#i think there is a pretty good argument his longing for emotional contentment beyond his isolation inside himself means no to the north

[pigtailedgirl]

Due South and a Canadian White Girl North-ish

I'm so nervous. Addition: Perhaps some trigger warning for abuse and illness talk?

So I read this great Due South fanfic.

BLESSED

I think it's going in my top ten. And I have a bunch I like that deal in the same theme. In Fraser's fit of himself in the city versus northern Canada and how he finds something in the contrasts.

Still this fanfic, though it does a neat re-examine overall, and others, have an image I guess that is put out by Fraser, by the narrative, of Canada that just does not work for me.

EXAMPLE

***

"Think about being somewhere else," Cleve told him as the strings began to vibrate again. "Anywhere but here."

And he did. Where did he want to be? Anywhere but here. Yes, Cleve had indeed answered the question for him.

The MacKenzie River, strong and swift, slicing through the spruce and pine, cutting a path between the snowcapped mountains.

The frozen, inhospitable Beaufort Sea, where a man could see his own breath turn to ice on the air and blow back to his face, clinging crystals of ice on his skin and lashes.

The mighty forests of tamarack and poplar that covered the western slope of the coastal mountain ranges. The warm, gentle breezes of heady lodgepole pine scent. The soft hiss and crackle of campfire, mellowed by a handful of cedar bark.

"There you go," Cleve decided at last in a quiet, satisfied voice.

Ben smiled until his face hurt, not quiet ready to open his eyes and let go his vision just yet. The strings felt good, like the strips of cedar bark he had imagined for the fire, the neck of the guitar a more than adequate rendering of the canoe paddle the MacKenzie demanded. The smooth, time worn wood of the box pressed into his belly, a body that complemented his, perfect in its unyieldingness, yet matching his every bend and twist.

Stella the True.

Ben would have given her another name.

His eyes opened then, noticing first how the world seemed to have blurred in more ways than one, and that the smile had faded away as the memories had faded in upon him. The world was only blurry for a few seconds more, until he realized that once he blinked the beginnings of tears from his eyes, the world became amazingly clear. So much became amazingly clear.

"Don't give up on yourself, son," Cleve Abernathy's voice came from somewhere very, very far away. Fraser gave his saturated eyes to the man who had spoken.

***

"Where I come from, people help one another. If one goes without, then all go without equally, so that everyone has a chance. You don't let your neighbor's coal run out in January. You don't let their stomachs go empty when your kill is plenty. When their children don't return from the trail, you go looking for them. That's just the way it is."

***

It's beautifully written, but feels wrong to me. Feels like lies to my lived experiences. Being from a small place like Fraser, this is a beautiful sentiment, and not at all true to it's realities.

When Fraser, Due South's narrative and comedy, and fandom view the otherness of the wilderness or northern Canada, make big deals to study it, never mind just mark Canada different in broad... It feels othering. Othering in a way I think is really important to how Fraser doesn't fit in if he's got this perspective too.

I've grown with stories about people and family who lived the same kind of lives as the Fraser family. In modern ways my home here still is like this. I even lived some like this and I'm baby in comparison.

Remote and isolated. Lots of nature to be in. Law, education and medicine as tiers in the community that are mostly outsiders to the community either brought in short-term or recurring.

Even those who live here permanently now, have founded themselves career wise, and have to, going away to do it or having been born and raised elsewhere. Christ, we have to basically leave after high-school more than 1000km away. HAVE TO.

And there is a definite disconnect between this group who are outsiders and the what I would call settled persons in the emotional connection to the place and town and the ability to fit in.

If it's a truism to me, this idea of grand north, natural beauty or isolation in a small town, with the people, to get in touch with an emotional growth is the biggest lie I have ever witnessed done by people to themselves. And this is an idealism of outsiders. You don't come out into isolation or live it to get NEW emotional needs met. You don't grow yourself thinking this is something special or the true way or will fix you.

Those that say living like this is a personal spiritual ride are:

1. High on their own supply as it were, aka, either tapping what they had dormant before or pretending.

2. Doing so off the backs of those who just don't think too much about it and are where and what they are.

If I had a dollar for every doctor or therapist I met who came here and were enamored by the place, the seas and freedoms and kind people and opportunities in solitude, expected it to change the people here and them, and then ran wild because they were always dumbasses, or took advantage, or after a year of seeing it day to day still wouldn't or didn't understand how to live with it and ran or got burnt out...RICH.

Because the truth is that small communities and remoteness don't make special or perfect people or places. We aren't magic, we aren't even that different, we just face a different or smaller reality.

I'm struck by the story One Good Man paints of Fraser's grandmother, who faced early trauma, and to me tells a reality you maybe don't want to embrace fully but should reflect on before concluding the nature of life here. A young woman who saw her town burn, who saved some of the children in it, but watched the others and adults die and was also horribly physically and probably emotionally scarred by it. Who only had an idea, and with it, bravery in the face of that moment, and after the strength to hang on as her backbone tip of surviving. Any wonder then, the tough it attitude and gift of wisdom was maybe her main survival and emotional mantra. That what tied her there to keep trying to give knowledge to people and how she pushed that above emotion on her grandson was this.

I think canon does a good job of highlighting an undercurrent of why Fraser and family still didn't fit in and why Fraser and Due South is a story of growth as a person and finding his home/community is going outside. His emotional needs weren't here. That's alright to find elsewhere when you need it.

@juniperpomegranate made a really great point of difference of Fraser's north, so often idealized in show or fic, and how it isn't actually like a town. It's not imagined or filled or understood in the reality of a community. Which is hella important. Because your community and relationships is how you really fit in a place like that or in my home.

And that's people. People to connect to. People who aren't wildly different. Experiences only seem wild to outsiders. Perfection or an image of better peeps is only lauded to cover in my opinion.

We face hardships and issues. We don't face them mythically. Nature is pretty and it requires work and understanding of it, learned only from experience and listening or knowing others who have, to survive and thrive in.

The reason we have outsider law or medicine or education come in is...

