#i mean i certainly didn't pick up on either of those things just by reading the first five sections

[galadhir]

i think that there was a fanwriter named Nemis that wrote a lot of fics about E/C? i liked those fics!

My memory has never been good and after 20 years away it's completely unreliable, but still, that name rings a bell. I vaguely remember her being a nice person that I was aware of but never really interacted with because our areas of interest didn't quite intersect.

i hoped the show would give some spot to Celebrian … and instead. lol.

Indeed! I can just picture the show writers turning their noses up at the thought of writing Galadriel as a mother. She can't be a mother! Whoever heard of a mother being interesting? No one would think it was cool for Galadriel to be an actual queen and seasoned diplomat and seer, with a husband and a child.

Not to mention that Celebrian can't be interesting at all because she dies as a damsel in distress, so she must be a wimp all her life (ignoring the fact that everybody dies in distress.) People can't imagine that her life could have been interesting before that :( Sexism and failure of imagination again.

it would be interesting to see if anyone else had my idea … of course i have not read all the Galadriel/Celeborn fics out there so if someone has those, feel free to drop!

LOL! I'm sorry to end up dropping my own fics on you, but it sounds like you might enjoy my Oak and Willow

(Ignore all the tags, they were auto-imported from Henneth Annun when that archive backed up all its stories on Ao3 and then shut down.) And you can probably ignore chapters 1-4 if you're just in it for the C/G romance. They are world building for Doriath and setting up Celeborn's position in his home, with Thingol, Melian, Luthien and Daeron.

I originally started out intending this one to be a Sindarin history of the world, from the rising of the sun and the moon. But it rapidly became the story of C&G in the First Age. If I had known it was just going to be their love story against a backdrop of the events of the First Age, I might have left off chapter 1 at least, as that was setting up something I didn't actually write in the end.

But it is more or less what you're talking about. So if you're interested, you might like it :)

oh that's interesting, may i ask if it's still online? my beef with peter jackson started muuuuch later with the hobbit movies, but i like to see how other people reacted to the LOTR trilogy when it comes out

Yes, Battle of the Golden Wood is on Ao3 too - also imported from HASA (Henneth Annun Story Archive, which was the place to post elf fanfic back in the day.)

I agree with you about the Hobbit movies! Way too much bloat. There was the occasional nice thing in them - I enjoyed seeing Beorn's house and his bees, for example - but almost everything that PJ put in was grotesque and unfunny and unnecessary. The Hobbit would have made one great film, but there just isn't enough story in it to stretch to three.

as for what you say … i think that that's the current approach of Warner Bros, with its War of the Rohirrim stuff or whatever. i'm not enthusiast about it at all and i would probably complain about it too,

I know what you mean. I'm not enthusiastic either about a Rohirrim spin-off because it seems like they've picked the most low-effort story imaginable. Yes, you can use props from The Vikings and Game of Thrones. You can probably crib story lines from Bernard Cornwell's Anglo-Saxon stories. Have we not seen enough pseudo-early-medieval stories already?

I would have liked to see something we haven't seen before! (Which doesn't mean I won't at least check out the first season. But my hopes are not high.)

i do not want to be mean but btw i do have the feeling that a lot of rop fans are mostly migratory dark romance fans

Oh, the Reylo folks from Star Wars? That would actually make an awful lot of sense. They certainly behave like them. I managed to avoid them by being in the Kylux fandom at the time, and the Kylux fandom was numerous enough to just block them all and carry on doing our own thing regardless. Also a good time :)

it's lowkey … limitating? flattening? because neither galadriel nor sauron fit into this archetype and i do think that forcing them in this dynamic … just doesn't make them sauron and galadriel anymore? but i digress

I know exactly what you mean. I've mostly spent my fandom life in slash (m/m) fandom and there is a migratory slash fandom which is the same. If a pairing gets big enough then the msf will arrive and reduce it to a set of tropes and stereotypes, and then move on to the next big thing as soon as it arrives. In that case, you just have to wait for the next big thing and hope there is someone left still writing to pick up the fandom once they've gone.

Yeah at this point i do honestly wish that everyone can write its own retelling of lotr and publish it.

At least there is the opportunity for us to do it in Ao3, even if we're not allowed to make money on it. We can do it for love :)

Hoo, boy. I am definitely going to unfollow the Celeborn tag again, since it's full of Haladriel shippers arguing that Celeborn stans are harassing them.

I'm not getting into whether that's true. I have no interest in Rings of Power, and as far as I am concerned, Halbrand does not exist in Tolkien's world. I can't be somewhere where people mix Amazon's fanfiction with actual lore.

Also ship wars are not for me. I was a massive Celeborn defender during the release of the movies, and I wrote several novels worth of fanfic then. I think I'm spent.

Still, as a Celeborn fan I thought the Celeborn tag would be a great place to go to find stuff about Celeborn. How could I have been so foolish!

My poor lad! Not even his own tag is about him. Which is exactly what I should have expected, now I come to think about it.

[mickandmusings]

vi. 'tis the damn season

part of the 'hangman & honey' series!

summary: for the past six months, jake has spent every spare moment attempting to mend communication between he and honey. for months, he uses his phone calls to phone her, leave long voicemails, and writes her multiple letters a week. his efforts come with no avail, she never calls or writes him back. with christmas around the corner, jake makes his way back home to texas, but not before making an important stop along the way.

word count: 6.1k

warnings: 18+ mdni!! (dirty talk, but no explicit descriptions); definite military inaccuracies; definite college inaccuracies; general angst; christmas story in august?

-

'Dear Honey,

I know this is the third or fourth letter this week, and I'm not even sure if you're receiving these, but I can't just not write to you. I left you another voicemail, and I'm not sure if you're listening to those either, but I have talked to you nearly everyday since we were nine, and, well, that's not a habit you break easily. I called you on your birthday last week and left a message, and I sent you a card, I hope you got them both.

Honey, I'm sorry. I'll say it in every voicemail and every letter until you believe me. I shouldn't have taken so long to tell you the truth. I regret it. If I could take it all back, you know I would. I didn't do it to hurt you, I never want to hurt you. But I know I did, and no words I could say or write will change that. I'm sorry. I'll say it over and over again until you understand how much I mean that.

I know you likely don't want to hear about my time here, but I've always told you everything. If you don't want to hear me talk about it, I thought you might read about it. I can't ever remember a time you weren't reading.

Life here is different. Not bad, just...hard. The weather is certainly cooler than the winters back home. We even got snow, true snow, not the shitty kind we get in Haven. It sticks to the ground, and you can actually play in it, not just bust your ass on ice and sleet. Things are always very routine and strict, but, considering it's a week til Christmas break, things are looking up. Honestly, I've never been more ready to go back home to Texas. Granny said she spoke to you about coming home for Christmas, since you missed Thanksgiving? I really hope you'll come around. I miss you, Honey. I haven't heard your voice since that voicemail you sent me in October. Look, you can stay at the other house, I'll set it up for you before you even get here. Or, I'll stay there, and you can have our my room. You don't even have to talk to me, just please come. Just seeing you would be enough.

My bunkmate, Javy, the one I've mentioned to you for the past few months, he's from New Orleans. He's coming home for Christmas, and he's going to drop me off at the airport there. I'll fly back to Austin from there, and Pawpaw will be there to pick me up. Sometimes, at night or when we have spare time, Javy tells me about his life back home in Louisiana. More often than not, it makes me think of you. They make me think of the birthday beignets you make for Pawpaw, and how you'd make us gumbo in the winter. Frankly, everything makes me think of you. Honey, I see you everywhere. There are these bushes outside Bancroft Hall, and they're full of these little white and red flowers. I'm not sure what they're called, but they're pretty, and I know you'd love them. There's a kid in one of my morning classes, and he's got your accent too. It's nice to hear, I haven't heard your voice in so long. I hope the Magnolia State is treating you well. I imagine you're much happier with your favorite flower all around you.

I don't have much else to tell you about. I'd like to tell you my other stories when we're face to face again. I just wanted to let you know I miss you, and I love you, always. Call me back or write to me whenever you get the chance, if you're feeling up to it.

All my love,

Jake'

Honey holds the paper tightly in her hands, letting it crinkle under the pressure of her grasp. If he'd sent this letter when they'd first split, she'd have balled it up or ripped it to pieces with her blinding, white-hot rage. She had been so angry when she'd first moved away, ignoring his incessant phone calls and numerous voicemails. She had let his letters pile up on her desk, unopened and unread. In the chance that he'd sent this letter just a few months later, she would have stained the ink of his letters with her tears. After her anger came a fierce sadness, one that seeped into her bones and left her incapacitated, ridden with the agony that threatened to pull her under like a rogue wave. But now, as she stares down at Jake's scratchy handwriting across the lined paper, she simply feels numb. His letter does not spark an onslaught of tears or suffocating sobs that leave her chest heaving. She simply folds the letter back up and slides it back into its envelope, placing it gently on her desktop, deciding to deal with it later, much like the emotions it evoked.

She knows she shouldn't, but she grabs the familiar orange sweatshirt that lives on her bed and throws it over her head. It comes to her knees and the sleeves are far too long, but it provides her with a comfort she almost wishes it didn't. In her tiny dorm room in Starkville, her small college town (although bigger than Haven,) she feels isolated. Her entire life for the past six months had simply been going-through-the-motions of life: wake up, go to class, come home, study, finish assignments, work a shift at her on-campus job, shower, repeat. Life had become monotonous, something that her life with Jake never was.

She knows she shouldn't wallow. She should try and get out, make more friends-more than just the lady at the circulation desk in the library-and try to enjoy her life at nineteen. But, once again, that gnawing, creeping feeling infiltrates her chest, Honey wasn't like her classmates. She wouldn't enjoy sitting in a bar or attending a frat party. She'd sit in the corner alone, nursing a drink she likely wouldn't finish, and leave with an Irish goodbye. Now, all she had was a sweatshirt that smelled faintly of the boy she once slept next to each night, and it was her only source of comfort.

Honey knows she should get up and call Mrs. Janet, to let her know that she's okay, and that she was settled. The last time she'd spoken to her or Mr. Jacob had been nearly two weeks ago. She should call Haley and Sarah Grace back, both of her hometown friends had been calling since they'd met up for the last time in October. She knows she should stop shutting those who loved her out-Jake included-but that was a different situation entirely.

Instead of doing any of the aforementioned, she simply sinks into her comforter and puts her headphones on, effectively shutting out the rest of the world. She was glad her roommate had left for her own home state, leaving her alone in the dorm room for the next two weeks. Deep down, Honey knew she was lying to herself. She yearned for the feeling of home, her true home, on a farm in Texas. She craved Mrs. Janet's cowboy cookies that she made at least two dozen too many of, and Mr. Jacob's Christmas ham that took hours to get just right, but was so worth it when it practically melted in her mouth. She missed sitting around a room full of the Seresin family, watching the children open new toys and heaps of candy. She'd laugh as they opened new clothes with sour faces, quickly ditching them for the next box in shiny wrapping. Their childlike joy made her own flare, leaving her chest warm as she giggled quietly in Jake's arms. She missed Jake sneaking them eggnog from the kitchen, and the babbling laughter they erupted into when they realized no matter how much older they got, it was always just as disgusting as the first time he'd snuck it when they were thirteen. Mostly, she missed the warm, peaceful feeling she felt when she was in a room full of people she loved most. In a bout of honesty, she admits that maybe, just maybe, she just missed Jake.

Through her headphones, she can hear the rain patter against her window, and she sighs, the weather only adding to her melancholy mood. Honey knew if she chose to rot in bed, her emotions would only grow heavier, so with a deep sigh, she rolls out of bed and slides on her worn sneakers. She takes off Jake's Longhorns hoodie and swaps it for her own, tosses the hood over her head, and grabs the keys to Jake's truck. She grabs her finished library books to return, and her wallet, deciding to wallow in the secluded section of the library instead. She walks out of her dorm room, locks the door, and takes the stairs down to the lobby. She pushes the door open and heads out into the rain.

Honey would never make it to the library that day.

-

Two weeks prior...

"You scribblin' away for that girl again, Seresin?"

Javy's voice fills Jake's ears, and Jake doesn't bother looking up as he shoots his roommate a middle finger salute. Javy laughs at the action before climbing into his top bunk, leaning his head against his pillow. There's silence between the two before Javy's voice cuts through again.

"So when are you gonna tell me about her?"

From the second that Javy had met Jake, it seemed like something was weighing his bunkmate down. It wasn't until a week or so later, when they both were calling home, that Javy learned it wasn't something, it was someone. Jake kept information about his girl on lock, so Javy knew little information: her name was Honey, which Javy found odd, but brushed it off. She was studying English at a college in Mississippi, and Jake had, somehow, royally fucked things up with her before he'd come to the Academy.

Jake sighs, stopping his writing as he looks up at his friend on the top bunk.

"If I tell you, will you shut up for ten minutes so I can write?"

Javy nods, his brown eyes sparkling with a stream of questions he'd been burning to ask.

"Fine, what'dya want to know?"

Javy is quiet for a moment, looking up at the ceiling, as if pondering something.

"What's she like? Wait! No, let me guess! She was a cheerleader, pretty little thing, prom queen, the whole nine-yards to your little All-American thing."

Jake lets out a laugh, thinking of Honey as he shakes his head.

"You couldn't be more wrong. Except the pretty part, she-she's gorgeous."

"Really?" Javy sits up and leans over the metal railing of the bunk. "What? Is she like some metal chick with the eyeliner?"

Javy motions around his eye to emphasize his point.

Jake's eyes widened, continuing to shake his head.

"Definitely not."

"Then what's she like? C'mon man, you gotta give me something! You're always callin' her and writin' her, and I never see you get a response. She got you under Love Potion Number Nine or something? She do the whole magic thing? Can't trust that man."

"No, no, she's not like that. She's-," Jake pauses, trying to find the most accurate words to describe Honey. "She's quiet, shy, she's practically the opposite of me. She likes to read, a lot. I don't think there's ever been a time in our lives when she didn't have a book in her hand. She's kind, never lacking patience when it comes to all of my bullshit. And smart, ridiculously so, she's the smartest person I know. Honey is...witty, and funny, she's got this sarcastic sense of humor that you'd never expect from her. W-We've been friends since we were kids. We started datin' in high school, and we had this fight before I came here, and, obviously, she's still mad about it, so...yeah."

Javy notes the glimmer in Jake's eyes as he talks about his girlfriend, a small smile forming across his lips. Javy hadn't known Jake for more than six months, but this was probably the happiest he'd seen his bunkmate. Javy shrugs, giving his friend another incredulous look.

"So what are you gonna do about it, Seresin?"

Jake's jade eyes look up at him, his letter finished but suddenly forgotten.

"What do you mean? She obviously doesn't want to speak to me. The only time she's spoken to me in six months is when she left me a drunk voicemail on Halloween, saying how I made her cry. What am I supposed to do with that? If she saw me, she'd probably knock my lights out."

Javy shrugs. "But do you love her?"

Jake looks down at his well-kept shoes.

"More than she'll ever know."

"You said she's studying in Starkville? You think she's going back to Texas for Christmas?"

"It's unlikely," Jake responds, his voice somber at the admission. "Why?"

"Well," Javy props back onto his pillow, his hands tucked under his head. "I'm driving back home for Christmas, passin' right through Mississippi. It sounds like if you messed this up, you need to be the one to fix it. Show her you haven't given up, and you want her back. If you surprise her, maybe she'll give you a chance to explain yourself."

Jake's heart hammers in his chest, his friend's plan wasn't entirely bad. Jake looks up at his bunkmate, his face set in a knowing look.

"Honey hates surprises."

"And you hate living without her, which one will be worse: her temporary anger, or never speakin' to her again?"

Jake sighs, he hates that Javy was right. Maybe it was a stupid idea, cancelling his flight back home from Austin, tagging along on a road trip with Javy to get the love of his life back. But, a week later, Jake's duffel was slung into the backseat of Javy's car haphazardly as he rode shotgun, giving his friend directions toward a small Mississippi town.

-

Now, Honey makes her way across the rainy parking lot. Through her blurry eyesight, she quickly finds Jake's truck in the nearly empty parking lot. She fishes the key from the bundle of keys in her hand, sliding it into the key slot on the door and unlocking the door. Before she could remove the key and pop open the door, Honey hears a voice call out her name. She pauses, and for a split second, she thinks she hears Jake's voice. She shakes her head, pulling at the driver's side door. It was often shut too hard, and she had to pull with a good portion of her strength to get it to open. As she tugs on the handle, she hears it again, her name in Jake's voice. She tugs harder, thinking she was finally losing her mind.

"Honey, wait!"

The footsteps behind her alert her that the voice she had been hearing likely wasn't just a hallucination. She turns abruptly, and her heart stops in her chest. There, standing before her in a rain-soaked Navy sweatshirt and jeans, his significantly shorter blonde locks plastered against his forehead, was one Jake Seresin. Honey's eyes widened in shock, the breath in her chest growing short and ragged. She pulls her books closer to her chest, an action of both shock and keeping them as dry as possible. Her eyes dart back and forth between his own. She's quiet for a moment, rendered completely speechless.

"Jake?!" Her eyebrows furrowed. "What the hell are you doing here?! You-You're supposed to be on a plane to Austin right now!"

Jake stands in front of her, motionless, as his eyes take her in completely. It had been so long since he'd seen her, and he simply wanted to peer at her forever. She hadn't changed much, she was still shorter than him in stature, still an avid reader by the small pile of books she'd finally tossed onto the truck seat, but her eyes didn't quite shine like they once had. Jake's heart hammered in his chest, staring at the girl he loved standing in front of him in the pouring rain, arms crossed over her chest, shivering in the cold.

"Jake, hey?!" She waves her hand in front of his face, attempting to gain his attention. "What are you doing here?!"

Honey's voice is loud enough to hear over the rain pelting around them both. Her eyes are wide as he looks down at her, his hands itch to touch her, but he keeps them at his side. He takes another look into her eyes, and he simply loses every ounce of control he has. He takes a step forward towards her, his hands come to rest on either side of her face. Honey wants to knock his hands away, she wants to let her anger simmer forever, but the warmth of his calloused touch provides her with a comfort she hadn't felt in so long. If it had not been raining so fiercely, both halves of the pair would realize the tears running down one another's face. He's silent for a long moment, simply taking in her face for the first time in months.

"Honey, I-I fucked up," Jake starts, his voice trembling with a flurry of emotions. "Honey, I fucked up so, so bad."

He pauses, allowing the rain to soak through both their clothes, his thumb brushing carefully against her cheek. His bottom lip trembles, his hands beginning to shake against her face. Honey says nothing, only braving a look into his green eyes darkening with tears.

"I-I've apologized a thousand times over the past six months and it's not enough. It'll never be enough, because knowin' I hurt you?" He pauses and shakes his head with his lips pressed into a fine line, effectively keeping him from bursting into sobs. "Honey, that shit has ripped me to shreds everyday since you left. I-I never meant to hurt you, ever. I'll spend the rest of my life apologizin' to you if that's what you want." His eyes bore into her own, his breaths shaky.

"I'll spend the rest of my life on hands and knees, grovelin' if that's what you want. A-And if you tell me to fuck off and never speak to you again, I-I'll do it. Just-just know that all of me-body, heart, soul, everything I am-it belongs to you. If you've decided that you're movin' on, and you want to do everythin' we planned with someone else, I won't try to stop it. But, you have to know somethin', and I need you to understand that it doesn't matter if you move to Canada, o-or you stay here, or you move back to Haven, my heart forever sits in your hands. It's yours, forever, whether I have yours or not. That house on my grandparent's farm? I fixed it for you, it's yours. This truck? It's yours, take it. Honey, you can have whatever you want, I'll buy you whatever you want, I'll make it if I can't buy it. Tell me what you want, and I'll make it happen. Whatever it is, baby, it's yours."

His chest moves quickly with his rapid breaths, his hands shaking from his contained emotions. Honey simply looks at him, still a bit shocked that he's standing in front of her. If she wasn't overwhelmed by the landslide of apologies he'd just spouted, she'd have given him her own back. Instead, she stands a bit still, her chest just as heavy as his. He mistakes her silence as rejection, and his face falls as he gives a subtle nod of his head. His hands move from her face, and, in that split second, Honey is shocked into action. She wouldn't lose him again, she couldn't lose him again. In one quick swoop, she grabs the wrists of his sweatshirt, pulling his attention back to her. She speaks a tad louder than her normal tone, ensuring he would hear her over the pelting rain.

"You, all I want is you. That-That's all I've ever wanted, Jake!"

He catches a glimpse of her face, her cheeks pink as she shivers, but her eyes, they were the same love-filled gaze he'd remembered. He wanted to begin another string of apologies, to assure her that he meant everything he said, but he never got the chance. In an action almost completely out of nature for the shy girl he knew, her arms were around his neck, pulling his lips towards hers in a heated passion. He wasted no time in indulging in the action, his hands coming to her hips, lifting her a bit higher to deepen the kiss. The sweet kiss quickly turns to a clash of teeth and heated movements, and Jake quickly hoists her up, her legs wrapping around his waist as if it were muscle memory.

From his car across the lot, Javy shakes his head and smiles as the two embrace one another. He cranks his car back up, backs out of the parking spot and turns back onto the main road. He shakes his head as he thinks of his friend, mumbling to himself as he drives:

"Tis the damn season, Seresin, you lucky dog."

Back at the school, it only takes a split second for the couple's kiss to grow a bit too intense for the parking lot setting, and, without thinking, Jake pulls her through the lobby's double doors and into the elevator, where the two finally break apart for a split second.

"J-Jake, I-I never should've left like that, I-,"

She doesn't get to finish, Jake's lips are back on hers, this time with more fervor than before. Honey shudders, with both the cold from her wet clothes and the heat building in her torso. They break apart as the elevator dings, and Honey is pulling Jake by the hand back to her dorm. She all but shoves him inside, locking the door behind her. Jake wastes no time in crossing back to her, slowly pulling off the hood of her hoodie, his eyes widening when he glances at her mostly dry hair.

"Y-Your hair, it's...shorter."

She chuckles. "Yeah, I just needed a change...you're one to talk, J, I've never seen your hair that short."

He pulls her in closer by her hips, lifting the soaked hoodie over her head as he speaks.

"Yeah, well, plebe summer wasn't my best look, you're just lucky you missed me bald, baby."

Even in the dim light of the dorm room, Jake notes the darkening look of her gaze, her lids growing heavier with desire. Honey's hand comes to the short hair growing on the nape of his neck, her head cocking to the side as she threads her fingers through the new growth, a look on her face he can't quite place. He pulls her flush against him, attempting to read her look.

"Hm, yeah," she starts. "I'm real glad I missed that part. Y'know, why?"

The girl below him moves to kiss the underside of his jaw, making his hands tighten on the grip he has on her hips.

"Why's that, baby?"

Honey's lips move to his neck, his hands slipping past her hips and to the round of her bottom. Above all else, Jake Seresin had been raised to be a Southern gentleman, but his resolve was slipping.

"Because," Honey starts, her accent slipping through, causing the heat in Jake's lower half to grow unbearable as her lips continue their course down his skin. "I like havin' somethin' to hold onto when you're between my thighs."

Long gone was Honey's shy demeanor, and long gone was Jake's gentlemanly resolution. Without a word, he's tossing his own damp sweatshirt over his head and throwing it to the floor with her own. Honey has ditched her drenched shirt and sweatpants, now standing nearly bare between Jake's arms. Without a second of hesitation, Jake pulls her onto the ridiculously small bed, but he pays it no mind, more focused on the grinning girl beneath him. He kisses her lips passionately, his hands resting on her bare thighs. His own heart hammers, and, as he kisses down Honey's neck, he can feel her own beating just as loudly. He pulls away, tossing off his damp jeans to the floor. He looks down at her almost bare frame, his emerald eys heavy with lust, but his voice is cased in affection.

"If this is what you want, that's certainly fine with me, but I need to hear you say it, baby."

Honey looks up at Jake's kind but intense gaze, her heart slowing a bit.

"After that whole The Notebook-esque apology you pulled, yes, I want this."

She nods in confirmation, and Jake wastes no time in attaching his lips back to hers. Honey's hands fly back to his hair, her fingers digging into his locks. Jake's hands come to her torso, carefully sliding off the clothing constricting her chest and tossing it onto the floor. He pauses for a brief moment, staring down as he hovers over her. Honey looks up at him, her head cocking to the side.

"Jake? Hey, what's the matter?"

Jake's mind is in overdrive, and he simply feels the urge to stop and stare at her. She's bare before him, cheeks flushed, eyes blazing with affection. Jake swallows thickly as he pushes hair out of her face.

"Honey, you-you're beautiful. I am the luckiest man on fuckin' Earth, baby."

Honey blushes at his compliment, pulling him back in with a heated kiss.

"You're such a smooth talker, Seresin...but right now, I need you to use that mouth of yours for somethin' other than talkin'."

Jake grins from ear to ear, the usual smirk she's used to seeing painted across his face. His thumb brushes against the fabric adorning her hip, gently pushing it down. He tosses them to the floor along with the other clothes they'd shed, and nudges his way in between her legs. Heat fills the space between them completely as he speaks:

"Yes ma'am."

-

Hours later, in the late hours of the night, Honey is woken by the vibrating of something nearby. Jake-who has her pressed into his chest with the strength of a bear-doesn't budge. Honey, ever the light sleeper, groans, lightly tapping Jake's shoulders. His body moves, but he simply curls back into their shared pillow. She shoves him again, a little harder this time as she speaks.

