s not love, guys. that tension isn’t love, because what it’s actually tragedy. it’s tragic that akechi can’t have happiness (in canon, at least.) it’s tragic that akira, the person who loves his friends more than anything, who would die saving someone he doesn't even know, it’s tragic that he can’t save someone who’s the most desperate to be saved. and that is why i love platonic/non-romantic akeshu, because i think that concept is way more interesting than them falling in love. it’s about akira’s obvious trauma that he couldn’t save everyone, it’s about akechi’s hard-headedness about not wanting to be saved because he’s been let down too many times for him to ever put trust into anyone again. 

it’s tragic. it’s meant to be tragic. persona 5 is a game about fighting for reality, and reality is fucking hard. so the fact that these two people have such a tragic ending despite what we, as an audience, are used to (happy endings), is part of the game. they’re not meant for each other. they won’t work, they don't work. that tension isn't made out of love or sexual tension--it’s stemmed from tragedy and hate and confusion and such a deep rooted sadness from inside of them. 

they both deserve better than each other. akira deserves to be with the friends he made in tokyo, and akechi deserves to be with someone (if he lives) who isn’t associated with the metaverse at all. he deserves a clean slate, he deserves a fresh start. he deserves a reset. 

and another reason is that akira loves his friends too much. he would do anything for them. it’s supposed to be funny--the wildcard, with no vulnerability, no weakness, has the most weakness out of all of them because he cares too deeply about his friends that if one single thing were to hurt them akira would fold like a deck of cards. you think akira would do that to haru? to futaba? yeah, right. he would never. akira can forgive but he would never forget. he’d never compromise. not for his friends.

so going back to the topic of enemies to lovers--akeshu is not enemies to lovers, because there are certain rules for enemies to lovers. enemies should be fun. it should be people on the opposite team with different perspectives. enemies should not be morally horrific. the ‘enemy’ should be forgivable. both characters should still come off likable. they should both be able to stand up on their own legs as characters even if you take away their love interest. for example, hermione/draco wouldn't work because draco calls Hermione a slur on many occasions. that is not forgivable. if draco instead, i don't know, cheats off her test or something and she gets mad and they have a back and forth thing, then sure, hermione/draco could work. 

a fantastic enemies to lovers would be snowbaz from carry on. uh, zootopia? thats a great one. natsume and mikan from gakuen alice is good too!! basically, there’s a lot of actual good enemies to lovers out there. enemies to lovers shouldn't be morally ambiguous. it should be fun. it should be the right kind of tension. the characters should be likable from both sides. and akeshu does not have that. 

tldr stan akiryu and akesumi instead 

[positivityforlesbians]

what do i do with myself to have like a healthy relationship with someone... I've been with a man and I've also been with a woman. I know I'm not an asexual but I wasn't attracted to either of them physically, we just were good friends and I kind of went along with it. I like kissing and physical contact with both. I'm so reluctant when it comes to real life sex with men - even though I find them more fun to be around (I like jokes and intimacy, but I dread them wanting to have sex with me even if they're hot). I'm always flattered and excited when a woman is interested in me, even if I don't find her attractive it just feels good. But at the same time I really despise having a head anywhere near genitals and wish there was a dick between me and the girl so we could just both enjoy it at the same time and like, not involve oral.

I'm 25 so I shouldn't be this fucked up at this point in my life and I've literally had 2 partners, both long distance and don't know what to do.

I really want to find a man in theory but if I sense he's somewhat interested in more than just flirting and teasing each other id rather die than go through with it. Like I don't even have the energy to reply to more than 5 messages from him. I'm always down when it comes to women, for pretty much anything anytime- but then Im worried I suck at sex and don't want to disappoint her or myself.

I id as bi but Im like a fucked up version of an asexual and idk how to go from this point onward.

Honestly if you want to know your sexuality better you should not get into long distance relationships, that way you can see in situation what you want when in close proximity to a woman or a man. I sense from a lot of things you wrote here that you have deep internalized homophobia (reluctant to accept your same-sex attraction) but the biggest hint for me is that you think that sex would somehow be incomplete if there wasn’t a penis between you and a female partner. Not only is that obviously false but also offensive to any lesbian or bi woman who accepts her same-sex attraction. You say that you are “reluctant when it comes to real life sex with men” so there’s definitely a contradiction there, that you have to clarify, this is something only you can work on. Like I said, avoid long distance relationships, it won’t help you. For the rest I think you have a lot of work to do to build healthy ties to your same-sex attraction, it’s possible, find better lesbian/bi representation or just find lesbian/bi representation, if you never sought that before. A tv show like “The L Word” is a classic that I would maybe recommend to you, not for its quality but for how lesbian sex and relationships are normalized there, okay these women are nearly all feminine and the whole thing is glamorized but still it can be helpful when it comes to gaining confidence about lesbian sex. In a very different way I recommend the french-canadian lesbian webserie “Feminin-Feminin”, it looks more realistic and it has all sort of lesbian characters and a few bi, if I remember well, but it’s less sexual than “The L Word” therefore less helpful in that way, but maybe it would work better for you ! (Here) is a trailer of season 1 (there are two seasons) because it’s a very good show. Maybe you are asexual or maybe you just have a temporary mental block for a reason I (and/or you) don’t know about, but in any cases you have to be less stressed about all this. I know, it’s easier said than done, that’s a process though and maybe with the two advices I gave you it could help you find the right direction at least. Xx

[tvdversefanfiction]

Since i have done this 30day challenge on two of my other pages it was about time I did it for this page, starting firstly with The Vampire Diaries, The Originals and Legacies will soon follow I promise.

So if you do not already no I have zero chill and zero patience so instead of 30 days I just do it all in one go 😂 feel free to sound off in the comments with your opinions, open to reading others' opinions and share in the love for this fandom 💖

1 - Klaus Mikaelson 💖 my king, my heart, the unrequited love of my life (fictional ofcourse)

2 - (in order) Caroline Forbes 👑 Rebekah Mikaelson 👑 Katherine Pierce 👑

3 - Klaroline, always and forever 😍

4 - Bamon or Stexi 🤔 although Stexi was definitely a more loyal friendship and I didnt want them together as a couple like I did Bamon

5 - Claire Holt, Love her to pieces, love her interviews and her post and pre TVD and TO work as an actress.

6 - Joseph Morgan, my husband in my fantasies only 💖 fantastic actor who I cannot wait to see what he does next 😍

7 - Daniel Gillies and Paul Wesley, their bromance is both adorable, authentic and slightly homoerotic 🙊😈

8 - Bamon or Elenijah, Bamon id have legit loved to see as endgame over Delena anyday and Elenijah I'd have love to have seen explored at least.

9 - Although neither the originals or Katherine were in every episode they were far from secondary in my mind, so in terms of secondary I'd say Lexi for sure.

10 - 2 and/or 3, most of the originals arc and Katherine stuff was peak TVD for me.

11 - The 100th episode for so many reasons, the nostalgic lookback at previous characters, Klaroline finally getting it on, a Mebekah reunion and lots of Katherine 👑

12 - He is your first love, I intend to be your last 💖 Klaroline was all kinds of epic and how poetic is it that she wound up being his last love💔

13 - Caroline singing at her mothers funeral 💔

14 - Elena, I know she went through alot but who didn't in the TVDverse, she was the victim and stayed within that role from beginning to end and god was she depressing to watch. She was also largely hypocritical with her judgements over things she too was guilty off 🙄 the fact I loathe her and love Katherine shows the incredible acting range of Nina Dobrev though 💖

15 - Stefan, he is like Angel with the Angelus edge, id say the male elena but that would be harsh as he didnt piss me off nearly as much 😂 he was alright I suppose I just didnt care for him that much, if he died early I'd have been like meh! I couldnt buy evil stefan either instead it made me cringe which is weird because Paul Wesley plays unhinged so well in Tell me a story...oh and also Stefan killed Enzo, not once but twice and he can only blame the humanity switch for one of those kills 😡

16 - i did ship Delena till they got together and lost all their magic, i never shipped Stelena but they did suit each other better than Delena or the very ill advised Steroline which should have stayed a friendship! Bonnie and Jeremy made absolute no sense and had zero chemistry so on those grounds id say those two or Steroline, Steroline itches me up the wrong way the most tbf.

17 - Elena and Caroline, Caroline was the better friend hands down for both Bonnie and Elena but Elena always seemed harsher to Caroline and yet couldnt handle it when Caroline gave her tough love back especially over Delena which tbh Caroline was right....IMO anyways.

18 - I cannot say Candice, Nina, Kat or Claire are anything but amazing actresses so I would never say any of them...maybe the actress who played Liv Parker, she was always kind of one note to me although not terrible but nowhere near as good as the others....I could probably later think of someone else but for now I'll go with her.

19 - Zach Roerig, a typical answer from fans I've noticed but he was just so blah for 8 full seasons I totally get why Im not alone here...also so far him and Steven McQueen are the only ones from TVD to appear in Legacies...Jeremy's cameo i didnt mind, Matts however...like when is he going to die and stay dead already? Sorry matt fans 😂

20 - A good chunk of episodes in season 7, didnt like Elena but didn't like TVD without Elena...would've loved the actress to stay on and either play another role or make Katherine come back preferably 🤩

21 - Most of them I started liking then hating, or hating to liking then back to hating 😂 I dont think I hated anyone from beginning then loved them by the end so ill just give a love to hate, Alaric...I liked him in early seasons but thought he came to a natural end when he died...from 6 onwards after he came back he lost any appeal and felt like he was just there to have another dead ex, then to cockblock Steroline which tbf was a good deed but still didnt revive him 🤣 and I full out despise him in Legacies but I'll dig deeper into that come a Legacies themed version of this challenge 😂

22 - Damon wins hands down here, loved him in the pilot, love turned to like as the show went on and then Delena happened and completely destroyed his chracter, Bamon gave him a much needed revival but Elena soon dragged him down once more...his live for her was obsessive to me, unhealthy and toxic and he couldnt cope without it. BAMON would've fixed all this IMO

23 - Okay stick with me here as this one has multiple answers for me...I'd have rathered Caroline or Bonnie as the main character alongside the salvatores than Elena so thats answer one. Answer two would be I'd have loved Katherine to have been the mainstay doppelganger instead of Elena. Answer three would be more flashbacks of Lexi and her life away from the Salvatores would have been interesting. Last answer, Rebekah should have been in more episodes both on this and TO but I'll probs get more into that when I do TO.

24 - The romances, the vampires, the villains and the aesthetic of Mystic Falls 😍 if you follow my other pages you know obsessed im obsessed with the supernatural genre 🥰

25 - Too much time centred around Delena and Stelena, which I know was the main story of this show their love triangle but it didnt have to be...

26 - Elena daggering Rebekah, my heart broke for Rebekah and hardened towards Elena...her biggest hypocritical move of many too!

27 - Heres one so this post isnt all bashing poor Elena 🤣 i love when Elena and Stefan wind up drinking in that bar together having a good time as friends...honestly wouldnt habe minded more scenes centered on this friendship.

28 - Klaroline getting together in the woods and/or the Klaroline moment in the last episode where he donates money to the boarding school...tbh any Klaroline moment 💖

29 - Liz's death and funeral, my heart breaks for Caroline everytime and Damon too, loved Liz and Damon's friendship 💔

30 - Almost all Lily Salvatore scenes, the worst mother alongside Esther Mikaelson....their deaths make me so happy every single time and I will never apologise for that 🤣

[richiefuckfacetozier]

Chapter 3: Winding Me Up Inside

Story: Why Can’t This Be Love

Click to read on Archive

Art of Eddie and Richie by @whatidoisxsecret

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

___

Eddie honked profusely at the car in front of him. Everyone had decided it was idiot day on the road as one of the bridges was down from a car fire. People were cutting him off or making illegal u-turns that almost hit his car. He ended up pulling over to grab a drink at a restaurant. He wasn’t very well going to die tonight if he could calm his nerves with alcohol instead. It was unfortunate that he left his pills at home, knowing they could calm him immediately but a gin and prune juice, his healthy alcoholic beverage of choice, would have to do the trick. 

About a month had gone by since ‘The Arrangement’, something Richie had started calling their pretend dating. Eddie would’ve rather called it ‘The Nightmare’ but Richie wanted a positive outlook on the situation. 

Eddie eyed a grungy bar next to a pizza joint that looked perfect to grab a cheap drink. However, upon further observation, there was a rainbow flag sticking out above the bar’s entrance. He blinked at it, took a step forward, then froze. His body had seized up at the prospect of going in.

He wasn’t sure how long he stood there but a booming voice said, “You in or out?” Tossing him from a temporary mind blank.

“Huh?” Eddie focused on the bouncer standing by the entrance, who was ripped and large. He never understood having such intimidating people be the first greeting you encounter before entering a bar or club. Don’t these businesses want people to come in? “Oh...er...no no. Just searching for a place to drink.” 

“Well, this is a bar.” The man eyed Eddie up and down, giving the impression of being humanly x-rayed. “Drinking is the main activity...among other things.” There was some prolonged eye contact between them that dried Eddie’s throat into a Sahara desert.

Eddie nodded shifting forward. He reached for his wallet, which had his ID, but his hand merely hovered over his slack's front pocket. 

“Maybe another time?” The man suggested with a lighter tone. Eddie straightened up, nodded and walked away. 

He just failed at that pretty spectacularly. What would Richie think? Probably that he was a chicken. This had been an extra hard month. With the realization, he may have stronger feelings toward guys than he had ever admitted to himself. He had stopped sleeping, barely ate, and secluded himself more. 

Suddenly, the demise of his relationship with Myra was making more sense. When she used to touch him sensually, his skin crawled. He assumed that was from the years of his mother convincing him the world was a germ-infested blackhole, girls were dirty, and how he could never truly be clean. Except he rarely felt that way when Richie touched him. Or any of his friends. Sure, they had known each other for years, but he knew Myra for a long time too and it didn’t settle into a comfortableness that relationships were meant. 

He tended to resist Myra’s kisses, fake not feeling good to get out of sex, and pushed her away constantly. Their break up had been devastating. At the time he believed it was because the love of his life left him. Now he knew the truth. 

Eddie eventually got a drink at a bar a few blocks away. The drink refreshed and calmed him immediately. It’s funny how certain things relaxed him right away because he’d conditioned himself to feel that way. His mind began thinking about tomorrow, a chilling dread running up his neck. He scratched at the nape even though nothing truly itched. 

He was seeing his friends for a pre-engagement party celebration. Just the seven of them. The thought almost made him break out into sweats. He downed his drink and ordered another. Usually, he would be extremely excited and thrilled to see the losers club, except the next step in the arrangement, was occurring. Eddie had to come out collectively to the group. A fake coming out but that fakeness was becoming authentic with every passing moment. 

He wished there was someone he could talk this out with. There was Mike, but that felt wrong somehow. The one person he wanted to tell was Richie. What would he even say? There was a nightmare scenario he replayed every day that Richie would laugh in his face, which logically he would never do but Eddie’s attempts at controlling his imagination have never come to fruition. 

While he was absently stirring his drink, his phone started ringing. A picture popped up on his screen of Richie lifting a screaming/laughing Eddie from behind. He took an extra second to remember the joyful memory, running a finger over the picture then answered. 

He sighed into the phone, “Hey, Rich.” 

“Where you at, gumdrop?” said Richie with an obvious smile in his voice.

“A bar. The traffic was crap, so I am waiting it out.” 

“What’re you wearing?” He said suggestively.

Eddie frowned, huffing out, “Work clothes, why?” 

Richie clicked his tongue, “Cause you are supposed to be at Beverly and Ben’s celebration extravaganza in,” quick pause where Eddie figured Richie was looking at his phone for the time, “20 minutes.” 

“No, it is tomorrow.” Eddie insisted.

“No, my cutie patootie Eds, it is today.” 

“No,” He said slowly. “It’s on Friday, you turd.” 

A laugh came through the phone, “Today IS Friday.” 

Eddie paused as horror sunk in fast and deep. “Oh shit…”

“Yeah, so see you at the restaurant!” Richie hung up, leaving Eddie to his panic.

He slapped down a $20 on the bar counter, despite the drink being less than half that and bolted out the door. He ran past the bouncer who shouted, “Don’t trip, kid!”

His car turned on with a roar then he zoomed out of the space. The traffic had significantly cleared which worked in his favor as his car swerved around dangerously. His heart pounded with adrenaline. When he pulled up in front of the restaurant, Richie was standing on the curb smoking a cigarette. 

Eddie gave the valet his car keys, not even thinking about how much that would cost him at the end of the night, and hurried over to his friend. 

“The prodigal son has returned!” Richie tossed the second half of his cigarette on the ground, stomping it out for good measure. As Eddie neared Richie wrapped an arm around his shoulders pulling them close together. The smell of smoke was both overwhelming and familiar. As much as Eddie despised the disgusting habit, he was so used to it that he could brush it off. 

Eddie pushed on his chest to free himself a little but not enough to break contact. “I can’t believe I fucking forgot.” 