Well it can be real fun when the town is faced with say influenza and has no resources, or knowledge about it. Where you have to be cajoled to get immunized by your sister dressing up in the nurse's coat and leaving, to trick you into coming out of hiding. Where Dad tells stories of my great-grandma who plastered everyone with coal oil for cures as the rock of the town. Or where, when you have criminal stuff or domestic violence or mental illness and you can't treat or stop. A woman who hurt her family for decades because she was sadly untreated and unknown Schizophrenic. When another woman my dad's age wrote of her harrowing experience of childhood, of her mom dying from cancer and her father putting her to work as a teenage girl to care for the siblings and home, and then not providing any of his income or the support people gave him for them, until she and her siblings were literally found starving. Cause he fucked off to the neighbors. Cause the whole town knew it was happening, but there was no alternative, this was just their monetary and work survival versus that family and that family's lack of social capital paired with no place to go. Where solution was when law finally came in an forcefully moved the minor kids to different fosters in villages 100s of kilometers away, this was just a daily continuation of life though for most here.

See law, as external resource, can't even do much beyond come in twice a year and judge people. Punishment for crimes is more social than moral and depends on taking a person out of the community most times. Bob Fraser, Mounties and cops who ship around to different spots, if they are good get then respect sure, but they were and always have to stay detached to not bias too. It's a hard one. It's you can have impact and respect, for example the priest use to come a couple times a year and get the good dishes out for him, but you don't build the emotional connection of say staying for the weddings after-parties of music and dancing all night. Of people crossing islands to visit each other at the end of weeks' work.

In this vein I'm not surprised Bob had a great reputation and a lot of "friends" he didn't know.

And education. Where it's people come to knowledge at you, or knowledge from you. Where it's students come to study you like you are a tropical native of the 18th century. Write their papers and go back and take your history and skills to sell and forget the here left behind. Or come dodging the drafts of the States. All our stories or archives are in a "local" museum we can't even get to without a plane ticket yo. Or again those who come to give wisdom like they are the holders and we are heathen plebs. With maybe a one in ten being someone or something honest or decent. Though I'm a little bias here. My mom was a teacher who came here in the 70s and spent her whole life teaching grade school. Literal one room school house start. Who met and married and stayed with my Dad here. Some people do catch. Some, I think like maybe the example of Fraser's grandma, which I have soft feeling for probably because of this, just really want to impart shared knowledge and get happiness from seeing it grow and having that personal shot to help it. In a small community that seed growing outwards, to see it, is freaking awesome. But key is shared. You got to learn from too.

Finally, small isolated communities need and foster their connection through the people. Who you know. How you are all related. The meme of does everybody know everyone in Canada hits lol. But that's got the inverse too. There is no privacy. Loners be seen and judged. Again, social fit and capital being supreme.

That's why the nature loner or lover is myth too. Drop you off on a pretty snow covered lake. Pretty yes, magical and just for you, no. You still need the community knowledge to know where the fish, which direction is inland or sea, where is best shelter, where is Indians in the country to help you trap, when does the supplies boats and airdrops come. Nothing is done alone okay, trust me on this. You go out to snowshoe alone on a clear day, and weather strikes and you die.

I guess my point I keep trying to rope back into is maybe the experience or place or people sound different, or magic, but it's superficial. It's no different than how stories of history or cities sound to some. Emotionally I think we run the same. I think the true beauty is in seeing that reality. That you can't be the best stuck in an unreality or hiding from finding your fit. And again the true charm of Due South and Fraser, is his going south grows himself to see it. The show gets us to play and have fun seeing it.

And that the best of people or place, Canada or States, small town or city, outsider or no...is accepting and acknowledging that difference and sameness is the way to grow. Is the best beauty.

It's how my community did grow out of most of it's struggles imo, and hopes to go further I tell ya.

So here are my recs on the wonder of difference and sameness in Due South. Again like the fic above, can't rec enough.

Here are a small sampler of finding yourself near and away.

Stars, I Have Seen Them Fall (squidge.org)

Smaller Gods - arrow (esteefee) - due South [Archive of Our Own]

Our Dancing Days - sdwolfpup - due South [Archive of Our Own]

Also, does anyone have a link to an old ds flashfic of Fraser wandering Chicago in a power outage? I loved that one.

[unrealblacklightvirus]

um hi guys i made a sideblog for this whole alex thing.. . Infodump below :0 [and a lil edit, oct 2023]

call me whatever you want, Alex is fine if ur used to calling me that LOL, unAlex (lmao) as long as it's not too weird I'm probably fine. i use he/him pronouns too, aromantic. i dont ship any characters with anyone, sorry if u were looking for that here!

I started realblacklightvirus as a way for me to make a funny blog and joke around with my silly little headcanons... combining lots of little bits of other's ideas too (you may have noticed that some stuff that alex does or is or talks about might be suspiciously on target with your ideas... hehe) but it was mostly for myself and creating a comedic space.

Then I started getting more followers which I was happy to have (still am! I'm glad that you all love my alex and the game so much!!!) and now a lot of the people who've I've seen as long time prototype enjoyers interact with me? I've always seen myself as just an outside viewer, watching all these people talk and create about this game that I truly love so I was inspired to make my own little hole, never expecting it to become anything other than a half-joke blog.

When people started role-playing with me, I'll admit that I was afraid. Not of the people initiating it, but because I genuinely haven't roleplayed since I was like, 11 . Sticking with my character was hard because I built him on mostly lighthearted ideas with the occasional angsty lore dump, but I hope I've done well rping with yall.

I am not super familiar with rping rules especially unspoken ones, probably most obvious with me never using ooc notes (I am really into not breaking immersion for myself, I am completely fine when others do it though, i think it makes everything so much clearer and I love the funny ooc notes when the character does something!)

Unfortunately I am also not good with going beyond the original content, so I deeply apologize if I struggle to interact (or fail to interact at all) with your rp. I really have a hard time getting into character when meeting someone that breaks or bends the original "reality" too far. But I will try picking at bits and pieces that work with me when I can!

[Edit oct 2023: just here to revise the above; i am not a roleplay account! Or at least, not a roleplay account of normal means. I will avoid doing extensive roleplay that makes characters do this, go there, do a certain action move, parenthesis or italics or asterisks or otherwise... i will do character talk, dialogue, implied action (there are some good examples when alex replies to stuff like questions, or when hes "in a situation". This is kind of hard to explain but ill do some light, and i mean REALLY light roleplay with a very select group of people.) I am not really open to rping with new people, especially ocs, unless they are really good/well-made and pretty canon-adherent. Even then, i wont really jump into every roleplay convo because again, i am not a roleplay account. I am here to make funny joke and say in-character crap... With occasional angst and minor rp elements. Also i dont stray from canon too far, although i can make exclusions that are plausible. Check out the #alex notes tag for what i think.]