"Jake," Her words receive no response, so she speaks again. "Jake!"

It's Jake's turn to groan, his arms pulling her closer to his bare chest.

"Hm? What is it, baby?"

Honey's lack-of-sleep induced annoyance fades at the nickname she so adores.

"Your phone is ringing."

Jake groans again, slipping out from under the blush pink sheets and searching for his phone that he assumed was still lodged into his jean pocket. Honey opts to glance at his newly toned arms and strong, broad shoulders, his time training in Maryland obviously having physical gain. He hits the button on the screen, not bothering to look at the caller ID, and speaks:

"Hello?"

"Jacob Thomas! Where the hell are you?!" His grandfather's voice fills his ears, and Jake pales. Shit. He had completely forgotten to tell his grandparents about his detour. "I've been sitting at the airport for three hours, son!"

"Pawpaw, I-I'm sorry, Javy just decided to take me all the way back to-" He's cut off abruptly.

"Look, that's fine, but you could've called. Your grandmother's callin' and she's pissed, son. Just get home, alright? Preferably sometime before Christmas Eve? She's already distraught about Honey not comin' around, so, the sooner the better. Heard?"

"Loud and clear."

"Alright, well, I love you, kid. Be careful."

"Love you too."

Jake hangs up the phone, crawling back into Honey's sheets and pulling her back into his arms. Honey's nose burrows into the crook of his neck, Jake's warm skin against her own far warmer than any blanket she owned. Jake's hand ghosted against her side, the other threading through her hair. His voice is low and soft as he speaks:

"How do you feel about Christmas in Texas?"

Honey's eyes open, looking up at her boyfriend with a shy smile, completely retreating back into her usual quiet self, a stark difference from the heated confidence that had run through her only hours before. Her eyes glimmered in the moonlight, a wide grin on her face as she buries herself back into his neck, his toned arms pulling her in tightly.

"I don't know if they'd even want me there, I should've called Mrs. Janet back, haven't responded in like two weeks."

Jake scoffs, pushing back a hair from her face.

"Don't even think like that. They're gonna be more excited to see you than me."

"Guess we'll find out." Honey pushes up from her spot next to Jake, sliding out of bed and slipping on new clothes before packing a small bag for the road. Jake watches from the bed, a smile across his face. He rests his hands behind his head, his blonde locks tossed about from their rendezvous. Honey turns to him once she's dressed.

"Are you gonna show up like that? Not that I mind this look, but your grandmother might have some issues with it." She laughs lightly, tossing him his now dry shirt. "You might want to get dressed, babe."

Honey stills and grows red when the nickname falls from her lips without any thought. She turns to Jake, his eyebrow furrowed humorously at the nickname, his right pointer finger beckons her closer. She stands next to him beside the bed, his hand pulling her in by the waist.

"Where did that come from?"

"I-I don't know," she admits bashfully. "B-But if you don't like it-"

"Baby, I more than liked it."

He pulls her closer, plopping her back into the sheets with him. She practically rests completely atop him. His hands move to pull up her shirt, his hands resting on her now bare waist. She makes note of his gaze darkening as he looks down at her, his arousal evident against her leg.

"Jake," her voice is a whisper. "We should really get on the road."

Jake smirks, his lips now kissing the sweet spot behind her ear.

"I'll get up as soon as you do."

Unable to resist one another, they were nearly another two hours before they got back on the road. After those hours and a ridiculously long drive back home to Haven, Honey now rested comfortably in the passenger side of Jake's her truck, Jake's thumb rubbing against her thigh. Both of them were incredibly tired from the prolonged trip, and more than ready to collapse into his childhood bed they'd shared for years. As Jake turned onto Seresin Farm Road, Honey felt her nerves kick in. Despite her excitement to return to the home that had nurtured her, she worried that she was going to be a burden for Janet and Jacob. She hadn't told either of them that she'd be coming home, and Jake hadn't either. She slid closer in the seat to Jake, her head resting on his arm. He looks down at her as they pass one of the many fields on the property.

"You alright, baby? You're lookin' a little out of it."

"M'fine, just nervous."

Jake's eyes cut down at her. "Nervous?"

"It's stupid, I know. I just, didn't tell anyone I was coming, and I don't want to be a burden to your grandparents."

"Honey, you're family. You don't have to let us know you're comin'."

Honey smiles, her nerves fading as the house comes into view. Jake parks the truck, the backwards baseball cap over his head covering his short, blonde locks completely. He cuts her a sly grin, a look of mischief drawn across his face.

"Want to really surprise them?"

Honey cocks her head, puzzled. Jake simply kisses her cheek and hops out of the truck, moving to open the door on her side. He comes to the front door, opening it and promptly hiding Honey behind his taller frame. He comes to the entrance of the kitchen, raising his finger to his lips as he leaves her only a few feet away in the foyer. She can hear his boots against the hardwood as he walks.

"Hey," he speaks simply, both Janet and Jacob Sr.'s eyes cutting to their grandson standing in their doorway.

"Jacob! You scared the devil outta me! Get over here!" Janet shuffles the towering young man into a hug after lightly chastising him.

"Sorry I'm late," Jake's voice is muffled against his grandmother's neck. "Had to make a detour and pick up a little surprise for you."

His grandmother pulls away, her eyebrows furrowed as she gives the blonde a questioning look. "Surprise?"

Jake sends her a blinding smile. He pokes his head around the corner, beckoning Honey forward with his pointer finger. Honey shakes her head as she approaches, and Jake slings his arm around her shoulder.

"Hi," Honey speaks quietly. Janet and Jacob Sr. both turn, smiles painting across their faces.

"Honey! Oh my, sweet girl, you did surprise us!" Janet's voice is bubbly as she shuffles over to her grandson's girlfriend, pulling her into a tight hug. "Oh! And look at that hair, it's just darlin' on you!"

Honey feels her heart hammer, and she has to swallow down her tears as the older woman embraces her. Jake's grandfather follows suit, and Honey can no longer stop the tears rolling down her face. Janet wipes them away with the back of her hand.

"You alright there, Hon?" Jacob Sr. fills her ears. Honey nods through her tears, crossing the kitchen back to Jake's arms. He pulls her close, kissing the crown of her head as her tears stain his shirt. Janet's eyes gleam as she sees the two being affectionate again. She had been so worried about them both being apart for so long.

"I'm fine, promise." Honey's voice wobbles slightly. "I'm just really, really happy to be home. I didn't want to be a burden, but, I-I've really missed you guys."

"Oh nonsense! I promise we're happy to have you home, sweetheart." Janet's own face wobbles with emotion. "Now, c'mon, I'm glad I waited to make desserts, now I've got double the help."

She shuffles her bowls of ingredients around on the counter and Honey pulls away from Jake, more than happy to lend a hand with making sweets. Jake slips out of the kitchen to allow them to share their moment, and finds himself lounging next to his grandfather in the living room.

The graying man peers up at him over his glasses, giving him a satisfied look.

"Smart move there, son."

Jake directs his eyes from the black and white film on the TV to his grandfather.

"What do you mean?"

"Bringin' Honey home, makin' things right with her. Me and your Granny learned real quick this place doesn't feel the same when you two aren't around."

Jake smiles, shocked by the amount of emotion behind his usually stoic grandfather's words. The older man only gives him a hint of a smile before focusing on his western movie again. Jake listens as he hears Honey's laughter from the kitchen, and for the first time in six months, he feels content. Exhausted from hours of driving and he and Honey's activities in her dorm, he falls asleep on the couch.

Later, after Honey and Janet have finished their baking for the night, Honey spots Jake sprawled across the sofa, his boots and hat abandoned at the end. She covers him up with the blanket that rests behind him, placing a kiss on his forehead. She hadn't intended to wake him, but his eyes popped open. He's not fully awake, still a little bleary eyed as his hands fumble for her torso.

"C'mon, J, you're tired. Let's go to bed."

"Hm, lead the way, baby."

That night, Jake sleeps with Honey under his chin, tucked comfortably into his hold as tightly as possible. He dreams of Honey vividly-although mundane and simple, his dreams are a comfort: them sitting placidly with one another as she reads and he looks on as her voice fills his ears. For the first time in nearly six months, both of them slept peacefully and deeply, in a way they never could without sleeping next to one another. Tomorrow, when the Texas sun blares through Jake's thin curtains, they'll both be thrown headfirst into holiday preparations. But tonight, under the same roof where their story had ended, it begins again: Honey, in Jake's arms, sleeping content and comfortable in the bedroom up the stairs.

-

taglist:

@djs8891

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@psuedochakra

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*if you asked me/want to be on the taglist and you weren't tagged, pls message me, i would love to add you!!

[r0-boat]

So..... About that Naga Baizhu? ¬v¬

Snake Man becomes a snake

read all about it!

Naga!Baizhu headcannons+Short drabble

Cw: kidnapping,

Sfw

Cut for length

It all started when a white snake You saw it cowering in fear as to heartless teenagers poked at it with sticks. Pulling at the poor thing's tail even as the creature tried to escape. They had it trapped, Tormenting the poor creature, not until you chase those nasty people away, picking up the white snake gently. The poor thing was hurt and scared You kept it with you until it was ready to be released. When you released the whitesnake it's lizard in the grass and before it disappeared into the bushes It stood up looking at you with its big Ruby eyes flicking its tongue at you You could almost swore it thanked you before rushing into the underbrush.

Your house was connected to a lot of foresty land in the backyard so you are used to seeing wildlife... But you are not expecting the visitor you'll have this morning.

You're not sure how he got into your house. Maybe you accidentally left your back door unlocked.

You heard voices as you were waking up.

"are you sure this is the one?"

"Yes, they saved me a week ago, they're perfect for you."

"All right I'll start burning the blend."

As the blend burned the scent of lavender sage and a mix of other herbs hit your nose. Calming you, as you just woke up you already felt like you were falling back asleep. Barely opening your eyes You could sort of make out the two.

You almost thought you were dreaming when you saw the white snake the same white snake and hearing that same voice from her once again. "They're waking up."

"Don't worry The blend should put them back to sleep."The man next to her said His eyes liquid gold pupils like a snake as he looks down at you His green hair matching with the green scales on his hands I see brushes your hair back caressing your cheek. "Go back to sleep my dear." His voice warm and smooth like honey.

___________

Baizhu had been looking for a mate for a while now, but since Fall Baizhu was too busy taking care of other wild hybrids to worry about finding a mate for spring. So Changsheng to get upon herself, She was careless wanting to see her friend happy She separated from Baizhu's side slithering out of his cave. She didn't mean to be gone for so long.

However, her search was highly fruitful. She found a nice human, a human that took care of her, patched her up, and saved her. The caring hands in sweet smile reminded her of Baizhu. After getting yelled at by an angry, worried, sick Baizhu, his anger softened when Changsheng spoke about what you had done to her. Changsheng is a somewhat prickly character, so listening to her talk so extensively about you made him interested to meet you.

Baizhu knew humans had different mating rituals and knew full well that humans are not a... Intense, as the dominating aggressive Nagas. As much as his species fantasizes about how weaker humans are to them and how they are the perfect mate because of it but very little have the temperament to deal with the relatively complex emotions that humans have.

Baizhu was different. He was not as aggressive or dominating as members of his species. But he was not certainly considered weak either.

The way he took you back to his cave was regrettably something he could have done better. But for some reason, you took it rather well. You are more interested in his snake companion and Baizhu's snake body (which he was happy to show you.) He thought you would fear him. He thought you would run from him. To his surprise, if you'd let you go, you would even visit on your own accord. And you did! You are a strange one. But he liked that about you. He thought he understood humans more than anyone

I references species a lot, but the truth is that Baizhu is the last of his kind. Even with his dear white snake friend being the last, Naga hybrid was a lonely title, so he was so desperate to have you.

Baizhu is obsessed with your human anatomy; He's never seen humans this close. He plays with your fingers, rambling on about how your body looks similar up until the waist—squeezing your legs, wiggling your toes, feeling your smooth, squishy scalist skin. He wants to see if your body will react just like any other female Naga. He wonders what your body would do if he kissed you hot and heavy.

He doesn't mind if you touch him too, He knows that you're curious about him just as much as he is about you. He warns you that his skin is rather sensitive and he does shudder with Even the lightest of your touches. Eucharest his cheek honey hold your hand while nuzzling into your palm his lips gently touch your hand his golden gaze piercing through you.

Naga's are always considered more aggressive monsters, possessive of their mates, and highly protective. Baizhu is on the calmer side, more docile; however, during spring, when his more... Animalistic urges come to the surface, He gets more demanding of your attention—practically hanging off you, desperate to mark you with his scent. Baizhu tries to hold back a lot of his urges, not wanting to hurt you or scare you. Even if you accept his advances, he is still hesitant and tries to be as gentle as he can before fully succumbing to lust. When the cloud over his mind finally lifts seeing your bruised and bitten body, he takes care of you like any good mate and doctor would.

You were surprised how quickly you became Baizhu and Changsheng's heat pack. Baizhu would try to wrap his coils around you in any way when he's doing anything, especially when it's chilly. He'll literally cling on to you have as much of his skin touching yours as he can. This is not inherently sexual to him. He just likes the feeling of your warm body directly touching him. He tries not to admit it, but he gets pouty when Changsheng is being warmed by you but not him.

[coquelicoq]

[Image description: The first image is a screenshot of the first five sections of Inger Christensen's poem "Alphabet," translated from Danish into English by Susanna Nied. The second image is a screenshot of the first seven sections of the original poem, "Alfabet." /end ID]

and see an interesting interview with the translator here and here. you can read an excerpt from the original and the translation of that excerpt (via the link at the top of that page) here.

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

What do you think L thinks of the successor program?

Previous Thoughts on Wammy's and How the Concept is both Bonkers and Toxic

Well, what we see is pretty damning.

L... Doesn't Talk About it Much and Other Bad Signs

L brings up the successor program once in the manga (this line is removed from the anime adaptation). It's a very one-off line in which he tells Light (while still in the college arc) that "you know, even if you were to kill me, L is legion and I'd just be replaced by the next L" and Light sort of stares at him.

Neither touch on this ever again.

Worse, when the torch is passed, it's only because Watari happened to be in the room where he could push The Big Red Button (TM) that sent information to Wammy's. And yes, while there was clearly a protocol in place to let the successors take on L's legacy, it uh... sure wasn't L pushing that button and the fact that it's a secret button in the security room where Watari hangs out (and certainly not L) leads me to think this is a Watari idea (the orphanage where people compete for the title of L, being in fact, Watari's weird fucking idea).

Most tellingly, L doesn't even bring it up when he knows he's going to die. He doesn't even think to himself "ah yes, those bratty twelve-year-olds in England will get vengeance for me and then Light will be put to justice". L doesn't think about the Wammy program at all in his last day, in fact, he knew for several hours he was going to die and he didn't seek out any means to bring his successors in or even think "oh woe that Light is right there or I could inform my secret successors of everything we need to know".

We learn later that Near and Mello never actually met L, in fact, and if they ever did speak to him it was... brief and impersonal. This leaves them both with weird complexes about the man and their relationship with the role of successor.

In fact, L blatantly says "Light is my successor" and seems to mean it. True, L knew Light was Kira and was perhaps doing this for the mind fuckery, but on the other hand he had no reason to do this and again, had time to take it back once he realized Light was Kira again (which he did very quickly after Light got his memories back). Had L not done this, he could have either a) directly had a Wammy's person take over and explain the whole successor thing (he does not) or b) left it such that Soichiro was in charge. He has nothing to gain by even hinting that Light could take control over his title after he left. And the fact is... Light does do it. He's the power behind L for six years while Near and Mello do... well, Mello joins the mafia and has a time in Nevada, Near does who fucking knows what.

Basically, L couldn't be less supportive of the Wammy's orphanage unless he actively shut it down and fired Watari (but then who would bring him snacks?)

But Why?

L's in it for personal victory. L wants to beat Kira himself, he wants to do it on his own terms, with his own ingenuity. It's not so much about beating Kira but the fact that he will be the one to beat Kira. His 'successors' doing so would be less than meaningless to L.

Leaving it to some twelve-year-old to solve, hand-picked by Watari because they solved puzzles good and read good too, would be worse for L than fucking Matsuda or Misa making a major break in the case (and canonically, both those things happen, and canonically L handles it fucking poorly).

Worse, Watari is not even implying, but outright saying, that L is not so special a super genius snowflake and that Watari can cultivate another one simply through hard work and careful selection. "Congratulations, L, you are irrelevant and superfluous!" And worse, those replacements are little kids and I imagine L finds their quirks... annoying. (I'm not convinced L's not just s troll).

And if we take LABB into account, all L sees them do is kill themselves or make trouble for everyone (through murder). L does not want to deal with these people (and so he doesn't and makes Naomi do it for an entire hilarious novel).

TL;DR

L hates those fuckers.

[erisawrites]

How Windbreaker men would be dating women like them

Context: A refresher from the generic trope of grumpy guy x sunshine girl where their lovers share the same traits and personalities as them, causing to bring out something besides their usual behaviour

Pairing: Vinny Hong x f!reader

Content Warning: Mentions of violence, Implied domestic violence, talks of depression, Vinny may be ooc

Word count: 2,160 words

Note: Might do either Hyuk or Minu next

M A S T E R L I S T

The worries of the world he carried on his shoulders was incomparable to the dread pooling in his stomach. The moon had set long ago, street lamps acting as beacons in the pitch darkness, with the faint hue of blue in the horizon indicating the onset of sunrise.

Hours of messaging, calling, searching and panicking, and Vinny still couldn't find her. If anybody told him a year ago that he'd lose sanity trying to search for a woman, he'd simply sneer and shove them aside. Whereas now, he still held the same attitude, except now preferring to shove aside every person who didn't know her whereabouts. True, this is not a fault he can simply blame upon others. A simple beating wasn't going to fix this, so it's imperative he constrained his violence for her sake. For his girlfriend's sake.

It's not hard to guess what could keep her occupied or busy. Vinny could easily discern her innermost workings with just a glimpse into her eyes. Reading one's partner becomes a cakewalk when they are no different from oneself. It was a strikingly unexpected yet expected relationship. Expected, for they shared enough similarities to indulge in their secrets; unexpected, for no matter how far he stretched his hand, she never accepted it.

“Y/N!”,his voice was hoarse from yelling, a volume it had never reached before. That's how terrible the situation had devolved into. The phone call he coaxed out of her friends only revealed a brusque “sports practice”, but this place was too far from the basketball court and much farther from their homes.

Muttering under his breath, his fingers scrawled across the keypad, head swinging sideways as he awaited her voice. He knew things were on the rough patch for her, and while he was upset for not being relied upon, he felt more disheartened by how terribly she must be suffering in carrying the burden in silence.

“Pick up the phone…”,he gasped, eyes beginning to blur, “Please, pick up the phone!”

───※ ·❆· ※───

The night wasn't always kind to the woman. Where people would toss aside their worries and sink into blissful slumber, her insomniac tendencies would keep wide awake with regrets, worries, and nightmares.

It's that same shadow lurking over her sleep that drives her away from the bed daily, urging her to seek sanctuary elsewhere less terrifying. A shadow that culminated from all the burdens and hardships she endured, creating a hellscape she couldn't ever escape from.

A sharp pang climbed up her shins, her busted lips bitten brutally so as to hold back her screams. Her hoarse, weakened screams.

Like one should spend money within their means, perhaps she should have spent her time with different ‘means’. If her impoverished upbringing and suffocating home atmosphere weren't clear enough, then mingling with her affluent sports friends was. Their blatant obliviousness, sheer entitlement and that awful look of pity shot in her direction ….whatever self-disgust she carried only grew heavier.

Maybe she should have held back today. But anger was the only way she dealt with others’ pity. Something further exploited by those other spoiled school idiots whenever they wanna play stupid games.

Well, play stupid games and she'll give them stupid prizes.

More cramps pierced her thighs, eliciting a grunt.

And maybe she shared part of the prize with herself….

It was the same cycle she'd become habituated to since elementary. The crappy neighborhood certainly instilled its pupils with the most ‘polished’ values, thus accounting for the playground getting transformed into one for execution. It was the hot-spot where disadvantaged girls get paraded around as playthings by the rich brats. Be it in finances, or in health, or even in family, luck comically deprived her of all of these privileges.

Of the many pitfalls gorging her life path were the screams of anguish and drunken hurls of alcohol bottles. Memories of dark shivering nights next to beaten family members and the looming threat of being the next punching bag was what fueled her hatred. One can get over a heartbreak, a bullying crowd, or even failure in an exam, but they can never move past the broken household they grew up in. She couldn't move past it.

Times have changed now, with her mother earning substantially better to enroll her somewhere less destitute, but people never change. Every once in a while she'll cross paths with her old classmates, cross paths with her old darkness, those early nightmares, those memories that haunted her sleep no matter how hard she battled against them.

But she'd gone overboard now, ignoring the repetitive lullaby of her phone. No doubt Sa-rang's brothers flew to her rescue, instantly captivated by her victim complex, and were ready to hurl the first hammer into her shins. She didn't have to guess how they got her number, having long stopped changing SIM cards knowing she'll be tracked down anyways.

The moonless night swirled a hurried breeze in the streets, a wind speed so high as if it were a warning indicator. How many warning indicators had she taken for granted in her life? How many opportunities to back out or resolve situations did she overlook? This patheticness….it was all really her fault this time, wasn't it?

Something burned her eye, sealing her lids shut as tears pierced her vision. Of course it was her fault, always her fault. She was gullible to chuck her troubles onto others. Doesn't she get it yet? The hardships in life were birthed alongside her soul, permanently inscribed into her bad luck.

Her head hung between her knees, the blood coalescing with tears and dampening her already wet cheeks. In no time would Sarang and her minions stride over with baseball bats and golf clubs. Thus, she had to get up and flee or face the music as a one man army. If she's gonna die a dog's death today, at least her mother will benefit with one less mouth to fee–

“Y/N!”

Her head snapped in shock, squinting through bleary eyes suspiciously in search of the voice. Did she just hear what she thought she heard? So late into the night? In such a junkyard of space? Her spine straightened, knees rising upwards as her body positioned into a cautious stance. She highly doubted he'd care enough to–

“Y/N there you are!”,rapid huffs mixed with hard stomps, “Man, what happened to you?”

She gaped shell-shocked, half-surprised to see him of all people and half-uneasy by what reaction he'll give, “Vinny….how did you–”

“Not important.”,within an instant, his hands roamed her upper body and legs, scanning for the severity of her wounds, “Crap, Y/N, who ganged up on you? Tell me their freaking names and numbers.”

The fury alighting his eyes was unmistakable. It was Vinny. Her Vinny. The impassive man kept in the dark about her antics, so how did he find her–?

Her blackened eyes bulged, glancing at her cracked phone. No way….did he just blindly listen until he found her? And what got into him to get all worked up? Suddenly, she found herself with more questions than answers.

Thankfully Vinny began clarifying them, “I called your mom since you haven't been answering me.”,he huffed, pushing hands atop a fresh gash, eliciting a wince as he stopped the bleeding, “Then I found out you are ignoring her too. Ignoring your basketball practice. And your teacher's calls.”

“That pervert's still after me….”,she huffed, prompting a concerned frown.

“I called everyone I could.”,he stressed, brows furrowed in vexation, “And when I caught wind of some scuffle, I came running as fast as I could.”

A weak chuckle drummed in her chest, “What, you're my superman now, to come rescue me?”

“Boyfriend.”,he bellowed, voice deep and stern, as if struggling to contain his overflowing desperation, “I'm your boyfriend who you should depend on to save you from anything!”

“Drop the act Vinny…”,her gaze moved past the man, fixed onto the splattered wall faintly lit by a street lamp, a light so pale it seemed to be dying, “Go play house with a better woman….I'm not the girl you should keep around.”

“What are you talking about?”,he guffawed, sweeping her damp hair to reveal more concealed bruises, “You're half beaten, half alive and asking to break up?”

A dead pair of bloodshot eyes fixed onto Vinny's, making him shudder momentarily. “Go live your life, Yubin.”,her whisper was deep and hollow, carrying an emptiness she might sink into, “Go before I hurt you too.”

The monotonous hum of flickering street lamps filled the silence, mixed with the rapid huffs of a frantic man and his morose, reclusive woman.

Her joints groaned as she moved, but a fierce hand blocked her path, “No.”

This same fight again. She didn't bother slapping off his hand from her knee, lips parted in retort, before he beat her to it.”Don't feed me that crap again, Y/N. You think you're the only one suffering? You don't even know real suffering.”

“So you’re gonna become some trauma police, right?”,her teeth gritted dangerously, “Must be nice being a man in this trash hole, at least you co–”

“Real suffering is when you let yourself be killed by loneliness. A real suffering that I had to survive through day and night.”

Her face morphed into a dumbfounded look, jaw loosened as she gaped in confusion, “Suffering?”

“It's obvious, isn't it?”,he inquired quietly, almost looking ashamed. Though nothing was revealed about Vinny's situation explicitly, in the few hospital emergencies that occurred while they dated hinted at a turbulent upbringing that he continuously breaks out from daily. Where she once linked his overzealous passion to just teenage hormones, was actually a desperation to escape from his hardships. And these were those hardships that sounded awfully familiar to her ears. It was very obvious, though very unspoken of.

“From all that I had to deal with.”,his hands paused at her ankles, having fully inspected all wounds, “You know what was the worst one?”

He raised terror-stricken eyes to her solemn ones, stealing away her breath. “That I spent all of them in silence, and risked ruining my life all because I was too prideful to ask for help.”