“Take a minute to breathe, Eds. Where’s your head been at lately?” Richie asked in what he probably thought was a casual tone, except, Eddie knew better. His friend was really asking ‘Where have you been?' or 'Why are you isolating yourself?’. 

Isolation was the only solution for hiding his emotions, which had been many and increasing each day he spent alone with his thoughts. 

Instead of answering the question, Eddie shrugged and smiled lightly. 

Richie reached up and pinched Eddie’s cheek with a “Cute, cute, cute!”

“Stop it, I hate that!” 

He laughed, “You ready to do this?” 

Eddie took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, “I can’t do this.” 

“You CAN do this!” said Richie with excitement. “Just be yourself.”

“Fake coming out to my friends is the worst idea we’ve ever had. It is wrong.”

“What do you suggest then?”

Eddie nervously glanced at his feet, “I think we should just out ourselves to Bill like we planned next.”

“You think they are going to believe Bill without any pretense? No, you have to come out and it has to be tonight since it’ll be the only time we are all together before Beverly and Ben’s engagement party. If you steal her thunder in any way, she will murder. Who she’ll murder is unclear but it starts with Ed and ends with die. Hey! That was more clever than I intended.”

Eddie swallowed, “Alright, but Richie…”

He made a tracing motion toward the ground  “There will be a chalk shaped Eddie on the ground with Beverly DNA everywhere. It’s going to work, Eds. I promise.”

“Don’t call me, Eds. Listen, Rich I…”

“Stop trying to come up with excuses! It’s going to be fine.”

“No, Richie! Just shut up a second!” His heart was beating out of his chest, he had to tell Richie what he had been going through or everything could be ruined. He had to give him an out if he wanted. Eddie shrugged off Richie’s arm, so they were facing each other. “I’ve been thinking that I...I…”

“Well, spit it out Eds. Thinking what?” 

“I THINK I MIGHT ACTUALLY LIKE GUYS!”

Richie stood shocked and silent at first, just staring. Those ice-blue eyes hiding secrets and judgments that Eddie desperately wanted to hear aloud. Tears had caught in Eddie’s eyes which he blinked away quickly. “Well! Don’t just stand there, asshole! Say SOMETHING!” He demanded. 

“I...I…” Richie sputtered face turning crimson red. 

“Well, spit it out, Trashmouth.” mocked Eddie.

“I do too.” He gasped out. 

It was Eddie’s turn to stare in silence. “Sorry, I think I went temporarily insane. Repeat that?”

“I like guys, too. I have since college.” Richie sighed with relief. “Maybe longer.”

“What? You have?” This revelation made Eddie take a step back. “I had no idea.”

“Not relevant information to disclose.” Shrugged Richie. 

Eddie gave a confused look then lowered his eyes skeptically, “This isn’t a joke, Richie. I actually believe I am gay.”

“You're the one who shoved a rainbow cake with sprinkles on top of my bisexual pie.” Richie’s eyes twinkled. 

“Wow,” A smile broke out across both their faces, pure joy at the realization that they weren’t alone. They had never been alone. “What were the chances that 2 out of the 7 of us friends would be gay.” 

They stood there, in a rare silence, watching each other with a newfound comradery that didn’t seem possible after 20 years of friendship. Richie grabbed Eddie’s forearm and pulled him in for a hug, which was returned 10 fold. Tears that he forgot to keep holding in fell into the side of Richie’s neck. His emotions were on a rollercoaster with no chance of stopping. He faintly heard Richie say, “Eddie, I…”

He didn’t get to finish what he planned to say because a “Richie! Eddie! W-what’s the hold up?” Interrupted them. They quickly broke their embrace as Bill appeared beside them. He looked calm despite a bit of impatience in his eyes, then saw their faces and concern washed over him immediately. 

Bill put a hand on Eddie’s shoulder, the weight very comforting. “Everything ok?” He reached in his pocket and took out a travel tissue pack. Eddie gave a watery giggle, taking one and blowing his nose. 

“Yeah, Big Bill,” said Eddie. “Everything’s great.” And he found that his words were true.

After a few more breathes and checking himself in the selfie camera of his phone, Eddie felt ready to face his friends. The three men walked into the restaurant, heading to a back room that Ben reserved for the occasion. 

“Congrats to the couple!” Richie shouted as he bounded over to bear hug and lift Beverly off her feet. She laughed swatting at him, “Let me go you dorkface!” 

“Dorkface!” Exclaimed Richie. “Of all the sass to receive from your dude of honor.” 

Eddie watched the exchange warmly. Ben patted him on the back. “Traffic?” 

“Huh? Oh yeah.” Eddie said embarrassed. “Tons.” 

“There was a car fire and crash on the bridge.” Came the dry, toneless voice of Stanley Uris. “Surprised it wasn’t you Eddie, with all your road rage.”

Eddie gave a pout in Stanley’s direction but walked over to his friend for a handshake and a hug. “Such a kind, warm greeting from you Stan. I miss you, too.” 

“Where’ve you been lately?” He sounded unperturbed, but he wouldn’t ask if there wasn’t a genuine concern.

“Oh ya know,” Eddie trailed off with a shrug. Stanley lifted an eyebrow but didn’t push it, for now at least.

Eddie started to seat himself between Stanley and Ben when Richie grabbed his collar jerking him backward. “Scoot over, Stan the man.” 

Stanley rolled his eyes, “No.” 

“Why?” asked Richie.

“Because I am comfortable here.” 

“You’re being a stinker, Stanley. Move to the seat next to Ben. You like Ben, don’t you?” 

“Of course I…”

Richie looked right at Ben, “Too bad for you, Benny boy, it seems Stanley doesn’t like you anymore.” 

“Beep- beep, Richie,” Beverly warned while drinking a glass of wine and placing a hand on Ben’s arm. 

“I’m just saying it is suspect that the best man doesn’t want to sit next to the groom.” 

“He’s not a groom until the wedding day.” Stanley insisted. “And I am already sitting…” 

“Richie isn’t gonna let it go, Stan. Just move over one.” said Bill with strong finality. None of the losers liked to admit anymore that Bill remained the group’s leader even into adulthood. But when he made a request it was usually followed with little argument. Eddie figured it didn’t matter how independent any of them grew up to be, Bill still held a controlling rope over them. Something Stanley was known to resent.

He moved over a seat as Eddie gave an apologetic look at every one. Getting between Richie and Stanley tended to end in him being yelled at, so he rarely bothered anymore. Besides, he bickered with Richie more than anyone else so Stanley had no room to complain. 

Richie glanced around the room realizing they had a missing loser. “Where’s Mike?” 

“Bathroom,” Responded Beverly, still nursing her drink. “How was work, Eddie?” 

“Fine, I guess.” The last thing he wanted to talk about, except his mother, was his boring job. “An econ student was hired as my intern, which makes me think I’ve finally made it.” 

“Poor bastard is in for a world of ribbing by all your accounting co-workers,” said Richie, bumping Eddie’s shoulder. 

Eddie laughed, “Oh, I already made a joke at him today. Why do economists exist?” He scanned around the table then opened his mouth to answer. 

Mike’s voice interrupted from the door of the private room, “So accountants have someone to laugh at.”

“Mike!” whined Eddie. “You stole my punch line.”

“Sorry, Eddie.” He took his seat between Beverly and Bill. 

Stanley smirked, “You practiced that joke didn’t you.” 

“Shut up,” Eddie groaned. “How was your trip, Ben?” 

“Not the best,” Ben sighed, he wore a deprecating grin. No matter the story, Ben always had some kind of upturned smile, it was a unique quality. Considering most people told Eddie he had sad eyes, being able to smile at all times would be an excellent trait. “I didn’t leave early enough like I usually do because it was so early in the morning. I left my water bottle in the rental car they got me, then ran from TSA to the gate, was in my seat when I realized the sweater Bev got me for my birthday was back at security.” 

Beverly rubbed his back soothingly, “We can get you new ones of both those things.”

“I know, it’s just a bummer because they were special items before I lost them.” Eddie understood. Ben and he shared the same mentality about their personal items, each thing they owned held a nice memory. He knew that the water bottle was one Ben got from his job after the big promotion, he could ask for another one but it wouldn’t be the same as the moment he received the gift. The feeling of pride and achievement all through a meaningless material item. 

“Well, lucky for you, Ben.” Richie pulled out something from his bag, handing it across the table to Ben. “I had these made for everyone.” Richie continued grabbing water bottles from his bag, passing them around. 

“This is so nice, Rich!” said Beverly. She laughed at the label. Eddie looked down at his seeing ‘#TeamBenverly’. It was great quality, a platted maroon paint covered the bottle with the lettering in a bold white. 

“I still have the keychain you gave us for my bachelor party.” said Bill.

“That’s right!” Mike chimed in. “What does it say again?” 

“Big Bill’s Bitchin’ Bachelor Bash.” Stanley drawled. “Kinda clever.” 

Richie grabbed Eddie’s shoulder, making Eddie almost jump in confusion. He stared at Richie, who was clutching his heart in mock shock, “A compliment? I don’t think I can handle that from you, Stanley Urine.” 

“I take it back,” said Stanley, “You don’t have any cleverness. Only idiocy.” 

“Hmmmm, insults,” Richie leaned in front of Eddie, still holding his shoulder as his face got closer to an unamused Stanley. “They feed my very soul.” 

Eddie placed his hand over Richie’s face and pushed him backward the metal of his glasses digging into Eddie’s hand, “Your soul has a healthy appetite then.” 

“Oof, your words fill me up most, Eds.” 

“Eds is a dumb nickname and you know it.” 

“Alright, alright!” Mike called the attention toward him. “Let’s hear from Ben and Beverly. A decade of being together and now you’re tying the knot. How does it feel?” 

Ben looked to Beverly, who smiled sweetly at him. “Feels perfect,” said Ben simply, but in those two words, he expressed years worth of working toward friendship and partnership that went beyond infatuation. “I’m so happy. And even happier to have my best friends around to celebrate.” 

“This wedding is really about coming together,” started Beverly, “With our friends, the family we’ve chosen, to celebrate love. I think what we have with all of you is rare and...” 

Eddie thought deeply about her phrasing ‘the family we’ve chosen’. He had many issues with his mother, different than Beverly’s father problems but they both came from toxic environments. Kindred spirits in a dark and twisted way. 

With all his thoughts lately, he had pushed down how his mother would react. He may never tell her, if he could help it. Her religious views left no room for tolerance on the subject. 

He shoved thinking about his mother deep in a box in his brain and focused on Beverly, who was still speaking, “...so just thank you for being there for us. Anyway, let’s fucking celebrate!” 

They all cheered, Eddie looking around with a smile on his face. With his ‘chosen family’ he could trust them to love him no matter what. 

As the night wore on with lots of laughs, food, and stories. Ben brought up the story of when he finally got the courage to ask out Beverly, “I was waiting outside of school, sweating profusely, despite wearing 2 sweaters…”

“You always wore so many layers!” said Bill laughing. 

“Well, when you are fat and subconscious, that’s how you hide it.” Ben said, voice lowering a bit in embarrassment. 

“Ben Handsome now shows off his true glory and beauty.” said Richie with a wink. “Just the way I like it.”

“Beep- beep, Richie.” Blushed Ben. “As I was saying, I waited outside and she approached me like in slow motion. I thought I was going to throw up. As I opened my mouth to say something she said,” He motioned for Beverly to continue the story. 

She giggled, “I said, ‘Ben, let’s go to prom together’. His face drained of color and he passed out.” The whole room erupted in laughs. “I..I was knocked to the ground!” Beverly tried to say through gleeful tears, “He fell forward into me.” 

“You were a very pleasant landing.” Ben smiled in mortification. 

“You planning to faint at your wedding too?” said Stanley, “As your best man, I will need to prepare.” 

“No, I’m not. I promise.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” said Richie. “I will have a fainting couch ready as a precaution.”

“You’ll probably just jump in front of Beverly and take one for the team,” piped Eddie.

“Speaking of the wedding,” Stanely rounded on Eddie and Richie. A dread bubbled in Eddie’s stomach. “You two having to bring dates is the smartest rule. I should have thought of that for my wedding.” 

Richie threw his napkin at Stanley’s face, “Don’t make me take YOU as my date Stan the man.” 

“You could never get this, Trashmouth.” 

“I can get whoever I want. Right, Eds?” 

“Don’t call me that.” Eddie mumbled. “While we are on the subject, just so no one is surprised, I might bring someone who none of you would expect.” Eddie felt his knee being squeezed from under the table. It took him a moment to realize it was Richie’s hand, he was giving a warning. Most likely telling him to keep the details limited, but Eddie hoped it was a touch for encouragement.

“Please, don’t bring Myra.” said Mike making the group groan collectively. 

“Now, that would be unexpected.” Richie snickered.

“Eddie, you’re not actually thinking…” said Bill seriously. “Beverly, if they get back together I blame you.” 

“Me?!” Beverly opened her mouth to fight but Eddie interrupted. 

“Hello! Back to me, losers. I am not bringing Myra. I am not even interested in women!” The words slipped out quick, and he wished they could be suctioned into his mouth once more. 

They went quiet, as the news hit them. Mike was smiling at Eddie. He felt his bravery trickling into cowardice the longer none of them said anything. 

“S-so does this mean,” began Bill. “That you-you’re g-“

“Gay? Yes, stuttering Bill.” Richie answered seeming to be frustrated by Bill’s condition for the first time in a long time. Then a chair screeched out and Beverly ran around the table, slamming herself into Eddie. 

Her soft hair tickled his neck, his heart was calming down from her sudden show of affection. He placed a hand on the arm she slung over his chest. Richie’s hand hadn’t left his knee either. Everyone else’s reactions were fairly standard, awkward congratulations or they were proud of him, all expected. The surprising reaction was Stanley, perhaps because he didn’t react at all. He was silent for the rest of the evening. 

As they all stood outside saying goodbyes, Stanley seemed to linger a little aways from Eddie. He waited for the rest to leave, Richie was the last to hug him and head to his car. He wandered toward Stanley hesitantly. The taller man was twisting his key in hand repetitively, tapping his foot methodically. 

“So,” Eddie begun lightly, “I’ll see you later?” 

“Yeah,” answered Stanley stiffly. Eddie cocked his head to the side trying to meet his friend’s eyes, then gave up turning to leave. “How do you know?” Came his voice clearly from behind.

Eddie turned around, a few paces away. “Know what, Stan?”

“That you’re into guys.” 

“Because I just do?”

“How long have you known?” 

“Er...that’s more complicated. I mean I’ve been sitting on it for a month but..”

“A month?” interrupted Stanley, he was getting pink in the cheeks. “You’ve known a month and are coming out. That’s not enough time to know.” 

“What’re you talking about?” Eddie was trying to keep his voice calm, he could feel that tingle of rage that surges in him when he feels attacked.

“Have you ever been with a guy?” 

“What does that have to do with knowing whether I am gay? I know that every time I’ve thought of girls it hasn’t been the same as with guys. Or how with Myra...” 

“Ok, yeah! Myra!” He rose his voice like winning some kind of twisted victory. “You were with her for a year and you really didn’t know?”

“Stan, you’re being a jackass.” 

“I am trying to understand why you kept this from us?” 

“From YOU, you mean? Stan, I didn’t keep it from anyone. I was figuring out my shit, then I talked about it with Mike and…”

“You told Mike first?” 

“Um...no…” He caught himself quickly. “I told Richie first then Mike.” 

A hurt flashed over Stanley’s eyes that Eddie hadn’t seen in years. “You told them before me?” 

“Stan...come on. I told the rest of you at the same time. It was just easier to tell them at the time.” 

“I’ve known you as long as Richie has. Much longer than Mike.”

“It’s not about that!” Eddie was at a loss. This was getting nowhere. “I don’t know what to say, Stan. I’m not going to apologize.” 

“There is nothing to apologize for.”

“Then why are you fighting with me like there is?” 

Stanley remained silent. His arguments lost on his tongue. “I am tired. I will talk to you later.” And he walked away. Eddie stood there, stomach twisting the food inside uncomfortably, eyes watery from the sadness creeping in his head.

_________

Thanks for the patience for the new chapter! Longer one cause I apparently had a lot to get through. I am starting a second job soon, but I will keep working on the next chapter as inspiration hits. Don't forget to subscribe!

Comments/reblogs/likes "feed my very soul", post questions and thoughts! 

And if you want to be on the tag list let me know. 

Taglist: @sam-i-am2468 @slashpalooza @frankeeenstein @eds-kas @jem-carstairs-is-perfection @roobarrtrashmouth @hypnoidvoid @imeddie @reddieforlove @appojoos @probablynotacarrot @Twistedbutcute @jawnlawk @decaffeinatedpostmoon @goblinbastards @randomgonzalez @honestly-im-just-sick-of-people @pirates-apologist @asparkleofacrylicquartz @plethoraoffandoms @dangerouspotatox @pan-ini @sarah011 @maximusfracker @callme-eds @vinnosint @02styles94 @justcallme-trashmouth

If your name is crossed out it is cause your tag didn’t work. If you have another tumblr to tag let me know!