Please note that I think I am neurodivergent... haven't been diagnosed (I understand both sides of the diagnose or not argument, this is not about that) but I have genuine sensory problems, anxiety, and hyperfixations (which is probably very obvious....ahem Alex ahem...). A lot of Alex's characterization is based off of me! I can understand nondirect ways of speaking and figurative language though, pretty good at telling emotions , love ela and microexpressions, etc. But I struggle with online conversations and sometimes I may type something that may seem a little rude - please tell me, I overthink everything I type!!!

Thanks for reading!

[cryingoverafictionalcharacter]

Pinky Promise

Summary: Fred and Y/N have been rivals for a while, but no matter if it was pranks, or quidditch or something else, they always had their limits to not hurt the other. In fact, for the past few months Y/N and Fred have been growing closer, and even developing feelings for each other, but everything changes when one of Fred's pranks go to far, and he needs to find a way to fix it to save their relationship.

Warnings: Swearing, Fred being kind of a dick, Reader getting angry, confrontation, some angst, kind of a lot of angst actually, ends in major fluff though, also humor because I may not not how to spell but I’m hilarious.

Word count: 2.7K

A/N: comin at cha with ANOTHER ENEMIES TO LOVERS FRED WEALSEY FIC??? Why am I so uncreative? Idk, anyways I hope you enjoy!

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You were beyond furious. You didn’t think there was a strong enough word to describe how angry you were, and you were pretty sure if you were any angrier steam would be coming out of your ears. And the reason for all this anger you may ask?

Fred Fucking Weasley

You stormed through the hallway, heading straight to the dining hall. It was late, and you barely anybody would be in there, but you knew he would be. 

You stopped in the doorway, scanning over the tables until your eyes landed on a familiar mop of red hair. Locking your eyes on your target, you stomped over, clutching your bag tightly in your right hand.

“Oh shit- what did you do this time?” You heard Lee whisper to Fred, as you got closer, but you paid him no mind, eyes locking with Fred’s, who had that same stupid smirk that he always did. It made your blood boil.

“Good evening love, how’s your night going?” Fred asked nonchalantly, as if you were friends and not life long enemies.

“I have to say, it was going quite well, until I found this” You seethed, slamming your bag onto the table in front of him. “Say, does this bag look familiar to you?”

“Nope, can’t say it does” Fred shrugged, but the glimmer in his eye said differently.

“Really? Why don’t you take a closer look” You insisted, grabbing the bag off the table, flipping open the top, and flipping it upside-down, causing an eruption of water to fall from the mouth of the bag.

The water continued for what felt like forever, pieces of paper and pens falling out with it as the contents emptied out onto the floor, soaking yours and Fred’s shoes, but neither of you made a move.

After the water had finally stopped, you threw the bag into his lap, causing him to look down at it, a thoughtful hand on his chin.

“You know, now that I’m looking more closely at it, it does look a bit familiar” He said simply, and judging by the nervous looks on George, and Lee’s face when they saw you, you for sure had steam coming out of your ears now, but you kept your composure.

“Oh, well that’s good. You see, I’m trying to solve a bit of a mystery of who could have done this. Would you have any ideas?” You asked, crossing your arms in front of you.

By now, most of the cafeteria had cleared out. They have seen you and Fred get into heated arguments before. But this was different.

This was going to be fatal.

“No clue, but I have to say whoever thought of it is a bloody genius” He complimented, giving you a grin.

“Genius you say? So you think, flooding my one bag, and ruining all my homework, as well as my ten page essay that I’ve been working on all month, that’s due tomorrow... is Genius?” You asked, the calmness in your voice adding a coldness to the room that shot straight to everyone's bones.

And judging by the now terrified face Fred wore, he was feeling the effects of your voice as well.

“Oh, I see there's been a mix up, I’m actually George-”

“You are fucking not! Don't get me caught up in this” George interrupted, standing along with Lee to flee the scene 

“So sorry about him, Y/N, he can’t be helped. Try not to go to hard on him-” Lee started, but a quick glance his way shut him up instantly “Actually on second thought, do what you see fit, see ya Fred”

With that, George and Lee practically sprinted out of the dining hall, leaving you standing over Fred, who suddenly felt very small.

“I swear, I had no idea your essay was in there, if I had known I wouldn’t have-” Fred started apologizing, but was quickly cut off when your hand slammed down on the table beside you.

“You see Fred” You said, taking a seat on the bench next to him. “I think you did know. We’re in the same class, you’ve seen me working my ass off trying to get this essay done, and you’ve even asked for my notes, which I refused because of this kind of shit you pull” 

Fred swallowed thickly, his heart beating out of his chest at your anger. He had seen you angry before, and he’s been cross with you a few times as well, but those died down fairly quickly, and most of the time there weren't to many hard feelings. And you were right, he had seen you working on that essay, both in class, and at two in the morning in the library.

“Now” You continued “We’ve had out little quarrels in the past, you prank me, I prank you, you hit me with a quaffle at quidditch, I hit one back at you, nothing too serious. But this” She paused, picking a sopping wet pile of papers off the floor, and plopping it in front of him “Is really really fucking low. Did you know, I was already failing this class?”

The question put Fred on the spot, and he felt his heart sink to his stomach. He had always known you to be extremely smart and quick minded, so to hear you weren't doing so well in that class came as a surprise.

“Yeah, I’m failing because, fun fact, I’m fucking exhausted. I’m staying up till three in the morning every night, trying to get caught up in classes. I’m writing back and forward to my family constantly because they’re going through financial problems again, Umbridge is constantly writing me up for no reason, and on top of all of that, I still need to be worried about this” 

Your voice was beginning to shake a bit, and you both knew you were about to cry, but you were determined to keep the tears in until you were done. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

“So... Fred, consider this little rival, or fight, or whatever the fuck this is, over. I’m done, you win, just please, for the love of fuck, leave me alone” 

With that, you stood up and left the dining hall, quickly wiping the stay tear that snuck out on your way. All the while, Fred sat in shocked silence. He had always seen your little back and forwards as friendly competition, and had even thought they were a bit flirty at times. In fact, you two had been getting a bit closer these last few months, and had even started hanging out as friends. But now, he had royally fucked that up, and he needed to fix it.

The next day, you were exhausted. You had spent a lot of the night crying, which you hated but all the pent up emotions just came flooding out. Yes, you were absolutely pissed at Fred, but most of all, you were hurt. In the last few months, you’re arguments had died down a bit, and you found yourselves hanging out from time to time, always accidentally, but you enjoyed his company none the less.