“You turned out well still…”

“Cause Sung was there.”,his voice was sharp and defensive, “Minu, Dom, Jay and even those sponsor freaks…but especially you.”

Again. Something stung her eyes.

His hand met hers, caressing bloodied fingers, “You were there that motivated me, that continued to push me.I don't care or know what will become of me but…but if I could become a capable man for you, I know I've succeeded.”

Her chest gradually rose rapidly, confusion whirling a storm of emotions in her heart. What was going on?

“Because Y/N,”,his face inched closer, the shadows casting a protective cape over his sharp features, “You are the only capable woman for me, the only resilient, trustworthy and beautiful woman who I want to spend a lifetime with.” Maybe she was imagining things, but his voice began to crack. And her vision started to blur, “I don't care what trash hole of a life you lived, I couldn't care less….when I could understand all of it.”

Her hand, which he held, was pushed against his chest, against his rattling, fervent heart, “Because you understood me too, right? You accepted me nonetheless too, right?”

“Vinny….”,her heart clogged her throat, hands trembling as she croaked, “I'm not a good person.”

“And I'm worse.”,his voice trembled, lips quivering, “But I still want you too.” His head softly collided with her forehead, a weak whisper escaping, “And I still love you too.”

Then the pandora's box opened, and the tsunami of emotions crashed out of her lungs, erupting into uncontrollable cries as she slumped into his embrace, consoled by strong arms that didn't abandon her for once.

It was as if all the physical and emotional pain she endured endlessly tipped over all at once, emptying her heart out on some rotting alley in the middle of the night, the only comforting night.

“I got you, Y/N, don't worry.”,he whispered in a soothing voice. His arms caged her body delicately, guiding her weakened limbs to his motorcycle, “Just sleep over at my place for the night.”

“You're too nice, Vinny…”,her lips straightened in a grim frown, to which he responded with a sympathetic smile

“We'll work through everything, don't worry.”

She sneered in disbelief, weakly glaring at his back as they drove off the deteriorated streets. At this rate, worry has become her middle name, a stress that has followed her in all walks of life. Not a moment did she spend afraid of what the future might entail like for her.

But just for tonight, as she locked arms around his waist, and nuzzled a busted chin on his shoulder, just for tonight, she brushed aside her worries, and sank into deep, peaceful, undisturbed sleep.

[chuuyasfanboy]

Just had some random thoughts so pulled up an old blog I never used and am now deciding to write fics! I've had this stuck in my head for two days now but like- Skk as parents... enjoy <3

Wrote three sections! One with Chuuya, one with Dazai, and ofc them together. It can be read from either adopted or blood perspective, I hope? Kind of scattered, I was just goin for it guys

Iffff you liked this, please req something! I'm having major bsd brainrot and I need ideas...

Soukoku as Parents Platonic x Gn!Child!Reader

┌──────┐

└──────┘

The SILLIEST father EVER guys.

For actual years he was fully under the impression he HATED all kids with a passion. I mean guys look at how badly he treated Aku-

Well then he had you and things changed

It's just something about you being his kid, not a subordinate or random kid on the street

He's your dedicated apologist

In fact, he encourages your mischief!

When you were younger, it was a lot harder to handle you. He even found himself on his last fuse sometimes. Usually, he left Atsushi or Yosano to deal with you

He didn't want to revert to old habits and accidentally traumatize you :(

When he can handle himself, though, he's only halfway controlling you-

He's right along with you in the heinous activities half of the time

Hiding Ranpo's candy (for as long as it lasts), misplacing Kunikida's glasses, hell you two have probably snuck into the infirmary and changed the sheets to something very colorful and very childishly wolf themed...

He's not really a mature dad, nonono. But he's doing his best

He fully supports all of your wildest interests, even tries out some of the more entertaining ones

He struggles to act excited when you're younger and all your interests are very out of his range, but as you grow older he's actually a bit intrigued by them sometimes

Best birthday gift ideas, too. He's very creative when he wants to be.

He also has way more money than he should be ALLOWED to have

For your Sweet Sixteen, he most definitely got you an obsessively large custom pinata of your favorite character...

He makes sure EVERYBODY gets you gifts, because you are his world and thus you must be everybody else's as well

He really does try to keep you out of work, and especially away from his suicide biz

Maybe HE doesnt have a reason to live, but he certainly doesnt want you picking up those thoughts, because he knows you have a real big destiny to live up to someday

I mean, what would the world be without you?

When you hit the age of 13 though, its really hard to hide anything from you

You're so scary when you grow up! And you're way too smart!!4

Did you get that from him? oops...

Now, he doesnt have any plans of living that long, but if you do grow big and strong and smart one day, and you join the ADA, he's definitely got some favoritism.

Surprisingly, Fukuzawa actually gives you your first few proper missions with him

(Because he knows Dazai will not be letting any harm come to you, he trusts Dazai with his life and he knows you trust Dazai even more)

If you have different plans for adulthood though, he's still so supportive

If you go to uni, you're going to have to show him off

Why?

Because, guys, he's a dilf

Nobody's gonna be mean to the kid with a dilf father, they all want him

He jokes about it constantly

But rest assured, stupid and immature uni kids are NOT his type, no matter how nice the ones his age look

He's got his eyes set on that waitress and at least four other men at the moment

If you go straight into the workplace instead of uni, he's going to use his connections to get you a good job early!

Fukuzawa has a good way with words and Dazai himself is a pretty good reference contact

Just tell them he's your teacher, or something

It's not like they'll know his hobbies, he's wayyyy too big a mystery for that

Overall: 7/10 dad

A little rough around the edges, but he's trying hard to improve himself for you

And he's trying hard to give you the best life he can offer

┌──────┐

└──────┘

Did I say Dazai was a dilf?

I lied out of my ass.

Chuuya is the real dilf here

But we'll get to that later! (Just know he has plenty of men and women at his feet and they're definitely being way too nice to you because they want him so bad guys)

You're SO SO SO SO spoiled.

UNREASONABLY so

So bad you might even be a little bit of a brat growing up

It's fine, not toward him, he almost never says no to you so theres no need

There's absolutely no amount of money that can't be spent on you.

Luxury clothes, professionally cooked dinners, fancy rooms, home staff, the whole works

Despite all that though, he's insistent you go to a public/private school

He's not tutoring you, wont even hire one

It's not because he CAN'T, it's because he KNOWS how important it is for you to get your sense of independence early

Sure, you'll always have financial support, even if he dies (Trust fund babyyyyy)

But thats not what's actually important to your future

You need social skills, you need friends, you need and education and the taste of disappointment

Dont worry, though, he's not sending you unprepared

You're not eating school lunches unless you want to (but fuck why would you?)

He's sending you to school with top notch food every day

And clothes

And supplies

Plus, you'll have a tutor at the ready for anything you need a little extra help in

But for the most part he keeps as far as he can out of that section of your life

You friends are yours, not his

He's polite when they have sleepovers, and he's more than willing to host parties and hangouts

But he doesn't try too hard to impress them, and he doesn't talk to them unless its related to you

Because as much as he loves being around kids (a real big father he wants to adopt everybody he sees)

He doesn't want to impose on any boundaries YOU may have

As a side note though, he's still very observant of your relationships with them

If he overhears any manipulation, or shit talking (about you or not), he's not going to let it sit and exist

If it comes to it, he will contact the parents (And holy fuck they are TERRIFIED i mean imagine a publicly known MAFIA EXECUTIVE contacting you to tell your kid fucked with his ABSOLUTELY NOT GUYS)

If you're into any extracurriculars, he is ALWAYS there

Even if he's overseas on a mission, he has some lower rank attend and clears his schedule so he can watch through a call

Also guys, he practically funds your school?

Your teachers are terrified to cross you because if they do there will be NO SALARY

You complain about anything that happened? He's fixing it up in any way he can

You are his ANGEL, NOTHING will ruin your day as long as he can prevent it.

When you grow up, your options are very clear in his eyes

Either you go to uni and live independent of the mafia, or you inherit his spot when he dies

If you go for neither, he may be a bit shocked, but he'll hesitantly step back

He'll see how it goes, but he's not very confident at first

If it goes well? Fuck, great! He's always in your corner rooting for you

If it doesn't go so well, you always have him as a backup

He'll always be there to take you back with open arms and give you a second, third, fourth, fifth, etc chance. Always

If you do join the mafia, there will be no low rank experience for you

You're straight to the upper ranks. At first, you'll probably be in a position similar to Akutagawa under Dazai or how he was under Koyo

Direct subordinate, his apprentice, his prodigy

And when he dies, you're next in line for his exec spot

There's not even a worry about your skillset, he knows he's trained you well, ability or no ability.

Finally, back to the dilf topic I've mentioned at the beginning

If you go to uni, he has the same problem Dazai had, but WORSE

Fuck guys, he swears he tries to keep out of your friendships, but suddenly everyone's adults and they wont leave him alone.

It's at this point he stops hosting your events (except birthdays) and separates himself

No way is he getting involved with crazy college kids, no way

Overall: 9/10 father

He's a bit absent in your social circle, but he's your dad and thats that

He screams support from the stands and that's really the best you can ask for in a dad <3

┌──────┐

└──────┘

theyre so pathetic together-

theyre all the entertainment you need growing up

constant bickering (lovingly)

they dont involve you in all that

it comes with them both being in seperate factions, but they BOTH work very hard to keep you out of the professional lives

you're their kid, they dont want you in any of the doublesided danger that could get you in

you're probably a secret to everyone except the ADA and the other mafia

And your existence is on a need-to-know basis for everybody else

Dazai is the more present figure in your life, simply because Chuuya has to be a bit more distant

It's the nature of his line of work, anyone he's seen with is a target, and he doesn't want that to be you

He will be at your schooling events still, though. He will be YELLING AND SHOUTING in the stands

Into sports? Every time theres an unfair play he will cuss the living daylights out of the ref

And they just have to let him because theres nothing they can really do about

Dazais the same way, but with less scare factor and way less vigor

After games, he's going to complain WITH you about how lame the whole thing was if you lost, how everything was judged unfairly

They may not get along the best together, but they love each other and especially love you, so they're improving for you

Read: Chuuya is making them improve for you

Dazai thinks hes the victim in all this!

But oh well, if Chuuya makes him apologize when they argue in front of you, he will

When you're all grown up, they both encourage you to find your own path

You've got the chance, thanks to them, and they dont want you involved in their little wars

It's not like you can join any sides, because who would want to be against your dad :(

So really your only choice is moving out, maybe even away-

If you really do want into their business, they both insist you join the ADA

It's safer there for you, and Chuuya would rather have to order his men to not under any circumstances EVER hurt you, than have to watch someone he can't control put you in danger

Plus, he knows Dazai will keep you in the safest position possible

Overall: 7/10 together

They're a nightmare at dinner, and Dazai is sleeping on the couch almost every night

But they adore you and every move you make, so there's no way you're feeling unloved at all

[tsandoll]

the sungho pics from their fansign are making my brain do somersaults, so here we go:

you're friends with sungho, but it's one of those super flirty/teasing friendships where all of your friends are absolutely convinced it's only a question of when you finally fuck because the tension is unbearable.

and that point, to you at least, comes when you see the recent pics and think that he just looks too delicious in this white tank top for you to wait any longer, so when you guys are meeting up afterwards you act way more flirty than usually, telling him that he looks hot and you could go down on your knees right then and there but mr park sungho over here is blissfully unaware of your intentions and thinks it's just your usual antics, so he laughs it off despite being turned on already.

but you don't give up that easily and when you both are watching tv, you want to grab the remote and while leaning over him to reach it you 'accidentally' place your hand on his upper thigh for 'stability'. but he still tries to not read too much into it because that was totally an accident, you're his friend and it is totally wrong to think about you in such a way just because of your flirty personality.

you try basically every trick in the book, dropping something and picking it up while wearing a short skirt to present your panties to him(he tries and fails to avert his gaze because even if it is so wrong to think such filthy thoughts about his friend you are still so hot and he is desperately trying to stop himself from bending you over), you literally get a popsicle from the fridge and suck on it but dude still doesn't get the memo.

your last resort is taking off your shirt to reveal a white tank top similarly to his underneath and sunghos eyes basically pop out because for a hot second he really thought you were gonna undress. but he still tries to reason that it must be because it's so warm in the room.

and that's when it's finally enough, you make eye contact and say: :park sungho, if you don't fuck me right now, i swear i'll have to do it myself."

sungho needs a sec to register what you've just said and then responds while looking straight intl your eyes:"do it then"

you're kinda confused because you've either expected him to get on top of you asap or to reject you if he really wasn't into you and can only stare at him, slightly tilting your head in confusion.

sungho chuckles, repeats "do it." and with you still not moving grabs your hand and puts it underneath your skirt right onto your clothed pussy, making you blush because well you certainly didn't expect this turn of events.

long story short: sungho makes you finger yourself while watching you, having you hold up your skirt with your other hand so he can have a better view and listening to your pretty whines and moans begging him to finally fuck you, getting more and more desperate. he tells you that you should have told him what you wanted from the beginning, that you've been acting like a dumb little slut to get his attention and that dumb little sluts have to earn getting fucked by him. he's so mean and you love it, desperate for his touch and whining at his words until you cum.

he hugs you while you try to regain your composure and when you finally return to planet earth he kisses you and asks what you want to start your reward with because you definitely earned it with the show you put on for him. and what's your answer to that? i kinda wanna lick your abs

as you can tell i want to lick sunghos abs and the urge is getting stronger the more pics i see of him from the goddamn fansign.

love 💙

oh and i kinda wanna add that after the licking his abs thing you totally get to suck him off and i feel like at first he's totally the type that keeps his hands at his sides and really doesn't want to touch or even tug your hair because yes sure he can be mean but sungho is also a gentleman at heart so he doesn't want to make you do anything you are uncomfortable with, so i totally see him just white-knuckling the sheets, gripping onto them for dear life while trying to stop himself from thrusting into your throat and when he does on accident he's whimpering 'sorry' a hundred times while you couldn't care less because your mind is too preoccupied with the fact you are sucking off the park sungho right now

this is the most insane USHDBJDJDJDKD your mind is so good it's crazy!!! park sungho always manages to be blissfully unaware!! he's such a himbo sometimes, always in his own little world <3 i always wanna gatekeep your asks but the people must see them,,, u must be seen 💙 anon 🙏🏾

[fandomfluffandfuck]

Bucky finds DomSub porn on Steve's search history and asks him about it.

At first Bucky thinks Steve is the one who wants to Dom. A very confusing discussion follows.

Bucky hasn't bottomed since before Steve and him have been together, atleast 80 odd years. But he'd be willing to try if that's what Steve's found he's into-

And a very bright red and sputtering Steve has to admit that, no.. he wants to be dominated. He wants to take it up the ass with restraints and praise.

Immediately Bucky is much more attached to the idea. Despite the fact that their roles in the bedroom have always been somewhat akin to these things Steve's been reading and watching, he never even considered.. oh god this is something he really wants too. Suddenly he's kind of drooling at the idea of this step up in dynamics.

Just picturing Steve tied up, whimpering and whining, bright red all over and blissfully out of his mind. Jesus.

They have a long road ahead of them lmao

For reference, my ask box is no longer open for requests, but this is from before I closed it, so I will be writing for this ask.

Yeah, yeah, yeah-!

There's a trope in your ask that I feel like appears pretty often in stucky fanfics, the whole we've-been-doing-this-since-before-there-was-a-name-for-it. Which, I'm unsure if it would be true because, well, I'm sure they would have called power dynamics something and the words have simply changed over time, but I haven't done enough research to know what. Or, it could've been completely true because they might have been cut off from any community that could have told them a name for that, so it would've been just something between the two of them, a way they played that they were unsure if anyone else did at all, and they didn't stop to put a name to it. Either way, it's definitely interesting.

Like, Bucky has been roughing Steve up since they were boys. He was the only one who respected Steve and didn't treat him like glass. Bullies were one thing, spitting on him and beating him, well-meaning adults were another thing, tiptoeing around him and worrying over his always ailing body, and Bucky something completely unique.

gif by the-girl-without-a-face

Bucky would wrestle him on the floor admist the shrieks and chanting and boney ankles of his younger sisters in the Barnes' home, Bucky wouldn't go easy on him in gym class but wasn't picking him out and wailing on him either, treating him as fair, worthy competition, and Bucky, as they got older, would kiss him like he wasn't afraid. He would pull Steve in for vicious kisses the moment they were alone that felt almost bruising against Steve's buzzing lips, their mouths meeting so fiercely. He would drag his teeth over Steve's bottom lip, unconcerned with the outside world and anything they may have to say about why Steve's lips are suddenly so swollen and wet after being locked in a bedroom with only one other person. Another young man.

Bucky didn't care about the suspicion of others over Steve's split lip, Steve's bruised flesh, or Steve's panting, soft moans that might overflow from their apartment. Partly because he just didn't fucking care, he cared about Steve too much to care about much anything else, and partly because he knew Steve could hold his own. Steve was not only strong enough to take it but stubborn enough to enjoy it.

And farther, Steve was strong enough to resist anything anyone said about him. That split lip? Nah, it wasn't from being pinned underneath Bucky, kissing until the fragile flesh of his mouth split and ran red. It was just from another fight, and you should see the other guy. He got it worse. Those bruises, just about the size of the tip of someone's finger? Huh. Must be from yet another confrontation or from smacking his boney body on corners and tables and doorframes. His balance isn't so good, and his skin is so thin and finicky, y'know? Anything makes him bruise. Anything that isn't, certainly, Bucky's strong, work-calloused hands digging into him as he fucks him without mercy, no, that'd be preposterous. Speaking of fucking, those little sounds, sweet and breathy, choked out from the Barnes-Rogers, Rogers-Barnes bare-bones bachelor pad? Those aren't anything to worry about. They come at night because that's when Steve's getting ready for bed and arranging his sheets and his dust allergy kicks up as well as when his asthma bothers him most, his lungs tired after a whole days worth of breathing. Those are the choked sounds of trying to get enough air. They absolutely are not the muffled sounds of pleasure from taking whatever Bucky dishes out and expects him to take, making his eyes go hazy and unfocused, rolling back into his head while his mouth drops open, leaving Bucky with no choice but to slap a hand over his stupid, pretty face to keep him quiet.

Yeah.

Bucky doesn't go easy on Steve. Why would he? Steve responds so fucking well to that roughness.

Oddly, nothing makes him more compliant than just a little roughing up. He'll fight back, sure, but he doesn't actually want to win their wrestling match or want Bucky to stop. He just wants to add to the anticipation. He wants to make Bucky earn it. He wants to egg Bucky on, get him to let go that last little bit, and really wail on him. That's what gets Steve limp and moaning all breathy, his eyelashes fluttering softly, his heart slowly circulating his blood, pushing it down, down, down between his legs.

And as much as they don't talk about it, not really, during that time before the war--or even during the war later, when Bucky and Steve let the violence of the war front bleed into their own games but in a much more tender, caring way that spoke of their bonds, not of their differences like the troop mentalities of us vs them--they don't talk about it worse when Bucky first comes back.

Steve doesn't talk because he doesn't know what Bucky remembers, and he doesn't want to push him away if he doesn't remember and it's too much for him. He won't pressure him. If Bucky doesn't want to be together, at all, anymore, then they won't be. If Bucky doesn't want to be with him, like that, anymore, then they won't be. Steve would never dream of pushing Bucky into that dynamic again if he doesn't want it.

Bucky doesn't talk because, yes, at first, those days have yet to resurface through the murky, silt-heavy waters of his subconscious, not settled out to a clear lake. But, eventually, memory in mind, back where it should be, Bucky doesn't talk because he doesn't know how to broach the topic. Steve always did that. Steve goaded him and encouraged it, directly or, most often, indirectly--not using his words but letting his shivers of pleasure, heavily-lidded eyes, and low, soft sounds of lust talk for him. Bucky isn't sure how to ask if they're real memories, just fantasies, or how to ask if Steve still wants it that way.

Steve really fucking wants it.

But, again, Steve's stubborn. Once they are together again, officially, and once they are being intimate again, it's enough. Wholeheartedly. Steve will take that and nothing more and not truly complain about a thing. Having an itch in the back of his mind is nothing compared to the gaping, festering wound he once harbored, thinking his lover was dead. He can deal with it. More than "deal," he will thrive with it. But...

As stubborn as Steve is, he's curious, too. He can't leave anything alone. He can't turn a blind eye. He can't pretend. So, when he can finally stomach thinking of intimacy again because Bucky is back and they're having it, cuddling and sex and everything between, Steve starts to get curious. He's thinking more and more about how they used to act.

Did anyone else do that before?

Does anyone else do that now?

Yes.

The answer to both is yes.

They did.

They do.

Steve goes looking, and he finds.

He finds a wealth of names for those kinds of practices--all kinds of people from all different backgrounds, genders, and sexualities mixing wanted, pleasurable meanness and violence and bite with loving affection. Kink. BDSM. (Which, BDSM, is a name that carries names it of itself, fascinatingly enough. Bondage and discipline. Domination and submission. Sadism and masochism.) Power dynamics. Power play. Roleplay. Total power exchange. Dom/sub. Authority kinks. Master/slave. Pain play. Daddy/boy. Competency kinks. Etc. Etc.

All those different words for it live in Steve's search history, and it lives in real people who really do this stuff and really enjoy themselves. They describe liking it, loving it, needing it. Just like Steve liked it, loved it, and needed it when Bucky gave him those things, although, ultimately, in a less organized way than in the way presented to him online, discussing limits, both hard and soft, having negotiations before most every "scene", and employing safewords. Those all sound smart. They were definitely uninformed back then but also just young and reckless.

Overall, though, it's enough to know it exists. Steve isn't really planning on doing anything about it. Not yet, at least. He wants to savor what he's just won back for a while longer before altering it in any way. But...

Bucky borrows his laptop when his own is charging up from dead, and Steve didn't think to delete his history because it's his laptop? He knows what he was looking at, and he doesn't care if he sees it again, in fact, he might want to. He may want or need to retrace his digital tracks. So--

"Steve?"

All of that old, roughing-up they used to do bubbles up to the surface again.

They'll have a conversation about it. They will. Eventually. But... the way Steve colors that perfect, sweet pink once Bucky turns the laptop around to show him a web page about the history and origins of erotic bondage, well, there's not much that can be done. Bucky is done in. That blush. That fucking blush heats Bucky up like a summer sunset, setting off humid, thick arousal but also awe.

His baby is pretty.

And he remembers, vividly--sprawled like a Renaissance painting across the back of his eyelids in his mind's eye--how pretty he was curled up into all kinds of twisted, pretzel shapes with the help of Bucky's soft neckties, elastic suspenders, or worn, butter-smooth belt. How pretty he was gasping for air while Bucky pumped deep inside him, fucking him and holding his bird-boned wrists above his head in one clenched fist to keep those trouble making fingers outta his way. How pretty he was with his big blue eyes wide and wet with tears, pleading through uneven hiccuping sobs to please, please, please finally be able to cum after a whole afternoon spent laid out on their thin, old mattress, told he couldn't move an inch, or they'd be done--struggling to obey instinctively, his body aching for pleasure, but wanting to obey regardless. How pretty he was being good. How pretty he was submitting.

Bucky's mouth is dry as a desert, just thinking about those dust-covered memories. He licks his lips, rifling through his own body to decide how he feels. Steve tracks the movement with a distinct, familiar kind of embarrassment in his blue eyes. Bucky feels very, very aroused.

"Yeah?" Steve finally replies, his voice hoarse. Rough and feral.

In response, Bucky's voice comes out dripping with his usually faded accent, "go get me a belt."

Steve's jaw drops. Although, before Bucky can reel himself back in, his words, no, his demand swallowed back down into his chest where it's more appropriate, more private, Steve is scurrying off as obedient as a lap dog.

A grin twists itself onto Bucky's lips.

Steve returns, panting, he zipped to the bedroom and back with everything he has. Eager little punk. But, he is holding a belt.

It's one of Bucky's, no surprise there. Old habits die hard, Bucky supposes.

They have plenty of belts to choose from these days, belts for different occasions from hanging around the house to fancy charity events, belts of different styles to fit every occasion and every kind of pant, belts on belts on belts, belts for the both of them. But, the belt Steve selected is Bucky's oldest. And it's the most familiar. The very thing he owned in the 30s before everything was war rationed. Thick, smooth, flexible leather that's been beat to shit, so much wear and love to it. The hole punched through it that Bucky uses a little looser than all the rest.

Bucky takes it from him, and Steve whimpers.

An answering chuckle finds its way out of Bucky, pulled up from the same depths as his arousal. Deep, thudding--throbbing. He hasn't even done anything yet, and here is his little dolly, all pink, slack-jawed, and making cute sounds for him.

"Wrists, behind your back, darlin'," Bucky murmurs.

Steve spins in a tight circle and crosses both hands over the small, small of his big, broad back, holding them together.

Bucky lovingly loops the leather of his belt around Steve's wrists once, twice, enjoying the goosebumps that lift over Steve's skin immensely. It pleases the animal inside him, wanting this more than he knows how to deal with.

Easy as breathing, once he's got Steve's wrists bound, he puts his boy on his knees between his knees. Steve's laptop pushed to the other end of the couch and forgotten, completely forgotten.

Nothing exists but Steve.

So fucking pretty.