[fireteam-dauntless]

A Tale of Two Guardians XX

Chapter 20 : Enemy of my Enemy masterlist

word count : 2.4K tag list : @mail-me-a-snail @basically-nacl @shins-wife @speed-boop

“That was a nice change,” I said.  I looked over at Maverick in the pilot seat with a smile pulling at the corner of my lips.  We were just re-entering the Tower’s airspace. 

“I know, we should do this more often,”  Maverick replied.  His Ghost started to request a landing pad and gave out his Guardian’s ship ID.

As we landed in the Hanger and before we could even leave the ship, we saw Zavala come storming over from across the landing pad.  I sighed heavily and followed Maverick down the stairs.  “Oh boy, here we go,” I mumbled quietly.  I pulled my helmet off and carried it in my left hand.

“Where have you two been?!”  Zavala demanded.  "I wanted a debriefing of your mission when you got back.  But instead you take off to wherever you went!  Tell me what happened on that Dreadnaught, Maverick-8."

I could feel his body tensing up beside me and the frustration oozing out of his every pore.  “Well,” Mav began, “first off, that was rude.  But if you must know, we almost died before we even set foot on that ship, but we didn't and now you have a transmat zone on there.  Good enough?”

“And we got approval from Ikora to go to Venus for a couple of days,” I added.  “You could have asked your fellow Vanguard where we were.”

Zavala glanced at me and then turned back to Maverick.  “Seeming how you still don't like me, your report is sufficient enough.  Tomorrow I want your team to report to me, we still have to find Oryx.”  The Vanguard turned around and walked away.

I turned to Mav with eyebrows raised.  “You two still don't like each other?”

“Nope and we probably never will,” he said with a hefty sigh.

“You can't hold a grudge toward him forever Mav.  He's still the Vanguard Commander.”

“Yeah good for him, unless he gives me a damn good reason for me to forgive him, I'll continue to despise him.”

“Alright, alright forget I said anything.”  We started walking out of the Hanger.

“I don't know about you, but I'm going home. Care to join me, Storm?”

“No I think I'll head back to my place and start a new mural,” I said to him with a smile.  “But I will see you tomorrow, Mav, that’s a promise.”

We walked out of the Hanger and down an elevator together. When we reached the bottom we waved to each other and went off on our own ways.  But before he could walk away from me, I pressed a kiss on his mandible.

When I was back in my apartment, I shedded off my armor and pulled on my painting clothes, gray sweats and a paint stained shirt.  “What are you going to be working on now?  You finished Maverick’s painting.”

“Well, peu de lumiere, I was thinking about starting a landscape mural.  Of where we went on Venus.  Those volcanoes that spat out vibrant blue lava, the trees… and something about Vex architecture is absolutely fascinating.”  I picked up my paints and started mixing some colors on my palette.  “So maybe it’s the view we had when we were sitting outside together for hours on end, in each other’s company and in total silence.”

“Ah so like the painting you did of you, Gilly, and Adam on Mars?”

“Exactly like that.  Just a glimpse of the moment of peace.”

“Well, I’ll start a pot of coffee while you get started.”

————— 

The next day, Maverick, Skinner, and I stood before Zavala.  Maverick was still tense from the day before and Skinner was hungover.

Zavala set down the briefing report on the table and turned to all of us.  “So in short you're going up there to see what intelligence the Cabal have gathered, and get out unless told otherwise. Questions?” 

“Yeah just one, what do we do if we find out if they know where he is?”  Maverick asked.

“Then we'll go to him and stop him there and then.  Anymore questions?”  None of us responded, so Maverick shook his head and declined.

“Alright then, Guardians, get to your ships and head for the Dreadnaught,”  he said as he waved us out the door.

We launched into Earth’s orbit and hovered for a couple minutes while we set our course, then Maverick came over the private channel.  “Alright guys this should be a simple intel retrieval mission. Hopefully in and out in about 15-20 minutes.”

“Oh good I was hoping for a short mission today.  I'm still hungover from last night at the bar.” Skinner commented.

“A little overboard with the Lights Out again Skinner?"  Maverick asked.

“Well with you two out on your little date, yeah, I did.  Doesn't leave me with much else to do.”

“Well, maybe if you socialized with other Guardians, you could find a drinking buddy of your own,” I said with a laugh.

“Alright that's enough, you two. Both of you fall into formation for slip space. And when we get there, one at a time for transmat onto the Dreadnaught.  We don't need to fit three people in one jump ship for the trip home.”

————— 

As we transmat onto the Dreadnaught the Vanguard channel lit up with activity.  “Oryx could be anywhere on the Dreadnaught,” Zavala said.  “With time we could find him but we don't have time.  The Cabal have been there long enough to have some real field intelligence.  The path to Oryx lies in their ship.”

“The Hive and Cabal are going at it again,” I observed.  They were fighting each other still in front of the crashed ship.

“The Cabal are still holding against the Hive, Zavala,”  Mav relayed to the Commander. 

“Survival is a temporary condition.  Cut through them, and get inside that ship.”

“Who fights this hard to protect a crashed ship?”  Skinner asked.

“That’s not a crashed ship, it's a beachhead.  Only way those doors will open is to send out reinforcements.  Draw them out.”

“So we need to kill some Cabal?  Easy, let’s go kill some space rhinos,” Maverick said, then motioned for us to follow him onto the field of battle.

We cut through some Hive and reached the Cabal.  We cut through the Cabal with brutal efficiency to get them to open up the door.  One of them must have called for reinforcements because an alarm began to blare and the doors started to slide open.

“I think we got their attention,” I said.

“Good, let’s fight through them.”

“Cabal protocol is to detonate any ship that crashes.  If they haven’t after all this time it could be a base of operations.  They’re looking for something on the Dreadnaught.  See what they know about Oryx.”

We began to move through the ship.  It was awfully convenient that the door we went through was around the engine room.

“I’m detecting a terminal nearby it probably as what we’re looking for Mav,”  Maverick’s Ghost relayed.

“Good, let’s head that way.”

We fought through more Cabal and reached the terminal rather quickly.  Maverick ran up to it and deployed his Ghost, who began to download intel the terminal’s database.  Skinner and I held fast to our weapons, watching Maverick’s back.

“The Cabal have located Oryx.  He’s protected in the center of the Dreadnaught, reachable through only something they call ‘a rupture’...”

“Must be some kind of portal,” Zavala said quietly.  “And the Cabal found one?”

“They have a team headed for it right now.”

“Then I suggest you get there first, Fireteam.”

“The quickest way to them is up this hall.” Maverick’s Ghost opened the door and flew towards it, ready to lead the way.

“Alright let’s go and kill us a Hive God,” Skinner said, perhaps with a bit more enthusiasm than what was necessary.

We reached a bulkhead door and Mav just slammed on a button and it began to open.  I rolled my eyes.  It’s never that simple, I thought.  As thick metal doors slid apart, some Thrall ran out of some side hallways, down toward the fighting. 

“We found the Cabal team headed for the rupture. They’re outnumbered by Taken,” Maverick reported. 

“Forget what they say about ‘the enemy of my enemy’.  If something stands between you and the rupture put it down,” Zavala commanded, his tone was cold.

“So are we going to kill them all?” I asked.  I didn’t like the idea of taking on two forces of different enemies at the same time.  Too many risks, too many variables, too many ways to die.

“No, just the Taken.  But if the Cabal shoot at you, kill ‘em.”

And we head down to the fighting, killing Taken and Cabal alike.  We split up originally, but every now and then we would run into each other and fight together before splitting off again.

“Those Cabal won’t last much longer,” I said over the channel.  And sure enough they backed their leader to a ledge.  Out of nowhere, Oryx just reached out and… took their leader.  I stared in horror.  If he could take a Centurion so easily, why was he letting this fight go on for so long?

“Oryx just recruited a Centurion,”  Maverick reported to Zavala.

“Let him take all he wants. He won’t be around long enough for it to matter.” 

I turned to Skinner and Maverick.  “If that Hive God is allowed to just take as he pleases, there will be an army for us to go against.”  

“I know,”  Maverick reassured me.  “So let’s finish this.”

We finished off any stragglers that remained to continue fighting and headed for two arches standing on their own platform.

“That must be the rupture.”

“Eris what’s their next move?”  Zavala said.

“Toland spoke of statues the Hive used to navigate ruptures.”

“We’ll look for them.  Guys let’s split up and find them.”

Skinner found one first and then I found the second.  Maverick found the third.

“These statues are dead, Genesis,”  my Ghost said.  “But something is happening to the rupture.”  I turned around and joined Skinner and Maverick on the platform.  We stood with our guns ready and slowly approached.  When we got within 5 meters of it, the portal jumped to life and Thrall began to pour out of it, screeching and running directly towards us.

“The Thrall will smother your light!” Eris yelled.  “Do not underestimate them like Tarlow did!”

We gunned them down in a classic firing line type of way. But they just kept coming.  They were endless.

“Forget about the Thrall!  Get through that portal!” Zavala yelled.

We all jumped toward the portal but it pushed us back.  I could feel the magic tingling on my skin.  It was foreign and almost made me weak.  I jumped back to Maverick and Skinner, and Maverick caught my arm when I almost fell over. 

“Storm, you alright?”

“That magic is dark… it oozes of death and chaos,” I said to him quietly.  He just looked at me, then started shooting the Thrall that were coming too close.

“I don’t think we’re going that way,” Mav said over the Vanguard channel.

“Then it’s true, only Ascendent can will a rupture to open,” Eris said.

“Umm… There’s something Ascendent passing through right now,” Skinner said.  Even he sounded alarmed, which was saying something.  Nothing surprised or scared Skinner.  Taken started to push through the rupture, along with an Echo of Oryx. It raised it’s hand and began to fire some kind of magic at us, but Maverick cast his Ward of Dawn to protect us.

“Shit,” I said and stood with my fusion rifle ready.  “I really fucking hate those things.”

“So do we Storm,” Mav said.

“So what’s the plan Mav?”

“Well this Ward won’t last long so let’s run out the back and take up positions over there and there.”  He pointed to a pillar and some ruble.

“Sounds good to me let’s go,” Skinner said.

We ran out of the Ward before it disappeared and headed to the areas Maverick pointed out. I took shelter behind my pillar, holding fast to my gun.  I could feel it’s magic banging against the other side.  He knew exactly where I was.  Maverick waved Skinner to take a shot at the Echo, so he used his Golden Gun and blasted the Echo in the head.  It turned away from my pillar toward Skinner and began to fire it’s magic at him. Then Maverick jumped out of cover and unloaded a magazine into it.  It roared in pain and looked at him, then fired as he dove back into cover.  

I looked over at Maverick in panic and fear.  His entire left arm was missing.  I wanted to move out from cover and go to him, but he held up his good arm and shook his head.  His Ghost came out and worked a little magic, then he was good as new.  I gave a small sigh of relief, but I was angry, and I could tell Maverick was equally pissed off.  He motioned for us to follow his lead and he pulled out his Gjallarhorn.  Skinner got all giddy, started to laugh, and pulled out his Ash Factory.  He looked at me and I nodded, and proceeded to pull out my One Way Ticket 000.

“On three we jump out and fire together, got it?” 

“Anything to send it back to wherever it came from,” I said coldly.

“One, Two, Three!” He yelled and we jumped out and we all fired our rockets directly at it.  The Echo roared in pain and began to melt; it returned to wherever it was spawned from.  The rupture closed behind it.

“Gah, the rupture closed,”  Maverick grumbled.

“It will only open for Ascendent Hive.” Eris declared.

“Then how do we get to Oryx?”

We’ll sort this out, fireteam,” Zavala concluded.  “Head back to the tower when you can. And no detours Maverick-8.”

“Bite me, Commander,” he snapped back.  Zavala gave a heavy sigh and closed the Vanguard channel.

“So are you two going to disappear again or, can I actually come with you guys this time?”  Skinner inquired.

“Sorry, Skinner,” Mav apologized as we transmatted back to our ships.  “Maybe next time.”

I opened up a channel with Maverick once we fell into formation and entered slip space.  “So I take it you’re not listening to Zavala.”

“Eh, I’ll give him a debriefing before I go this time.  Do you think you could spare a little time to come with me somewhere?”

“Of course.  I always have time for you.”

“Good.  Wait for me in the Hanger and I’ll meet you back there after.”

“Where are we going this time?”

“It’s a surprise, little Angel,” he chuckled.  “A treat from me.”

[indomitablemegnolia]

I have been dragging this coffin around, like Django, for a while now, and for some reason American politics has to just keep poking at a seeping infected wound; as a psychologist I know that the best way to deal with certain emotions and PTSD is to talk it out, if you can talk past the ragged breaths.  Now I am not much of a talker but I do write; I was thinking that maybe letting this out into the world might help someone or perhaps not fatally wound them by reading. I just know I have been  keeping all of this way too close for way too long. I am going to try to do this so those who don’t want to know can avoid. I do add a bit of fantasy into it as my own default coping mechanism; so it is not just a barrage of horror. There are triggers... physical pain, blood, rape, and political triggers...this is me screaming into the void. If anyone reads this, I would hope that I could inspire a kind word.

Good god, what fresh hell is this? I swear that sometimes I have to just kick this evil darkness, beat it back, strike out with every weapon I have until it bleeds sunlight; oh, and when that first drop of sun falls I have to keep fighting until I am bathed in that healing glow, smearing it over my face, rubbing it in to my soul; reveling in the warmth of the end of a battle well fought and valiantly one worth the effort.  This is always a rough two weeks for me every year for well 19 years now… the tenth falls and it seems some note really minor catastrophe befalls me; there has not been a skip year, a stand out or a delayed year; I will not whine about the past, but for the past three years it has been a political horror show on top of the menial financial, health, or personal failing; I focus on the possible and look up, which usually lands me down a manhole but I can’t change my stripes. In these last three years the shit-show of a congress (and congress is both houses equally guilty) put on these shows of caring and disdain, evil in its fake almost after thought of un-electability. Kavanaugh sent me into a bottomless tailspin; something about a Judge rapist being put on the highest court in the land on the anniversary of my own…attack; not that I think it sits any better in the pit of my stomach any other time of the year, but now… again… and I just can’t breathe, they had made my life all of the things I still struggle to live through… a joke, a pawn, something to leverage each other with… I am sick; politics making life, again, not worth living; nothing mattered, the truth did not matter, their ignorance, their lies did not matter. I find myself feeling rather Wilde; I was left feeling, broken, forgotten, as if I do not belong anywhere; there was nothing to lose myself in and no escape even if there were.

This country, this world, has become such a small, terrible place; I cheat, and I excuse myself, as I escape only by avoiding reality, I love the world that I create; but once there was a moment, out of time, such a terribly long time ago that I bring the memory to life often; for a time I had sunshine, and flowers, mud under my nails and rich coffee and I apologized to no one for who and how and what I am; I live with no thought regularly to why I should not be here and who I should be; yes, I do know that eventually I will die here, being banished to that other world where indeed I know because of the impermanence of life it will be as if I never did exist; every broken molecule of me will parish, every inch, every thought, but one. That molecule, that inch, that thought, its small, its infinitesimal, its worthless if you asked most, but in this world of whit and worry it is the only thing worth having; it is worth all the worlds in all the universes.  I cannot lose it; I can not barter it or sell it and above it all it should never be given away. This world must get better, it must stop getting lost in all the things that are not real, such as money, race, all the false differences we draw between us; there is only one true thing about this world, there is no escape, so make your difference here and now.  I must tell you, now that you see me, you know part of my life, my story and because of that I hope you understand that I Love you.  I love you, despite never knowing your story, we may never meet, never laugh or cry together and I will never kiss or hug you, but I love you as dearly as my universe, as closely as a flesh and blood friend.

I love you.

It has been so many years, I hardly talk about it, but I warn you now this gets a bit graphic, but it is my story; this story is not being told for anyone else's campaign; it is not a #metoo. This is me taking a psychological victory, screaming my pain into this void like echo chamber; I know no one may hear me, and that is fine. This is one of Dante's hells I live in, wrapped deliciously in my favourite personal coping mechanism a piece of detached fiction that reads like a conversation between my super ego and my Id....

I sought freedom, the only freedom to be had in this world, music loud, the delicious truth of life’s simplicity; music is a true elixir, ideally it should be listened to at 60-80 decibels and 70 mph; everything can be made right if you just put the music on and the top down, drive 85 mph on a country road, as if you are trying to out run time itself. The sun low in the western sky; fat fluffy gray clouds float lazily over a layer of black, brooding, formidable clouds rolling in like the undaunting wall of night, mocking the artificial azure sky that lays at the last eighth of the sky, about to be swallowed up. Music playing too loud, I sang atonally along; the cool breeze of autumn playfully ruffled my hair as if I resided in a third visible universe in one place unattached to the storm or the artificial sunny day.  The little silver dream I drove was cutting through the country side; coming up on a slower moving rusted out pick-up truck I worked the gearshift, not laying off the gas, dropping to fourth to pass, galloping ahead hard and fast, leaving the truck behind.