You had even begun to like him a bit, maybe even more than a friend. He was nice, and charming, and wicked funny, and always tried to make you smile, but now, after seeing how careless, and almost mean he had been, you knew you needed to shove those feelings down. So you did. 

Your first class was potions, which of course you had with Fred. He sat behind you, and for a while, he made the class bearable, passing notes back and forward. But now you were absolutely dreading it.

Fred was sat in his usual seat, waiting for you to walk in. He had come in early, hoping to get the chance to talk to you, but when you walked in just as class began, he knew he would need to try a different approach.

Not even five minutes into the class, you felt a piece of paper land beside your elbow on your desk. You looked down, finding a folded up piece of paper, which you immediately knew was Fred's.

You could feel his eyes burning holes in the back of your head, but instead of turning around, you simply flicked the paper off your desk, returning your gaze to the chalkboard. A few minutes later, another piece of paper, this time on top of your notebook. Again, you flicked it off. 

Finally, five pieces of paper later, you smacked your quill down and picked up the newest piece of paper from your desk, unfolding it and looking it over, Fred watching you closely as you did

Can we please talk? I’m sorry

You finally turned around to meet the boys gaze, his eyes instantly lighting up at the change, but his spirits quickly fell when he saw your face, not angry, or frustrated, but sad.

You had had enough, facing the boy, you placed the paper back onto his own desk right as the professor dismissed the class, quickly slipping out of the room before Fred could follow you.

You avoided him like the plague the rest of the day. You didn’t have many other classes with him, and the ones you did share you made sure to find an empty seat far away from him, you even skipped lunch, choosing instead to read in your next class. 

You even skipped the class where your essay was due, not wanting to show up and hand over nothing, you decided to spend the rest of the day alone, and try to redo your assignment, even if you now only had a day to do it.

Fred only saw you again after class by the forbidden forest. He had found you pretty easily, you weren’t in any of your usual spots, so he knew this would be the next best spot to check. As he approached you, he found you had changed out of your uniform and were now in some joggers and a sweatshirt, sitting with your back against a rock as you scribbled in the notebook in front of you.

You chewed your lip as you tried to rewrite your essay, looking to your textbook and back every few second, before messing up on a word. Frustrated, you scribbled out the paragraph you had been working on and threw your notebook and quill to the side, resting your elbows on your knees as you held your head in your hands.

You quickly snapped out of it though when someone behind you cleared their throat, getting your attention and making you jump out of your skin. Panic surged through you, expecting a teacher, or worse, Umbridge, but the fear was soon replaced by irritation when you made eye contact with none other than the very red head you had spent all day trying to avoid.

“What do you want Fred?” You asked, turning back to face the forbidden forest, away from him. 

He didn’t answer, instead you were met with the sound of grass shuffling beneath his feet as he got closer, taking a seat before holding something out to you, causing you to look over at him.

It was your bag from yesterday, but now completely fixed and dry. It looked like brand new. 

You took the bag from him and looked it over, going over the seams and the straps before finally opening it, finding your notebooks, pens, and homework assignments all neatly tucked inside.

“How did you- When did-” you rambled trying to find the words and you shuffled through your belongings, finding them all intact and dry before finally turning to look at him “Why did you do this for me?”

Fred wasn’t expecting that question, but he still answered, looking down at the grass.

“I felt really bad after yesterday, and not just because of that stuff you... anyway, I know I went too far, and I shouldn't have done it in the first place, but I wanted to have a reason to talk to you I guess, and I did it in the worst way possible, and I wanted to make it up to you. I’m sorry”

You looked at him, before turning back to the bag, noticing there was something missing, but before you could say anything Fred continued.

“I was also able to save your essay, it took a while but it was all there. I was going to give it to you in class, but you didn’t show up so I turned it in for you and said you were sick. I got to read some of it by the way, its really good and I would be surprised if you-”

Fred was cut off by you moving your bag to the side and turning to face him, wrapping your arms around him to pull him into a hug. 

Fred was too shocked to move for a second, but quickly found himself returning the embrace, wrapping his arms around your waist and hugging you closer. You sat like that for a minute, your face buried in his neck as a thousand emotions flooded over you. Finally, you pulled away, looking him in the eye.

“I’m not saying I’m not entirely grateful” you started “But you could have just come and talked to me, why did you feel you needed to do that to talk to me?”

At this, Fred’s face began to heat up a bit and he looked back down, fiddling with the grass. He was hoping to fix your friendship and move on, maybe one day growing to be something more, but now he was faced with the choice to tell you his feelings, or lie, and he didn’t want to deny it anymore.

“We’ve always had our little competitions and stuff, ever since we were kids, and for a while we really hated each other. But then, these last few months I got to know you a lot more, and I always knew you were funny, but you’ve got a wicked sense of humor, and you’re super smart, and are always helping people, and you’re always kind to everyone you meet, and I thought I might have had a crush or something. And I didn’t really know how to interact with you in a not competition way, and I didn’t want to freak you out, but after the bag, seeing how it hurt you, it broke me. And I realized that I liked you a lot more than I thought I did”

Fred looked up at you, waiting for your reaction. Were you angry, upset, happy? Your face wasn’t giving him any signs, but then, a small smile crept to your lips, and despite how hard you tried to fight it.

You laughed.

“I’m sorry” You started, trying to fight the laughter bubbling in your chest “I’m not laughing at you, I’m not, it’s just-” Another laugh. “God were just a bunch of idiots aren't we?”

Fred was looking at you like you’d gone crazy

“What do you mean?”

“I like you too dumb ass” You confessed.

“You... oh... Oh!” Fred exclaimed, finally putting the pieces together. “Wow, I really fucked up didn’t I”

“Oh for sure” you nodded, causing Fred to let out a groan, shaking his head before looking back to you, a smile on his face.

Without thinking, you leaned forward, closing the rest of the space between you and pressing your lips to his. Fred returned the action, bringing a hand to the back of your neck to pull you in closer, deepening the kiss.

After a few seconds, you both pulled away, each with goofy smiles on your faces.

“Does this mean I’m forgiven?” Fred asked.

“Only if you promise to never do it again” you said

“Deal” Fred answered quickly, holding out his pinky to you, which you wrapped your own pinky around, shaking on the agreement.

“Wow a pinky promise, that's some hard core shit” You joked in a serious tone.

“Hey, if it means I get to spend more time with you, I’d pinky promise to anything” Fred replied, to which you gave him a feigned shocked expression.