Blonde hair that begs to be stroked and pulled. A blush spilled like expensive, sugary wine across his high cheekbones and the bridge of his nose, slowly running down to his square jaw and swallowing throat. Blue eyes getting darker with every tension-filled moment that passes between them, shaded by unreal lashes that Bucky knows get even more obscene when painted with cum. Dripping and heavy. Soaked. Lips plush and unreal. All of him. His crooked nose. Every bit of him.

Bucky strokes his smooth, smooth jaw and zeros in on the way his lips quiver, so close to begging already.

Maybe he can take it easy on him this one time, hm? It has been a long, long time...

"You want it?" Bucky husks out, tracing the tips of his fore- and middle fingers from the hinge of his killer jaw to the plush pillow of his fat bottom lip.

Steve nods urgently, but his lips dropping open is more than enough of an answer.

An answer and a request that Bucky fulfills eagerly, shoving two fingers into Steve's mouth and pressing down on his tongue, letting him have a taste of the weight, and feeling his hot mouth flood with saliva. Wet.

Desperate hunger.

Bucky pushes deeper, relishing in the way the smaller, more uniform taste buds at the center of his tongue give way to larger, vaguely rougher ones at the very back and how that turns into nothing but the slick, velvet-soft inside of his throat. His throat contracts and hugs his fingers even as he sputters around a gagged moan.

Good fucking god.

"Yeah," Bucky talks down to his blushing, restrained yet squirming boy, choking on his fingers, eyes full of glassy, pretty tears, "you want it."

Steve moans that much harder, straining his neck to get more, trying to have his fingers deeper, deeper until his teeth dig hard into Bucky's knuckles.

"Don't worry, baby," Bucky hears himself coo, a low, syrupy tune that goes well with the jingle of his belt, undoing it one handed to get his dick out. If Steve wants to be tied down and have his mouth filled up, then that's what he'll get. Bucky can spend as much time as Steve wants--as much as he needs pounding down into his tight throat, making him take it, wearing him down to rivers of tears of pleasure, and leaving him limp everywhere except where it counts, so drunk on being used that he doesn't have a lick of fight left in him. He's so easy and hard for being a nice, wet hole. Always was. Always will be.

[givemea-dam-break]

hi!! i absolutely adore your writing, and i have a request for reader x lockwood :) what if reader is smart and likes to read and stuff but is super oblivious and can’t make a first move for the life of her? and maybe it’s her first kiss or something idk :D

a/n: ooooh yes this is a cute idea!!! i hope you enjoy <3 this is in spite of netflix cancelling the show. fuck netflix.

warnings: none female reader

Correct Me If I'm Wrong - Anthony Lockwood

You're not sure when the last time you felt truly pretty was.

Most days are spent either in tatty pyjamas that are due a wash, or clothes with a myriad of ectoplasm burns and a permanent smell of lavender that clogs up your nose and makes you need to sneeze, no matter what kind of fabric conditioner you shove into the washing machine. Your hair? Well, it's certainly seen better days.

But today. Today.

Lucy stands behind you, zipping up the back of your dress as you smooth the front of it until some of the wrinkles have flattened out a little. The satin gleams in the hazy light of your shared attic bedroom, and you find yourself smiling at your reflection in the mirror. When was the last time you dolled yourself up for something?

That's not to say you're overly concerned with how you look on a day-to-day basis, it's just that the ghost-fighting business doesn't really allow for nice outfits. Except for tonight, you suppose.

The Fittes at Fifty Ball is tonight, and you've been dreading it. In all honesty, you would much rather stay at home and get as much research done about the Bone Glass before the members of Lockwood and Co take on a heist to retrieve it, but you've not got much of a choice. You all need to look as inconspicuous as possible seeing as the very thing you need, a book by Mary Dulac, is stored in the Black Library at the Fittes headquarters.

"All done," Lucy says. "Ready to steal from the biggest, most well-protected agency in the UK?"

No, not really, but still you say, "Always."

"I'm going to get our stuff ready." She fiddles with the billowing sleeves of her blue dress. "Want me to pack those biscuits you like?"

"Absolutely, Luce," you say. "Thank you."

When she leaves, you find yourself staring at your reflection for a moment longer and liking the person you see. With a satiny green dress and hair that looks like more than a few minutes of effort have been put in, you look starkly different from usual. It makes you almost yearn for more party heists.

As you're tugging on your boots, there's a knock on the door. The pattern rapped out on the wood is familiar and it makes you smile, and you say, "Come in."

Lockwood steps through the open door and makes his way up the steps into the bedroom. His dark suit makes him look even more professional than usual, and his hair has been combed back neatly, showcasing those mischief-filled dark eyes you love so much. He's carrying something behind his back, making sure to keep it hidden. But the thing you take the most notice of is his tie. It's green.

It likely means nothing. Lockwood wears whatever he wants whenever he wants with little regard for colour - come on, he wears salmon pink socks! - but something about it feels purposeful. You've never seen him wear a green tie. Hell, you didn't even know he owned one. And this is the exact same shade as your dress.

He stops a few feet short of your bed, watching with glittering eyes as you stand and smooth out your dress once more. There's a smile playing on his lips, softer than his usual grin, and it sends a shiver down your spine.

"How do I look?" you ask, trying to sound more confident than you feel.

Having him see you in a dress, with your hair styled and your makeup done, feels like standing on a stage in front of thousands of people. You're way more nervous than you should be.

For a moment, he says nothing, and you worry that he thinks it looks terrible. Maybe you should've picked the chiffon dress rather than satin, or maybe the red instead of green. You thought you had made your hair look quite nice, but maybe it looks quite stupid...

And then he says, "You look - you look beautiful, (name)."

There's a fluttery feeling in your chest, but you shove it down. You can't let yourself hope for anything that likely won't happen. Friends tell each other they look beautiful. You and Lucy do it all the time! This is no different just because it's Lockwood. Well, maybe it's a little different.

"You, too," you say. Your cheeks flush. "Well, not beautiful. Actually, I mean, if you want to be then sure. I just meant -"

He laughs, and your voice fades off. It's quite possibly your favourite sound, his laugh, because of how light it sounds. After working with him for a few months now, it's easy enough to tell that Lockwood isn't doing great a lot of the time. With his recklessness, the little jokes he makes that aren't really jokes, it's more than evident. So, now, hearing his laugh sound so genuine makes you smile and you feel a little less embarrassed.

"Thank you," he says, his smile becoming brighter. "I, uh, I have something for you. That is if you want it, of course."

"You know I hate surprises."

"Trust me. You'll like this one."

The hand that was behind his back appears, holding what looks to be an old book. The cover is faded, and the pages have browned, but he holds it delicately on the flat palm of his hand. Curiously, you step closer to him and gingerly take it from his hands.

Upon reading the title and flipping through the first few pages, your heart swells with gratitude. "This is a first edition."

"I'd certainly hope so with the trouble I went to finding it."

Your fingers carefully slip through each page, and you smile so widely you're afraid your cheeks might tear. "Lockwood, this had to have cost a fortune! You didn't have to get me this."

His posture is casual, but there's a glimmer of happiness in his eyes that is unmistakable. "I heard you talking to George about it a few weeks ago. It's your favourite book, and your birthday was recently. In all reality, I'd hoped to give it to you then, but today was the day I managed to get my hands on it."

"You -" The words get stuck in your throat, and you can almost feel yourself tearing up. "I've wanted this since I was a kid. I - Thank you, Lockwood. Seriously. This is..."

"You work so hard here," Lockwood says softly, "and I want you to know it doesn't go unnoticed. Besides, you've always been here for me. I wanted to give you something in return."

"I don't need anything in return for being a decent human being."

"Oh, all right. I'll take it back then."

Clutching the book tightly to your chest, you listen happily as he laughs again, throwing his head back a little. It's a wonderful sight, one that has your heart racing, one that makes you itch to throw your arms around him in the tightest embrace you can muster to simply show how grateful you are for the book, for his laugh and his smile and his presence.

But you refrain. Who's to say he won't just push you away?

"Thank you," you say again. "You're the best."

"I hope you're not just saying that because I pay your wages."

It's almost unnoticeable, but he shuffles forward ever so slightly. Already, you can feel the warmth radiating off of him and smell the faint scent of bitter tea and cheap shampoo underneath whatever aftershave he's put on. Your breath catches in your throat. There's less than a foot between you, but it has you fumbling for something to say or do.

"We should probably head downstairs," he murmurs, gaze fixed on yours. "The taxi will be here soon."

You nod. Neither of you moves.

He looks at you with those coppery eyes of his with a smile that feels distinctly private, and your heart thuds so loudly in your chest that you're convinced he can hear it, too. Words echo in your mind, words you want to say to him more than anything else, but your lips stay firmly shut.

How are you meant to tell him how you feel? That every time he merely looks at you, your heart starts beating as if you've just run a marathon? That you long to be the only person he shares his private smiles with, the only one that ever hears his true, unburdened laughs when you make a joke or make a fool of yourself? How are you supposed to explain that the times you spend with him are your favourites or that you search a dozen different shops simply to find his favourite biscuits to make him smile?

It's easy enough to list it to yourself, to find the words, but to say them to him? It's a different thing entirely, and it makes your mouth feel dry and your hands tremble a little.

"I need to tell you something," Lockwood says, and his voice has become breathier, quieter. "Just in case things go wrong tonight.”

"Nothing's going to go wrong."

He makes to take your book from your hands, and you hesitate. He only laughs, promising that it isn't going far, and slips it onto your crowded bookcase with gentle hands.

Gentle hands that soon reach for yours.

The touch takes you by surprise, but it's welcome. His hands are soft and warm, and they envelop yours. Now he has to be able to feel your racing pulse, surely. There's no way he can't.

"(name)..." He pauses, looking away from you for a moment. When his gaze returns, it's soft, nervous, even, and you find yourself transfixed, unable to look away. "I've been trying to tell you this for a few weeks now, but I couldn't - I couldn't figure out the words, so I resorted to other things. Making your tea in the mornings, asking you to come along with me on errands."

Bright, beautiful hope flickers in your chest, and this time you don't push it down. This time, you nurture it, letting it bring a small smile to your lips. Lockwood sees it, and he straightens a little with confidence. Not much, nowhere near as confident as he usually seems, but it keeps him speaking.

"Ever since you walked through the front door for your interview, I've never stopped thinking of you. Day and night, you're on my mind. The way you scrunch your nose when you're listening for Visitors, or how you become entirely unreachable when you read. How I can ask you anything, and you know the answer to it almost immediately."

His hands are shaking a little bit. You squeeze them softly.

"I like the way you smile, and how happy you are when I remember your order for Arif's. Most of all, I like -"

He's struggling with the words.

"Are you trying to say you like me?"

Part of you doesn't believe it. How could he? He's Anthony Lockwood, a boy from the city who owns his own company that breaks how the system of ghost-hunting works by simply having him be in charge. And you? You're a girl from some tiny town, a nobody whose only virtues are being relatively smart and being able to hear ghosts, though not on a grand scale. In reality, your paths would never have crossed if not for you finding a little clipping in the newspaper advertising for an agent.

So how could he like you? With his admirable Sight, the confidence that you always lack, the charm that could be used to entrance any girl he could ever so wish?

But here he stands, so close to you with shaky hands and faltering words, looking at you as if you've been placed here by some otherworldly forces solely for the purpose of enchanting him. He looks at you as if you're more than you really are, like someone a person could love and cherish.

"No," he says.

And your heart sinks all the way down to the floor, followed by your eyes. Your hands slacken in his, and your skin feels hot with embarrassment. You dread to think of how red you've become, and you turn your face away from him, instead looking at the book he gifted you. Were you stupid for hoping it meant more? Probably.

"I love you."

Three words. Three simple words that have your gaze snapping back to his, your heart rushing to your throat, and your hands tensing all at the same time. Three simple words that spark a blazing fire inside your chest. But, still, there's an ache in your throat.

"Don't kid with me, Lockwood."

His eyes are completely sincere, crinkled slightly with humour. "I'm not."

"You're about to laugh."

"Only because you're funny."

"I -" Your hands slip from his, and you brush your hair out of your face, faltering back a step. "You're being serious?"

With slightly pink cheeks and an almost shy smile, he says, "I am. I wouldn't joke about this, (name)."

"You - You love me? Why?"

"Didn't you listen to that long spiel I just had?" Once more, he takes a step closer. Then another until he's standing even closer than before, close enough that you can feel his breaths ruffling your hair slightly. "Because you're you. Because I admire and adore every single part of and about you."

You have to tilt your head to look at him with him being so close. "Have you hit your head recently?"

"If I have, and this is a dream, then I'm glad you're the girl of my dreams."

"Girl in your dreams," you correct quietly, halfheartedly.

Lockwood smiles. "I love that about you, too. That incessant need to correct me on anything I say."

"Someone's got to."

"Okay, well, correct me if I'm wrong, but would I be right in assuming that you feel the same?"

The words catch in your throat, but you nod regardless, smiling when his smile melts into his wide grin. This grin, it isn't the newspaper one. The infamous Lockwood Grin. This is only for you, something for you both to share solely between yourselves, and it's something you feel eternally grateful for being able to see, never mind be the cause of.

"Fantastic," he says, "because there's something I've been wanting to do for what feels like a lifetime now."

Your voice comes out shaky. "Would it perhaps involve kissing me?"

It does, apparently, because he leans closer until your faces are almost touching. His hands cup your face so gently it's as if they've been created from the air itself, but he waits, searching your eyes for any hesitation or rejection.

He never finds it. When your face tilts in accordance with his, he takes his cue and presses his lips onto yours.

You've never kissed anyone before, so the feeling is surreal. It's as if the very world around you melts away into nothingness until all you're aware of is him and his hands on your face, yours on his chest, his lips on yours. By no means is the kiss long, but it feels like eternity in a single second. Everything feels right and perfect.

When he pulls away, you're a little lost for breath, but you smile at him nonetheless, egged on by his dazzling grin. His hands still cup your face, and you're still clutching the blazer at his chest, but neither of you makes to move. Not when this feels so right.

"I'd do that again," he says softly, "but we have a taxi to get in."

"Who cares? One more?"

And he obliges before taking your hand in his and leading you out of the room. All the while, you yourself grin. Maybe you should be hopeful more often.

[vickyvicarious]

Do you think Jonathan's week of silence has to do with his mental state like it did back in June? We know that Seward is silent because you cannot exactly carry your desktop computer to Bulgaria, and Mina is busy having to keep her mind in total secrecy to write updates about anything, but Jonathan is free to write, but doesn't.

...It now also occurs to me that Jonathan must be keeping his journal always on his person, for Mina-Dracula to not take it and read it. Just like in the Castle.

Yes and no. I mean, on the one hand, yeah he's definitely in a rough space right now and I think him refusing to write certain things definitely reflects that. He has to ensure there is a record of anything significant, but he can't bring himself to be the one to write it - I'm talking 11 October here. He made sure Jack wrote it down, which lets us know what happened, but we can only work off Jonathan's silence in not writing it himself (as well as his silence when asked to promise) to decide exactly how he feels about it. It's obvious he's upset but there's not the blatant "and I did not answer her" that we might've seen when reading his own account.* Since he's not alone like he was in the castle, he can afford to outsource the most agonizing events to others and know they will still be preserved. He didn't write Mina's account of the assault on 3 October either, or his own experience when he was kept asleep for that matter. Instead he left that to Jack's record and picked up with what they did afterwards.

But he has written since those moments, after all, when there was something to report. The week-long silence comes after those entries. I think this can still be compared pretty easily to his long silences in the castle... because, along with reflecting his despair, they also reflected long stretches where the situation didn't really change. Sure, it was just as awful. Jonathan and Dracula were still having storytime just about every night. Dracula was still doing his creepy touching. But I genuinely don't believe anything new happened, just stuff that was continuing established patterns. Since Jonathan wasn't getting any new information, he didn't feel the same need to put it in the record. Part of that was certainly that he would feel even more disheartened having to write "mentally & emotionally tormented again today. felt like a rat in a cage again today. chicken for dinner and the count took my arm to lead me in and I felt such intense revulsion I nearly yanked myself away but his grip was just on the edge of not painful and I know what his grip can become so I made myself smile at him instead. again." and so on, day after day. Part of it was certainly that he didn't have the hope/strength to write. Part of it was even likely him trying to preserve room in his likely limited diary space. But also... I think it's just that as soon as Jonathan writes for a purpose, he doesn't put in entries that don't further that purpose.

His purpose in the castle was to document what the fuck was going on with the Count, and also to record his own attempts at escape. When Dracula didn't display any new behaviors and Jonathan himself saw no new avenues to try and risk anything... we gets days and days of silence.

Right now... I think I said this in the tags of a post a few days ago. Jonathan's heart and head are entirely focused on Mina and Dracula right now. In opposing ways, obviously, love vs. hatred, desire to protect vs. desire to destroy, and so on and so forth. But he's focused on them. His purpose for writing is to record what is going on with the hunt for Dracula so that Mina can read it. He will also write about her condition, but I'd say that's almost a lesser priority because his decision on what to do if she turns is made so her continuing to slowly turn doesn't signify anything new for him in a sense. And of course, she'd know it through experience (and he would be there by her side throughout it) whereas the Dracula hunt stuff is what has been kept from her and thus will interest her to know once she can be told things again. But regardless, if Jonathan isn't writing then I think we can assume it is because, just like in the castle, the situation hasn't changed. Dracula is still on the ship. Mina is still sleeping a lot. The men have put their plan into place and currently nothing about it has changed, so there's no need for an update.

As soon as something changes, we'll start hearing from him again. Or at least, he will ensure we hear from someone; he will once again deputize Jack to write it for him if the changes are something he doesn't feel like he can bring himself to talk about.

*(Speaking of, this feels like it goes along with "She is calling to me." He will always answer her call - except that time. Except when she isn't asking him to join her but to kill her. Then he just sits silently.)

.

As for your thought about Jonathan always keeping his journal on him again.... OUCH, okay. I don't think that Mina has reached the point of being puppeteered in such a way, but they have certainly passed the point of 'if she sees/hears it even accidentally then he'll know too' so that would be reason enough. I also cannot make up my mind whether Jonathan would be the last person to consider such a thing, because he loves Mina so much and wants to deny that Dracula could so fully control her like that... or whether he would be the first person to think of it because he knows the Count so well. Either way, the comparison is fantastic angst.

[shigarakisslutbag]

PLS DO SHIGGY THIGH FUCKING HCS thank u ily

I honestly didn't think I'd write on here again but I can't sleep and it's like 5:30 in the morning lol. So I'll write some thigh fuckin' headcanons to ease the stress 😎 (also TW: for thigh fucking, somnophilia, long post in general LMFAO. If I missed anything I apologize. Also it's now 6:19 after finishing it so there's probably typos I've missed after briefly skimming this so Im also sorry for that LMFAO)

(EDIT after writing. I'm so sorry this ended up not being headcanons and was just a full on drabble I found of pulled out of my ass but I hope you still enjoy it lol)

Now truthfully I havent even watched/finished the seasons after season 4 lol. I'm in the middle of season 5 still because I'm severely depressed and can't enjoy anything. But that doesn't mean I don't still love shigaraki and tbh I still read fanfiction from time to time about him or dabi.

I feel like a lot of people paint shigaraki as either absolutely vile and grimey or just aloof and soft with a grumpy attitude. And I feel like it's a bit of both. Which really plays into his sex life (if he'll ever have one). But even without a sex life, his personality most certainly plays into his fantasies and kinks.

I want to also emphasize that fantasies are just that, fantasies. Shigaraki most likely has plenty of fantasies that he'd never dream of acting out with his partner should he ever have one. I feel like even if he had some sick fantasies or kinks, and you happened to be okay with it, he would still be iffy because if this man, for whatever reason, picked you out of everyone else?? He's not going to treat you like absolute garbage. Shigaraki is definitely not the nicest person by any means, but by God if he cares about someone he fucking cares. Esp because you're probably the only person who actually loves him in his entirety. So if he's into noncon, somnophilia, predator/prey play, or whatever, it's going to be a while before he gets comfortable bringing up any of those fantasies with you.

Now that I've gotten that out of the way, you're wondering "goddamnit ash shut the fuck up and tell me the thigh f-" wELL THATS TOO DAMN BAD YOU LISTEN TO SEGGSY MONOLOGUE OR YOU GET NOTHING. ty luv u.

Okay so his fantasies right ? What are shigarakis kinks ? Does he have any? Oh absolutely. And they range from either something as light and soft as hickeys and tying you up in silk while eating you out for 2 hours to nipple clamps and making you wail with hot tears and shoving a dildo down your throat telling you take it like you've taken every other mans cock down your throat because he knows stupid sluts like you are always capable of doing those things if you know it'll make your pussy soak the sheets.

Now it's not his top fantasy, but thigh fucking. And God do you have the prettiest thighs. It doesn't matter is there's stretch marks, if they're chubby, skinny, or if you have immense scarring on them he LOVES them. He loves how soft they are. He loves how they look in shorts or a skirt (esp when you keep trying to pull them down a bit because they're a size smaller than what you wanted so they don't pudge out). He loves how your delicate hands lay on top of your thighs while you fiddle with your fingers out of nervousness. He loves the way they move when he walks behind you, you have a walk that puts any model to shame. He just loves them . And by God does he throb at thought of getting to push his cock past your sweaty or oily thighs. The head of his dick barely kissing your clit each time he thrusts. But that's not the biggest and best part at all. He wants to wake you up to it. You've told him countless times he can wake you up to any sexual acts but he's still nervous. But he's really horny right now. And you're sweaty from the lack of AC and you're naked on your side sleeping away. But he genuinely can't think of anything else other than how wet your pussy must be right now and how slick your thighs must be from the heat of the room. His cock is absolutely aching to slide between your thighs and folds. He has never felt so hungry until he met someone with a body as inviting as your own. He's been stroking for the past couple minutes but it's just not enough .

He peels off the throw blanket you have over you because despite the heat you always love your blanket to sleep. But even after the blanket is removed you still don't wake . He slowly examines your body and grazes his hand down your body. Going over your shoulders and arms to ribs to hip bone. Finally meets that beautiful soft ass of yours. He gentle lifts your thigh to angle and can see your pussy . Its so wet and glistening from the lights on the street coming in through your window, beaming in and lighting up your skin to a beautiful warm glow.

He lifts up one of your slick folds, seeing your pretty clit and rubbing his thumb in tiny circles on it. He can't take it anymore and slides his cock between your thighs, his shaft rubbing your leaking pussy and making your clit throb even more. You may be asleep but your cunt is always awake and ready to be touched by him.

He starts thrusting slowly to building up that pressure in his groin to make his orgasm feel even better in the end. He can feel you coating his shaft with your juices more and more with each desperate thrust he makes to your thighs. Your thighs are so sweaty and warm and grip his dick so nicely taking any and every drop of cum he wants to and could ever give you. He can hear slight wet sounds coming from your cunt with each thrust that keeps getting more rapid and animalistic with each thrust because you dont know how to stop being such a needy whore all the time even in your sleep. Before he knows it you're gushing and your cum is on the sheets making him go over the edge. Now he's spitting thick, white shots of cum all over your thighs while drops of it roll down your skin onto the bed as well. You're still mostly asleep, but youve adorned a dazed smile on your face with a satisfied tomura passed out next you .

[reflections-in-a-critical-eye]

Right, I'm back. I didn't post anything yesterday because I thought it's best not to rush. But it was indeed fascinating to see reactions in real time to the photo. Yes, I'm talking about the photo posted on IG of JM, JK and another person.

I think I must have read opinions that varied on a entire spectrum and expressed quite vehemently. It's safe to say everyone has really strong opinions and you either condemn it or you're totally fine with it, as long as you pick a side and don't question anything. In sitautions such as these, the tendency to add just a touch of conspiracy is right there. And it gets a pass when there's a lack of information, a language barrier, etc.

I too have my own questions and observations, to which I don't necesarily need an answer, but I'll just write them down.

1. I couldn't help but think of how deep the level of social media stalking is in this fandom. I looked up the account immediately as I saw a screenshot because initially there was confusion about the source. That guy made no previous photo uploads of either JM or JK. At a first glance, there is nothing to connect him to them. And still he had fan accounts following him, before it all blew up and he gained a lot more. My question is, how did that happen? Are there people who look up Jimin's followers list and they try to figure out if there's someone from an inner circle? In all those 50 million people? Do they check some select few accounts daily to see if there's a possibility of a post? The logistics of this are giving me a headache. Or maybe there's some obvious, easier answer and I don't know it.

2. Considering that the account is public, it's not like the photo is leaked. I don't know exactly the nature of the relationship that man has/had with JM & JK and I do not wish to make any speculation with regards to his intentions.

3. I think the outrage was mostly caused by jikookers bringing back to the surface that old photo under the heart arch. Which indeed paints a certain picture, but it's also not the most incriminatory thing out there. I don't think there's any real actual danger, considering that it was supposedly taken from Jungkook's dad Kakao talk. If that's true then it means the dad was ok with showing it.

3. What I personally believe should not have happened was to circulate that photo so easily on social media. People knew about it for a long time, even before someone posted it on I-Jikook twitter. But in cases like these, the photos will always be revealed. They will leave the group chats and out into the wild usually for a petty reason. Because at the end of the day, that's the issue. It has nothing to do with giving a shit about the people in the photo, it's about winning a shipping argument, about screaming "we won". Win what exactly???? It shows who is in it for the fantasy. No single argument could work for them. Replying on and on about deleting doesn't matter.