Suddenly, for the first time in ages the world almost made sense, err, I suppose it is awkward saying that because the sense it made was tenuous and momentary at best. Escape possible only by way of ignoring the horrors; after a week like the last, a little sensical nonsense was called for.  I had to get away, I had to distance myself from the news and the bluster, the horrible reality; the reminders that weighed my heart, slammed my soul, obliterated my psyche; in my home, my home, the country I love, whose founding documents read of words like truth and justice; a vicious criminal is appointed to the highest court in the land; a man accused of raping three women; a charge that not so long ago would have precluded his admission; but that was then and this is now, basically more of a wild west, kangaroo, dumb-fuckery idea of conscience; we are now a people who allow the separation of children from parents, to be kept in cages. Now, because of this stupidity, people treating justice like a partisan football; horrible happenings from my past are brought front and center of my subconscious every night as I sleep. Yes, I have read books and listened to tapes as to how to guide dreams, none have prevailed.

Letting my mind wander, it was dangerous; and yes, it circled back to last night’s bout with Fate, Christ, she hit me hard and fast; for a figment of my imagination she really left me bruised, broken, bloody; I can still taste the sickly copper iron flavor of blood in my mouth, my soul limping.  First. she took me on a trek into the past; tiny, horrible, years ago; Jesus, I realize, if this nightmare I carry heavy in my mind were a child it would be graduating high school; oh god, the thought, the kind that should never be thought; after, I was sentenced to a more vile prison, to a sentence more than double theirs, I see no possibility of parole from this place. I feel as if I were slowly being eaten alive; Fate, she held my face to the fire, she made me watch and relive it, over and over and over again.  

I despise the fact something as delicious as this breeze can trigger panic, terror, horror; this feeling was, twice upon a time, in the valley of faded fears, my favourite season, now it sits heavy on me, like a box of babies tears. Though now, it is that recurring nightmare, I try to break free, but as he said in The Godfather ‘every time I think I am out, it drags me back in.’ I feel so pathetic, seriously, I earned my PhD in psychology, trying to outfit myself with all the tools; I should have been able to drown this demon long ago, but alas, I find the zombie bastard can swim; argh, and yes, I know that isn’t possible, no one can fight off all the memories, it's impossible to erase events, for anyone, most especially me.

Out of the blue it seems, a wonderful friend, a friend one which I didn’t know I still had; sadly I assume that I am always left behind, but she sent me in a tailspin of introspection; she asked me simply, 'are you okay?' A real flesh and blood human asked me, she noticed, she pointed out that I am not acting like myself; I have been tearing myself down, doubting the simplest things, I have even, in an odd way, seeking her approval; asking permission to hang my own pieces on my wall, my usual 'it's easier to ask forgiveness, than seek permission', attitude gone.  

Gods, she is right, I know she is right; I am acting weird, different, calling myself stupid, pathetic, worthless; at first it started just stupid, small, subtle... most people bought that I was fine, they never saw it... I think. Anyways, they never called me on it. This friend, this good friend called me on it; I wrote a piece out of my usual character, at first, I loved it; then the next day in a mercurial hissy fit, I ripped into it, then in another flip I apologized for it, I am acting like a kid caught lying, obvious, blatant, guilty. This friend, ah, this beautiful friend called me on all my shit; like that guilty child, my psyche tried to hide it, then I stopped, I looked, really, I am. Then this introspection brought me to the realization that at times, not always, very rarely, I get weird, almost puritanical about sex. Usually I have a very laissez faire attitude; bi, straight, whatever flavour of the lgbtq or any other spectrum, if you get off on it, if you like it, then it's beautiful; there are people I love on all levels of depravity. It may even seem to them that I am a touch prudish because I do not partake, that is fine. Because this friend, this wonderful friend, shined a light, I could again see the bruises fate had left.

Fate had asked me, "so, if it is all good, what gets you off?" With that I was lost, nothing; everything; how was I to know? Of known experiences I have rape (not awesome) and a failed relationship (asshole never understood a thing I said, then tried to recreate experience #1); yup, two times lose on those. I know what I need, no desire, no require; with all the horrible mediocrity in this world that we seem to accept as fair sacrifice, I will not let love be among those. I want epic love, mad, passionate, crazy, undying, span the universes kind of love; anything less will be a poor substitute, meaning I can not, I will not let her take that from me; this is just one of those turns where nothing goes well. She shook me, and god, I had let Fate affect me.

The moment she reared her ugly head was pain. I was lost in a soft dream of sweet remembered soft kisses. Suddenly, a hit to my face, my eye starting to swell; a doubled fist to the gut, air rushed out in a horrible half scream.  A hand wrapped in my hair slamming my head into a stony ground, again, that horrible haunting memory.  Her voice chilling in a predatory growl, she wanted blood. She taunted me, "I KNOW what you wrote, hmmm, I know what you enjoyed, I told you; you can admit it, just to me, no one else is listening;" She ground her hips into mine from behind, "I know that you liked it, you loved it; I wonder, did you reach orgasm? Was it earth shattering? Did you moan like a whore?"  Fate, that horrible bitch, licked up from my jaw to my temple, I stopped the urge to vomit, I felt my hate multiply, but in seconds I felt a turn inward, "You know that the hecklers are still right;" she raked her pelvis suggestively against me, three more thrusts.

"No, but it seems to get you off, dry humping me; hmm is the bitch in heat? So ya like my ass? I have been working out." She slammed my face down into the stone.

I let a painful groan escape, "You like the rough trade."

"Oh yeah," I ground out lifting my head turning to face her, "about as much as I like you."

She laughed cruelly, standing slamming her foot into my kidney. “Look at you, still so pathetic, still that laughing clown punching bag, you are always such fun; there is a lot to be said about consistency," slamming her boot into my jaw.  "If it was not the roughness, the pain, was it the team effort? Now, remind me how many was it that you liked? Four or five? How many holes were the putting it into?" She ground her heel onto my palm, I try to stop the noise, a near scream, "how many holes?"  

I smiled showing my blood outlined teeth, "This many." I held aloft a single middle finger.

Fate came to torture my soul time and again, with unlimited creativity; it has happened more than a few times in recent days; using more taunts, planting more doubts, inflicting more pain; cracking open my soul leaving it weeping and bereft. The more it happened the more I began to believe that she was right; yes, maybe I really enjoyed it; then I didn’t take the moment needed to breathe before I reacted this time out of emotion, gut check. She was right, they were all right; it was all I deserved; I asked for it, I had enjoyed it. Though that moment of introspection given to me by a gorgeous friend, gave me time to recognize this is actually an extreme rendition, interrogation tactic, the kind used in interviews at Gitmo; some good interrogators can even implant false memories, causing false confessions.

I woke from the nightmare; I gathered my own thoughts.  I had to run; I had to hide. I hated; I hated the world and all the people in it, I hated myself and most of all I hated all this wasted time. If I had known Life before would I blame him, hate him… yes, right now, in fact I do.

I drove faster, not even slowing at bends in the road; why was I running? What good could it do? I know can not escape when the horror is inside my own skull. The green leaves starting to turn gold, some starting to age red at the edges. I whisked through the countryside, far too fast; it was liberating. God, this is my favourite season; there is something so sultry and libidinous about fall; I let go of the wheel, raising my arms joyous in the air. The feeling, the smell, the look, it seems to get my heart racing and my mind reeling; in pure celebration of the seasons change, the bite to the wind and the trill of cinnamon to the air, senses that are so much Life, oh me, oh my, oh my favorite things. Dark chocolate, eaten slowly, savored and enjoyed; passionate literature read in a hot bath tub that requires an entry like bugs bunny getting into the boiling cauldron; music, so many lovely perfect kinds of music, hard hitting, rampaging, soothing and truly sensual all appreciated savored and enjoyed… Please, Life... I need you.  Why don't you come? I call to you, I miss you.

Before even fate showed the aphasia really affected my self-confidence; I no longer had my words, I constantly sounded either stupid or drunk or both, that had shaken me to my core; with both of those, it changed my own reactions. Then America, my home, is not helping, the president mocking a rape survivor, his little toadies backing him up. It just tore a hole in my psyche, in my soul, letting all these demons back. This is not me really... but what is me?

For me, after the attack, the police, they never doubted; the bruised and bloody the evidence abounded, they had no trouble even finding the culprits, but the faculty, the students... not so kind... I heard the whispers, they never looked at me, not the real me, I was just a disregarded scrap.

My lips hurt, they were cracked in two places, my ribs were bruised, all making me wonder if Fate was more than just my horrible subconscious. More than the conscience that makes a coward of me; makes me want to run for the shelter of a strong set of arms.  My foot slacks off the gas pedal; I was losing my will to run, I realized that I was not able to run from this kind of mountain.

"Why can't you hear me?!” I yelled at the building clouds so hard my throat ached; they were heavy with rain. I saw the edges of refracted rainbows as they slid slowly in front of the sun.

Soft, so close to my ear, I felt the breath of Life. "But I did."

I swerved, nearly off the road, I screamed, slamming in the clutch not touching the brake, cutting the wheel sharply, putting the car into a full 360 spin, it almost came to a rest.  "Jiminy Cripcity Roosevelt Christmas, man. You could have just killed me." I collected my galloping heart, letting the clutch out in 3rd gear screeching off the tires. He laughed, his words sunk in slowly, I understood his words and they angered me, I slid the gearshift into 4th, without the clutch; "Yeah, right, you heard me, sure.  So, what you are saying that as usual when the world begins using me for a toilet brush, I am on my own; lemme guess, all for character building I am sure. Just go, I do not need you anymore.  Just get out." I leaned into the gas, not caring the speed, anger making my eyes begin to run.

"What the hell was that?" He reached his hand over, gripping mine, "wound a little tight their honey; let’s get you relaxed” he started rubbing the inside of my wrist, my breathing slowed. "I wish, with every ounce of power I have, I wish I could have come when I heard your cries, they caused an ache in me so cutting so horrible, I cried. I don't know how I heard you or how I am here now."

"Yeah, yeah, sure." I jeered my hand waving him away. I looked at him out of the corner of my eye, his expression was so hurt, “God, I shouldn't have mocked... I’m just angry, but not at you,” I took a long breath, “I am sorry" I whispered, easing off the gas.

"Then just stop, pull off the road, talk to me."

I sighed seeking that cognitive reset.  "Okay." There was a wooded turn out just ahead.  I pulled the car over, stalling out, killing the engine. I rolled my eyes internally; it has been ages since I stalled out.  I swiped the little tears away. "So, what? What is it that you want?" My jaw set. "What?"

He sighed, seeing this was going to be an uphill battle; he reached for my hand bringing the palm to his lips; instantly my jaw slacked, and air rushed from my lips, "I missed you." He kissed the tender pad of my palm. "I know you have been in pain. Tell me what caused it; tell me haunts you." His fingers still softly drawing hypnotic circles on my wrist.

"Ah, pain, but where to start? We could do a chronological study into the beginning of pain; it might take a while."  I try to sound unbothered.

"Where this pain, your pain, the one that has had you screaming, where that pain started." His face so beautifully earnest, and there is an importance to being earnest.  “Please…” he breathed

"Words, it always begins with words, then those sticks and stones; they come hard."

He let one hitched chuckle out, "Wow, what a cop out." He dared.

I breathed again, then let it out slow, "Dammit really?” he nodded, “shit, with this whole 'legitimizing rape' floating around, taking even the one recourse for a victim of said crime has if it takes an unlucky turn. They have the audacity to mock and berate a survivor of a crime, I have seen them, mock hurricane victims, the disabled, they come just shy of saying that they want all of us defectives to die they put a rapist on the high court, now this monstrosity that will end my only piece of mind. My…" he held up his hand.

Clicking of his tongue stopped me. "No, not what I asked for Joan of arc, I was asking for the story, for this pain I see in your eyes, not a history of the worlds ills. I want your story."

"Eg, yeah, but that’s not important, it's really not even worth telling."

"Just stop; stop with the bullshit, stop deflecting; I want to hear your story, please, just tell me the goddamned story.” He gritted his teeth, “sorry, but I hate when you make light of yourself; you are making fun of my favourite person in the world, I am sorry just, please, just tell me."

"Cheese and crackers man, it is a horrid little pathetic thing. But fine." I take a breath, “Shit, my story…" I could not form the words. "hey, what’s better I could just tell you the tale of the little engine that should have known better, but still did it anyway.”

"No," he watched me closely, not letting his impatience show "I want to know your story, your pain, please."

"Shit, shit, shit, OK, shit... dammit," I hit the steering wheel, I pressed my forehead into the hard surface of the wheel, "but don't say I didn't warn ya. Shit” minutes passed, I said nothing.

He reached over holding my shoulders, "Honey, nothing that would make you too nervous to say, could be a waste of time, you are that fearless girl that never holds her tongue. Trust me, I think I can help." His thumb rubbed tenderly.

"I am neither fearless, nor am I a girl; I am a right old horrible spinster," I huffed, I fiddled with my fingers. I looked in his eyes; “I am" I stopped gathering my thoughts; "I don’t think you will like this as well as you think; I know what will happen after its all out, so, I must preface with a goodbye, you have been lovely. I know your opinion of me will slip; you won't want to know me after I finish, so thank you." He looked doubtful, but I knew, gods, I will miss him. "Before I start, I want to say, even if it means nothing to you, if no one ever tells you, I love you." A tear streaked from my eye, "What am I? Nothing," he shook his head vigorously, "look at me, I know most don’t think much of me, red round cheeks and usually a smile, no makeup and holes in my jeans; I have been told many, many, times after having conversations with people that my Naivety was endearing, but if I had ever encountered the real world my outlook would become as jaded as theirs. I may act like I have encountered nothing but sweetness and light in a noodle salad life, but that is far from the truth. I believe that you can encounter the worst that life has to offer and choose your reaction to it. You can stop believing in the world around you or you can continue to believe in kindness, understanding, and trust. Some say it is just denial, burying my head in the sand that allows me think that life is still what we make it… I Laugh and Laugh… If they knew what this girl, well, shit, here you go. Enough wasting time, I will get down to it. It's a shit story..." I wiped my hands down my face, the a swipe under my nose with the bad of my hand, then on my thighs, "shit," I sighed out, “Too many years ago it was a bright sunny day; a warm fall morning with a light breeze. I was worried about a calculus test; the biggest thing on my mind were cos A and sin B. I was on the phone ironing out a scheduling problem; I was talking to my internship mentor on the first cell phone in my family, dad got it for my safety because of my commute 90 miles to school. Jabbering on about what, I don’t even remember, I reached into the back seat for my bag. Sighing and hanging up the phone, preparing for the day ahead, or so I thought." I took a steadying breath, I had evaded long enough; I couldn’t meet his gaze, I just stared straight ahead out the windshield. "Suddenly, horribly brutality was introduced into my life; the surprise really isn’t as horrible as the feeling of helplessness; I was still bent closing the door with my hip I started to heft my book bag; my head caved in the rear door of my car; you should have seen it, truly impressive the damage a cranium can do." I remain in this protective tone, details curtailed "I was knocked out cold; I slowly came out of my haze I felt pain, searing horrible pain, but not my head, I heard ripping material;  I smelled blood my blood; flying back to reality and I know what is happening, the animal grunting and horrible rhythm; pain, it’s between my legs; no one had ever been there before;" I heard Life take a savage breath, it was nice to know someone cared, even if it was just for show.  I wiped the dampness from my face again.

"They raped me, I did not count or really anything." I tried to laugh it off, "they beat me, pulled my hair, god, one stood one foot on my head so I couldn’t move and urinated on my face as that other one finished, they called me whore, and cum bucket, and worse; every part of my body was used and abused; I lost, my hands blindly flail, I try to kick. I was savaged by animals I use the term loosely. They ransacked my car as they took turns, seeing my viola in the trunk and to punish me for fighting they crushed my left hand, they kicked me, beat my head into the pavement repeatedly. When they had finished with me and my car, the cruelest one of them, pulled the scarf wrapped around my neck and strangled me, they murdered me, and I do have to say part of me did die. As they did they laughed, god, they laughed, horrible laughs, they creep into my conscious when anything goes awry. I lost consciousness, I guess they assumed I died, I woke, I don’t know how much time passed, but I woke in a pool of blood and …err other, I got in my car and drove to the security station on the bottom level… yeah." I shook. He rubbed my hand; I pulled away quickly, I could have spit on him, but it was not him the anger belonged to. "What is madness but nobility of soul, at odds with circumstance?"  

"My god, I was expecting bad, but my… my heart, it is broken” ready to face the loss of him, I turned, I watched his face as the light died in the low, dark, rain swollen clouds; a delicate falling rain drank in the dusk; it felt like it swallowed my misery whole and for that I was grateful; shrouded in silence, the branches of the trees above wrapped me in their stoic peace. Shadows fell across us the boundaries lost their edges, as the borders were erased, once again the wonder if I had ever really existed. His presence was always so elegantly reassuring, and still I had to remind myself it was not him I was so mad at.

"Yeah, so, how was that for a hard luck story? The first time I have told anyone since I left the police station. Not exactly Disney Channel friendly, but I am waiting to hear back from lifetime." I laughed; the sound was hollow.  "Peachy side, I didn't end up knocked up or diseased; so, maybe the universe heard that plea."  I sniffed, my frustration returning.  He trailed his hand lightly down my damp cheek.  I flinched away, shy, stupid, embarrassed, "pretty pathetic, huh?"