“Anything?! Aww, you like me like me” you teased, laughing as Fred playfully pushed your shoulder.

“Shut up you like me like me too” Fred argued

“That is true” you nodded, before smiling and grabbing the front of his shirt, pulling him into another kiss, smiling as he pulled you even closer.

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A/N: Heeey, so I was hit with the biggest surge of motivation today and I literally got two weeks of homework done, deep clean my room, and wrote this, so if I go dark for a few months its probably because I’ve used my adrenaline budget for the year lol.

But seriously, I know this fic gets a bit... deep ig? Idk, I’ve been going through it recently and I wanted some angst that would actually reflect how I would react in that situation if you know what I mean? Like I see a long of angsts where the love interest does something really mean, but a simple apology solves everything and yeah. No hate if that’s your writing style, its just not my thing, and I wanted to express my emotions through here, because nobody directly fucked up an entire month of my work but it certainly feels that way sometimes.

Anyways, rant over, I hope you enjoyed! Feel free to leave any feedback or recommendations you may have.

[merakiui]

I think it’s pretty cool of u write about dark themes like mental abuse etc👏🏼 can I request Venti with gn reader who have been living with strict af parents who have never let them be themselves or show any negative emotions? So when they move to Mondstadt and finally have freedom they’re like “?? Can I? Are you sure?” (Sorry if this is too long/specific)

Venti with a Reader who has Strict Parents

cw: strict parents

Freedom. That’s what you need.

You’ve always been an adventurous soul who enjoys exploring new places with friends, but your parents always disapprove of this hobby.

Arguments aren’t uncommon in your household, but they always end under the same veil: your parents tell you it’s unbecoming of a person to shout and talk back to their elders and you’ll never be able to grow into a suitable adult if you continue your rebellious streak.

You’ve been told countless times to act properly. Stop going out with your friends to look for treasure around Mondstadt. Stop dressing in rags when you clearly have nice clothes at home. And, most of all, stop frequenting those rowdy, no-good taverns!

While you are old enough to drink and work—basically old enough to be your own person—your parents refuse to let you move out. They think it’s for the best. If you were living on your own, who knows what crazy things you would get up to! And they can’t have their child stain their name or legacy with foul mannerisms and silly hobbies.

You meet Venti in Diluc’s tavern. Having seen him frequent this establishment before, you find it funny when Diluc’s always so quick to kick the bard out when he can’t cough up the Mora to pay for the extensive bill.

From what you’ve seen, he’s definitely not the type of person your parents would approve of. He’s a bard, after all, and your parents aren’t exactly fond of what they like to call ‘jobless, noisy rodents with nothing but time on their hands.’

It’s harsh criticism, but you’ve met plenty of bards before and most of them were genuine and kind. And they shared a passion for singing and weaving tales into their music—something you find to be absolutely charming.

Venti isn’t any different from that, so when you offer to pay for one of his drinks the friends you are with get eager at once, inviting him to drink with the lot of you. And thus a friendship blooms.

Ever since that act of kindness, you’ve started visiting that tavern more often, curious about that strange bard. He’s usually there 90% of the time and you end up striking a few conversations with him.

He talks in lyrical rhymes when he feels like it and you find that to be interesting, despite how tiring it can get trying to understand some of those poetic lines.

Somehow you manage to become close friends with him and it isn’t long before the two of you are hanging out outside of the tavern, finding new places to visit within Mondstadt. Your parents don’t know anything about him and that’s the way you intend to keep it.

So when Venti asks you to go wind-gliding with him in a part of Mondstadt that’s way too far from home—farther than you’ve ever gone before—you have trouble agreeing.

You’ve always listened to your parents, but now you’re reconsidering. If they found out, you’d probably get into a lot of trouble. They might even prohibit you from seeing your friends or even going out altogether!

Venti notices your sudden lack of enthusiasm and explains that if you don’t feel up for it you shouldn’t force yourself to do it. Besides, he’s very happy spending time with you like this! You don’t always have to go somewhere in order to have fun.

“This is the city of freedom, after all! Live a little!” he reminds you with a cheery grin.

It doesn’t feel like freedom to you because you’ve been trapped under the harsh rules constructed by your parents.

But you want to live your life by your own rules, so maybe moving to a another part of Mondstadt is just what you need. You consider living with a friend or even with Venti himself, and it takes a while before you can actually work your way up to that milestone.

Once you’ve moved out, having ignored every tongue-lashing from your parents for however many months it took to save and pack and actually find a suitable living space, you’re beyond relieved. Sure, your parents will nag you about it until the end of your days, but this is the start of your new life.

And Venti’s very glad to see that extra pep in your step now that you’ve managed to feel freedom for what it truly is. Now the two of you can hop from tavern to tavern, drunkenly sing in the streets, and wind-glide to your hearts’ content without having to worry about making your parents cross.

Venti’s going to make sure you have the best time in the city of freedom, and you’ll never have to feel tied down by your parents’ rules ever again.

[sunnysviolin]

Omotober Day Three- Picnics

If you want to read it on ao3 (now as one singular fic because I am a dum dum) you can do that here

When Hero suggested that the five of them get together and have a picnic, Basil was nervous, but excited. There was a part of him that would always be afraid, but more than anything he wanted things to go back to the way they used to be. A picnic could be the start of that.

But Basil should have known that things could never go back to the way they used to be.

“Forgiveness, reader, is, I think, something very much like hope and love - a powerful, wonderful thing.

And a ridiculous thing, too.”- Kate DiCamillo

Basil wasn’t really sure what to expect when their group decided to get together for a picnic again like they used to, but his first inclination wouldn’t have been that there would be a fist fight about to break out.

After the fight, and the hospital, and everything that came after, things had gotten surprisingly calm and quiet. The guilt that had eaten his insides for all those years was gone, and in its place was peace. Yes, he still felt awful about what they had done, but the secret was over, and he no longer had to hold all of that pain by himself.

Their friends had accepted the truth at varied rates, and Basil was sure it would take a long time before they ever even came close to forgiving him or Sunny. Aubrey was still quick to anger, Hero was still avoidant of the pain, but things had changed. Something about those last few days Sunny had spent with them in Faraway had changed them all, made everyone more open to trying with each other again. Even after they learned everything.

It felt good to be friends again, to be able to look at their faces without the self loathing threatening to crush him. He would take whatever halted measures of friendship they would give, if it only meant not being alone again. So when Hero suggested a picnic, Basil eagerly agreed without thinking twice.

He should have thought twice.