4. Maybe my last point, but this situation has revealed some things which were already known, but maybe not really articulated specifically all the time. As people not only part of the fandom, but also using social media 24/7, our ideas about privacy and what we should have access to when it comes to public figures has certainly been influenced by the current landscape. In the case of JM & JK particularly, they have been sharing pieces of themselves for more than a decade. It was the BH strategy, the BTS brand. It worked wonders because look at the huge fandom it gathered and the relationship that was built between idol and fan. Hell, Jungkook is doubling down heavy on it with his livestreams. How can anyone really expect a mass of people to really stop and think about privacy? We ourselves as regular people curate our social media image and we voice our opinions and share the places we go to, who are our friends, what parties we attended, when we get into a relationship. Every mundane or special occassion is posted for public consumption. I'm not saying this as some excuse that would justify sharing what looks like a private photo. What I'm saying is that it's to be expected in a way. As harsh as it is, but we live in this reality where the line between the public and private sphere is getting more invisible day by day.

What I think it's scary is that if there's a situation in which an actual compromising photo would somehow be leaked and which can be in the detriment of the people in it for various reasons, so called fans would still share it as proof. Because it doesn't matter for them. It's the high of finding it, of screaming about it on social media, without thinking for more than a second about possible implications. Everything needs to be done fast, regardless of consequences because people need to feed themselves with gossip and leaks.

I'm really just rambling here and not making too much sense. Anyway, I think we should always take a step back and really assess the situation and not scream about it, regardless of our position. Not everything is a threat, or privacy violation or putting people in danger, but it doesn't mean that it needs to be treated lightly as if it's no big deal (which usually comes from people who care more about their own safisfaction and feeling like a "winner").

[clumsiestgiantess]

The Walls Won’t Be There Forever (tw dehumanization, some ptsd dreams of sexual harassment)(it is about the pet trope, however condemning of it the story might be. So watch out yk?)

I ended up deciding to put out the entire first half (aka first two povs) instead of something shorter. Y’all certainly don’t have to read it all in one sitting, but here it is!

Prologue

It all started with a discovery.  Then agian, someone mustve known sooner.  67 years after The Borrowers book series was published, along with various movies, tv shows, and spin offs, science finally got its hands on the real thing.  It wasn't completely true to the books, though.  Their reflexes were off the charts fast — probably why no one's managed to find one all this time.  They also had strangely-shaped ears.  However, the biggest disappointment: they were basically mice who looked like people.  Unfortunately, the books are still labeled fiction for this reason.  The creatures only speak in the squeaks of mice, and they aren't that much smarter than mice, either.  

Which is why, within a few months of discovery, the homosapians redactus, commonly known as Mice People or Borrowers after the books, became fully known to the world as either a pest or a pet.  I, for one, find it rather unsettling to see something that looks so similar to us but small, though apparently, most people thought that was very cute.  So, owning a little mouse person to dress up and play with instantly became a new trend.

On the other end of the spectrum, pest services started advertising their expertise in catching 'those sneaky little creatures stealing your things'.  Soon, every house was being inspected, including my own.  It was around the time of my younger sister Aubrey's birthday, and following the new trend, she begged my parents to let her keep one of the creatures.  My mother, who was already deathly afraid of tiny scurrying pests like mice, rats, and cockroaches, immediately rejected her idea of a pet mouse person.  Especially a wild one caught from the house.  Eventually, she made an exception for her birthday though, so she let her pick one out from the pet store in town.  The ones that came from there had to have gone through some kind of basic training to be on the shelf.  

Aubrey could barely sit still the entire drive to the store.  As soon as we got there, she ran straight to the new section of borrowers for adoption while me and my mother walked over to the section for pet cages and accessories.  As per normal, there was an array of products to choose from, ranging from normal glass cages with little 'bonus' accessories inside, to two level mini mansions that looked like decked-out doll houses.  "Oh look at this!" my mother exclaimed, pointing to a sign above one of the cages.  "These are on sale!  Two for one!"  

If a store puts anything, and I mean anything on sale, my mother will buy it just because it's 'saving money'.  Even if we're spending that money on useless things, it doesn't matter, just as long as it's on sale or in the clearance section.  "Mom, Aubrey's borrower doesn't need two cages.  Just get one."  "But then it won't be a sale…"  She stood there thinking while I walked the rest of the aisle.  

"How about this," my mother asked me on my way back.  "I'll buy both cages and both you and your sister can have little pets."  I blinked, "I thought we were just getting one for Aubrey because it's her birthday."  "What?  You don't want one?" she asked me, confused.  I shrugged, "They aren't that interesting, that's all," I said, not wanting to admit that they kinda freaked me out.  "Hmm…  Then you can get one.  And if you don't like it, or it's too 'boring' you can give it to Aubrey."  

I could see there was no way to win this argument, so I nodded and headed toward the aisle my sister had run down earlier.  As I started scanning the cages built into the wall, she ran up to me and yanked at my sleeve.  "Do you want to see my new pet?"  I didn't really have a choice once she started dragging me down the aisle.  "You already found one?" I asked.  "Mmm hmm," she nodded, "This one right here!"  Peering in, I could see the little human-like creature standing by its cot, preoccupied with something.  "Mom said I could have one too, but I'll probably just get bored of it and give it to you," I told Aubrey as I turned away from her borrower in its display cage.  "What!?" she whined, "How come you get one too?  That isn’t fair!  It's not your birthday!"  Shrugging, I answered, "I don't know, she found some deal on cages so she's letting me have one as well."

Aubrey stormed off to find Mom, while I began my search for a decent pet.  I wanted one that was mellow enough that it wouldn't cause trouble, but not so mellow that it would be boring.  Finally, after my sister begged me to hurry up and choose, I found one that seemed to be a good fit.  She was about average height for a borrower, with straight black hair that was cut at shoulder height, and piercing blue eyes.  She was probably just a few years older than me, so she would live for a long time after I bought her.  

The articles I’ve read about them say that borrowers can sometimes even outlive their owners if they're given proper care, but hopefully I can just hand it over to my sister if I get tired of it.  Aubrey might not want it, but Mom was relentless, so I guess it'll be their problem.  Soon our borrowers were boxed up and put on the register, along with my mother's brilliant bargain cages.  

After a careful drive back to the house (don't jiggle them around, you're gonna make them sick), and an even more careful trip up to my room (don't drop the box, it might escape), I finally began setting up my pet's new home.  The cage was pretty simple.  It's a large glass tank that takes up about half of the space on my dresser, with a wire top and two doors.  The side door was for taking your borrower out; it had a bolt lock on it to keep your pet safely inside.  However, the second door on the top of the cage had a simple latch on it.  This was really just for easy access to things like replacing food and water.  It was too high up for a borrower to reach, so it wasn't a possible escape route, but I took a mental note to duct tape it closed later.  

Most of the extra stuff from the bag inside the tank were bits of furniture and decorative trinkets to entertain your pet.  Honestly, most of it looked like it came from a cheap dollhouse set, but that's what you get when you buy 2 for 1 bargain cages.  I spread the random decorations around the cage, leaving a large empty space at the front for me to look through.  After everything was set, I picked up the small cardboard box holding the borrower and carefully opened it as I set it down inside the cage.  She didn't seem to want to come out, so I checked the locks on the doors one last time and left her to settle in.

Part 1

It all started with a discovery.  Humans know about us now, and they've wrecked everything from the very beginning.  Of course, our kind have had some close calls before.  Being seen but not caught, accidentally taking noticeable things, getting stuck in a gluetrap is always a frightening experience.  There's even been books and movies made about us but still, no one found out.  Until now.  My family barely got a warning before the exterminators arrived, separating us.  How long has it been since I've seen them?  Weeks?  Months?  I'm pretty sure my brother is in one of the other cages somewhere, but because of the code, I can't call out to him.  

The code.  It's always been one of those 'golden rules' you learn when you're young, almost like instinct.  I always hated thinking about it back then.  In fact, when I was younger, I had nightmares about this — this awful rule that forces us to quit speaking, forces us to play dumb so the humans might leave us alone one day.  I hate it.  I've always hated it.  Now that it's a reality, I hate it even more.  It's even worse than my childhood nightmares — at least those I could wake up from.  

With all the time I spend staring out a glass wall every day, I've noticed certain things about humans that I hadn't before.  Of all the humans I've seen, they always either act like predators, or act like prey.  The ones that act like prey are easier to deal with for sure.  They won't purposely hurt you most of the time, and even if they do, they make a big fuss over it.  Which is fine I guess, but they have such an overpowering scent of energy, and boy are they stupid.  They're also slightly annoying, and boring, and nine times out of ten they buy you to dress you up for whatever idiotic trend is going on now.  I wouldn't be surprised if many of my kind bought by them end up right back here in cages once our discovery blows over.

However, the humans that act like predators are a lot harder to read.  And like most predators of this world, I'm terrified of them.  I can only hope that I don't get picked by one of those.  Unlike the prey humans who buy you to be their little toy, the predators buy you because they see you as an animal — an actual pet.  If they scare the shit out of you, they don't care.  If you make them angry, they torture you, or take you back to the store with enough complaints to get you put down.

Yeah, again, I pray that I don't get chosen by one of them.  In fact, I think my best option is to sit here, not getting picked at all.  That dream died almost a month later though, when a certain family came in early to celebrate a birthday.  At first I thought it was just the younger one looking around; she bounced back and forth between all the different windows, peering in at each one of us just to make sure she knew all her options.  This human definitely fit into the prey category.  She picked hers quickly — not me thank goodness — and I let out a relieved breath.

Then, her older sister walked over and explained that their mother told her she needed a pet too.  Thankfully, I learned a lot of the human language before I was abducted.  I wouldn’t know half of what was going on without it.  Instantly, I went on high alert again, expecting this human to be the same type of prey human that her sister was.  However, as she silently paced back and forth along the wall, it became clear that she was more on the predator side.  It would take her a lot longer to find the 'right one'.  Keeping to my strategy, I steered clear of doing anything to attract attention.  Even so much as locking eyes for a moment was enough to set humans off.  I guess predators are interested in that sort of thing, though, because next thing I know I'm being thrown in a cardboard box and placed on a counter, my entire life summed up as $14.99 on the register.  

My heart rate finally slowed slightly as the humans drove back to their house.  Great, now I can panic.  My mind raced as I realized that my worst nightmare had come true.  I'd been chosen by a predator human.  How do I get myself out of this?  I can't just sit here and wait to be tortured!  I have to get out!  Frantically, I shoved at the pieces of cardboard that folded together above me, but nothing bugged.  Grabbing one of the air holes, I hauled myself up so I could see how the top opened from the outside.  

I had my head pressed to the hole for a while before I felt a crawling feeling down my spine.  I glanced the other way and fell back in shock.  The human was watching me — just waiting for me to slip up and do something wrong so she could hurt me.  That put an end to any escape plans for the rest of the ride.

Next thing I knew, I was brought through the house and upstairs to the girl's bedroom.  I tried to memorize the layout of the floors so I would know where to run if I escaped, but I quickly found that staying in one place was impossible with the human's movements jostling the entire box.  Eventually, I was placed on a massively large bed while the human cleared off a space on her dresser.  I sat silently in the box, pressed against the wall furthest from the human, watching through the air slits as she sorted out a cage for me.  

Finally, after everything was placed down, Liz, — I'd overheard her name in the car — picked up the cardboard box.  The motion was so sudden that I fell forwards.  My stomach lurched as I unsteadily righted myself.  Just as abruptly as the motion started, it stopped.  I barely had time to process what happened before the folds in the top of the box gave away, revealing the behemoth human far above me.  In a panic, I threw myself into a corner and watched as the human scrutinized me quietly, then stepped out of view.  I heard her footsteps get further and eventually fade away.

Though I could tell she was gone, I refused to leave the sad cardboard corner I hid in.  It offered the only protection I had, even if it wasn't much.  All I could do was sit there, shaking with fear-made adrenaline as tears welled in my eyes.  It must have been a good hour and a half at least when I'd finally stopped crying.  Existential dread loomed over my mind, whispering things like you’ll die here, and you won’t last a week.  Why on earth does my brain think it’s a good idea to terrify me even further than I already am?!

I shakily got up, steadying myself with the side of the box as I took in my horrible new home.  The ceiling was made of a wire mesh, and every wall was made of glass.  I noticed this instantly.  There was nowhere to hide — nowhere I could go where the human couldn't easily find me.

Slowly, I stepped out into the glass cage, brushing my fingertips over the human-style bed tucked against a corner.  The only decent thing in the entire room was this bed.  My old one at the petstore was almost as hard as the floor, and this one was blissfully soft in comparison.  I walked slowly along the back wall, always keeping the bedroom door in view as I passed an empty bookshelf and a dresser with a mirror made of reflective paper instead of glass.  My reflection was only a few sad distorted colors.  

The only other thing I had was a table with four chairs surrounding it.  I laughed coldly in spite of myself, forcing down tears before they had the chance to spring up.  Why would I ever need four chairs when I would probably never have the privilege of seeing a guest my own height?  Though I guess the human’s sister has one of my kind, too.  I can only hope they’re holding out alright.  It was funny, though.  They’d been picked by a prey human.  If anything, they should be worried about me.

I sat down at the table and sighed, burying my head in my arms.  How had it all come to this?  Why me?  What did I ever do to be thrown in a stupid-  BOOM  The door to the human's room suddenly swung open, startling me out of my thoughts.  "Oh look!" Liz's sister exclaimed as she rushed to my cage, "It's at the table ready to eat!  Look Liz, look how cute!"  I froze, stunned.  This human was LOUD, I couldn't really tell at the store because our rooms muffled everything, but sitting in a mostly empty cage — echoes vibrating off the walls — it was almost deafening.  

Wait, I’m supposed to be acting like a dumb creature, right?  I can't be sitting at a table in front of them.  Quickly, I backed out of the chair and sat in a random spot on the floor instead.  "That was so cute; maybe I could train mine to do that," Liz's sister thought aloud.  She meandered back out the door.  I was so distracted trying to seem unintelligent that I'd missed the sound of the cage door opening.  When Liz's arm fell down from above, I nearly screamed.  I soon realized that she wasn't here for me, though; she'd only come to deliver food.  If that's even what she's given me.  Liz left some kind of dried pellets on the table I'd been sitting at minutes ago, and I tried my best not to gag when she placed them down.  They smelled extremely un-appetizing.  However, as the long hours melted into days, I forced myself to eat them.  I had no alternative.

The bedsprings squeaked as Liz flung herself down, tablet in hand.  It had been a long, terrorizing morning, so I sat on my bed to watch her carefully.  Despite living in hell for the past week, I'm still not used to Liz being around.  To be honest, I’m still not used to the fact that I’m still around.

I had another nightmare last night, though it was really more of a horrible memory.  For the first few days of my time in the pet store, my subconsciousness was plagued with haunting images of the exterminators, tearing my old life away from me.  It was so bad that I hadn’t slept a single second.  I’d gotten almost drunkenly sick before managing to sleep nearly a week after my capture.  This time in my dream, it was Liz, not the exterminators, who dragged me away from my family as I desperately fought to stay with them.  I was thrown into the cage she bought me, and forced to wear stupid doll's outfits and play pretend.  After waking up, I doubted she would do that — she doesn't seem like the type — but I've heard what happens across the hall in her sister's room when the doors are open.  My nightmares are almost daily occurrences there.  

I shuddered, propping my pillows up, and sat back waiting for Liz to leave.  However, the silence of the room was threatening to swallow me.  The only sounds came from the slight thuds and creaks somewhere outside in the hallway.  Usually, my home was filled with sounds of life.  My mother, cooking on the makeshift stove, my father, stashing borrowed goods, and me and my brother, doing various chores around the house.  I reminisced for a moment before regrettably returning to my horrible reality.  

Suddenly, the silence was broken as the human began to humm to a song I'd heard on the radio at the store.  Well I have called you darlin' and I'll say it again…  the quiet hums became quiet singing as she got to the chorus.  Put your hand in mine, I promise that I will be with you all the time…   After another few lyrics, the chorus line came back around again, and I have to admit, I was enjoying the song.  Her voice wasn't actually that bad.  Then, Liz abruptly stopped mid-chorus-line and looked around, confused.  I didn't plan on her to stop singing so suddenly, so I kept going, not realizing my mistake until it was too late.  

I didn't know I was singing out loud.  I thought it was just in my head.  But as Liz's singing came to a halt, I'd actually kept going.  The entire borrower secret blowing up in my face.  Quickly, I looked over in shock and saw the massive girl staring at me.  "Y- You can sing!?"  Before I could stop myself, I blurted "No!"  

What did I do?  The hell did I just do!?  My hands flew to my mouth as I scrambled up from my bed in terror.  Liz flung herself up from her own bed as well and rushed over to the glass wall in front of me.  "You can talk!  You can understand me!  This is incredible!"  No, no, no, no!  This is when the torture starts; this is when they send you to a lab for the world to reveal your secrets!  Hot tears streamed down my face as I backed all the way up, crouching against the far wall.  

Liz thought aloud as she began to pace the room.  "How have we not noticed you guys can talk?  You've been in labs for months and human speech was somehow overlooked during all that?"  Coming to a sudden halt, she glanced back over at me.  "Wait.  There's no way they didn't catch that.  Which means…  Have you guys been hiding that from us the whole time?"  Slowly crossing the room, Liz peered through the glass again.  Her expression shifted from triumphant joy to a concerned frown.  "Wait, are you..  Are you crying?" she asked, confused.  No!  She can't figure it out!  My head screamed, my heart pounded in my ears.  Everything started to blur in front of me and I honestly thought I was going to pass out.  I did this.  I failed.  Once word got out about us, it would all be my fault.  

I desperately rubbed the tears from my eyes in a last-ditch effort to undo what I'd done.  She regarded me for a moment, typed something on her phone, then left it by my cage and backed off, giving me one last look before silently walking away to another level of the house.  Confusion was written on every inch of her gigantic form.  

My head was wrapped in a fog as I wandered over to the glass, staring at nothing as I tried to process what happened.  Then all at once, pent up emotions exploded through me in an instant.  "No no no!  I can't believe I let her walk away like that!  She's probably telling everyone right now, dammit!"  I kicked the glass angrily, "Why can't they just leave us alone?  Now they're all going to drag me off to some horrible lab to be studied!"  Tears welled against my eyes, blurring everything out as I crawled into bed.  “Please,” I begged no one in particular, “Please don’t let it end like this.”  Pulling the blankets up over my head, I lay in darkness wishing I could stay there forever.

Eventually, I heard the bedroom door open.  I squeezed my eyes shut and pressed myself deeper into my pillow, desperately willing whoever it was to go away.  The glass around me vibrated as they took something off the table and left.  To my utter amazement, that was all that happened.  Sure, I could hear the sounds of humans walking past from under the covers — which I never left the rest of the day — but they never came to take me away.   No one came to pry me out of bed.  No one even came by to ask why I was hiding.  The entire day played out just like any other, with even less commotion than normal.

This changed the next day however, when Liz came upstairs after breakfast and caught me out of bed, sneaking something to eat.  She came over and sat next to my cage as I cautiously backed into a corner between the glass and the stupid bookshelf she gave me.  It doesn’t even have any books on it — there aren’t any small enough for me.

Liz leaned closer, watching me intently.  "I left my phone here to record you talking yesterday.  So I'd have proof you actually can talk."  Shit.  "I watched it before going to show everyone."  Double shit.  Liz was quiet for a while, which gave me a moment to think.  So, if she showed everyone proof, why haven't I been taken away to a lab yet?  I squirmed uncomfortably in the corner as she stared me down, longer than she had even on the days when she would watch me to see if I would do something interesting.  There were a lot of those, and they were unnerving, but I was still thankful for them.  They were so much better than all the horror stories I expected from her.  In fact, I don’t even think she wants me around.  Well, she might not have, until I gave up my secret.

"That video,” Liz began, startling me from my thoughts.  “I mean, obviously you're smarter than we think you are but…  That's not mimicking human speech that's- that's you talking in the video."  Sitting back, she continued, "And you clearly have the same emotional range that we do, too…"  She looked over at me again, but for the first time, I didn't flinch back.  I was too dumbfounded by what she was saying.  "You're.. human."  What?  "Well, as human as a non-human can be anyway" she chuckled.  

So she saw me as…  No, if she saw me as an equal I wouldn't be in this dumbass box.  Also, what about the video she showed everyone?  I had to risk asking.  It's not like I'm helping the secret by staying silent, anyways.  The video is all the proof she needs.  

I took a breath to steady my voice, but it didn't help much.  "So..  W-what about everyone who saw the video?  Am I…  A-are they…"  Liz's eyes widened in shock as I spoke, and she shook her head, "No one saw the video but me."  "But, you said-"  "I watched the video and realized that you were right.  If I showed it to anyone you would probably end up in a lab.  So I kept it to myself.  I deleted it after a while.  It’s gone."  Blinking, I stood there confused.  "So.. You didn't sell me out?  Why?  Aren't I your… pet?"  I spat the last word like a curse.  I hated it, but it was true.  Liz’s look darkened, and for a terrifying moment, I thought I might’ve reminded her that she was supposed to be torturing me.

However, her expression softened a second later.  "Honestly, I don't know what you are anymore, but...  If you really are a person, then you shouldn't be in a cage."  Yes, please let me go!  "But then what?  Release you in the woods somewhere?  Doesn't your kind survive off ours?  Houses aren't safe now that we know you exist, so where could I even bring you?”

"Wait, wait.  What do you mean 'houses aren't safe'?" I asked warily.  I’m planning on escaping to another house if I ever get out of here.  Liz shrugged, "Well, now that people know about you, they're putting up traps.  Not just mouse traps, like, actual tripwire surveillance traps," she explained.  I puzzled over my new dilemma in shock, taking it all in as she went on and on about the various types of specialized borrower traps.  

If it’s true, and human houses aren't safe anymore, then what will happen to the rest of us?  The ones that haven't been caught?  There have to be some of us still out there, right?  Liz must have seen the horrified look on my face because she quickly ended her explanation.   "Alright, so releasing you isn't an option…"  I recoiled, "Of course releasing me is an option!  It's the only option!  I don't want to sit in a cage forever!"  I stormed over to the glass, my anger overcoming any common sense I had.  "You said I was human!  You said I don’t deserve to be in a cage!  I didn't do anything wrong!  You can't keep me in here!  You can't-"  My voice cracked, but I stubbornly shook my head, refusing to cry in front of this human anymore than I already had.

After a bone chilling silence, I was sure Liz would punish me for yelling at her, and I braced myself for whatever might happen.  Finally, she bent down to my height and asked: "Well, what do you want me to do?"  Me?  Carefully, I raised my head to look at her.  It seemed like she genuinely wanted to hear what I thought, but what do I think?  I want out, obviously.  But where?  If houses aren't safe, and the outside world is a nightmare now that the weather's getting colder, where can I go?  

I slowly stepped into the chair behind me and sat down heavily, pondering how I would get out of this situation.  "What if.." Liz proposed gently, "You stay here?  Not as a pet, but like, a roommate, maybe?"  "What's the difference?" I grumbled, "I still have to stay in this stupid glass box."  She thought for a bit, "Well, as long as you don't get caught outside when other people are around…  you could come out whenever you like."  

What?  This must be some kind of trick, right?  To gain my trust or something?  But why?  "No," I spat a little more harshly than I'd intended.  "You're just trying to make me your pet.  I won't fall for it."  Suddenly, I was ranting, and boy was I on a role.  "What is wrong with your kind!?  Why are you torturing us like this!?  Everything was FINE until you found us!  Now we're being treated like animals just because we took things you didn't even want!  Hell, you're so stupid you didn't even know they were missing!  All of these exterminators and traps — why do you care!?  Just let us go back to how things were!  But nooo, you just had to go and, and…  do whatever the fuck this is!" I yelled, gesturing to my glass box filled with useless trinkets.  "It isn't fair!"  I shuddered, "It isn't fair."  

I guess I'm just tired of being treated like this.  Or maybe I'm feeling gutsy because she didn't punish me the first time I lashed out.  Whatever it was that compelled me to say that, I could tell I wasn't getting off easily this time.  

Liz stood up to her full height, sending instinctive fear coursing through my veins.  I scrambled backward, recognizing the danger I put myself in, and hit the back wall with an echoing thunk.  Panicking as her gigantic form loomed closer to my cage.  "Wait!” I cried out, “I-  I didn't mean it!"  "Yes, you did," Liz cut me off in a bitter voice.  She sized me up, lips parted in a snarl, and for the first time it occurred to me that she could probably eat me in two quick bites.  Everything began shaking.  No, that was me shaking — dreading my inescapable demise.  

"Did it ever occur to you that not all humans are horrible?  That maybe I'm actually trying to help you?"  Liz asked from somewhere above my blurry line of vision.  "If you really want to get out of here, you can start by not cursing me out.  Whoever got you here, whoever trapped you and brought you to that pet store…  I’m- I’m not like that."  The last of her words faded on her tongue.  My gaze slowly drifted upwards until I was looking directly up to see her face, which had relaxed a bit.  "It's just me.  I don't want to hurt you, but I will, p-probably, accidentally maybe, if you keep this up."  She turned, walked into the hall, and closed the door, giving me a sidelong glance before her gaze was cut off.  

I was lucky.  Very lucky.  I thought I'd be dead for sure.  As much as I hated her for leaving me in here, she did have a good point.  It's a horrible idea to yell at someone about 30 times your size.  Everyone knows any human would gladly take the chance to torture me for that outburst, so why didn't she?  Hell, if someone a fraction of my size started cursing at me, I probably would've threatened to rip them apart.  