He shook his head. "Shh, stop that please, you don’t have to mock yourself in that Cyrano de Bergerac style you always use; you are not beating me to a punch line, I was never going for one” he ran his hands over his face, “did you not hear your story? My heart is broken." I tried to look away; his gentle hands coaxed my gaze back.  "I heard a story of survival, those monsters tried to end you; here you are, fight intact, undaunted, truly indomitable, the rest just damaged facia."

I looked in his eyes, "Fate has been taunting, mocking me, whispering that I liked the assault,” I stopped, hesitating, “that has me doubting everything."

His face skeptical, eyebrow raised, "And you believe those taunts?" He shook his regal head.

Temper sparked, "kind of,” I stopped, feeling stupid, I bristled, “I do, okay. So what?"

"Why?" He cajoled. "Really, tell me why; the whole truth answer." He sat back like Cesar at the gladiator games, "hold nothing back, I can take it."

Apparently, he was satisfied that I was soundly kicking my own ass. "I wrote out, an imaginary tryst, you and I, we were on a boat, it was just delicious, an escape, there was a touch of rough to it... some of the details were... similar to... that." my voice stopped working.  "I liked it a lot, but then I got overwhelmed, confused; how can I like that, without liking the other.  The reality of that implication," I sniffed, fluttering my hands; that horrible weird guilt weighing my soul, I knew it was just my own psyche, but it was horrendously irresistible; I stopped I gave up; "shit, now you know; you know… everything why I am so deplorable... grotesque... disgusting." I rolled my eyes closed, I concentrated on my breathing, minutes clicked by finally I opened them, expecting that he had blew away on the breeze.

I met his gaze, I saw no pity, no disgust; I saw him, just Life.   Confused, I searched further, still none.

"You are not. You know better than most that feelings can be deception; sex, isn't just soft, isn't just rough, it is never one flavour; it is the connection, the intention." He ran his hands through my hair. Pressing it back behind my ear the way I like it.  "Honey, there is no equation between your rape and having a touch of rough in a fantasy. It does not mean you liked being helpless, beaten, or broken, the intention there was viciousness; there was no connection there, no trust" he sighed.

I gave a derisive chuckle, "right."

He dropped my hand, pulling away, gaining my full attention. "You apparently have made up your mind not just for you but also what I would think; you really must be magic; I think you would be surprised by what I think.”

I let a derisive chuckle out, “Sure because you are some kind of paragon.”

“I wouldn’t say paragon, but I heard every word you said. It made me so mad that you would think that way about you.”  I rolled my eyes.  He growled, and good god something in me was listening, something found the sound so delicious that it made me tingle; I scanned his eyes, there was still softness there. “Honey, look, I heard a story of an invasion, a horrible, massive invasion. I don't care if you were splayed naked on a table saying, 'come and get it big boy, give it to me hard,'” I let a snerk of laughter out at the idea. “if it was not the specific person you were talking to; that was an invasion. You cannot discount a rougher, needy kind of love making; accepting carnal love rougher more animal in its display requires trust in the intention of the other party, it is not simply the actions; Accepting love rougher, that act of trust is never more shameful or dirtier; it is a communication telling the other party, I trust you to be just this much, but no more; the instant you voice a dislike and it continues it becomes the other; it’s all up to you, whatever is pleasing to you, only you. There is no right, there is no wrong, no disgusting or dirty; sex is all about the feeling, expressing.” I understood what he was trying to say, but I really didn’t want to hear it, I knew he was trying to placate me, I tried to ignore him; “Don't be like a velvet glove cast in iron, dealing only in absolutes." I had to look away, “love is love, is love, is love, and it all matters” the storm gaining strength, he released the top and pulled it up; kissing the top of my head as he passed. "Sweeting, the space between absolutes..." he sighed, "remember, you said that is where you had chosen to live, you were right, it is the place where life happens." He ran his hands through his hair; his frustration evident, then a light hit his eyes; "I would really like to read this fantasy, curiosity leads me to wonder," he chuckled, "I just wonder if it would match up to any of mine." I shot him a skeptical look. “oh, honey; I have had so many fantasies since the first time you appeared.”

I had no words to say, I just sat watching him, waiting for the change.

He sat, looking at me, the storm began to rage, much like the maelstrom that had been inside me for so long; I pulled the piece up on my phone handing it to him. We were more than damp, I noticed I had been shivering; for how long, no one knows. I sat watching the storm split the sky; I started the car, flipping a bitch, starting back in the opposite direction; he was deeply ensconced in my words, he reached over with out looking up, turning on the heat, directing the vents at me.  

I shot him a look, just a glance; but what I saw. God, the power of a glance has been so much abused in love stories, that I had never believed in its power; no one now dares to say that two beings have fallen in love because they looked at each other. Yet, an unguarded look can tell you so much, love, despise, languor and fear; tenderly in his exquisite look, I saw the most gorgeous thing, understanding; an acceptance.  I was astonished, I was bewildered, dizzy, in a daze; I still did not understand, I began wondering what universe he was from... My stomach panged, rumbling as loud as the storm, I ignored it.

"Hey, can you pull in up there, you need something to eat." There was a neon sign in the distance, that advertised barbeque, I was surprise he could even see if as he didn’t look up from my words. I pulled in, reading the sign that promised barbecue and drinks, after all it was Texas, a bourbon sounded just right. I pulled in and parked; I was a numbed, near depressed but electrified, dumbfounded, impressed and slightly aroused; all the roiling emotions had my jaw clenched, I was disassociated, separated, on autopilot. My feet moving me through the rain, but I was a cloud of confused emotion; a stranger in a strange land; emotion was not my wheelhouse. Wandering idly toward the door; passing the columns, he gripped my shoulders almost punishingly. He spun me to face him, his face dark and serious, I began shivering, he pressed me to the wall. His face serious, but the passion burned; again, that growl, it hit the bottom of my stomach, warming, making my legs shake; he kissed me, suddenly, deeply, no warmup, no cuddling into my lips just immediately lips and tongue.  Tucking his knee between my legs pressing hard, soft mewling left my throat caught in his mouth.  He pinned my arms to my sides I tried to touch him, but he wouldn’t yield, he wanted to kiss me, his way; and yes, I liked it, he ran his tongue along the roof of my mouth, I moaned softly into his mouth, rocking gingerly against his knee; the visceral feeling. He started to deepen the kiss even more, his knee caressing, moving with intention. A quiet shudder rocked me.  He sucked in a deep controlling breath, resting his forehead against mine, staring deeply into my eyes; I shook like a leaf as we parted. Shaking I clung to his shoulders.

"Now, kitten, did you feel my intention, to bring you pleasure?" I nodded, "was there pleasure?" I bit my lip, a small smile creeped, I nodded. "You know, the fact that you know the horrible purity of absolute, pure despair; doesn’t mean that is all there is in this universe." He kissed me again, faintly. He passed his fingertips over my skin, almost without touching an experience that neither of us had expected or experienced before, the miracle of feeling myself in another body, "Now, did you feel that?"

"Yes," I whispered, I was shadow pinned against a sweating wall; needing more, my soul pleading for more, but I was frozen; "Oh there was a moment there; oh me, oh my; as you began a whisper of that kiss; clearer than any whispered words; god there was something there that makes it all worthwhile; that was the edge, hmm, the edge is what I have; truth of this fiction, it's the edge of flavour that makes the difference.” I giggled, “there was a time when I would speak words that made sense." I giggled.

"Yes. But what truth is there in sense?" He laced my fingers with his and pulled me after him; we walked in me confused actually wanting to go back to being pinned to that wall, we walked in.  The waitress took us to a booth; I slid in first, I gasped in surprise as he slid in next to me on the same bench. He ordered me a bourbon and an order of fries; I sat there blinking, he then turns me to face him, he leans in close whispering deep and low; his breath warm on my neck, "When we are young we felt we are invincible; as we age we find ourselves, second guessing, always thinking twice." As he spoke, he planted little kisses on my neck; “I am done with that, I thought I was done paying my dues, same for you; now, I find that I have something I do not want to lose. The day you came into my life I changed again, fear still there, but also a cacophony of joy, both at odds, now every day now is just a grateful roll of the dice." His hands skimmed over my arms as they draped around his neck, freely delicious. "I look at that, it is working; you are starting to hear me; I like you, feel powerless in the lonesome times, thinking to myself 'dear god what have I done?' But with you here..." biting the edge of my ear, "you can run baby, you can try to hide, but whatever comes it will find you. For us, there is now; yesterday is history, an hour from now, no one knows for sure; but baby right now it's just you and me and that kiss, it said a lot." He turned me to face him.

Our drinks and fries came and I took a long drought, I laughed cuddling close, I felt young, I felt alive, and I really had never felt that way, “Are we mad?" he looked wounded, "but the good madness, the change the world madness."

"I want to just hold you tight; right now, we can make this moment last; don't think about anything other than helping you forget about the past, for just a moment if needs be." His kissed me slow, long deep caresses with his tongue; I tried to match him, I was awkward at first, but he led me in a natural rhythmic motion.

I missed feeling him, tasting him, gods, it was like breathing. I kissed him with everything I had. "You know, your fantasy, it was gorgeous." He kissed me again, his hands cupping my cheeks, tilting my face for a new angle. He broke from my mouth kissing down my neck. "I have sailed a 20-foot catch; I have had some very similar thoughts, but I loved that very forward confident you that you wrote."

I fumbled with my hands trying to make him feel some of what I was. "Have you really imagined us together as well?"  My fingers sliding through his hair. He nodded, “I kind of assumed you were so out of my league."

He laughed, the sound rippled along my nerves; "oh, kitten, you have no idea who you actually are. Yes, I have, so many things I have fanaticized about."

I pulled away to see his eyes, they held no lie; "Even now?... after?"

He looked shocked, "Especially now." He said with conviction.

"Tell me one," I was breathless.

He held my had looking into my face, "Happily, but I would rather show you. I long to grab your hand and run to the motor inn across the parking lot, get a room." I looked out the window over his shoulder gnawing on my kiss swollen bottom lip.

"Mmm, story first," I stood firm.

"OK then, well, I suppose I could tell you about the one where you are the aggressor; holding me down using me as you will." He shook his head, "no, the one where I am the aggressor, holding you down? Kissing you slowly, teasing your nerves, dipping my fingers into you, feeling you shiver; nah, you don't look keen on that, eating chocolate ice cream off of your skin;” I really shivered, “maybe another time; I suppose, I could tell you about how I dreamt of kissing you, teasing you, then bend you over this table licking all the way up the back of you thigh and... no, no, not that one. Kitten, come here." He pulled my leg up so he could slide closer, fitting just between. "You have to use your imagination; I dream of laying you down, kissing you so hard, it takes your breath away; I want to make out with you like a teenager out passed curfew." He caressed my trembling bottom lip with his thumb. "I would get lost in your kisses; intoxicating, enticing, articulate, telling me exactly what you want, how you want it; using only the tip of your tongue you draft a treatise." He toyed with my hair idly, my eyelids began to sag half-mast; passion building in my body, "Wowzah, that scorching look in your eyes, so intent, you are so Wildely beautiful; why, oh why do you squash that want, fighting it like a foe, a weakness; please, just... let it free."

His hand began caressing my neck, I could not have stopped myself from rolling my head, so my neck was wide open for his lips. His tongue. "I love kissing your neck, licking, taking little bites, right here." His fingers wisping passed the place where neck meets shoulder, my bones melted; he smiled mischievously, shot me a naughty look wiggling get his brows. He slid his fingers along my neckline, his touch whisper soft; his voice low, rumbling, deep, "deliberately I descend along your succulent curves;" my body raising to meet his fingers, straining for attention. "I watch you arch your back, just like that; I can't take my time learning; your heaving breasts wanton for attention, nipples like diamonds," oh and they are, his two fingers caress along the crevice between my breasts. My breathing hitched, coming in soft pants, his eyes gorgeous reverent. "I reveal the state in which I see your nerves are in; rampaging, greedy, alive for just a whisper of a touch; oh, but I want more" he sunk in closer, enjoying the slight shake of my shoulders. His hot mouth kisses just behind my ear, his tongue licking along my skin; his lips playing with the cords in my neck as I let out a sighing moan, just a solitary note; his fingers toying with the area of my soft sweater, just over my the area of my nipple. "Your belly covered with barely visible downy hairs, soft, soft, so soft;" he slipped his fingers of his other hand up under the hem of my sweater, just above my waistband; his first hand dropping to my thigh, dipping between rubbing with soft curious fingers; the nail of his wide thumb, scraping along the seam between; "they are standing up because of the goose bumps I just made."  His fingers velvet soft over my skin, I try clamped my thighs together he keeps that from happening.  "Pushing passed the band of your jeans, I reach for what I crave the most." His second hand skimming a rougher scratching fingernail along the seam; his other fingers just trace along the skin along the edge of the bottom of my bra, his lips kissed along my neckline.  "I would make you moan," I squirmed, "I would form a symphony of your empassioned calls, all the delicious sounds of satisfaction; I will be ruthless in my intent, pleasure my only goal; releasing you from the past, my hope. I know you will want to run, to escape, but at the same time you will be wanting more;" he pulled back, "more; look at you, breathtaking, deliciously titillated. Your cheeks flushed, you lips slightly parted; eyes glossy, erotic, steamy, fervid, seductive, coaxing, shameless; saying every want your lips refuse." Pulling at the hem of my sweater, "I want to slip my hand under your panties, sliding my fingers across your damp skin.  God, I have wanted that for so long" His fingers ghost over my skin, reaching the edge of my satin bra; his lips crashed into mine, his kiss demanding, delicious, scalding; his hand enveloping my breast; his thumb rubbing delicately, I react honestly. I grabbed his wrist of his hand that was resting on my thigh, pulling his fingers to my mouth, sucking. The clench in my belly responding to his hand slipping under my bra. I pull away, gasping; I stand, dropping a ten on the table.

"Shit, I am sorry," his breath laboured, his face recalcitrant, "I pushed too far, too fast; I am sorry; so, where are we off to?" He looked disappointed, sad.

"Well, I decided, you are right," viciously, I let that hang in the air; “you should just show me.  Our direction, over there," I pointed out the window to the inn.

He looked like a child at Christmas, he grabbed my arm tossing me over his shoulder, I giggle and squeal, he moved quickly to the door. We were out and across the parking lot swiftly, he was running; the rain drenching us; he dropped me to my feet under the awning. "I'll be right back."

I watched him fill out the forms, pay the woman, and he bounded back.  "We will make, new experiences, giving you back all the power. Let’s roll." Pulling me over his shoulder again; I squealed, I laughed; he slapped my rump, I moaned.