The planning had gone perfectly fine. Kel was a hundred percent on board, and he had even offered to help with making the food. The other boy seemed most pleased that it was Hero specifically who was extending the branch out. Basil knew that, of all of them, Hero was probably going to have the most mixed emotions about what he and Sunny had done. Still, Hero was Hero. Even if he hated them both, he would never reveal it.

Aubrey had seemed unsure, but Kel’s enthusiasm and the promise of getting Sunny back to join them had her agreeing. Basil knew she and Sunny talked on the phone pretty often, maybe even more than Sunny and himself. Aubrey was trying hard to make up for the last four years, and she spent most of her time with Basil or by herself. She said it was to ‘figure things out’ and he didn’t pry. He knew how hard it was to accept things in your past that you didn’t want to think about or the parts of yourself that you didn’t like all that much.

Then there was Sunny. They had all crowded together around Kel’s home phone to talk to Sunny about their idea. He had agreed to come and made plans to sleep at Kel and Hero’s house the night of their picnic. Logically it would have made more sense for him to stay with Basil, there was more room at Basil’s house, but it went unspoken between them why Kel and Hero had extended the offer instead. He would catch the train in and out and be back by dinner the next day, it wasn’t a far journey. None of them had seen Sunny since the hospital, at least not in person, and Basil wondered what it might be like to lay eyes on the other boy now.

The day came and they had split into natural groups. Most of the preparations were already done, but there were a few things to finish up on the morning of. Hero would take care of finishing the food, Aubrey would set up in their spot in the park, and Basil and Kel were going to go pick up Sunny from the train station.

Everything was good. The day was bright and warm with not a single cloud in the sky, Sunny’s train had arrived right on time, and Sunny had even greeted them both with quick but tight hugs and a small smile. He was still wearing an eyepatch (and apparently would always be from now on) but he looked a lot better. The bags under his eyes were gone, and the greying pallor of his skin had vanished. He held himself a little straighter, spoke a little more, and the air of fear that seemed to surround Sunny had dissipated into nothing.

Kel had grabbed both of their hands and swung them through the air as they walked towards the park, chattering about what he and Hero had planned for that day. Basil was content to let Kel do most of the talking and shared a secret amused look behind his back with Sunny. This was something that had happened all the time when they were kids, and the nostalgia of it was easy to fall into.

When they got to the park and saw Aubrey, things were awkward for all of two seconds before she punched Sunny gently on the arm and ruffled his hair, bringing them over to the set up she had created. The picnic blanket was a checkered blue, not red, but it was soft. There was the scent of flowers in the air from the bushes nearby in bloom, and a breeze twirled the pinwheels clustered in the distance. It felt so blissfully...normal. Like they could just fall right back into step where they left off all those years ago.

Basil should have hit himself over the head for thinking that.

It started so innocently. They were waiting for Hero to arrive and sighing about how nice their little corner of the world was, when Aubrey made an offhand comment about her friends potentially joining them next time. Before Basil could even really process what her words, Kel had said no. He hadn’t said it in a joking way or to tease her. Kel had snapped, and the tension in his shoulder and the hardness of his eyes told them all that he was deadly serious.

It was jarring. Of all of them, Kel had always been the friendliest. Hero may have been the most popular, but Kel wasn’t far behind his brother in natural charm. He was sweet and sincere, and almost always willing to get to know people. It wasn’t like him to shut down so quickly or with such force. Kel’s face was stormy and he was avoiding eye contact with all of them, keeping those hard eyes locked with the ground. Aubrey seemed livid, but she sat stony and silent, waiting for more of an explanation. The one that came only made things worse.

“I just don’t see why you would even wanna be around them anymore,”

Aubrey, loyal beyond words, had swooped in to defend the rest of her gang, claiming that they were good people who were great friends. This had only made Kel scoff, which infuriated her even more. Basil was used to Aubrey and Kel getting into arguments, he was even okay with the escalated fight that had happened at the dock (seeing as he blamed himself for causing it), but this was unlike any of those.

Normally it was Kel who kept fairly cool during these things, and Aubrey that went ballistic. Yes, Kel fought right back with her and gave as good as he got, but he had always seemed calm and collected, mostly joking around and poking fun at how red Aubrey’s face would get.

Now it was his cheeks that were tinged, and his throat that was raw from screaming, in a way that Basil had never seen before. He stayed silent and tried to keep himself small, hands clasping together over his chest as he tried to remember the deep breathing techniques Polly had been teaching him. They didn’t seem to be working. A quick glance to the side showed Sunny in a similar state of distress, watching their friends argue with a wide eye and clear panic etched into his features.

Aubrey and Kel’s argument devolved fast, going from something that held worth to just being insults hurled back and forth. They began to advance on each other, clearly done with words and moving past to blows, but a voice cut through, breaking the intensity that had caught them all firmly in its grip.

“What’s going on?”

The four of them turned around simultaneously, varying stages of guilt evident on everyone’s faces. Hero emerged from the brush, carrying a large wooden picnic basket on one arm, his mouth turned downwards.

He surveyed the moment and sighed, a tired sound that betrayed a weight that they all knew Hero carried but refused to let them bear with him. The eldest walked over and gently placed the basket down on the blanket, glancing at each of them in turn.

“You okay, Sunny?” Hero asked, and Sunny nodded. He seemed calmer now that someone was intervening, but fear was still there. Hero patted him once on the top of his head and peered around the youngest. “Basil?”

Basil nodded too, his own words caught in his throat. It wasn’t the same as when Something had been squeezing him too tight to breathe, it wasn’t that bad yet, but it was still pretty bad. Nothing he couldn’t handle though, and Basil knew that Hero needed to be focusing on the other two right now. With both of them checked on, Hero stood at his full height and stared at the others.

“Explain,”

Both teens burst into words, voices raising as they tried to shout over each other and interject to disprove what the other had just claimed. Hero listened to the cacophony for a moment and then raised his hands, yelling over them to quiet down. Once it was settled again, Hero turned to Aubrey.

“Aubrey, you go first. You can talk with no interruptions. Then Kel is going to talk with no interruptions, and we’re all going to listen to each other. I want each of you to explain to me why you’re fighting, okay?” Both teens nodded, and Hero sat down, gesturing for the other two to sit back down as well. They did, and then Aubrey began to talk.

“Out of nowhere Kel starts going off about my friends and talking bad about them for no reason,” Kel made a noise here and Hero looked at him. The younger brother rolled his eyes but stayed silent, and Hero waved a hand at Aubrey to continue, “I don’t get why he’s so angry, but I don’t care. He had no right to say all of those things. That’s why they don’t like you, you just assume the worst of them.”