I went through the motions again as I paced back and forth for what seemed like hours, but I couldn't find one good reason for her to not have hurt me.  Other than just being nice, like she said she was…  No.  Never trust humans, especially when they've put you in a cage.  That was the conclusion I stuck with the rest of the day.  I dreaded talking to her again, but she would have to come back, this is her room, and I'm stuck in here.  Eventually, Liz did come back, and she looked like she'd been trying to avoid me just as much as I was hoping to avoid her.  But here we were, standing here staring at each other from across the room.  

"Sorry if I scared you before," Liz finally said, avoiding my gaze.  "I just…  Think it over, will you?  My offer?"  All I could do was stare at her in numb shock.  "But if you don't want to, I understand."  Liz shuffled off to the bathroom, PJ's in hand.  "Wait!" I yelped, then hesitated, unsure why I stopped her.  "Why..  Why are you apologizing to me?”

Liz stood silently in the doorway for a minute, then turned to me.  "I don't know," she sighed, "I just��� don't know."  Then she walked away into the room's connected bathroom and shut the door, cutting off the conversation.  Is it just me, or was she acting like she was the one who got yelled at?  Wait.  She did get yelled at.  By me.  Was she actually that shaken up over what I said?  I shrugged it off; humans are strange creatures, I know that well enough.  

Re-making my bed — which looked more like a dollhouse bed than a normal bed — I lay down and realized just how tired I actually was as I sunk into the covers.  Later, I heard Liz came back out of the other room and got into bed herself, waving off her parents as they said goodnight.  

Nights always felt like my only time alone because humans rarely did anything in the dark.  That's why we do most of our sneaking around after hours.  Tonight was no different, and even though I was exhausted, I stayed awake.  My thoughts ran off as they sometimes do, and I couldn't help but come back to Liz's offer to be 'roommates'.  She said she would let me out and I could go wherever I wanted as long as no one else found out.  So, it was basically my old way of life back: hide from anyone who might see you and continue doing your own thing the moment they walk away.  I just.. add on a human to it, I guess.  

If I agree, and if Liz isn’t bluffing to trick me or tame me, I could probably just walk away into the walls and never come back.  I can escape without having to find a way to break out of here!  Liz shifted in her bed and I froze, thinking she somehow knew I was plotting against her, before realizing she had no clue what I was planning.  Letting out a frustrated groan, I turned over and fell asleep.

The next morning, I woke up a bit shaken.  Nightmares of exterminators and cages plagued my dreams again last night, along with a few involving my newest captor, Liz.  I sat up, rubbing sleep from my eyes and stopped, confused, mid-stretch.  Something smelled amazing; what was that smell?  Then I noticed the table across the cage.  

Replacing the stupid everyday pile of food pellets was something I'd only dreamed of eating: a pancake.  I raced out of bed and skidded to a halt at the table.  It smelled so good it made my mouth water, and I ignored my borrower's common sense long enough to scarf it down.  I think I'd been sitting there for 20 minutes contemplating every scrap of food I ever ate or stole before Liz walked in.  "I see you enjoyed breakfast," she noted as she sat next to the cage.  "I'd enjoy it more out there," I commented.  "Well, if you agree to the deal, you can."  

Glancing upward at her, I sighed tiredly.  "So what exactly do I have to do?  Just hide whenever someone shows up?"  "It depends," Liz said, "If you're out while I'm here, I'll just say I was watching you so no one will think you're escaping."  For a second I thought guiltily of my escape plan the night before.  Wait, no.  I shouldn't feel guilty, I'm escaping capture not running away.  There's a difference.  

"But if you come out and I'm not there," Liz continued, "Then you have to try and make it back into the cage so it looks like you were in there the whole time."  "So I don't hide from them?"  She shook her head, "No, if someone happens to look over and see that you aren't there, then I get in trouble for letting you 'escape' and you get in trouble because my mom would probably call the exterminators at that point.  She hates small creatures."  Liz seemed to notice me flinch at the very mention of those awful people because she added, "I'll probably just pretend to search for you while you sneak back in, so hopefully it won't come to that."

Blackmail.  That's it; this is probably blackmail to get me to be a good little pet.  She’ll let me out, but she threatens me with exterminators if I don’t come back to her.  I did say she was the predator type, and those were usually smarter than their counterparts.  The joke's on her, though, because when I get out, I'm running far away from where anyone might find me.  I don’t know where, but I will.  

"Alright," I told her, "I'll come back to the stupid cage."  Liz sighed, bending down to my level to look me in the eye, so I could tell this was important.  "I don't like keeping you in here every day either, trust me.  That's why I'm offering you this deal.  But we already established that I can't just release you."  "Then just let me live out there!" I yelled, cutting her off.  "Get rid of the cage and I'll set up a place for myself right where it was, because for some reason your kind insists on watching me constantly!"  "If I treat you like a person, like I want to, won't everyone find out about your secret?" Liz snapped back.  

I'd forgotten about that, but it didn't matter, all I have to do is convince her to let me out and I'll be free.  If my plan works, I can finally have my life back.  Or at least a part of it.  "Alright, fine.  I agree to your deal."  Liz smiled slightly, "Did you want to come out now?"  What kind of idiotic question was that?  Of course I want to get out.  I nodded vigorously and watched as her hand reached around to the side of my cage and unlocked the door to my prison.  I dashed outside the moment her hand left the door.

I did it!  I'm home free!  I'm… terrified.  As I stepped from my cage to the barren surface of the dresser, my senses started spiking.  I was completely exposed here, and a human was staring me down from within their arm's length.  Being watched from in my cage is one thing — even though the walls are glass, they are still walls.  The glass would stop any immediate attack from reaching me.  Out here on the open dresser, there was nothing to stop Liz from straight up grabbing me.  This wasn't the kind of freedom I was expecting.

Liz seemed to understand, at least slightly, what I'd just realized.  "If you like, I could leave some things out on the counter for you to hide behind.  Though, I was kind of hopong you could sit at my desk."  She gestured to the massive piece of furniture on the opposite side of the room.  I looked up at her, bewildered.  "And how do you expect me to get over there?  Fly?  I don't have any climbing gear, and I doubt you'll give me any."  "Well, I.." she trailed off, holding out a single hand, palm up.  It took a few seconds to understand what she was hinting at.  Immediately, I stepped all the way back to the furthest part of the dresser, glaring at Liz all the while.  

"Oh, hell no.  No thank you.  I'm not going to literally put my life in your — or anyone else's — hands."  It only fueled my anger to see disappointment spread across her face.  "You said I wasn't going to be your pet, remember?" I asked peevishly.  "Just tie up some string or something I can climb.  I can get there just fine on my own."  I halfway expected Liz to ignore me and pick me up anyways, but she only nodded, saying she could probably duct tape a few pieces up later.

Just then, Liz's mother called her away to do the dishes.  "I'M COMING!  ONE SECOND!" Liz called, nearly blasting my eardrums out.  I yelped and covered my ears in pain.  In my family, we never shouted at eachother like that.  Mostly because a human might’ve heard us, but still.  In fact, we rarely verbally spoke at all.  Sign was the main method of communication between us; it was best to keep quiet.  The only time we really spoke aloud was when we were practicing human English.  

Liz turned back around and gave me a pitying glance, "Oh, sorry I yelled.  I'll be back in a bit, ok?  Don't do anything stupid while I'm gone."  Her parting words stuck in my head even after she'd disappeared behind her bedroom door.  Did she think I would try to escape?  I mean, I would if I could, but without a climbing rope, scaling this dresser would be impossible.  Still, I just couldn't wrap my head around it.  Why would a human leave me alone out here?  Weren't they all supposed to be cruel and unjust?  

I paced the length of the dresser, trying to get a good view of the room.  If I were to try and escape, I would have to find an electrical socket that was low enough to the ground that I could slip into it without needing my climbing gear.  Oh how I missed my gear — my grappling hook.  I would already be long gone if I still had it.

When Liz returned, I was sitting on the edge of the dresser, legs dangling off its side.  Liz took one look and rushed at me.  I scrambled backwards, screaming involuntarily at the surprising speed the giant had.  "What are you doing on the edge like that!?" Liz asked hurriedly, "You scared me, I thought you might fall."  It took me a moment to catch my breath.  I was so certain she'd changed her mind about our deal.  I thought she was coming to punish me.  "I scared you?" I asked angrily, "You rushed at me!  I thought you were about to attack me!  What is wrong with you humans!?"  

Liz took a step back, ashamed.  "I'm sorry, I just-  Aren't you scared?  That ledge is so high for you."  I scoffed.  Were all humans this dumb?  Probably.  "Of course I'm not scared.  I've lived in human houses my whole life.  I've stood on much taller furniture before.  I don't get scared of heights."  Liz sat down on the end of her bed; I could practically see the wheels turning in her head as she thought.  For the brief silent moment, I wondered if she might be angry at me for making her seem so stupid.  "Oh," she said finally, "I guess you're right."

The bedsprings creaked as she stood up and gathered a few things from her desk.  I was about to ask what Liz was doing when she froze, looking up suddenly like she'd just remembered something.  In a few quick strides she was sitting in front of me again.  How do they move so fast?  "I just realized I don't even know your name," Liz said, looking expectantly at me, "You know mine's Liz, right?  I'm sure you've overheard it a dozen times by now, but I don't know yours."  

Wow.  Everyone, and I mean everyone knew humans loved to give their pets about a hundred cute little names.  It’s not just borrower pets, either.  All human pets seem to have a few various different names the humans like to call them by.  Never in a million years would I have thought a human would be asking for my real name.  "It's Wren," I said in shock, "My name's Wren."  "Like the bird?" Liz asked.  I shrugged, "I guess so."  She smiled warmly, "Well, it's nice to officially meet you, Wren."

All I could do was stand there, staring.  Liz had such a genuine smile — maybe she does actually care about me.  I can’t get my hopes up, though.  I know better than to trust human beings, but who knows, there's a chance I'm just insanely lucky enough to end up with one of the better ones.  I was stirred from my thoughts as Liz got up again.  "I'm going to go get some things to make your climbing stuff, alright?"  I nodded, and she was gone.  It wasn't long before Liz returned, though.  She was carrying a bin of various household supplies in her arms, and set it down on her desk.  

Briefly, she rummaged through the items she'd brought, then sat down and began to work.  To be honest, I wanted to be on that desk so I could craft some useful escape items, and I stewed in annoyance because I'd have to be carried to get there.  That would change soon enough, though; I'd make sure of it.  Liz worked mostly in silence before she was called away for lunch and I was left alone for the third time that day.  It'll be so easy for me to escape this place.  Almost too easy.

When Liz returned this time, she brought me a small portion of her lunch.  A piece of pasta was placed on the table in my cage, covered in some kind of sauce.  "Why are you giving me that?" I asked before Liz could return to her work, "Food wasn't part of the deal."  She turned and gave me a curious look, "Would you rather eat the pellets instead?"  "Oh, no no," I backpedaled, "I'm not complaining, I'm just.. confused."  Liz gave me an amused look, "Can't I do something nice for you?"  I was about to launch into a huge explanation on why her behavior was so perplexing to me, but I held my tongue and nodded in agreement.  Sitting down at my plastic table, I ate another extravagant meal.  At this rate, Liz was going to spoil me, but this is one thing humans tend to do to their pets that I don't mind.

After finishing my meal, I cautiously returned to my seat at the edge of the dresser.  My movement must've caught Liz's eye; she turned and regarded me for a moment.  "How do you do that?" she asked me.  "Do what?"  "Sit up there like that.  I know you said it was normal for you, but I think I'd be terrified if it were me up there instead."  For a while, I sat deep in thought.  "Well, I wasn't always this at ease with heights, I guess.  When I was still being trained on how to.. you know, steal human things, I was pretty scared."  

Liz put down whatever she'd been messing with and fully turned her attention to me.  She clearly wanted to hear more, but I was slightly hesitant to explain anything related to my kind.  Then again, she already knew we were basically human.  I took a breath to steady myself and relayed my story.

"I was about 10 at the time," I began, "average age to begin training.  I'd never seen the human side of the house we lived in.  My parents made sure to keep me safe inside the walls.  Both my father and older brother showed me the way through the passages out to one of the exits.  They started me off with one of the easiest and most important borrowing spaces: the kitchen."  Liz had slowly ventured closer to my side of the room, eyes wide in fascination.  

"Why is that the easiest?"  I couldn't help but smile; I'd asked my father the same question earlier that very day. "The electrical socket is usually right there on the counter, so you don't have to scale anything to get up to the supplies and-"  I stopped short.  Should I have said that?  Wasn't it also a secret of my kind that the entrances to our wall systems were often electrical outlets?  

"Why did you stop?" Liz asked me.  "I.. I don't know if I should be telling you all this," I answered honestly.  "About your life or the entrances?"  I shrugged.  "We already knew the electrical socket thing, in case you were wondering," Liz continued, "It's where the exterminators set the traps."  "Of course it is," I grumbled, glaring angrily at nothing in particular.  "So, can you continue?" Liz asked hesitantly, "You know I wouldn't tell anyone if you reveal something to me."  I thought for a moment, then nodded.  

"I'd just made it out onto the counter.  It was really dark because we scavenge at night, and it took a moment for my eyes to adjust. When they did, I was so stunned my brother swore to me I stood frozen for a good five minutes before coming to my senses.  Everything was so much bigger than I'd expected.  Like I said earlier, I'd never seen a human's living space before, and I'd certainly never seen a human before, either.  Everyone said they were big, I just.. never really understood how massive they really were until that night."  

I glanced over at Liz, who shuffled uncomfortably in her seat.  "Of course, I'm not scared of humans anymore," I bluffed, "Your kind are just an annoying nuisance nowadays.  I was 10 though, so yeah, I was kind of freaking out."  "You aren't scared of us?" Liz asked in astonishment, "Wow, I'd be terrified.  Aren't we like 50 times your size and 1,000 times your weight?  I mean, I've seen some people do horrible things-"  "Alright!  Alright!  Fine, yes!"  I cut her off and stood up abruptly, "Obviously your kind are horrifying.  I get it, you can do whatever you want to us and we can do nothing.  You don't have to rub it in."  There was an uncalled-for touch of malice in my voice; I didn't mean for it to have been there, but I couldn't take it back now.

Liz sat speechless for a while, staring at me as I glowered from my place on the dresser.  "I..  I didn't mean to-"  "Yeah yeah, I get it.  Whatever."  I stormed over to the door on the side of my cage and slammed it in her face.  It wasn't as grand an exit as I'd hoped.  She could still see me marching off inside my glass prison.  I put my crafting skills to good use and pulled the blanket off my bed, tying it up like a curtain between my bed stand and the bookshelf next to it.  This created a small, and almost private room where I sat and fumed for the rest of the day.  Tears burned in my throat and swelled in the corners of my eyes, but I refused to be scared.  The only thing I should feel towards this human is anger — resentment.  Whatever sort of sideways friendship I'd just tried to form blew up in my face.  Clearly my kind had been right all along.  Humans are cruel and unjust.  Liz is just better at hiding it.

We didn't speak a word to each other the rest of the day.  The only interactions we had were when Liz dropped off my dinner, but I refused to touch it just to make a show of how angry I was with her and her kind.  My mouth watered at the scent of whatever was left out for me.  Once, I've gone almost a week without eating anything, so I know I can easily survive skipping a meal.  In fact, three meals a day are fairly uncommon for my kind.  However, those old meals consisted of cold leftovers that didn't smell nearly as good as what was sitting right in front of me.  In the end, my mind won over my stomach and I went to bed without dinner.  

Liz returned to my cage right before she went to bed.  I was turned away from her, so I couldn't tell what she was doing, but I clearly heard her sigh at the sight of my untouched meal.  It was almost gratifying to hear her so concerned, because that's just what I was hoping for when I decided to starve a bit.  My satisfaction quickly fled my system when I heard the metal-on-metal squeak of the door to my cage being locked.  I flung myself upright in a panic.  "Why are you locking me in!?" I asked hurriedly.  I was almost certain I knew the answer; Liz was finally going to punish me.  She'd already removed my dinner from the table.  Is she planning to starve me?  

Liz flinched at my sudden outburst; I could feel it vibrate through the desk beneath me.  "Oh, I thought you were asleep."  "Why are you locking me in?" I asked again, my voice a bit steadier.  She stilled for a moment, looking me over with confliction.  Surely I could still convince her not to punish me.  If she was this hesitant, maybe I could persuade her not to trap me again.  I was about to begin an argument for myself, but Liz spoke up first.  

"I know I said I'd treat you like a person, but…" she took a breath and I steeled myself for whatever she would say next.  "I-  I don't really trust you enough to leave this open all night.  From what I know about you so far, I'd guess you would try to climb down this dresser and escape, regardless of whether you have your equipment to do it.  Meaning I'd probably wake up tomorrow morning to find a Wren-sized bloodstain on my carpet wherever you fell off in the middle of the night."  Liz said it all so matter-of-factly that it scared me a little bit.  Firstly, she'd very casually described a horrible way for me to die; secondly, that is what I had been planning to do.  Not the falling to my death part, obviously, but I was definitely going to try escaping tonight.  

Some of my inner turmoil must've spilled onto my face because Liz secured the latch with duct tape before responding.  "I know you want out, but I can't let that happen.  I'm not trying to be some evil captor, though," she added, seeing me reel back slightly at her first remark.  "If you do manage to get away…   I mean, good for you I guess, but it won't be long before you're taken by another exterminator and end up right back at the pet store where you started."  I really wanted to strangle her right then, but I pent up my anger and abruptly turned back towards my bed.  

“I don’t want you ending up hurt or dead or worse because you’re angry with me.  If…”  Liz was silent for a long time, and I tried not to look back at her as she sat in the dark.  “If I knew you were just a small person, I never would’ve put you in that cage.  I would’ve talked to you, I would’ve been.. better somehow.  I- I would’ve made sure you felt safe.  You don’t deserve what’s happening to you.  None of you do.”

"No.  We don’t."  It was all that I managed to say before sliding under the covers and throwing them back over my head.  

Liz is lying.  She wouldn’t have treated me any differently, and she might know it, too.  Humans get into this weird protective, emotional kinda mood sometimes — like I know why.  Either way, I'm fairly sure she only said that so she could keep me here.  Yeah, she's only trying to scare me.  I can survive just fine on my own.  I've been caught once, but that was only because I hesitated.  I didn't run when I needed to because my family had already been taken.  This time it'll be different.  There won't be anyone to slow me down; I'm on my own now.  The gravity of my last thought settled heavily in my mind as I slid into half-asleep memories of my family and the life I used to know.

No, what the hell!?  I'm back in the petstore.  How?  Did Liz give me back?  I was standing in my old cage, staring at the view of cat food in front of me.  Ironic that they put my kind next to this particular section.  Sometimes cat food is exactly what we end up as.  Cats are the most lethal thing you could get caught by in a human house, next to mouse traps, of course.  It was rumored that the person who discovered our kind had done so because they found someone dead inside one.  I turned a tight circle in my cage, surveying everything.  Was it always this cramped?  Suddenly, the mesh behind me cracked open and a large human hand pushed its way into my cage.  

I screamed, but no sound reached my ears.  I scrambled for my sad little cot, the one thing I could possibly hide under.  Too little too late.  The hand encompassed me from all sides, crushing the air from my lungs as the human yanked me backwards out of my cage.  I recognized this human, but at the same time, I didn't.  This was the human who liked to torture me while he was sopposed to be cleaning our cages.  My brain recognized him, yet he looked terrifyingly different.  He had the black, soulless eyes of the rats I feared as a child, and a mouth full of sharpened teeth.  I desperately struggled to get away, but he only pulled me closer to his face.  His awful maw glimmered in a nasty smug smile.

"Nice to see you too, little mouse," he whispered in his raspy voice that made my skin crawl.  "It's been a while.  Wanna have some fun?"  This can't be happening.  Not again.  Please, not again.  He pressed me into the table with such force that I gasped for breath.  The human loomed over me, taunting my pathetic struggling with a cruel-sounding laugh.  His fingers snaked their way up my body and I let out another soundless scream.  I could feel his hot breath against my face as he leaned down closely above me.  A finger slid beneath my shirt and my blood ran cold.  "Stop, please!" I begged, sobbing.  The human licked his lips eagerly, as if my pleas only fueled whatever else he had planned for me.

My shirt was torn over my head, leaving me helplessly exposed on the table.  The assholes at the pet store don't give us undergarments.  We're just animals to them.  The only reason we have clothes at all is because we look so similar to humans, and we had to look decent.  I whimpered as he slowly slid a finger down my torso.  It inched aganizonly closer and closer to the hem of my shorts.  He was taking his sweet time, having his fun as I suffered.  With a satisfied exhale, he stuffed his finger into my pants, rubbing the pad of it between my legs.  I whimpered, trying desperately to move away from his touch.  Suddenly, something poked me in the side.  The table vibrated beneath me and my vision swam.  Just as his finger pressed into my crotch, darkness pooled into my vision.

Light was suddenly thrown into my face and I cried out in confused fear.  What's happening now?  "Please, don't!  Don’t touch me!" I begged desperately.  The light swung away from me and I could see the familiar trinkets that decorated my glass cage.  My shirt was still on.  Nothing was rubbing against me besides my blanket.  I was back in Liz's room.  It was a dream.  Well, more like a memory.  

Immediately, I started bawling — both from stress and out of relief that none of it was really happening.  Liz stood beside me.  No doubt it was her that had poked me in the side, waking me up.  That, I was grateful for.  "You're ok," Liz whispered as I continued sobbing, "It was a dream, you're alright."  I hugged myself tight and slowly lifted my head, giving her a longing glance.

I don't know what it was I wanted right then.  A hug, maybe?  My family?  My own kind?  All of which were impossible.  I sat with my knees pressed into my chest, rocking back and forth on the mattress beneath me.  Liz dropped a hand down carefully beside my bed and offered me a bottlecap of water.  I accepted it with shaking hands and took a sip, placing the cap on the floor beside my bed.  Her fingers drifted behind me, slowly rubbing small circles into my back.  It wasn't a dehumanizing petting, but rather a kind gesture.  She was trying to calm me down as best she could without scaring me with her human-ness.  

Liz still cares about me.  Even though we fought and I've yelled at her countless times, Liz still cares about me.  She had so many opportunities to hurt me, and would’ve had zero repercussions for doing so.  She’d locked me in, but she was only trying to protect me.  Why?  Because she's a good person, I realized.  I doubt she was even trying to trick me this whole time.  She just genuinely wants to be a good friend.  

The realization kinda just broke me — right then and there.  I whirled around and grasped her finger in a fierce hug.  I don't care what the rules say about assuming the worst of humans.  This human deserves better than that.  From the moment she found out my secret, she tried to give me my freedom back in the safest way she could think of.  Of course, her plans were all flawed, but she was human.  I couldn’t expect too much from her.  I didn’t expect this much from her.

Liz sucked in a surprised breath of air at my touch, and her arm went completely still.  Seconds later, she seemed to break as well.  Her hand curled beneath me, lifting me up and out of the cage.  Honestly, I wasn't even scared.  At this point, I’ve figured she's not going to hurt me.  Liz cupped her hands together, letting me curl up between them.  I could feel her pulse through her fingertip as I continued to hug it tight.  I concentrated on it.  It beat soft and rhythmic against my erratically racing heart.  In the moments afterward, everything drifted away.  My pulse slowed to match her own as I took a couple shaky breaths.  The only thing left of the world was our synchronized heartbeat.

Sleep came for me, but it wasn't long before memories bubbled up again and I was dragged awake in fright.  When I came to, I realized neither my bed nor Liz's hands were beneath me.  I sat up in a panic at the unfamiliar place around me.  "It's alright," Liz's voice reassured me from behind, "You're safe."  She sounded really close, and when I turned to see her, I understood why.  Liz was laying down on her bed with me laying on the pillow beside her.  My face flushed when I recognized where I'd been sleeping.  "You fell asleep in my hands," she explained, "I didn't have the heart to put you back in that cage."  I smiled slightly, recognizing that she made an effort to refer to my fake prison as that cage rather than your cage.  

"Thank you," I whispered in gratitude, "I-  You don't mind if I stay here tonight, do you?"  Liz shook her head, "As long as you're comfortable."  Shockingly, I was comfortable.  More so than I have been in a while, actually.  I'm sure 'sleeping with a human' broke about 20 different rules, but I'd already broken the most fundamental ones; now it doesn't matter how many I break.  

“Even when you fell asleep you were restless.  The only time you weren’t groaning or moving was while I was holding you,” Liz explained quietly.  “Would you.. rather be closer again?”  I sat up, scrutinizing her expression beside me.  At first I thought she was pitying me, but by the light of a single street lamp outside the window, I could tell it was actually worry that clouded her expression.  I nodded very slightly.  I don’t want to have any more twisted memories tonight.

Gentle fingers slid around my sides.  It was like nothing I’d ever felt before.  All the experiences I’ve had with this have been horrible and frightening — human strength threatening to snap me into pieces.  But Liz’s touch was different; it was so much lighter.  I drifted through the air before being eased down onto her chest.  A few seconds passed before I even took a breath.  

“Th- Thank you,” I whispered in awe.  Eventually, I managed to get control of myself, and I sleepily settled back down, curled up on my side.  With my ear pressed to her chest like this, I can hear each even breath rush into her lungs somewhere below me.  Again, Liz's heartbeat lulled me to sleep, and this time no nightmares came to haunt me.  I slept in blissful, dreamless sleep the rest of the night.