And outside it was October Country . . . that country where it is late in the year and everyone is tired and waiting for that one good thing to break; country where the amber hills covered in fog, rivers are mist and ice; where noon shortly proceeds sundown, twilights linger, and mid-night’s stay; geese and dusks on their parade to the south; dilled carrots and jams are lined into cellars, sweaters, coats, jackets, are cycled to the front of closets, boots and gloves to the entry way, coffee and tea served hot and steamy with fresh cookies and it seems for a season everything faces away from the sun. October people, think October thoughts and wish that the Christmas stuff would remain hidden for another season, and passing nights, cool, bundled in warm socks and a large sweater walking or listening to the light rain on the tin roof hoping the winter doesn’t kill hope

[umbillicalnoose]

i think that you would think im pretty and would like my poetry and i want to share it with you. im shy.

to be honest, im very apathetic these days. im not the nice “cutesy baby flower petal boy” i used to be. a lot has happened & im bitter & sullen & all in all, a pretty shitty friend/person to know. i used to possess some redeeming qualities, believe it or not, even if they were construed by the subconscious in an attempt to be likeable - a facade, even tho its only a facade, is still tangible, still there, is still something, even if not authentic. is poorer character forgivable in the name of presenting more authentically? but nah. that makes it sound like im putting effort into being a better person, which im not. im just sort of fried & done. its been a very long time since i played the role i built for myself on here of the “small fawn boy who wants to help girls” lmaooo. how embarrassing. altho, i was just a kid, & i guess, if you had a tumblr as a teenager, you went thru some cringe (i know the use of that word has fallen in on itself & adopted its own definition but for lack of a better one) ass phases, whether it was kinning or malingering mental illness or oh fucking christ, all that gender bullshit, etc etc. from what ive observed, tho, loosely following kids im still casually friends with that i met on here, i think we’ve all managed to Grow The Fuck Up, at least a little. most of us have jobs or r in school or have partners - growing up & moving on is a very surreal experience to watch/go thru. im moving at my own pace & ive accepted that - im still currently using & starving myself & concocting a suicide plan every day but at least i use clean needles as much as possible, i actively & honestly do strive for the bare minimum calorically, & um able to work with the mentality of “well ill have this when i need it but todays not that day” a lot more readily, in relation to suicide shit. ive finally found a therapist who Really Gets It, is a frontrunner internationally on ritual & extreme abuse & mind control. its pretty incredible what a few years with a good therapist can do. anyways. im sorry, i know you didnt ask for all this & im not even sure why i divulged. i guess, what tipped me off, was your attempt at sounsing “cute” - dude, cut that shit out, i promise youll be a lot better off. & i know everyone interchanges aspects of their personality based on who theyre talking to/who they percieve themselves to be talking to, but i feel like not a lot of people give enough credence to the internet & its hand in shaping/molding young people, kids, vulnerable dumbasses, especially tumblr (tho, i get that its a relatively new phenomenon) - u get a bunch of the “weird”, “alternative”, ““ostracized” kids together on a website, of course its gonna nurture a culture of hypervalidatoon & pretending to be sick in order to fit in to the point that its not an act anymore & exacerbation of symptoms & basically, just sucking each others dicks, sitting in ur own shit, & never ending coddling. & then, you have the older group of kids, who have played this game before but instead of helping or ignoring the Dumbshit kids, they indulge their own normally-buried-but-unleashed-by-internet-anonymity sadism/human instinct to just be fucking dicks & so now you have this vicious cycle of anger & hatred & fucking melodrama up the urethra. im sorry, i know im comig off as/am being harsh but god fuckin dammit yknow? also, this isnt directed at you, specifically, more of a generalized thing, @ myself included. so uh. i mean, if u still wanna share it with me after reading all this, id be happy to read ur poetry. i used to be over the top nice & then reverted to Major Asshole & am now trying to find that sweet middle spot - honoring & allowing myself to share my pain without putting it on others. which is really hard!! cuz becoming a Dick was difficult in that it forced me to be more honest with my true self & as such, more vulnerable - now in trying to become Kinda Nice again because despite being a pulsating scrotom, ive had the intense desire for friendship & human interaction, while simultaneously doing things that i was consciously aware was pushing others away - but then, if i pretend to be nice, where does that authenticity i worked for & was so scared of go? & i dont mean telling someone their new haircut looks nice even when it doesnt - thats just not being a dick. but i guess, those r the normal trials & tribulations of any relationship & adolescent developing identity. which is weird too - dealing with “normal” issues, i mean. whats the point if your life/limbs/breaking point arent at risk? whats the point when your best friends already dead. im sick of people calling "survivors” (despise that word, so fucking female-originated & overdramatic) “brave” & “strong” - surviving is not brave or strong. its just survival. you wouldnt call an animal brave for running for its life from a predator but you would call a dog courageous for going into a burning building to save its owner. premeditated action on the notion that you are probably going to be hurt is brave. being subjected to pain with no choice is not. theres no “silver lining” or anything “good” to be drawn from it either - sure it may have made x a more compassionate person or made y more introspective & gentle but you know what would have been even fucking better??? if the shit hadnt happened in the first place! let x be an asshole & y be self absorbed - the “benefits”, so to speak, do not outweigh the cost, not by a long fucking shot. its not only patronizing to hear garbage like that, but a slap in the face to know that anyone could possibly see anything good coming from that nightmare & that the characteristics, good or bad, you developed either in response to or as a result of, are worth praise. dont tell me im strong for doing what i had to to escape a torture chamber - tell me im perseverant for studying my ass off & passing that test last week. in the words of one of my dearest & most fucking brilliant friends, “pain doesnt owe me/you purpose - the need to intellectualize & assign meaning to pain & death is not only futile, but harmful.” & honestly, i think that it stems from weakness (in most cases - i realize theres a plethora of other reasons such as those who r just desperate for something to hold on to or r hyperintellectual & analytical or who have been pressured by external “support” systems to find the “good” etc etc) - while the majority of people view the person who “can find the good in everything” (strictly speaking only in relation to trauma/tragedy here & more in denunciation of those that celebrate this trait as opposed to vilifying “survivors” who respond this way, though in my experience, its very very very rarely the “survivor” that perpetrates this ideology ) as strong, i sort of see it as a weakness - their inability to sit with & absorb their own pain or that of others is so strong that not only do they have to frantically pull rainbows out of the teeth of a meat cleaver, they also have to exist within this strange (tho, not malicious - more subconscious) superiority complex. like, nah, dude, some times shit is just awful. you cant tell me anything fucking good came out of a four year old girl being kidnapped, gangraped, & tortured for two years, before being impaled & left to die on a stake. her mom opened a non profit organization? oh well thank fucking god for that!!! those that believe the latter to be more “enlightened” or whatever the fuck r the same people who say shit like “dying is easy - living is harder” & i get that that its supposed to be interpreted metaphorically for the most part - giving up is easy, trying isnt (which also.....isnt true??? admitting defeat & fully accepting the fact that ur fucking helpless is beyond hard lmao???) - but pretend youre somewhere, anywhere outside ur sunny little fucking yoga studio full of white women whos biggest issues r the pta & johnny whos failing math, & lets say your life is in real, imminent danger, a gun is to your head & i want you to not scream or cry or beg for ur life since dying is “easier”. if dying is so easy, why do the majority of ppl cling to it with such desperation - why is suicide illegal? why do some ppl go thru 100s of chemo treatments even tho the doctors say theyre just prolonging the inevitable, ppl who cut off a diseased arm so it wont spread, those who walk dozens of miles every day for food & water, etc? & i know & understand the survival instinct better than anyone, even when i wanted to die more than anything, my natural instincts would kick in with no conscious neural input & id do what i had to do. im not condemning those who cling to life (ok - a little. ur wasting resources out of ur own fear. but i also realize thats just me being a Fucking Asshole As Always cuz technically, im doing the same thing tho its more due to lack of opportunity rather than fear. i just think, societally, death should be more normalized, discussed, & not made out to be so unknown & scary), instead just reprimanding those who say shit like that (inspirational facebook quotes). especially cuz most of the ppl who do spew that shit have never gone thru anything even remotely difficult - their worst nightmare is a Big Scary Black Man grabbing them on the street, mugging them, & touching their tits. & i also know that these stupid ass sayings are to be applied to bullshit like exercise & fitness (“no pain no gain” is another one of my Favorites) & not fucking torture or even just ur run of the mill rape, even that would probably smash the rose tinted banana republic shades off their beverly hills tanned faces. but ive heard the no pain no gain one a handful of times in the last few weeks, specifically from doctors performing procedures in preparation for my bottom surgery. & i know its supposed to be encouraging & they have no way of knowing, but its just like, buddy, u have no idea who youre fucking talking to. & im starting to understand what THEY mean when they say it - pain with a reward is infinitely more tolerable than pain just for the sake of pain; like, a tattoo, it hurts, but u know, when its done, its gonna be sick as fuck. when u r able to fall back on the idea that its for something u rlly want, its A Lot easier to handle as opposed to pain thats Just Pain - theres no reward for it except, i guess, that the more u experience it, the closer u r to the end of it lmao. i mean, i still hate when ppl say it cuz for most of my life, pain was just pain, & the “reward” was the opportunity to go home at the end & so whenever ppl say that, my mind just immediately resorts back to that & im just like haha fuck u. but im trying to remember my experiences r definitely not universal & im starting to sorta understand what they mean i think. but, flipping gears here, & going back to the sentiment of “everything happens for a reason”, the base philosophy of psuedo deep Fuckwads - a girls dad didnt fuck her “for a reason”, everything doesnt happen “for a reason”. like ok, hypothetically, the kid he impregnated her with & that she was forced to have at 12 may surpass all odds & not become a homeless junkie & instead become a world renowned doctor who finds the cure for cancer. but she wasnt raped repeatedly from the age of six for that “reason”, no matter what anyone says & honestly, the liberation of the masses does not justify the suffering of one, especially a child. in my eyes at least. but again, im a bitter asshole. sorry i just Went The Fuck Off here oh my god.....if u read all this, thanks, pal. if not, thats cool too. but yea, send me ur stuff, id totally be down to read it. as for me potentially thinking ur cute, i have to look at my disgusting shitstain of a “face” every goddamn day so everyone else to me is fuckin aphrodite. but im also tryin to not put so much worth into physical appearance- its not something that should be complimented cuz its just smth a person was born with which is the same reason it shouldnt be insulted. this is gonna sound gay & stupid but i personally find that a persons essence & personality really permeates. you can meet someone who, objectively, isnt all that great looking, but once u get to know them, u really see their beauty - how the sun catches in their hair, their dilated pupils looking up at u from under long eyelashes in the dark, the birthmark on their right shoulder that they despise but that is so Them, the gap in their teeth, etc. & idk how to phrase this without it sounding like “well ur ugly but at least ur a good person”, cuz that only reiterates the societally indoctrinated emphasis on appearance & my kneejerk reaction to assure the person in question that thats not what im saying is only another result of that!!! its inescapable!!! but no, really, its not just a matter of “its on the inside that counts” - physically, they change or maybe, actually this is more likely, when i first meet them, my “default” eyes r just looking for features that i know im immediately attracted to (tall, blonde, sickly as in sunken eyes sticklike pale but still looks like she could & will beat the shit out of me) but as i fall in love or get to know them better, my eyes adjust & i notice & adore the beauty that was there all along. so uh. idk if ill think ur “cute”. but probably, yes, ill think ur an angel.

[honeypiehotchner]

Deception -- part two

Hello lovelies! Here’s another part xx. (Also, I promise she meets John in the next chapter!)

As Mycroft said, Sherlock is waiting for us on the plane at Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport. But not as Mycroft said, Sherlock has no idea I’m who Mycroft was picking up.

           It’s evident on his face that he wasn’t expecting me, which only leaves me fuming. Mycroft Holmes and his stupid web of lies to bend people to his will. Sometimes, it can be most annoying.

           Once we’re in the air, the arguing begins.

           “Why is she here?” Sherlock practically yells, then looks back at me. “No offence.”

           “None taken,” I shrug.

           “She’s here because I asked her to be,” Mycroft explains. “And because we have something to talk about.”

           “What now?” Sherlock groans. “I was supposed to be in Iraq yesterday.”

           “Yes, I know,” Mycroft sighs. “But this is about Dr. Watson.”

           “John? John’s fine.”

           “John is not fine, Sherlock, and you know it,” Mycroft snaps. “You want so desperately for me to keep him safe while you are gone—”

           “Because when I return, things are going to go back to normal. I’ll need my doctor.”

           “Yes, well, your doctor hasn’t left Baker Street in an entire week since your funeral and he has an appointment with a therapist tomorrow.”

           “So?” Sherlock shrugs. “He’s seen therapists before.”

           “Dr. Stewart is going to be John’s therapist,” Mycroft announces, or shall I say, throws me completely under the bus.

           “What? Why?”

           “Because Dr. Watson is not safe,” Mycroft hisses. “And if I am to keep a close watch on him while you are gone, I need a different way.”

           “So you brought an agent out of retirement to be— Oh.”

           “You’re getting slow, brother mine,” Mycroft smiles sweetly. “Yes, I brought Dr. Stewart here out of retirement to be John’s therapist and to keep a close eye on him.”

           “An undercover mission,” Sherlock shakes his head.

           “Twins,” I mutter quietly, trying and failing to add some humor into this awful situation.

           “Why didn’t you tell me this?”

           “Because I knew you’d object.”

           “And my opinion means nothing to you, is that it?”

           “Yes, that’s exactly it,” Mycroft replies coldly. “You wanted to disappear completely, well, that comes with consequences. Consequences that we cannot ignore if you want to eventually return to England.”

           I give Mycroft a strange look.

           “What?”

           “I hate that you have a point,” I breathe. “I hate to say it, Sherlock, but he’s right.”

           “So what if he’s right? It’s boring.”

           “And now you’re throwing a tantrum,” I roll my eyes. “Seriously, Sherlock, you went out into the world and made friends. A good friend. And you got him swept up in this mess, and you expect him to be fine when you die?”

           “Oh, please, I’m not actually dead.”

           “He doesn’t know that!” I cry. “When are you going to get it through your head that people care?”

           “When I can find data to back it up,” he counters.

           “Ladies and gentlemen, the endlessly ignorant, Sherlock Holmes.”

           “Oh, don’t start that again!”

           “I’m going to start that again,” I laugh. “You know why? Because you’re acting like an asshole, Sherlock. You want to disappear? Fine. Go. Disappear. But if you think for one second that your disappearance won’t affect anyone, you’re wrong. Do you want to know how it felt when Mycroft told me you’d died? Cold. Frozen. I didn’t know what to think. And I hadn’t spoken to you in a long time. Imagine how much more amplified that feeling must be for John.”

           “If I worried about how everyone feels, then I’d never get anything done.”

           “I’m not asking you to worry about everyone, Sherlock, I’m just asking you to care about your friends. Because that’s what you do when you make friends. You care about them.”

           I’ve had enough of his bullshit for the time being, so I excuse myself to the back of the jet to lie down and gain some of my senses back. We’ve got roughly eight hours on this plane together and if I don’t sleep for some of it, I think I’ll explode.

~~~

I wake sometime later to Sherlock knocking on the wall, letting me know he’s ventured back here. I lift my head and sit up, motioning for him to sit next to me.

           “You know, I almost didn’t agree to do this. Because I don’t like it.”

           “Like what?”

           “I don’t like lying to innocent people, Sherlock.”

           “An undercover agent with a guilty conscience,” he smirks. “Quite the pair.”

           “It is an unconventional life I lead,” I chuckle. I can tell this is troubling him, too, though, so I say. “Is there anything you want me to know about John? That, I don’t know, might help him.”

           “You want to help him?”

           “Of course I do,” I shrug. “So. Is there anything?”

           “He told when he was standing at my grave that I was the best man and the most human human being he knew.” Sherlock pauses. “So, I guess you should know that he is the man who brought that out of me.”

           “Okay,” I nod, smiling. “Thank you for sharing that.”

           “You can go back to sleep now,” Sherlock murmurs. “We’ve still got another six hours.”

           “Fun,” I chuckle. “But I’m a bit hungry, so I think I’ll order some food.”

           “Alright,” he nods, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he walks ahead of me back out into the main area of the plane.

~~~

“This is your ID,” Mycroft hands me the plastic card. “Your passport, your birth certificate, etcetera.”

           I nod as he hands me the rest of the documents to put into my briefcase. Everything has Dr. Jane Stewart on it. I haven’t decided yet if I would’ve preferred going by a completely different name, but I suppose there’s no time to change that now.

           “There’s a change of clothes in the rest room for you to change into and some makeup for you to use, if you see fit—”

           “Mycroft,” I cut him off with a laugh. “I know. I’ve been here before, remember?”

           “Yes, well, it has been a while. I just wanted to be sure you remembered everything.”

           “How could I forget,” I scoff, closing the briefcase. “I’ll be off to get changed.”

           “Your new phone and laptop should be here when you are finished.”

           “Alright,” I breathe, yanking the door to his rest room open. There on the counter sits my new change of clothes, completely different from the summer outfit I traveled here in.

           It’s a navy-blue dress which I despise – dresses, not the color – but if I’m going to be someone different then I am to wear something different, something I would never wear. It’s standard protocol, so I tug on the dress without another thought.

           The shoes – heels, rather, are quite nice, though I know my feet are going to protest soon. I slip my feet inside all the same, straightening the dress over my shoulders as I glance at myself in the mirror.

           I take my hair down, letting it flow over my shoulders. I suppose a haircut won’t be in order because I already wear it so many different ways. Still, I pin some of it back and leave some strands loose. I imagine this person, this Jane Stewart is professional even when she is not practicing. Always elegant and eloquent, even when she doesn’t need to be. She’s a strong woman, and therefore dresses that way and holds herself that way. I square my shoulders, tilting my chin up in the slightest. She’s sure of herself and sure of this world. She walks her own path and doesn’t think twice about the next step she takes.

           Oh, what fun it will be to pretend.

           I use some of the makeup provided, like the foundation to cover some trouble spots and the mascara to add something to my eyes without doing a lot. There’s no lipstick here, but I might buy some sometime soon. It’s been a while since I’ve worn it, and Jane seems like someone who would.

           I zip the makeup bag up and grab my old clothes, walking back into Mycroft’s office with a smile. I hand the old clothes off to someone to burn – or at least, that’s what I’m assuming they’ll do with them. That’s normally what happens, but who knows.

           “Do you have a watch?” I blurt, setting the makeup bag down on a chair. “It just seems odd that there wasn’t one.”

           Mycroft nods to his desk. There, sitting on top of the documents in my briefcase is a watch. The straps are brown, but the face is a simple black and white design. It’s perfect to what I had in mind.

           “Thank you,” I take the watch and strap it on my left wrist without looking. I’m too focused on what Mycroft is looking at. “What is that?”

           “Terror cells that my brother is trying to infiltrate,” Mycroft replies easily. “If he doesn’t get himself killed, it’ll be a miracle.”

           I frown. “That doesn’t sound promising.”

           “It’s not,” Mycroft leans back in his chair. “But when Sherlock makes up his mind, the decision is final. Anyway,” he shoves the file away, sliding over a laptop. “This is yours to use. And here is your new phone. I have my number under a code name—”

           “What is it?”

           “What?”