Kel shot a harsh glare towards the girl, something fiery and fueled with a deep rage that was completely out of character for him. Then when he spoke, the oddities only continued.

“I didn’t start ‘out of nowhere’. You started this by saying you wanted us all to hang out with them. Like we’re all pals. Did you forget that the only thing you did when you spent time with them was bully people and act like none of us mattered to you? You keep talking about how you wanna change, but you don’t. You just want to act like nothing you did mattered. They bullied m- Basil for years! If you’re really our- his friend I don’t know why you don’t want to protect Basil from those guys,” Kel finished his speech with a huff, crossing his arms and curling in on himself.

“I apologized to Basil plenty already!” Aubrey replied, a glance to Hero when she began. When he didn’t interrupt her, she kept going, “He forgave me, and now we’re trying to get past it. Isn’t that what you want?”

“Maybe we should listen to what Basil thinks?” Hero suggested, trying to keep the conversation from riding off the rails as it had before, “If you’re both so worried about him, it seems like his opinion would be the most important thing here,”

Then all eyes were on him, waiting to hear what he had to say. Basil twisted his fingers in his lap and laughed nervously, his mouth filling with cotton as both sides of the argument clearly looked for his backing.

“I-I don’t know?” He finally replied, the words sounding small and useless, only making everyone madder, “I wouldn’t mind trying I guess. Seeing if if it works out, ya know?”

Hero perked up here, shooting Basil a grateful smile. Aubrey seemed vindicated and her anger began to melt. The tension eased out of the air, and Basil breathed out. It was all going to be okay now. It was just a regular Kel and Aubrey fight. They would hug the way Hero always forced them to at the end of their arguments, and then the five of them could enjoy the afternoon together.

“Kel, if Basil is okay with it then it’s fine. Why don’t you two hug and make up and then-”

“What if I’m not okay with it, Hero?!” Kel exploded, cutting his brother off, “What about that?!”

Stunned silence coupled with an even stronger tension surrounding the group. Kel and Aubrey fighting he could understand, even Kel and Aubrey dragging Hero in to play referee he could understand, but never before had Basil seen Kel yell at Hero. Kel worshipped the ground Hero walked on, his big brother could do no wrong, and Basil had never seen any evidence that he ever had.

But Kel wasn’t done yet, and he continued his yelling. It was like something had cut into him with those words, and now that something, dark and black, was finally getting a chance to leak out of Kel. Basil knew all about Somethings. About how painful it was to live with them, about how they always eventually burst out and demanded to be seen. He just had never thought Kel might have a Something too.

“It isn’t fair that they get to spend years being terrible people. and then just act like they never did any of it. It isn’t fair that I have to just pretend like they weren’t awful to me. Like I didn’t spend most afternoons crying on my walk home because of them. Like I didn’t have to second guess everything single thing I did because they made me think that I was a bully.”

Basil had remembered hearing them calling Kel that before, and it had confused him then too. Kel had never done anything like bullying to anyone, but Basil had dismissed it. It seemed so ridiculous to him, he thought Kel would have just let it go too. Apparently not

“All I’ve ever done is try to help. I smiled and laughed and pretended like nothing bothered me because that’s what everyone else needed. And what did that get me? A bat to the face and being told by my own bullies that I was the one messing with them. They’re the bullies. Mean, angry bullies who I never did anything to. Except try to be friends with you.” Kel finally pulled his eyes to Aubrey with this final word, cutting his furious ranting off with a half laugh half sob. He brought his knees up to his chest and put his arms on top of them. He wasn’t crying, but the pain in his eyes was enough to make Basil’s own chest ache in sympathy.

“And then you let them call me a bully. When I didn’t do anything except try to help.”

Kel dropped his head against his knees, hiding and breathing harshly. His shoulders rose and fell. Up and down and up and down as he panted with exertion from his outburst of emotion. None of them made a sound. Basil wouldn’t have known what to say after that, and he was sure no one else did either. They also couldn’t have been prepared for the final blow that was about to be dealt.

“You all just wanna pretend like none of it ever happened...like all that time didn’t matter.” Kel’s voice was muffled, but the words hit all of them like a punch to the gut.

It wasn’t just about this one fight, it wasn’t even just about Aubrey’s friends. It was bigger, stretching out for years and years of suffering that had never been addressed. Basil’s breath caught in his throat, and he could see the others were in a similar state of shock. He looked down at his interlocked fingers, his stomach twisting up in knots.

It was so easy to forget with Kel. It was so simple to just get lost in his happy go lucky personality and his endless bounds of optimism. He always had time for them all, always willing to go that extra mile to help out his friends when they needed him.

He hadn’t given up on them. He hadn’t stopped knocking on Sunny’s door, even when he never answered. He hadn’t stopped saying hi to Basil, even when he didn’t say hi back. He hadn’t stopped encouraging Hero, even when Hero had no encouragement left to offer in return. He had even still looked for the good in Aubrey, when she had nothing good to say about him. That was just who Kel was, someone who kept trying.

But Basil knew better than any of them that a person could only be pushed so far before there was a part of them that was cracked and bleeding and needed others to heal it. Kel was a nice person, a happy person, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have his moments of doubt. The times where he needed to rely on them instead of the other way around. He never pushed, so no one ever was forced to notice all the bad thoughts and emotions piling up under that sweet sunshine smile. It was just easy to forget that those things existed behind his joy and his upbeat attitude.

They were the people who should have remembered to look. They were the ones who should have known. They had all wanted things to go back to the way they were, but the truth was they couldn’t.

There was no way to erase four years, no way to let go of what had happened to Mari. It existed, it was real, and all of them had tried to ignore it. All except for Kel, who had done everything he could to hold them all together without so much as a complaint. He was right, instead of acknowledging his sacrifices, they had acted like none of it had ever happened. That was what was unchallenging, that was what took no effort. But that was also what was killing Kel inside.

He didn’t know what they could say that would even start to mend four years of their friend trying and failing and continuing to try against all hope. What could a person say to that kind of dedication? What kind of thanks could be given to someone who took on that burden without a word until it had nearly crushed him?

It turned out that Basil didn’t need to know the answer. There was someone else who did.

Aubrey rose up from her spot across from Kel on the picnic blanket and plopped down next to him, turning her head away from the other boy. Her hand moved to his, settling on his elbow and grabbing his attention. Kel raised his head, staring silently at her as she looked at him from the side.