When I woke the next morning, I sat alone on Liz's empty bed.  I could hear the shower running from the conjoined bathroom, though.  If I listened closely enough, I could hear her singing quietly to herself.  The moment brought me to the day I'd accidentally revealed my secret.  Looking back…  I regret it.  It's not that I don't appreciate Liz's inexplicable kindness towards me; it's because I do — more than she knows.  It makes leaving so much harder than it should have been.  I'm escaping, I told myself, not leaving.  I can't live behind glass.  I need freedom.  This whole illusion will shatter the second Liz stops caring about me.  It's only a matter of time.  Leave.  Before you get hurt trying to have something you can't.  

Last night was… a fluke.  A moment of weakness, for both of us.  Just then, Liz stepped out of the bathroom with a fresh outfit and a mop of wet hair.  She took one look at me sitting on her bed and smiled.  Her genuine pleasure in seeing me here almost deterred me from my escape plans entirely.  “Good morning,” Liz addressed me, kneeling beside the bed so we were more level with each other.  “I’ll have to put you back on the dresser while I go make breakfast.  Is that alright?”  Obviously, I would rather have walked over there myself, but without my climbing gear I wouldn’t make it very far.  I nodded, sighing, “Just don’t drop me.”  Liz offered her upturned hand and I stilled.

I’d barely been conscious last night when she’d picked me up.  I was tired and in desperate need of comfort.  Now, with her hand spread out beside me, longer than I am tall, my instincts started protesting against it.  I took a few cautious steps towards Liz and hesitantly placed a hand over one of her fingers, feeling the heat radiating off her skin.  “Wren.”  Hearing my name, I snapped out of my stupor and glanced past Liz’s outstretched digits to her face.  “Yes?”  “You know I would never hurt you, right?”  When I stayed silent instead of answering, she pulled her hand away, her voice growing more solemn.  “I don’t want you to be afraid of me.  If you’re having nightmares because of me, I’ll leave you alone.  Promise.”

My eyes widened at the offer.  It was tempting to tell Liz to leave; it would make my escape more bearable.  However, I don’t want her to think my night terrors are about something she’s done, when in reality, they have nothing to do with her.  

"I-  Last night, my dream wasn't about you," I confessed, "It was just bad memories about the pet store I lived in, that's all."  Liz gloomily avoided my gaze, "I told you you'd end up there last night before you went to bed..  I'm such an idiot, I'm so sorry.  I wouldn't let that happen to you."  I assumed she wouldn't have actually sent me back, but hearing her say it aloud was tons more reassuring.  "Here," Liz began, standing to shuffle through the box she'd grabbed the day before.  "How about I put up some rope for you like you asked?  That way you can travel around, yourself."

I watched in disbelief as Liz fastened a few pieces of string around the room in various hard-to-get-to places.  She had, albeit unknowingly, given me a clear opportunity to escape.  After setting up several lengths of rope, Liz headed downstairs to get breakfast and I got to climbing.  Scaling the bed was easy.  Its side is made of fabric so I could find a foothold or handhold virtually anywhere.  The lower half was lifted off the ground by a wooden frame, but it wasn't so high that I couldn't just drop the rest of the way to the floor.  

After wandering around the carpeted floors of Liz's room, I came across one of the outlets I'd spotted from my vantage point in the cage.  It's only a few inches — in human measurements — off the floor.  Easily reachable with a small amount of climbing rope and a grapple.  Obviously, I have no grapple on me, so I instead returned to the top of the dresser where the cage is, opting to sit on the ledge to wait for Liz rather than going back inside the awful glass box.  Not that I could, anyway.  The lock was still duct taped shut from last night.

My breakfast and Liz arrived shortly after I'd scaled the dresser.  She placed my meal on the table in my cage and peeled away the tape with a slightly guilty expression.  Liz turned away and looked over the distance I'd traveled with an impressed nod.  "Did my ropes work alright?" she asked once I'd settled down to eat.  I nodded, mouth too full to speak.  The meal was heavenly; Liz had brought a little bit of something made from eggs that I don’t know how to pronounce.  However, whenever I tried to plan a way to craft a grapple, my stomach churned like I'd eaten something rotten or raw.  Originally, I'd have chalked it up to nervousness, but the feeling wasn't quite the same.  After nearly blanching seeing Liz return to my cage, smiling at me warmly, I realized that I wasn't actually nervous.  My sickness stemmed from guilt.

Guilt for leaving?  Never.  I want to leave.  Guilt for leaving Liz alone after all she's done for me?  Leaving her to think she was the reason I’d left?  Maybe.  Ok, yes.  Fine.  It's not like I have to leave right this minute, though.  Besides, I still need a grapple.  Oh, and it would be nice if I could have Liz take me around the house while no one's home.  That way, I could map out the layout of everything beforehand.  It Is always best to be prepared, right?  

As I tried to calm my stomach into eating the rest of my glorious meal, Liz began working at something on her desk.  Because of where the desk is, she was sitting with her back turned; I couldn't tell what she was doing.  Curious, I finished my meal and stepped back out of the cage.  "What are you doing over there?" I asked.  Silence.  At first I thought she was ignoring me, then I noticed Liz's foot was tapping along to an unhearable rhythm.  She was listening to music.

I sighed, realizing I'd have to walk all the way across the room to get Liz's attention.  Expertly, I made my way down the newly fashioned climbing rope by the edge of the dresser.  The trip over wouldn't be all that difficult for me, it's just tiring.  Wandering the room, I again stopped at the outlet that was close to the floor.  It's so perfect, it's like it's beckoning to me.  Just then, the door to Liz's room opened wide.  

"Liz honey, I was wondering if-  AHH!"  I flinched at the scream.  My borrower's sense raced and my mind panicked, convinced I was caught in the act of escape.  "Liz's pet escaped!" her mother called down the hallway, "Ron, come catch it before it gets in the walls!"  I could barely hear Liz's protests against the sound of my own heartbeat in my ears.  I dashed behind a beanbag chair sitting by the outlet, pressing myself to the wall.  Moments later, my hiding spot was dragged away.  A cardboard box hung ominously in the air above me.  

Crying out in terror, I threw myself into a ball on the floor, instinct reacting how I'd been taught.  "No!  Wait!  Stop!  I let her out, it was fine!  I was watching her!"  Liz's voice was joined by a few others, both of which sounded harsh and angry.  I didn't dare move a muscle.  Footsteps thundered around me, their vibrations shaking everything.  Briefly, the image of a human's foot coming down on top of me flashed through my mind.  I whimpered at the horrible notion that my life could very easily end right here.  

Something tapped the floor scarily close to my head, and I scrambled away in shock.  It was Liz, trying to get my attention.  Both her parents were still scolding her, but she had her back turned to them and offered me her hand.  I gratefully scrambled on, clinging to her fingers.  Though it was by no means safe, Liz's hands were a hell of a lot safer than the floor where I could be stepped on or boxed up.  "You can't have that thing running around the house like that!" her mother warned, "You have to watch it carefully."  "Mmhm," her father added, "They can hide in a matter of seconds, Lizzie.  You can't let it out of your sight.  Your mother will have a fit if it gets into the walls."  

Liz's chastised expression drifted between her parents and me.  The longer they spoke, the more furious I became.  I wanted so badly to join in on the argument.  I'd give Liz's parents a piece of my mind.  The audacity they had to call me an 'it', to speak about me as if I were a dumb little animal.  However, I realized that was the entire point of keeping my mouth shut.  The borrower secret was still alive, at least slightly.  For all they know, I am a dumb little animal.  Humans don't know we're sentient, and we don't want them to know.  So, I kept my mouth shut tight, teeth grinding in loathing as I sat in Liz's hand.  

Eventually, after Liz repeatedly promised to look after me better, her parents left.  She locked the door behind them and brought me to her desk, setting me on its surface.  "I'm… really sorry," Liz apologized quietly, "Are you alright?"  Her fingers hovered around me, unsure whether she should search me for any injuries.  I nodded, "I'm alright.  I'm just a bit shaken."  "I- I didn't even realize you were on the floor.  What were you doing out there?"  I tried hard not to give myself away, but I couldn't help glancing at the electrical socket I'd been looking at before I'd been spotted.

As if in slow motion, Liz turned and followed my gaze.  She stared at the place I'd been standing for a long moment.  "I- I was trying to get to you!" I said quickly.  Liz turned back to me with a crestfallen expression.  "I wanted to see what you were working on over here," I explained in a hurry, "You were listening to music.  You didn't hear me call out to you.  I thought, with my new climbing ropes, that I could just come to you myself, but then your mom came in and saw me."  Liz only stared at me numbly.  "Wh- What?" I stammered.  Her gaze drifted to the electrical socket again.  "You want to leave."  Liz's statement revertibrated hollowly through my core.  "No!  No, I-"  "I've seen you staring at that outlet before.  I know you use those to get around houses.  I can put two and two together, Wren."  She turned back to me, and I expected her to scold me for trying to run away, though I wasn't, at least not right then.  However, Liz just looked gut-wrenchingly sad.  

"I understand if you want to run away.  Humans have treated you so horribly, I'm surprised you haven't tried to get out of here sooner.  But…" she took a shuddering breath.  Here it comes, I thought bitterly, 'but you can't leave because you're a little pet and I don't want you to.'  "But you can't stay here."  I was so confused, I didn't even understand what she'd said.  "What?" I asked faintly.  "You can't stay here," Liz repeated, "It isn't safe.  There are traps in the walls; I watched them get set up.  And if my mother found you.. it wouldn't be good.  There are better houses than this one, trust me."  

Liz is just… letting me go?  "You- You don't want me to stay?" I asked.  I immediately regretted it when Liz's eyes moistened with tears.  "Of course I want you to stay!" she cried, "You mean so much to me, and the thought of you getting caught or sold again makes me feel sick.  But I don't want you to feel trapped here!"  "I don't!" I yelled over her increasingly upset voice.  "I don't feel trapped here; I feel the opposite of trapped!  I have too much freedom here!  So much freedom that I feel like I should run away just because I know I can, but I don't want to!  Every time I think of escape, I feel guilty.  I don't want to leave, but my instincts keep telling me I should run while I still can."

Now my own eyes fuzzed over with hot tears.  "I don't want to live in another house where I'll have to hide and be alone.  I want to live here, with you.  You don't treat me like I'm worthless or below you, like the other humans.  Ever since you found out my secret, you've tried to treat me like another human, but you can’t because that would put me in danger.  You.. You treat me like a friend, and I don't want to lose that," I explained weakly.  

Liz's eyes widened, tears drying up before they could come leaking out.  "Then stay."  She spoke so softly that I almost couldn't hear her.  Oh how badly I wanted to.  How badly I wanted to live the rest of my life with the one human in the world who cares.  But I can't live in a cage.  I won't be confined to a box just because Liz's stupid mother thinks I'll go crazy in the walls, or whatever the hell she's so afraid I'll do.  "I want to," I said ruefully, "but I want freedom more."  

Liz sat silently for the longest time.  Eventually, she was called out of her room for something, and she stood.  "I'm taking you back to the dresser," she said monotonously, "You'll be safe from my parents there."  "What about my freedom?" I asked nervously.  "I need some time to come up with a plan," Liz said, "but if I don't figure it out by tomorrow, I'll take you to a house where you'll be safer."  My stomach dropped.  Liz held out her hand and I numbly sat down, waiting for her to bring me across the room.  Once I was deposited by the glass walls, Liz stepped out of the room and disappeared.  

I trudged over to my bed and sat on the end, staring at nothing.  After a few moments, the tears building up behind my eyes came flooding out.  I bawled into my pillows, heaving sobs echoing around the stupid glass box.  It just wasn't fair.  All I wanted was freedom and to be treated with an ounce of respect.  Was the world really that cruel as to deny me those?  Yes.  I already know the answer.  I just hoped that by some miracle I could be given a different one.

My head was buried so deep beneath my pillows that the daylight stung when it slid through.  It had been hours since Liz left, and my stomach had been tying itself in knots for what felt like forever, until the bedroom door burst open so violently it ricocheted off the wall behind it with a thunderous, wobbly noise.  I bolted upright, heart flinging into my throat.  "I know what I have to do!" Liz's ecstatic voice bounced off the glass walls a bit too loudly.  Noticing my reaction, Liz opened the side door and motioned for me to step out of my awful prison.  "Wren, I've got it!" she exclaimed, "I know how to get you freedom right here in the house."  

It sounded too good to be true.  Impossible, even.  "How?  I thought you said there were traps in the walls."  "That's just it," Liz began, "You won't live in the walls!"  She brought her hand up to me again, but I hesitated.  "Where will I live?" I asked uncertainly.  "Come on, I'll show you."

Liz waited patiently as I slowly stepped up onto her palm.  The sudden switch between getting around myself and letting Liz move me was a bit sudden.  I could have walked over if I wanted to, but I was curious about the plan Liz concocted.  She is a good human; I trust she won't hurt me.  After situating myself on Liz's palm, I watched the world shift around me.  I was taken to the bookshelf on the other side of Liz's bed.  "Look," she began, pulling back a stack of books with her free hand.  "There's all this space behind here, and a hole at the back for electrical cords."  She placed me on the shelf and I took a few hesitant steps forward.  The bookshelf was much deeper than any of the books, so they sat like a wall, blocking out a hidden empty space between the back of the bookcase and the books themselves.  The hole that Liz told me about was a cut-out semicircle in the middle of the back wall, level with the shelf.  With a full case of books, the place Liz picked for me wasn't all that bad.  The walls would be better, of course.  That's the best place to stay away from humans.  However, I don't want to stay away from Liz, I just need somewhere normal to live — not a glass box.

"It's.. almost perfect," I replied after looking things over.  "I have all sorts of things to decorate it too!" Liz said excitedly.  For a brief moment, I thought she was talking about the dollhouse-looking objects from the cage, but she pulled out a small plastic container from a drawer.  "I used to decorate my desk with these little strings of lights, but I think they'll make for some nice lighting in your new home, don't you think?" Liz asked, holding up the container.  I nodded, relieved.  "Yes, those are perfect, thank you."  I searched the shelf a bit more thoroughly, planning how I wanted everything to look, and what I might need to borrow.  

"So, what's the plan?  What do I have to do to ditch that awful thing?" I asked, gesturing at the glass box.  "Don't worry about that.  The plan mostly involves me pretending to screw up and lose you in the walls somewhere.  My mom might even call the exterminators."  I went ridgid at the mention of those people.  "They won't find you," Liz reassured me, "You won't actually have run away, so even if they do come, they won't find anything.  You’ll be right with me the whole time, and they wouldn’t think to check with me."  Taking a few deep breaths to calm myself, I thought through Liz's idea.

"Ok,” I began, talking through the plan, “so you pretend to lose me, and I hide with you.  Your parents freak out, but they won't find me and think I ran away into another house.  Then, when the coast is clear and everything dies down, I… I get to live freely again."  My voice tapered off in excited awe.  If this plan really does work, I can get my life back.  The realization sunk in and I beamed up at Liz.  She held out her hand for me to climb on, but I grabbed it instead, hugging her fingers fiercely.  

"Thank you," I said, tears choking my voice.  "Hey, don't celebrate too soon," Liz reminded me, "We haven't actually pulled this off yet."  "I know," I answered, "I'm not thanking you for my grand escape.  I'm thanking you for caring about me enough to figure this all out.  I don't know how in the world I got this lucky, getting chosen by a human who cares.  I thought they were a myth."  Liz chuckled, "Well in that case, you're very welcome."

Liz glanced over at the glass container on her dresser.  “I don’t want to ‘lose’ you right away,” she added, “It’ll look too suspicious that you disappeared right after I got in trouble for letting you out.”  “Oh,” I said disappointedly.  I understood her logic, though.  Liz wanted this to seem as realistic as possible, because things would go horribly for me if her parents suspected I was still in the house.  “I’m thinking Friday, five days from today.  What do you think?” Liz asked.  “As long as I’m out of there by the end of the month, I could care less,” I responded.  

The days passed by agonizingly slowly.  I hate sitting around idly knowing how much work I have ahead of me.  As a borrower, I’m used to constantly working on something.  Even in my cage at the pet store, I busied myself with analyzing the humans that passed by.  Here in the glass cage in Liz’s empty room, I had nothing to do but bide my time until Liz came back from a place called high school.  I’m not used to having this much free time.  I wanted to explore the room, maybe look for more hidden places I could build into living spaces, but after the scare of Liz’s mom walking in on me outside the cage, I decided it was safer to stay put.  I didn’t dare imagine what might’ve happened if Liz hadn’t been there to protect me.  I’d been terrifyingly close to getting captured in another box.  

As the week stretched on endlessly, Liz and I crafted some things for my new home.  Every day, after she returned from school, Liz took the time to open the cage door.  I’d traverse the room and stash a few things for later, which Liz happily hid for me in her desk drawer.  

Once she came back with a completely different attitude, though.  She hadn’t even acknowledged me; she just sat on the edge of her bed looking at nothing.  “Liz?” I said questioningly.  I watched her flinch slightly.  When she turned to me, she looked so disheartened I thought something had happened to our plans.  “I…  I was just in my sister’s room.  She was h- having trouble with the other borrower.  I forgot about her pet being.. one of you.  I didn’t remember because she always calls them an ‘it’.”  I could feel the color drain from my face.  “What..  What happened?”  Slowly, her eyes drifted to me, then quickly darted away.

“Aubrey set up some fake scene, and wanted her.. her pet to be in a little car for a few pictures.  The borrower.. she didn’t fit.  That car was just the wrong scale, but my sister didn’t care.  She stuffed her in there — the borrower.  She couldn’t even tell her to stop because, you know, your kind isn’t supposed to speak to us.  Her-”  Liz took a shaking breath before continuing.  “Her arm dislocated.  The metal pieces of the car sliced her up.  She.. Wren, she looked awful.”  Now Liz had turned back to me, tears in her eyes.  “And the worst part?  Aubrey couldn’t even get her out.  She didn’t tell my parents because she thought they would punish her or take away her stupid little pet.  The borrower — poor thing — she was stuck in that car for a day and a half before my sister came to me, begging me not to tell anyone.”

My whole body ricocheted with shudders.  I couldn’t imagine going through that, much less without speaking to my torturer — begging them to help or stop or something.  “Wh- What did you do?” I asked quietly.  “I told my sister to get an exacto knife.  The car’s outer part is plastic.  I would cut her out of there if I had to, to make sure she got out with the least amount of injuries.  The borrower, god, she was so scared.  I could see it in her face.  The moment I sent my sister for the knife she snapped out of the whole playing dumb act.  She didn’t speak to me, but she looked right at me like I was going to kill her.”  Liz’s breath hitched on a sob.  

“I- I got her out, but she shrieked the whole time.  She.. she really thought I was going to hurt her.  Aubrey grabbed her the moment she was free.  It was scary; she only made the borrower’s cuts start bleeding again.  I swear she said something — probably tried begging my sister to put her down — but I spoke over her so she wouldn’t ruin the secret.  I convinced Aubrey to let me patch her up.  I got her cuts to stop bleeding, but she gave me that pathetic stare again the whole time.  When I tried to put her arm back into place she spoke to me.  It was barely intelligible over her sobbing, so I pretended not to notice for the sake of the secret.”  I was outside the cage now, standing at the very edge of the dresser.  “What did she say?”  “J- Just begging,” Liz replied in a thin whisper.  “She just kept begging me to make the pain stop.  I popped her shoulder into place and she passed out.  I thought.. I- I thought she’d died.”

“She didn’t though, right?” I asked nervously.  Liz shook her head, “No, she survived.  But who knows how long that’ll last.”  After that, she became too choked up to say anything more.  As fast I could manage, I made my way down the dresser and across the room to her.  Seeing me standing in front of her, Liz sank to the floor and gently scooped me up, hugging me to her chest.  “If I ever made you feel that scared of me, I’m…  I’m so sorry.  Please believe that I would never do that kind of thing to you.”  I pressed myself closer against her.  “It’s ok, Liz.  It- It’ll be fine.  I haven’t been afraid of you like that for a while now.”  I know it won’t be fine — at least not for the poor soul in the other room.  However, we couldn’t help them.  We were already risking so much with our plan.  If we tried to break out the other borrower, it would be nearly impossible not to get caught.  Then neither of us would be free.

The night before the big plan day, I sat on the edge of Liz’s desk, having scaled its side with the rope that she’d attached to it.  I worried over the plan, fidgeting with the hem of my clothes.  

“Hey,” Liz said, shaking me from thought.  She’d been working on something called ‘homework’ that she didn’t really want to do, but apparently had to.  “I have something for you.”  I turned around, surprised.  “Call it a housewarming gift,” she continued, “Earlier you said that you wanted a grapple like the one you had before all this.”  I nodded; I had in fact admitted that to her.  Though I don’t need it to run away anymore, it would still be nice to have, especially for scaling the bookshelf.  Liz fished out a few items and laid them out in front of me.  A length of string, but most importantly, a shining metal paperclip.  

“I knew I couldn’t make a grapple myself, but..”  “It’s perfect,” I assured her, “I can make a great grapple from these materials here.  Thank you.”  My nervous jitters faded away as I worked at the string, twining it perfectly so I could keep a solid grip on it as I climbed.  Before I knew it, Liz had to take me back to the cage.  “Say your goodbyes, Liz joked, “Tonight will be your last night sleeping here.”  I smiled giddily.  “Do you think I can keep this bed, or maybe this table and chairs?  They aren’t half bad.”  “You can have whatever you want,” Liz replied.  “Just get some rest, it’ll be a long day tomorrow.”  

Despite immediately heading to bed, I couldn't sleep.  My anxiety had returned, not from being inactive, but by the fact that if Liz and I were caught tricking her parents, I would most likely be sent back to the pet store.  Most of us who get sent back don't live to see our cells again.  If a borrower gets sent back and all the cages are full — and they almost always are with all the shipments of newfound borrowers — the pet store doesn't wait for a vacancy; you get put down right there and then.  It saves space and effort, apparently.  

No matter which way I turned, I couldn't find a comfortable spot.  It didn't help that dark thoughts had begun to crowd my mind.  Finally, I sat up exhausted.  "Liz?"  The bedsheets ruffled, and I could see her outline sit up in the dark.  "Yes?" she replied.  "I- I'm scared," I confessed, "What if we get caught?  What if your parents send me back?"  The room was silent for a moment, then the floorboards creaked.  Liz stepped over to the glass wall beside me.  I stepped out of bed and gazed up at her, bent over to look at me.  

We watched eachother silently through the glass, until she reached over and opened the door on the side of the cage.  Liz sat on the edge of her bed while I came to stand at the front of the dresser.  "I would never let that happen to you," she stated firmly, "Even if my parents do catch us, I'd come up with a plan… I'd think of something.  Surely I could convince them to let me keep you.  Though you'd be stuck in there, it would be better than being sent back, wouldn't it?"  "Yeah," I whispered weakly.

I sucked in a surprised gasp of air as Liz's hands reached towards me.  Her fingers delicately folded around my sides, gently lifting me off the dresser.  She held me close as she slid back into her own bed, placing me on the pillow beside her.  "It's alright to be scared," Liz whispered as she settled in, "I'm scared too.  But I promise you, the worst that can happen is you have to stay in the glass cage, that's all.  I'd still let you out whenever you like, and I would still treat you like a person.  No matter what happens tomorrow, you'll be safe, I'll make sure of it."  

My head spun as I tried to convince myself that things would be fine.  “Can you..  I- I mean…”  Giving up on speech, I slid off the pillow and gently placed a hand on Liz’s side.  I could feel her pulse quicken as I hauled myself onto her chest.  “You don’t mind this, do you?”  Liz shook her head with a soft smile, gently resting a cupped hand around me.  I sighed in relief, snuggling into the softness of the surface beneath me.  Her low breathing was already lulling me to sleep.  I mumbled a soft thanks to Liz before passing out.

In the morning, I was jostled awake by Liz's movements on the bed.  Still half asleep, I let her carry me back to the glass cage.  She opened the top hatch and set me carefully onto my own bed.  Later, she dropped off a portion of her own breakfast for me and headed to school.  Liz had made pancakes, just for me.  I smiled at the kind gesture.  A few months ago, I wouldn't have believed that humans were capable of sympathizing with my kind.  Now here I was eating her same meals and sleeping right with her, and I did so of my own free will.  I'm not a pet and I never really was, at least not for very long.  Hopefully, I won't even have to live in this awful glass box anymore.

It was nerve-wracking waiting for Liz to come back home.  A part of me was glad she was gone, because it meant the plan couldn't be enacted, but another part of me was desperate for her to arrive, because I just might get my freedom back today.  When I finally heard the sound of the front door opening, announcing the return of the humans from school, I could feel nervous momentum building in my stomach.  I was simultaneously thrilled and terrified.  Liz came into the room and I rushed to the side door.  She slid it open and let me out.  "Are you ready?" she asked as I stepped over the threshold for, hopefully, the last time.  I nodded silently, too afraid that if I spoke, I might back out.

"Alright, I'm going to slip you into my pocket now.  Get situated, but try not to move once my parents come in; it might be visible from outside."  Hesitantly, I stepped onto Liz's fingers and slid down into the pocket of her shorts.  The material was scratchy, and it was a bit claustrophobic, but I reminded myself that my freedom was just around the corner, if I could only hold still for a while.  Once I got situated, I couldn't tell what was going on outside, but I felt Liz wandering around, moving things.  Eventually, her weight shifted and she got on the floor.  "Mom!  Dad!  Come quick!  My borrower escaped again and-"  She cut herself off and hit the floor, creating a dull thud, pretending to grab for me.  I instinctively flinched at the sound.  Liz briefly put a hand over the pocket's side, reassuring me that everything was alright.