           “Your code name.”

           He practically glares at me. “Mikey.”

           “Mikey!” I laugh. “Are you joking?” I pick up the phone and go to the contacts. “Oh, that’s golden.” It’s my nickname for him and has been for years. Only to annoy him, though, as I see it still does.

           “Yes, I knew you’d find it amusing,” he smiles tightly. “Now, I probably will not call you often. I’d prefer if our meetings are handed through email or in person – in person is most preferred, if you can bear it. If I do call you, it will most likely be in the event of an emergency.”

           “Gotcha.”

           “I don’t see there being an instance when someone other than yourself would have ahold of your phone, but in the event that they do, my name is ‘Mikey’ and not Mycroft.”

           “Do regular people really know your name?”

           “The right and wrong people do, yes. And John Watson knows it well,” he sighs. “Now a car is waiting outside to take you to your home. I can have a car delivered for you later today if you want to drive yourself around, if not, that’s fine as well.”

           “I think I’ll want a car,” I reply, thinking of how Jane is. “So, yes, send one. If you don’t mind.”

           “Not at all,” he leans over to make a note on some pad by his phone. “Here is a file on Dr. Watson. It’s all background information and some key pages from his blog, though I suppose if you wanted to read his blog, you could read it online.”

           “Thank you,” I pack away the laptop, phone, and file into my brief case, shutting it and flicking the locks. “Is that all?”

           “I believe so.”

“Well,” I smile. “It was nice meeting with you, Mr. Holmes.”

           I can already feel everything shifting. It’s the one thing I did not miss about going undercover.

           You have to become someone else. You have to adapt a completely different identity, personality, demeanor, everything. You can lose yourself doing this. And I almost did a couple of times.

           Maybe it isn’t such a bad thing now, having my middle and last name intact, as well as my profession. I do have a degree in psychology, just never used. Being an agent somehow swept me along before I could use my degree elsewhere in social services.

Well. I suppose there is a right time for everything. And I suppose the right time for me to be a therapist is now.

~~~

The house I am dropped off at is in the suburbs, which I expected. Therapists normally do sessions out of their homes, especially private therapy, which I’m assuming is John’s preferred method seeing as his last therapist did the same.

           He’s a private person. I’ve gathered that much from skimming his file on the ride here. He’s very reserved, even when he’s all in the papers because of Sherlock.

           The house is nice, though. Two bedrooms, two bathrooms. It has a large living area with two chairs set up by the big windows toward the back. I assume that’s where John and I will be sitting tomorrow for our session. The kitchen is sized fairly well. I’m not that great of a cook, though, so regardless that doesn’t do me much good. My bedroom is nice, larger than what I’m used to, with a bathroom connected. The guest room – which I don’t know why I have, other than the fact that this is all for show – is nice as well. A bit smaller, but not suffocating.

           It’s decorated nicely. Modern. Not my usual taste, but then again, I’m not the one living here. Dr. Jane Stewart is.

           I throw myself down on the couch, wanting nothing more than to go to sleep and wake up – as myself – back in America. Where I’m not a spy. Where I’m not Dr. Jane Stewart. Where I’m not Agent N. J. Stewart. Where I’m just Nicole. And that’s it.

[kates-sweet-escape]

[WH] YOURS - The series: Chapter Two

pairing: Wonho X Reader (female)

genre: Angst / Suspense

word count: 3.9k

summary: That one phone call will change your life forever. And even though you are very well aware of the consequences, you can’t stop yourself from running right back...

a/n: You are living with a fake identity. Whenever you read Y/F/N people call you by your fake first name.

cover: Made by me.

Picture credit: Official Monsta X

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

chapter index: Prologue | 01 | 02 | 03

“Yours”

One word. That’s all it took for your brain to go haywire and your heart to brutally murder your rationality with the sharp dagger of your raw and unfiltered emotions. Your feet started moving before you realized it. Or rather before you were able to stop yourself.

“I’ll be right there.” You hung up, paying no mind to the nurse. By now she must be convinced that you were some kind of lunatic. Maybe she regretted dialing the saved number in the first place.

But she would never be able to take it back. Because there was no such thing as turning back time. No matter how much one wished for it. No matter how much regret filled one's heart.

Time was ruthless. And it never gave any second chances.

You gripped the phone tightly as you ran towards the heavy exit door that you simply shoved open with the force of your shoulder. The sound of your heels was like gunfire, echoing off the walls of the hallway that would lead you straight back to Changkyun’s office.

Hoseok was in the hospital.

Stabbed. Unconscious. Helpless.

And in danger, since Hyunwoo obviously wanted him dead.  

Once your brother would realize that Jooheon had failed, he’d send someone else. Someone who was very unlikely to fail. Especially in a hospital.

He would probably send Minhyuk. He knew how to blend in. How to charm people into giving him what he wanted. Or to disappear completely even in a room full of people.  

If you wanted to make a statement with a kill, you went with Jooheon. But if you wanted things to be over without a trace, Minhyuk was your man.

Sneaky. Invisible. And awfully familiar with all sorts of medication that could either cause a merciful death within a heartbeat or make his victim suffer, crying out in pain over the course of hours if he felt like it.

Hoseok wouldn’t be able to see him coming. And the thought alone of him grunting in pain and losing his life made you speed up your steps even further. You basically slithered around the corner as you passed the reception area in front of Changkyun’s office that usually was your workplace. Your hands grabbed a hold of the edge of Soojeon’s desk to steady yourself before your leaped forwards, pushing open the door to Changkyun’s office with so much force that it hit the wall. You could hear the faint cracking of glass but you sure as hell didn’t care.

You could only think about one thing. And that was saving Hoseok’s life.  

“Y/F/N, can’t you-” Soojeon jumped up from her seat, lifting her finger at you in anger. “Hey! Are you insane? You can’t just-”

“Shut up for Christ’s sake!” You said, brushing her off without thinking twice before you walked over to Changkyun who was still standing at the conference table, his eyes wide with shock as he looked back and forth between you and his now slightly cracked office door.

Usually, you wouldn’t have lost your cool like that. No matter how annoyed or angry or lonely you were, you were always able to hide it behind a neutral smile, not giving anybody a chance to look deeper than surface level. But this was about Hoseok. This was different.

You held out your hand towards Changkyun in urgency, ignoring the suspicious look he was giving you. “I need your car.”

Your boss frowned, obviously even more confused than before. “What?”

F*ck! You didn’t have time to explain! “Car keys! Now!”

“Alright. Alright.” Changkyun patted down his body, cursing under his breath before he walked over towards the coat rack that was hanging on the wall next to his huge glass desk. “What the hell happened?”

“Emergency.” You shifted your weight from one foot onto the other, eager to get out of there. You knew you were losing precious seconds that might end up saving or ending Hoseok’s life. And you were wasting them because Changkyun had to search in the depths of his thin designer coat. “If you could hurry it up. I really gotta-”

“Got them.” Changkyun pulled out the keys and you came to meet him halfway. You reached out your hand to grab the keys but he held them above his head, making you growl in with anger.

“Hey Y/F/N! Wait a second.” He held up his other hand in a gesture that was probably supposed to calm you down, but it only made you more furious. “I don’t think you should drive right now. Let me call Hongsik. He’ll dri-”

God! Was he for real? You loved Changkyun’s chauffeur but that man was getting old and he always drove way too slow, causing you to be at least five minutes late to almost all your meetings. And this time you didn’t have five minutes to spare. Maybe not even five seconds, depending on how close your brother actually was.

“Changkyun.” You said with anger straining your voice. “Give me the f*cking keys.” You didn’t care about the fact that you’d never cussed in front of your boss, who was eyeing you like you were a complete stranger. You had to get those bloody keys. Even if you’d have to break his damn wrist to get them. Luckily you didn’t have to. Instead, Changkyun lowered his arm and opened his fist. The slick black car key fell into the palm of your hand, the silver trident emblem shining under the office lights.

You turned on your heels and headed for the door. “Thanks, Changkyun.”

“Be careful.”

When you heard the anxious tone of in his voice you almost looked back over your shoulder. But you couldn’t. Your sight was already set on the elevator doors. However, there was something you could do. “Soojeon.” You said, looking at the flinching secretary right after pressing the call button for the elevator. “Help Mr. Im with the documents.”

“Alright.” Judging by the pale tone of her skin Soojeon was probably too afraid of you to tell you off. The elevator arrived and the doors opened, so you stepped inside. “When are you going to come back?”

You didn’t answer since you didn’t know if you were even able to make it back. Because if any of Hyunwoo’s men would reach Hoseok before you did, you’d both be dead.

Instead, you just watched the doors close right in front of you, enclosing you, and leaving you with the feeling of being suffocated and the faint sound of elevator music.

You closed your eyes and let your head fall against the cold metal. Suddenly, that small car key in your hand felt like it weighted at least a ton while the elevator seemed to move in slow-motion.

It gave you some time to think, which wasn’t necessarily a good thing. Because unlike the toned-down and calming music that was softly playing in the background your thoughts were like bullets. Loud. Dangerous. And leaving behind nothing but a bloody and deadly mess that was hard to make sense of.

How the hell had it come to this? Why was your number saved into Hoseok’s phone? How was Hoseok doing? Did he regain consciousness? Was he suffering from the pain? Or did Minhyuk find him already, swiftly ending his life with a syringe, making him die alone?

But even if your thoughts and feelings were in shambles, attacking you viscously with their sharp edges, one thing was painfully obvious: Hoseok was in the hospital, stabbed by no other than the infamous Lee Jooheon. Which could only mean one thing - Your brother wanted his best friend dead.

But why?

Hyunwoo had always loved and adored Hoseok. He’d been his closest friend and companion ever since your father had taken him in all those years ago. They’d been through thick and thin together, defeating dangerous enemies and drinking away the pain while getting stitched up by no other than you. They’d overcome so much together. Like the death of your father, countless wars with other clans or the news of Hoseok dating you behind Hyunwoo’s back.

They’d fought, threw punches and insulted each other. But they’d also been each other’s backbone in difficult times, supporting one another like only brothers would.

So why did Hyunwoo want Hoseok dead?

The elevator came to a sudden halt and you hurriedly checked the level you were on. The underground parking garage. Perfect.

The doors opened and you quickly walked out, unfazed by the amount of cars that had been parked here. You knew exactly where you were going. Four of the parking spots were reserved for the CEO. And luckily they were right next to the elevator. Also Changkyun’s car was pretty hard to miss.

You unlocked the car with the remote on the key and the headlights lid up, as if you’d been able to walk past it without this useless feature. A Maserati Ghibli S Q4 GRANDSPORT. In white. Changkyun’s favorite color.

You despised that car. It was flashy and drew too much attention. But it’s 430 horsepowers would help you get to the other side of town in no time. And that was more important than anything else. So you opened the door and got into the driver's seat. Your hands touched the steering wheel that was covered in black italian leather and you tried your best not to think about the fact that all of this felt oddly familiar. Instead, you started the engine which came to life with a smooth and low purr before you reversed out of the parking lot. It was a little strange, sitting behind the wheel of a car again after two years. You hadn’t been able to buy a car because of your fake ID so you’d only ever used public transport. And if you’d had to go anywhere that was related to work you’d always been in the backseat, right next to Changkyun. Good thing that Hyungwon, your close friend and the Clan’s get-away driver, had taught you how to drive any type of car. Even a bullet-proof SUV. You drove the car out of the garage and onto the street. Once you were on the highway, you put the pedal to the metal, hoping and praying that you weren’t already too late.  

You broke countless traffic regulations. Especially the speed limit. But you didn’t mind. Because even if the police would try to stop you, you would be able to get rid of them easily with the driving skills you had. You overtook one car after the other and once you’ve passed the bridge that lead you away from the bay and closer to the city limits you felt like you were on a speedway that lead you right back to your past.  

And to some extent it was true. Because this path led you straight back to the man you’d been in love with for so many years.

What had happened that Hoseok ended up in the hospital, stabbed by one of his friends? Had he betrayed Hyunwoo? Had he left the Clan after years of being one of their most trusted and most efficient soldiers?

No, that was absolutely impossible and you were ashamed that the thought had even crossed your mind.

You knew Hoseok better than that. The Clan had been his life. His family. And he’d have rather killed himself than betray your brother or the Son family. He was loyal to a fault. Which was exactly why your father had taken him in and trained him to be your brothers right-hand man even though Hoseok had been a nobody - An orphan without any known connection to the dark royalty of Seoul’s messed-up underworld. Usually, a guy like him would have never been able to enter a family like yours, that had been built upon generations of the most powerful and gruesome leaders the city had ever seen. Usually, he’d have been deemed unworthy of being a right-hand man, and even more unworthy of being your husband-to-be.

But your father had seen Hoseok’s potential. Or rather his fragile heart that had only ever wanted to find a place to call home. And he’d used that good and lonely heart of his to turn him into a soldier for his own dark and pointless war. Hoseok had learned all sorts of fighting and killing techniques from that sadistic bastard. He’d been quick on the uptake, eager to learn and even more eager to please the man who’d given him a sense of purpose and a roof over his head. So he’d put in an extra amount of effort, quickly outshining all the other students your father had ever had.

Including your own brother.

But your brother had been unfazed by Hoseok, accepting your father’s protégé as a friend and rival, because Hyunwoo had always known that he’d be king one day. That the Clan was his. And only his. So he’d never seen Hoseok as a threat. He’d always been his brother in arms. His companion.  

So what had happened between them?

You’d probably find out soon enough.

At least that was the thought that crossed your mind when you finally reached the big hospital, that looked as bleak and run-down as any other clinic in the outskirts of Busan.

You parked Changkyun’s car right in front of the ER, shoving the door open before you’d even really stopped the engine. Annoyed by the high heels limiting your walking speed you quickly took them off, throwing them on to the passenger’s seat without hesitation. Then you closed the door with a lot more force than necessary and locked the car that was already gaining a lot of attention by the people smoking outside. However, you couldn’t concern yourself with keeping a low profile. Instead, you headed straight for the automatic doors. You rushed through them, almost stumbling when you had to stop to take look around.

You were at the very entrance of the ER, right next to the reception desk. To your right was the waiting area, with lines of seemingly uncomfortable white plastic chairs of which almost all were occupied by people who either seemed to be in pain or were coughing their lungs out. To your left were at least twenty beds lined up, all of them only separated by thin green curtains that hardly gave any privacy. A lot of people were lying down there, some of them as white as the hospital walls. Others looked almost green.

The ER seemed to be very busy, which was probably because it was the end of April and Busan was haunted by the usual spring flu epidemic. A lot of people were talking, while the phones seemed to ring almost constantly. Nurses and doctors were running back and forth, paying you no mind and for a split second you felt small and lost in the midst of all this, with your bare feet touching the cold grey linoleum floor.

But you didn’t have the time to feel helpless or useless. You needed to find Hoseok. Before it was too late.

You didn’t search for him in the packed ER. It was obvious that he wasn’t here. Instead, you walked up to an older woman who, judging by the pink scrubs she was wearing, must have been a nurse. She had her long black hair neatly put up in a bun and you could see that some strands of her hair had already turned grey. And even though her skin had a youthful glow she had some wrinkles around her eyes and her mouth.

“Where is he?”

The nurse turned around to face you. She seemed calm. Collected. And completely unimpressed by your loud and shaky voice. Instead, she just laid her hand on your forearm, gently squeezing it. “Who are you looking for, dearie?”

Her hands felt cold on your heated skin. How was she even able to touch your skin? You hardly wore any short sleeves, worried that the make-up might come off, exposing your tattoos. But then you remembered. You’d forgotten to put your blazer back on before leaving Changkyun’s office, leaving you in nothing but the midnight blue sheath dress that you’d been wearing since this morning. “Unidentified male. In his mid-twenties. Stabwound.”

“Ah.” She looked at another nurse, who was standing on the other side of the desk, eyeing you with suspicion in her eyes. “He’s Heeyeon’s patient, right?” The other nurse just nodded and handed her colleague a thin patient chart. “Are you his next of kin?”

No. “Yes.”

“So she was able to reach somebody. That’s great.” The older nurse opened up the sheet and took a look at what you thought must have been Hoseok’s data. “First of all, you don’t need to worry that much. He is stable for now. The stab wound was rather deep but it didn’t damage any organs which is great. Unfortunately, he lost a lot of blood since it apparently took a while before somebody found him.” She looked up from the chart, smiling at you reassuringly. “He’s got a few fractured ribs, the fingers on his left hand are all swollen and he has some cuts on his forehead and cheeks but nothing too dramatic. The doctor was very careful in stitching them up in order not to ruin that handsome face of his.”

This sounded a lot like Jooheon’s doing. He always liked to ‘play’ with his victims first. “Where is he?”

“At the end of the hall.” She pointed towards another set of automatic doors, that would lead you deeper into the hospital and probably into the trauma ward. “The last room on the right-hand side. But last time I checked he was still unconscious. The police are on their way to ask the two of you some questions. But you’ve got nothing to worry about. It’s obvious that he was assaulted.”

“Thank you.” You forced a smile while your brain was already formulating a plan. You needed to get Hoseok out of here before the police arrived. Because no matter the city - being questioned by the police was to be avoided by people like you. Especially since you were living under a fake name with only a fake ID.

“No problem.” The nurse closed the patient chart and handed it back to her colleague. “By the way - you don’t look much alike. Are you his fiancé?”

You answered out of habit without thinking twice. “Yes.”

The younger nurse scoffed a little. “Lucky you.”

You cursed yourself under your breath for that blunt lie but it was the least suspicious explanation for you being here. So you simply nodded and bowed a little before heading in the direction the nurse had told you to go. You passed the automatic door and were faced with a long hallway that was seemingly endless. Once the doors behind you closed again, it became utterly quiet. You could hear muffled talking behind some of the closed blue doors. Sometimes there was even a soft sob. But in comparison to the busy ER this place felt like a graveyard. It smelled of sanitizer, tears and a hint of blood.

To you, this was what death smelled like.

But you shouldn’t revisit the ghosts of the past. You shouldn’t let your weak heart drag you back into that grey hospital room in Seoul where you’d first encountered death when you’d only been six years old. No matter how much you tried, the image of your mother still came to mind, staring at you with open and lifeless eyes. But it started to become distorted. And suddenly you weren’t looking at your mother anymore. Instead, Hoseok’s empty eyes were staring back at you.

Your heart skipped a beat and you started to hurry again. You had wasted enough time. Now you needed to get him out of here. It should be easy with him being unconscious. You just needed to steal some nurses clothes and cover his face. Then you’d just pretend that you were taking a dead body to the morgue. Just like in the movies. Nice and easy. Without anybody noticing. And without having to face Hoseok’s hate and anger head-on. You’d get him out of here and into the backseat of Changkyun’s car. And then…

Sh*t. You had absolutely no idea what to do after that, but you would figure it out eventually.  

For now, you needed to focus on saving his life.

You reached the end of the white hall and looked at the blue door to your right. Behind that door was your first love. The man you’d left in the middle of the night, only two months prior to your wedding. The man you’d planned a grand future with. And the man you’d loved more than anything else and had never been able to forget.

You reached for the doorknob, trying to ignore the fact that your hand was shaking. When your fingertips were finally touching the knob, you couldn’t bring yourself to open the door.

You knew you couldn’t let him die, but you were afraid of facing him after all this time. After betraying him and walking out on him like the coward you were.

But, no matter how afraid you were - you couldn’t let him die.

And since he was unconscious you’d be alright. At least for now.

So you quickly opened the door and snuck inside, careful not to draw any more attention than you already did back in the ER.

You leaned your back against the door and closed your eyes in order to calm down and to organize your thoughts. You were on the ground floor and at the very end of the hall. The morgue was probably a floor below which meant that you needed an elevator. Maybe the emergency plan would tell you where exactly it was located. You should have really paid more attention to your surroundings when you’d arrived at the ER. But you’d been so out of it that you couldn’t remember a bloody thing. Something your brother would have scolded you for. So you needed to find the emergency plan. It was usually hung on the door. Or at least positioned right next to it.

You opened your eyes to look around. But all your thoughts and plans came to a sudden halt when a pair of cognac brown eyes was staring right at you.

Hoseok wasn’t unconscious. Not at all.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed, pale as a ghost and with his upper body covered in bandages. He was looking straight at you. His face not giving away any emotion as he hid himself behind this impregnable mask of cold indifference that your father had taught him and that you had always despised.

At this moment he wasn’t Shin Hoseok, the love of your life.

He was Wonho, your brother's loyal soldier and attack dog.

And he was looking at you like you were the next target on his hit list.  

“Long time no see, Y/N.”  

to be continued...

[groundramon]

★ ★ ★ ★ ★

:O!!!

I’ll take this as asking for five facts about five characters bc im currently waiting for all/most of the items to unlock on my current zoo tycoon game and idk what to do to kill the time besides this sO:

Character 1: Skift (bc I dont talk about him enough)

1. Skift is a very ambitious person.  One of the main reasons he enlists in the army in Majjikku is in hopes of some day becoming a war hero.  He’s also easily influenced by other peoples’ approval or disapproval, despite how adamantly he would insist otherwise if you ask him.  Hence why he wants the validation of being a household name and a hero in the history books.

2. The other main reason he enlisted in the army is because he absolutely despises his family.  I’m still working on the kinks of his backstory but the jist of it is that he comes from an extremely large family with a neglectful mother and an absent father.  He and his other siblings around his age were raised by their elder siblings, but Skift had the misfortune of having a personality that completely clashed with theirs and often got in fights with them, that sometimes even turned physical.  As soon as he was old enough to enlist in the army, he left home and headed to the nearest enlisting center (which unfortunately was several days away since they lived in the middle of goddamn nowhere, but he makes at least)

3. Skift has no real education, living in the middle of nowhere and not having anyone to teach him skills.  When he was younger he got along with his siblings better and was able to learn basic math, and of course he can speak fine, but he probably can’t read very well and anything besides basic addition and subtraction is a mystery to him.  Having said that, illiteracy and a general lack of scholarly knowledge, isn’t uncommon on the Parity side, as they have the very minimal requirement of laws and government required to run a government.  (Literally you can kidnap someone and as long as you give them adequate shelter, food, and water, and you dont abuse them or anything, the “police” wont do anything about it)

4. Skift gets a strong rush while in the middle of combat.  Adrenaline does good things to his psyche and as long as he doesn’t suddenly realize that those were real people dying on the battlefield, he’ll be in a good mood for the rest of the day after a Parity victory.  He’s not bloodthirsty, but he does get uncomfortably into it when in the heat of battle, even if he has to watch the person he’s killing die in front of him.

5. Skift in a way is supposed to be a sort of clueless libertarian/anti-ally who isnt a bigot.  Like, think a white person who doesnt believe in systemic racism but wouldn’t discriminate against a person of color because the whole reason they dont believe in systemic racism is because its bad for the economy.  (Which, it is, they’re right about that lmao).  I dont know entirely what I’m planning to do with that concept because I dont know if I, as a very dumb white person, have the ability to play with racism/the concept of colorblindness like that, but I hope I can do SOMETHING with them.  Either I’ll need to educate myself or I’ll just change that trait to being dumb about politics in general, I dunno.  (Because he doesnt really care about the politics of Parity vs Halcyon, he just agrees with the Parity because thats all hes ever known.)

Bonus fact bc I had too many: Skift is pretty heavily inspired by the design of an old warrior cats OC I had named Falconstar/Falcon.  He’s not exactly a dead character (I dont do anything with Warrior Cats anymore but if I did, he’d be on my list of potential characters to reboot, altho i dont know if id have the heart to take him out of the universe/AU he’s from…) but I feel like their personalities are different enough that they wont be mistaken for one another.  Also Skift has a stupid scarf.

Character 2: Phillip (or is it Lenny? Idk I think I changed it to Phillip)

1. Phillip is also from Majjikku, I should mention, but he’s a part of the Halcyon side.  The first thing I should mention is that he’s a prince, and 3rd in line to the Crayking throne - he has an elder brother who joins the army with him, and an elder sister who stays behind to keep the kingdom safe with their aging parents.  I believe they also have a younger sibling or two, but they’re too young to be politically important.  Anyways, its worth mentioning that the only reason Phillip was sent over her sister is because he’s an inadept spoiled brat, and the Halcyon side was asking for at least two members of royalty to join their ranks to form an alliance, so Phillip was sent alongside their actually combatually adept elder son.  The Halcyon sent Phillip to the “less useful” soldier training camps, while his brother was able to ascend straight up in the ranks of the army.  Since arriving in Halcyon territory, Phillip hasn’t seen his brother once.  (It’s worth mentioning as a side note, the Craykings only allied themselves with the Halcyon side to protect their own necks.  They believe the Halcyons have the upper hand in the war, and want to be on the right side of history when the war concludes.  And they dont have the strength to stand up to both sides; the Halcyons have promised to protect their underwater empire from the Parities due to their allyship.

2. As I mentioned, Phillip is an inadept spoiled brat.  Years of coddling in his palace have turned him into a demanding asshole who makes jokes at the expense of others and has overly high expectations from others, despite thinking he himself deserves to sit on his ass all day.  There’s a deep reason for it, as there is for all my characters, but there are so many layers that caused him to act like this that at this point it’s just become his personality.

3. Having said that, Phillip grew up in an environment where acting nice was more important than being nice.  Who cared what you did behind closed doors, so long as you put on a presentable front?  He’s extremely charming and sociable in big social events, often making on-point jokes and contributing in a seemingly meaningful way.  In fact, he’s arguably even better at it than his two older siblings, since they have opinions of their own and aren’t just a mindless robot for their parents to interject their thoughts and opinions to.  Phillip is very good at regurgitating what he’s been told, and has a very flawed and honestly nonexistent sense of self because he has never had the freedom to make his own opinions.  Or rather, he was told how to act and feel, and he never had the strength that his siblings had to make his own opinions on what was being taught to him.

4. Phillip wears a fancy bowtie and he refuses to take it off for unexplained reasons.  There’s no deep reason to it, I just like bowties.

5. Phillip believes that both of his elder siblings are more adept and intelligent in every aspect.  He respects his parents authority over the kingdom and part of why he acts like a jerk is because he legitimately has no idea what he’s doing and would rather die than inherit the throne.  He knows nothing about politics, despite his entire life being politics (in more ways than one).  The good news is that it seems like if something happened to both his elder siblings and his parents, it would probably go to the next sibling below him, even if they were still under 10 at the time.

Character 3: Glitch

1. Glitch REALLY needs a new name but I’m currently trying to come up with an idea of how Glitch could mean something different in their world (Majjikku, I should clarify), but right now im empty-handed and please help me.

2. Glitch is blind, or at least has significant sight problems.  I think.  I dont know, I really need to develop Glitch more.  Maybe he just needs glasses like I do and without them everything is hella blurry but at least he can get around.

3. Glitch’s species is often used as horses in the Halcyon army due to their obedient nature and high intelligence for a species that generally isnt considered “sentient”/having human intelligence (I know sentient isnt the right word, hence why I clarified).  Glitch’s species does have human-like intelligence and capabilities, having the capability for empathy and compassion and self-realization just as much if not more as other Majjikku species, but they generally lack in vocal and academic intelligence.  Glitch is unusually vocal for his species, a mutation that comes up in packs of the sauropod-like species every now and then.  Because of this and his sight problems, he was put in the same “lesser” squadron as Phillip, instead of the same training the other young from his herd were given.

4. Having said that, “unusually vocal” for his species is still very quiet most of the time.  He has a strong understanding of the words of those around him, stronger than most of the rest of his species (although they can comprehend language, just not as quickly) and can articulate full sentences in a reasonable amount of time, he just prefers not to.  He also can’t go on half-an-hour-long rants about things because he would run out of words and brainpower very quickly, which god I wish that were me because I will talk until my mouth falls off and its 3 am i s2g im not even exaggerating.

5. Glitch has no understanding of the war but as his herd is encouraged to help the war effort, as opposed to being forcibly taken (which was outlawed and deemed unethical when more and more offspring like Glitch started popping up), he supports his side and would gladly die for it.  Also he loves his friends, even Phillip.

Character 4: Aquarius

1. I love Aquarius!!!  Somehow she became my favorite Majjikku character and idk why.  She’s got cool pants, thats probably part of the reason.  Anyways Aquarius is Marble’s best friend in the series; they become fast friends on the train to their squadron when they begin talking about their similar experiences in being dragged away from their families and forcibly enlisted in the army.  (Is it horrible to enlist 13 and 14 year old kids in the army by force?  It absolutely is, that’s the point; I dont take my characters being young teens like most stories abt young teens do, I’m well aware they’re going to be fucked up as fuck and I’m exploiting that for all its worth.)  Aquarius came from a big family of 5 with an absent mother and a nonexistent father, where her elder sister raised herself and then raised her.  Unlike Skift, Aquarius became very close with her eldest sister, although they both share a resentment for their parents because of their shit awful parenting.  Aquarius was forced to join the army because her three younger siblings were too young for the army, and her eldest sister had to stay behind and work a job and care for the younger kids, something Aquarius knew she wouldn’t be able to do.

2. Unlike all the other characters I’ve mentioned so far, and hell probably all the characters in Majjikku in general lol, Aquarius actually supports the Halcyon for what they stand for.  Obviously with her absent mother and father, Aquarius and her siblings needed a lot of financial help.  Thankfully that’s what the Halcyon system was built around, and the government was able to get Aquarius’s eldest sister a stable well-paying job and the entire family enough money to get a decent place and pay for food for a while.  The government still monitors their family regularly to make sure they arent squandering the money and that everything is going okay, but they did far, far more good than harm.  Aquarius believes that this is the best form of government; a form of government that on a very personal level cares for its members and helps them through hardships, and forces them on the right path.  In our world, she’d be a socialist through and through, if not a straight-up communist.  (Having said that, I do believe Aquarius would have different political opinions if she grew up in our world.  The difference between our world governments and the Halcyon government is that the Halcyon government…actually gives a shit about people.  Most of the people who work for the government are volunteers, who at best get a small place to stay and some food.  Like, the Halcyon actually help 99% of the poor population in the Halcyon city.  The amount of financial aid given outside of the city significantly drops, but in their city, being homeless and poor is illegal but instead of throwing you in jail for it they’ll help you get out of it.  If you squander it then you’ll end up in jail, but still.  Idk what Aquarius would believe in differently if she grew up here, but I dont think she’d be a straight-up communist because we have too many failed communist governments in our history.)

3. Aquarius and her family’s coloring is very odd for her species.  The bear-like species that her family is made up of is generally brown, red, yellow, orange, tan, white, gray, black, ect - normal-ish fur colors.  Blue, at least to the extent that Aquarius and her family have is nonexistent.  It is likely that she and her family have a small percentage of an aquatic species’ DNA, such as a crayking, in them.

4. Aquarius loves being supportive of other people and listening to and relating to their struggles.  She’s actually a pretty good motivational speaker and is a pretty great friend.  She’s great and I love her.  Also the pants.

5. Aquarius clashes a lot with Shade, another character in her squadron.  I’m not giving Shade his own section but the reason is that he’s an overly negative character, constantly throwing shade at the Halcyon side and complaining about training.  However, once she realizes the reasons for his dissatisfaction with his current situation, she stops calling him out when he says stuff against the Halcyon side.  She does start to debate her own opinions a bit after that, and has a lot of long conversations with Marble about it in their shared bedroom.  (If anyone’s interested in Shade feel free to send me another star asking about him, or reply to this post or w/e! otherwise ill just keep it a secret lol)

Character 5: Grace

1. Thank god, a character that isn’t Majjikku-related lol.  Anyways Grace is the embodiment of a rebellious teenager.  She doesn’t listen to any authority, goes out of her way to do bad things, and will purposely disobey what you say even if she doesnt want to do the thing she’d have to do by disobeying you.  The whole reason she gets involved in Spirits’ plot is because she knows taking money from a stranger to play with the laws of science and reality would be firmly in her dad’s list of things she can’t do.

2. Speaking of her dad, he’s a little bit of a dick.  He’s the reason she’s so disrespectful towards authority.  He’s basically just a stereotypical religious nut; anti-gay, anti-transgender, anti-atheist, anti-anyone who isnt christian, anti-drugs, and he even enforces some form of gender roles.  And he’s very vocal about these things.  He tries to be a huge helicopter parent, but Grace can and will avoid him, ignore his punishments, and stay out so late that her parents cant yell at her for disobeying them.  Her father is very vocal about his displeasure and downright hatred of Grace sometimes, and ever since she started questioning his words when she was a young girl, he’d yell at her for it.  Her older brother isn’t too great either, but he’s more of an annoying slouch who plays video games all day instead of working than a legitimately bad guy.

3. Grace believes she’s straight because she has no interest in being sexual with a woman, but she’d be totally down with kissing and cuddling and being romantic with a woman, hence why I identify her as a biromantic heterosexual.  She’s also the most sexually active of all my characters, which no I will not elaborate on that, not because I dont feel comfortable with it but because I dont know how the fuck that works.  (Also side note, I headcanon things in my own stories so I like to headcanon that at some point Grace and Shawn get together and they can be all romantic and mushy n stuff together but Shawn’s totally okay with Grace going out for one night stands with guys so long as she stays safe.  Obviously they talk everything out to make sure everyone is safe and okay with the relationship, but Shawn’s pretty okay with it; she’s pretty used to Grace having sex with no romantic attraction involved, and ofc Shawn isn’t into sex so she doesn’t feel like it’s a problem.)

4. Grace is closer with her mother than her father, but although her mother is very much a mediator and acts very kind and forgiving to Grace, Grace still kind of despises her.  Just because Grace’s dad is a dick doesn’t mean she isn’t too.

5. Grace’s spirit form is a bloodthirsty wyvern with major anger problems.  Each of the kids’ spirit forms have a slight personality outside of the kids themselves, and Grace’s is bloodthirsty and destructive - not intelligently so, but still.  Most fo the kids’ spirit forms are pretty mindless and just mindlessly destructive, except two.