Moments later, I could hear the muffled sound of footsteps pounding up the stairs.  Between the harshly loud voices of panicked humans, and the jostling movements Liz made, I could tell very little of what was going on.  I held my breath and stayed as still as I could, silently hoping that our plan would succeed.  I didn’t know what Liz was doing, but suddenly the pocket stretched thin, pinning me down and almost suffocating me between two walls of material.  Thrashing in the tight space, I came close to calling out in fear before the tension suddenly released.  I fell to the bottom of the pocket, shaken.  The tight space would thin similarly on occasion, but Liz made sure that the pressure wasn’t as crushing as the first time.

After what seemed like an eternity of waiting, the voices outside died down.  I heard the sound of a door locking, and soon Liz’s fingers slid through the opening above me, carefully working their way around me until she could hoist me up and out of the little space.  I blinked at the brightness of the room, letting my eyes adjust to the light after being stuck in the dark pocket.  “What happened?” I asked once I oriented myself.  Liz sat down at her desk, placing me gently on its surface in front of her.  “I’m grounded,” she stated, “but it worked.  My parents think you ran away.  They’re not even calling the exterminators; it’s too expensive.  My mom’s hoping you get caught in a trap, and my dad thinks you’ve run out of the house.”  “So.. we did it?  I’m free?!”  Liz nodded enthusiastically, grinning from ear to ear.

I squealed happily, overjoyed at the good news.  “Just remember that you have to stay hidden now.  You can’t slip up and get caught anymore,” Liz reminded me.  “Yeah, obviously!  That’s how my old life used to be.”  “Let’s get your new place in order,” Liz suggested, offering her upturned hand.  I eagerly slid in, waiting as Liz dug out the stash of things I’d collected, including the grapple I’d been working on.  A few books were removed in order for us to get behind the rest.  Once she put me and my things down on the shelf, Liz took another piece of climbing rope and attached it to the opening behind the shelves.  She measured out the length of it all the way down to the floor.  I made an internal note to make myself some climbing gloves.  I’ll need them if I’m going to scale this bookshelf every day.  

Liz came to my aid with the lightning.  She used a few pieces of duct tape, a rarity item to my kind, to secure the long string of lights around the perimeter of my new home.  A battery box sat in the corner with a little switch on its side, perfect for manipulating the electrical currents.  My old home in the walls had one haphazardly built switch that dug into the electricity in the humans’ house.  It had burst into flames more than a few times.  I remember fearing it when I was younger.  The voltage that shot through the humans’ wiring was enough to instantly fry a borrower alive.  Come to think of it, living in the bookshelf will be a massive upgrade from my old home, which was filled with similar hazards.  We do the best with what we have, but now that I have so much more, I can live comfortably for the first time in my life.  As I continued to settle in, Liz helped me move things around.  She took the furniture from the cage that I'd asked for, and placed it down wherever I pointed to.  With everything in place, Liz left to have dinner while I added final touches to everything.

With the wall of books replaced, my new home was surprisingly dark.  Only a slim ray of light shone from the space above the tops of the books.  However, once I flipped the light switch, the place shone brightly.  I marveled over how amazing my new home was.  As a borrower who's been abducted, sold, and caught numerous times, I'm doing incredibly well for myself.  It's tough work befriending a human, but the advantages are definitely worth it.  Liz came back from her meal with a small portion for me.  I ate on the ledge of my shelf, which would be like a front porch if my home were a human one, and afterwards I got back to work on my grapple.  

"Are you settling in alright?" Liz asked me.  I nodded happily, "This place is better than anything I could've wished for, even before the humans took over.  You have a really good eye for potential borrowing hideouts."  She smiled slightly, "Thanks, I tried to find a secret, out-of-the-way place that would also be a good spot to live in.  My first thought was to make you a home under my bed, because no one would ever find you there, but that wouldn't be nearly as nice a living space."

We talked for a while, then Liz left again, trying not to be too suspicious to her family.  When she came back, she was ready for bed.  "Are you sure that the dollhouse bed is comfortable for you?" Liz whispered once all the lights were off and the house was asleep.  "It's a lot more comfortable than my old bed," I mused, "but if you find anything you think might be better, let me know.  I'm also going to do some borrowing of my own, so I'll see what I find."  "You don't have to do that, you know."  "What?  Go borrowing?" I asked.  "I know I don't have to, but I want to.  It'll make things seem.. almost normal again."  "Almost normal?" Liz echoed.  

Silence pierced the room as I thought longingly of what I still desperately miss.  "My family," I replied in an almost inaudible whisper.  The sheets ruffled as Liz shifted uncomfortably.  "I know you can't make them come back," I added, "You've done so much for me, more than I could ever ask.  But I still miss them."  "I'm sorry."  "Don't be," I said hastily, "It's not your fault we were discovered."  

The room became so quiet afterwards, that I thought Liz had fallen asleep.  I stood up to head back into my own bed, when she spoke.  "It's so awful," Liz said quietly.  "The audacity in the way my kind treats yours.  It almost makes me wish I wasn't a human, so I wouldn't have to be grouped with all the horrible people who are."  I snickered, despite the gloominess in Liz's voice.  "I'm sorry for laughing," I apologized, "It's just..  I used to wish I was human all the time.  I've always been baffled by the way you can go anywhere in the world you want, while me and my kind are stuck in the walls and floors and attics of houses our whole lives."  “Huh,” Liz huffed, “I guess I didn’t think of that.”  

In the morning, Liz congratulated me again on my new freedom, then trudged unhappily downstairs.  Part of her punishment for ‘losing’ me was a bucketload of chores.  Her parents would keep her busy all weekend long.  I felt slightly guilty; it’s my fault Liz is in so much trouble, but then again, it was her plan for this to happen.  Still, I paused work on my grapple to make something for Liz.  I’d have to borrow some thread to make it, so I scaled the dresser and made my way to her desk.  The sewing box that held all the thread sat packed away beside a stack of books.  I climbed up their spines like a wide ladder, grinning in satisfaction once I made it to the top.  Good to see my skills haven’t deteriorated over the past few months.  I popped open the large clip on the side of the box, carefully pushing back the lid.  The amount of items stashed away in there is astounding.  I could make use of every last little thing.  However, as per borrowing rules, I can only take what I need, not what I want.  Even if the needles sticking out of that pincushion do look very enticing.

Carefully, I bent over the rim of the box, reaching down into its depths to pull out a wheel of thread.  The cover of the book beneath me slid slightly as I bent over.  My fingers could touch the edge of the spool.  Just a little further…  The surface beneath me jolted backwards, unbalanced by my weight.  I feel head over heels into the pile of knickknacks below.  Maybe my borrowing skills had deteriorated a bit after all.  Thankfully I hadn’t fallen on anything sharp.  Glancing up at the top of the box, I charted a rather hazardous path back out.  My balance just isn’t what it used to be, though.  Even as I tried to get out, the items I climbed up collapsed beneath me, leaving me no possible escape.  This wasn’t too worrying.  Liz would help me out when she got back.  However, when the door to the bedroom opened, her mother stepped in instead.

Stifling a gasp, I quickly buried myself beneath some of the items around me, praying that the human hadn’t spotted me.  I couldn’t see what she was doing from my hidden spot, but I could feel her footsteps wandering the room.  They were so close to leaving, but paused just before the desk and the door.  “Oh, that’s where the sewing box went.”  A cold chill wrung down my spine.  I pressed myself further into the box of items.  The whole thing darkened as the lid was snapped back into place.  A slight sickness built in my stomach as my hiding spot was lifted up and carried off.  

After a few minutes of swaying that threatened to make me vomit, the box was placed in a closet.  My world went completely dark as the human closed the closet door behind her.  My thoughts spiraled in panic.  Would Liz still be able to find me in here?  I have limited time now.  The sealed box only trapped so much air inside.  Once it ran out…  I scrambled out of hiding and tried in vain to at least open the box again, but it was clipped shut from the outside.  Please come and get me, I silently begged Liz.  The irony of my situation was humiliating.  I’ve just got my freedom back, now I’m going to die before properly using it.  

I waited with bated breath, trying to conserve what little air I had.  If I ever do get out of here, Liz is never going to let me go borrowing again.  I’m just out of practice, that’s all.  Maybe I should’ve started with something a bit easier to borrow.  For a long while, I sat alone.  The edges of my vision were beginning to fuzz over.  At first I thought I was imagining it, but as I turned my head around and grew dizzy, I realized it was getting harder to breathe as well.  I had to take larger and larger breaths just to satisfy my lungs.  It seemed like hours had passed since I was trapped here, but I couldn't tell.  I couldn't even think straight anymore.  My nerves spiked as light suddenly filtered into the box.  By that time, I could barely move.  I just lay on the bottom of the box, gasping for breath.  Numb from my time in solitude, I could hardly process what happened.  I could faintly hear the click of the latch opening, and the sound of someone gasping in horror.  The touch of fingers the length of my body brushed my skin.  

Again and again I slipped in and out of consciousness, until something heavy pumped methodically into my chest.  Suddenly, my eyes shot open.  I desperately gulped up as much air as I could.  “Wren!” Liz cried, “Oh my gosh, are you alright!?”  I couldn’t even speak; all I could do was lay on my side and try not to fall back into unconsciousness.  "I'm…  I'm ok," I answered between breaths.  "I came to talk to you, but you weren't here!” Liz exclaimed, “The only other thing that was missing was the sewing box, so I assumed that's where you were."  "Thanks," I wheezed, "I don't know how much longer I would've lasted in there."  "You have to be careful, Wren," Liz warned.  Sighing, I moved to sit up.  My head spun slightly, and my vision fuzzed in and out.  I clutched my head and squeezed my eyes tightly shut to try and stop the after-effects of my near suffocation.  Liz handed me a bottle cap filled with water, which I guzzled down immediately.  

"Why didn't you just wait for me?" Liz asked gently, "I could've given you whatever you needed."  I shook my head slightly, knowing she would ask me something like that.  "I want to do things myself," I explained, "Now that I'm free, I want to go back to living normally — taking care of myself rather than waiting on some human to take care of me.  Not that you haven't been doing a good job of it," I added quickly.  Liz's face scrunched in thought for a moment.  "I get it," she said after a while, "You want to have someone around to help out, but not to help with everything, just the bigger things you might not be able to do.  In other words, a friend, not a caretaker."  I smiled, thankful that Liz surprisingly did understand what I meant.  You never know with humans.  Sometimes they just don't get it.  

I preferred not to get back into the box I'd been held captive in, so I enlisted Liz's help to get me some thread.  She gave me more than enough of it, but I could certainly use the extra lengths.  Maybe I could sew some new clothes for myself later, once I find some decent materials that the humans won't miss.

After that incident, I took things a bit slower.  I'd rushed back into my old way of life a bit too quickly.  A week or so passed as I let myself adapt to my new surroundings.  Yes, I've been living in this house for months now, but I've never properly explored it.  I expanded my ventures further and further from Liz's room.  Before I was fully allowed out, Liz tested me on different necessary things that I'd been taught earlier in my life.  With a few training sessions under my belt, I refreshed my memory on everything from finding split-second hiding places, to learning what items the humans of the household would or wouldn't miss.  During my last day of training, I managed to hide so well that Liz couldn't find me, even after searching for half an hour and knowing many of my favorite hiding spots.  

Once she trusted my borrowing skills, Liz started letting me off on different levels of the house to gather supplies.  Normally, I used the spaces between walls to get from place to place, but with the intricate, borrower-specific traps set up inside them, I opted to stick with something a bit safer, and faster too.  Finally, my life was starting to take shape again.  All the endless days at the petstore worrying over how many days I had left suddenly seemed like nothing but a bad dream.  Though, sometimes memories would come back to haunt me in real nightmares.

Just like the first time, Liz was always there to comfort me.  Whenever I woke up in a cold sweat, I'd slip out onto the bookshelf and quietly call for her.  Every time, Liz would carefully pull me into her open palms and place me gently onto her chest.  I know it's corny and babyish, but sleeping closer to Liz seemed to be a cure-all for anything awful that might have happened over the course of the day.  She doesn't just save me from nightmares, sometimes it’s homesickness for my family, and sometimes it’s something simple like a bad supply run. 

Over time, being Liz's roommate and friend became less of a hassle and more of something genuine.  Earlier, it took everything I had, and sometimes a bit more, to keep our relationship on good terms.  Now, even during the rare times we do fight, I never worry that our unlikely friendship might fall apart.  I've never felt this content before.  For the first time in a very long time, I feel like I can spend the rest of my life right here, doing just this.

[trashquisitor-shirozora]

I saw the thing. Both of the thing. The two things. Those things. Star Wars things.

RIP Luke Skywalker's relevance post-OT, we hardly knew ye.

[spoilers and shit below the cut]

I mean... the first two episodes did their job? They certainly felt like a typical Star Wars, whatever your definition of Star Wars is. It just feels like these people at the top have no fucking idea what to do with the galaxy post-Empire and pre-First Order. Like, there is no obviously Big Bad Fascist group of baddies that our plucky underdog rebel heroes have to fight. The enemy is not clear as bright fucking day. What is the enemy? What are we fighting? Is this why we're plundering the depths of the EU and overwriting EU!Thrawn with Disney!Thrawn? Is this why we're turning the New Republic into an uncaring out-of-touch wannabe Galactic Republic/Empire?

There are many, many places where the Volume is painfully obvious and it is incredibly fucking distracting. Personally, Peter Jackson's LOTR trilogy and the POTC trilogy really sold me on the possibilites offered by the marriage of practical FX and CGI. I've never been convinced by the "gimmick" that James Cameron's blue cat people promised, and seeing how increasingly terrible and cheap and fucking greedy the Hollywood studios have become since then has me convinced that we're fucked. I still want to one day get a job in entertainment design but I am increasingly gritting my teeth and side-eyeing the state of things.

There has to be better way to paint non-human skin tones onto actors right. The lack of emoting also really frustrated me. I hope it's just people settling into their roles but I also don't know the sequence in which they shot their scenes. It's just... I felt nothing. I lied. I felt something for Sabine's lothcat. I get Ahsoka at this time being aloof, distant, cold, closed off, but everybody else? I didn't feel it. Maybe from Skoll and Hati, our non-Jedi Norse wolves. Nordic? I don't fucking know.

Someone please explain to me how Sabine is suddenly a Padawan, an ex-Padawan, and now a Padawan again. I never saw Rebels but I know enough canon to know that Padawans are supposed to have some kind of Force sensitivity? Why is Ahsoka deciding who to take in as a Padawan? I thought she left the Jedi Order before she became a Knight? What the fuck is going on? Is she just... making up the rules now since there isn't an Order of people to say, "Hey, maybe don't"? Or is she just picking up where Ezra and Kanan left off? I don't know Rebels and it is midnight; I sure af am not going to decide to read summaries of everyone right now.

Sorry to Luke who either never blipped on Baylan's radar or was just that unimportant to him. Somehow. Sorry to Cal, though I don't even know if he survived to see the Empire's fall.

Among the bipedals who speak Basic, Morgan Elsbeth wins the award for "Most Interesting Character" because Diana knows how to chew up her scenes and has the charisma to keep me interested. I don't recall she was ever revealed to be a Witch in her Mando episode. But now she is? What? Why?

The baseline world development of the Corellian shipyards fucking kills me. I know nothing about Lothal from the show so I can't say shit, but from what I've seen of the city itself, it's so.... clean. CG clean. "We can't let people know we live here" clean. The Volume was screaming into my eyes on Arcana, and I can't believe the fucking planet is called Arcana.

But what is the reason why Sabine put away the parts of herself that are Mandalorian? Is it so that we can see her floundering and struggling and letting her hair grow long while she tells everyone to fuck off? Is it so that we can then see her saw off her long hair a la Mulan (or Kanan, I guess) and become a Mandalorian again? I... I don't have any emotional investment in this. I didn't see Rebels, therefore I don't have any actual emotional investment in this. It's just, cool CG, lightsabers whee, classic Star Wars-ish music to yank at your heartstrings, droids, magic, the Force, Force shit, more lightsabers, pew pew, wheeeeeeeeeeeeeee. And people I only recognize because of the Galaxy of Heroes games, fandom osmosis, and cursory skimming of the Star Wars wiki. If I was a true outsider who knew the bare minimum from previous D+ shows, waht would my investment level be?

Is anyone surprised that Andor keeps showing up in these conversations? I want to rip my hair out and scream at people who hate the discourse because they say people just want more shows exactly like Andor (grimy and dark and grimdark with no Jedi and no Sith and no pew pew space fights and no bzzzzzzzzzzt lightsabers and all politics and politicking and hard decisions made by morally gray characters either trying to survive or trying to see the Rebellion survive) instead of the campy unseriousness with color and bad CG and silliness and pew pew space lasers and shit. I just want more shows made with love and care and a basic understanding of storytelling. There's a difference between telling a story and telling a Star Wars story. The Felonious Showrunners are telling you a Star Wars story full of Star Wars. Did you see the Star Wars? Look at the Star Wars. Listen to the Star Wars. Feel the Star Wars. Yes, I get it, but are you also telling me a story? Is this all really just a buildup to Thrawn returning to the galaxy to take control of the Imperial remnants to make a second Empire or some shit like that? And as always, does it really matter when Thrawn and Ahsoka and Mandalore didn't have ANY impact on the galaxy or the fate of the New Republic and the First Order in the ST?

Fucking hell, looked up serial vs episodic because I forgot the terms and then deleted the entire paragraph because what's the point l o l. Look, the problem for me is that this show relies on working knowledge of Rebels and also The Clone Wars so that we can understand who these people are, what their history is with each other, and where they're coming from when the Norse wolves sprung a witch from her cell. I don't have the time or energy to do any of that, so I don't... I don't care. Who are these people? Explain them to me. Tell me why I should care without assuming I already watched the other shows. All we had of Andor is Cassian Andor, who dies at the end of Rogue 1. Yet somehow we got to see all these new faces emerge and bloom and keep rising or dying for the sake of the nascent Rebellion. We got to know who the fuck they are, what the fuck they do or did, what their relationships are to each other, to the Rebellion, to the Empire, to Cassian. We got to see and hear what they believed in and why they fight or don't fight.

You don't need the 3 episodes of fleshing out Ferrix or any of the characters integral to a story arc. You already have the settings and the people. You already have the history. It would take a lot less work to introduce who they are, what they did or do, how they relate to each other, what they won and lost . It just... it just feels so damn shallow and half-baked and stiff and light like cotton candy.

I think if not for Andor, these first two episodes of Ahsoka would be perfectly acceptable in the Star Wars D+ series pantheon. But Andor is fucking Spiders Georg and fucked over people's expectations of what a good Star Wars show is and can be.

ACTUALLY. WHY NOT TELL THOSE OF US THAT AREN'T FAMILIAR WITH THE DISNEY STAR WARS LORE WHO THE FUCK THRAWN IS, WHAT THE FUCK HE DID, AND WHY WE DON'T WANT HIM BACK. Oh he's the last of the Imperial Grand Admirals - so what. Moff Gideon is beneath the likes of Vader and Tarkin and Thrawn and he did a lot of fucking damage. Andor showed us very clearly what kind of power and damage the ISB can do. So how much more damage can Thrawn do if he did come back? What kind of threat is he? TELL US HOW DANGEROUS HE IS TO THE NEW REPUBLIC. TELL US WHY MORGAN IS TRYING TO BRING HIM BACK. FOR HER OWN AMBITIONS? TO HELP OUT THE OTHER IDIOTS HIDING IN THE DARK, LAUGHING AT GIDEON CLONING HIMSELF IN A PATHETIC GRAB FOR POWER? COME ON. TELL ME SOMETHING.

Anyway, sorry to Luke Skywalker who's stuck on Ossus fucking around with Artoo and a bunch of spider droids, locked out of some greater story about an apathetic former Padawan and her own Mando Padawan looking for a lost Jedi while also trying to stop a blue man from returning to the galaxy. Maybe he never should've returned to Star Wars and stayed a grumpy old Jake who died all alone on some fuckoff island.

Let's see what the next episode will bring! At least it makes great background noise while I do other things.

[neurotheascars]

First of all, no idea why this post had reblogs turned off but Ill respond here. Original post this for those who need context is here.

@fawna-lariat

First lemme get something out of the way:

You don't HAVE to do anything. You saying that just gives me the impression that you're a negativity chasing alter because that's exactly what I say when I'm thirsty for a fight.

Just because you know already that I probably won't agree with you doesn't mean I'm not listening. Word of advice- Get it out on your own blog. I'm only going to respond to you because you are being civil. But your attitude is grating to me because it feels like you didn't read a lick of the post you're commenting on.

I'm not a fragmented piece of a whole. I am a complete entity. It is extremely upsetting and triggering to keep hearing people insist that being an alter means you broke off of something. That's certainly a way for alters to form but it's not the only way and I'm tired of having "parts language" forced on to me. I know what I fucking am. I am a separate person. If you don't think I am you are denying my lived experience and ignoring the way a trauma victim literally exists. Parts language actually kept my system from healing so please fucking stop carrying that outdated claim about "shattered self" around like it's fact. It's not a reality for every system and I know more than one therapist that believes it is harmful to just assume a system is just one person broken into parts.

I'm pretty sure I've seen the sources you're talking about but there are other sources that contradict what you're saying too. My therapist honestly thinks being anti endo is a really misinformed stance in general if you need to hear that. You could really have your pick of information that proves your position is extremely narrow minded but I think you're comfortable and not going to do anymore research until you stumble upon it. You also don't seem to understand the real life context of what these studies actually prove or don't prove either.

You can send me that source, but I don't have the mental capability to comb through and properly refute claims in the manner that people like sophie and SAS do. I'm on mobile and I can't use tabs.

I've also already read a lot. I made a post a while back saying I was done with syscourse. I've also done a lot of research on entity creation techniques and parapsychology. I have 13ish years of experience on the topic and I know that mainstream psychology is only just now catching up to the reality of it all. I don't have the energy to entertain people who get dogmatic about mental health because I've deep dived in a way I can bet you haven't.

You aren't going to change my mind simply because you demonstrably don't know what I know.

Bottom line, you're talking to an alien who knows too much about this. And as a system who deals with all the dissociation and BS that comes with a did diagnosis, who was helped by created entities when we finally learned about the trauma, I frankly don't care if endos are in my community because it really really doesn't fucking matter.

Ive met cringey endos I don't like, but they don't "flood in to ruin my community" because I can block them without making them feel unwelcome and I want them to feel welcome because I don't know who they are or what they've been through. I don't know who might see me treating them poorly, and every system I'm ever met has been afraid of not feeling "valid" enough and gee I wonder why that could be when anti endos are drawing hard lines about how a system can form and behave.

And the thing is endos do know what being plural is like. Your belief that they don't isn't even a claim that can be backed with science. You're just making a sweeping generalization about what you think strangers understand. That's why I really dislike anti endos. The constant assumptions make my blood boil. I can't deal with that on the regular.

But regardless of anything you're saying about the distinction between tulpas and alters, endos are actually safer in the event of trauma occurring because their system hasn't had to deal with trauma to become organized. They have the option to be an organized system before trauma hits and are better for it because of their multiple consciousnesses.

That is just one unique way for a system to present and it's completely valid. If you think tulpas are real, but not alters then you should know that it's pretty easy for them to become alters. This is what happened to my IRL partner system. I'm not going to share their trauma story, but they are a group of tulpas that came from a paracosm that experienced trauma and now have to deal with all that extra stuff.

See you don't even realize it, but you're claiming my partner both doesn't understand what being plural is really like and that his alters aren't actually alters because he made them. Which, based on my lived experience with them, just isn't true. I don't need a peer reviewed paper to believe the lived experience of people right in front of me and that's why I don't agree with you. These studies never really concretely prove total absolutes and they don't claim to.

In fact its so easy for created alters to get all that extra trauma related dissociation with how stressful this shit world is that this distinction you're making really doesn't fucking matter in the end and only alienates people who are indeed trauma victims who might need support either now or in the future.

If you guys care so much about trauma victims why are you so hellbent on getting upset at and insulted by people who you literally don't know could be trauma victims. And if they aren't, a split consciousness configuration literally is the brain's way of dealing with trauma so tell me why it's so bad to be metaphorically holding the fire extinguisher in hand when the fire happens instead of having to run and break glass to get to it when you actually need it.

I truly don't think you know what you're talking about and saying that tulpas are real but they don't "count" as alters sounds like some highschool shit. I don't think you grasp that endos can have trauma separate from the origin of their alters and it's actually not your business if they do or not. It's only that their trauma isn't the cause of their alters. They may still have trauma that their alters help out with. I would agree that having a fragmented sense of self definitely makes it easier to create alters, but it doesn't mean you can't without the trauma.

I remember reading in a lot of grimoires and books on spirituality that anything that involves things like lucid dreaming, hedge crossing, and entity conjuration is easier for those who have been through an "ordeal". "Magic" and tulpamancy is easier if you've been through some life ruining shit. Thats all this claim that "created entities don't stick around in an unfragmented mind" means to me

Like yeah duh it's gonna take more effort to keep them there if you don't have your "head cracked open" as some spirit workers used to say.

The fact that I have witnessed with my own eyes what you say is impossible means to me that your science is incomplete.

Again, nobody is insulting you by simply existing and a lot of them do know what it's like to be plural.