Basil didn’t know what conversation the two of them had without words, but he suspected he would never know. Things like that were only ever meant for two people, and even asking about it was treading on something sacred. Whatever it was, it was enough for Kel to uncurl from the position he had put himself in. He sat on his knees facing Aubrey, and she turned to do the same. She took a deep breath and raised her head, meeting his gaze fully.

“I’m sorry,”

It wasn’t much, when it came down to it. It wasn’t a long speech filled with tears and impassioned pleas. Aubrey wasn’t on her knees begging for forgiveness, or making promises to be better. She hadn’t even said it in a special tone or in a whisper meant just for the two of them. It was an apology, nothing more, nothing less.

It wasn't really much, but it felt so big. They were all touched by her words, all impacted by the enormity of such a small but profound statement. Sunny edged closer and leaned against Basil, and the weight against his side was warm and grounding. He looked down at the top of Sunny’s head, and the vines looping around his spine eased away once more.

When he turned back, Aubrey and Kel were hugging, sitting up on their knees and clutching hard to one another. He wasn’t sure which one of them moved first, but it wasn’t something he had ever seen. Basil has only ever seen them giving each other quick little hugs, or the awkward side squeezes Hero demanded after their fights. But this wasn’t either of those. It was genuine and real, and they both seemed a little reluctant when they pulled apart.

Hero, ever the older brother, beamed and pulled the basket to the center of their group, changing the subject to the food that he and Kel made. To anyone outside of their group, it might have seemed like a callous way to change the subject, but the other four were grateful for something to switch their minds to.

With the moment over, Aubrey went back to her usual brusque, digging into the basket and pulling out a sandwich and bottle of water. She grabbed the food and Sunny’s hand, dragging him over to one of the corners and demanding to hear about his new house. Sunny obliged her, talking about his room and the renovation plans his mother had begun.

Kel drifted over to Hero, falling against his brother’s side and leaning his head against Hero’s shoulder. Basil didn’t interrupt, but he watched Hero wrap Kel in his arms and whisper in his ear, something that had to be comforting given how Kel nodded and snuggled closer to his brother. Hero squeezed Kel and turned to Basil.

“How’s the new garden coming along?”

[haechanniesunflowers]

Misunderstandings and Mayhem

Part 1

Y/n didn't understand how hard married life was until she married Chan and moved in a house with him. They made things work and compromised for each other. Now it wasn't just her and her individual needs but they both had to care for each other and their needs, because they lived separately before marriage. Sometimes she needed space but had to come to terms with the fact that she will have Chan around most of the time so she had to adjust and change her habits, same with him. They complemented each other, him being an extrovert and taking the lead in most things and her being an introvert, handling everything perfectly so things go smoothly.

They promised each other that other people won't get in the way of their marriage and you'd talk and resolve each and every argument, no matter what.

Chan liked going out and exploring things and y/n preferred staying home and chilling. He wanted to try a new Korean bbq restaurant and she wanted him to have a good time so she agreed to go out with him. Y/n only ate chicken and he knew it but it was something she wanted for Chan so he was ecstatic when she said yes to the plan. He enjoyed the food and her company, they talked about work and people who got on their nerves. He had beef while she opted for jajangmyeon (with chicken ofc). Seeing Chan happy and eating to his fullest made her happy and content. There's nothing more she wanted. Chan looked at her with loving eyes till his gaze focused on someone behind her and his eyes widened. He got up with a huge smile and went to meet the said person, leaving her confused. Y/N looked back to where Chan had gone and her heart sank when she saw Sana, his old friend and former label mate. Sana and Chan had been close since they were trainees and they maintained their friendship for over 10 years. Y/N understood their connection and tried her best to accept it but Sana made her feel insecure about herself, she was prettier and more successful than her and she had a strong friendship with Chan even if they didn't keep in touch for a long time.

Y/N felt frustrated and annoyed that Sana showed up out of nowhere and Chan was giving her his undivided attention. They talked for some time, while y/n sat alone at their table, till he brought Sana to meet her. Y/N stood up to meet her and was suddenly conscious of how effortlessly pretty Sana was.

"hey how have you been?" Sana politely asked.

"very busy haha, we rarely get time to go out like this" y/n replied, hoping she'd get the hint.

"come on you should join us" Chan insisted.

Y/N smiled on the outside but screamed on the inside. She desperately hoped Sana would decline.

"oh I was waiting for Yuta and Momo here, we have work to discuss. I'll hang out with you guys another time." she explained with a smile.

Y/N knew Sana was a good person and posed no threat but the insecurity and jealousy made her lose her mind. The last bit on sanity she had went down the drain when Chan and Sana hugged, before she left. It wasn't a quick hug, it was an embrace that lasted a few moments. Y/N felt like ripping the hair from her scalp. She wanted to scream and whine like a baby, and for Chan to take care of her and give her attention.

Y/N didn't speak much after Sana left and only listened to Chan talk about his trainee days and friendship with her. Great. Now he was discussing her. Chan was oblivious to her emotions and kept talking. He didn't even notice her mood when they went home. She didn't say much and went to bed after showering.

The next morning Chan told her that his family was coming to Korea for 2 weeks and would be staying with them. She smiled and told him she'll happily make arrangements for them. Chan was thankful, while y/n decided to bottle her feelings and move on.

That is until, Chan brought up Sana again and said he wanted to invite her over to meet his family. That annoyed her to no end. She was filled with rage and finally spoke.

"why? what does Sana have to do with this?" she asked in an annoyed voice.

Chan noticed it and furrowed his brows.

"why not? she's my best friend I want her to meet my family."

"no Chris, she's not a part of this family and doesn't need to be involved in any of this."

"why are you against her? She's been my friend for a long time and you knew it, it's not like she popped out of nowhere."

"just because she's your friend, doesn't mean she has to be a part of our personal time."

"you don't need to be against the idea."

"I'm giving you a valid argument and you don't want to hear it because you suddenly met her and won't stop thinking or talking about her!"

"hey chill out. Why are you insecure about this, you're the wife and she's the friend."

"well excuse me for being upset after seeing you hug a woman right in front of my salad!"

"she's my friend and nothing else! Don't turn this into something weird."

"I'm not turning this into something weird. Why can't you see the problem? I didn't like you hugging her at all! I don't want her to be around you and touch you!"

"that's it! Do I make a big deal when you hang out with Seonghwa? I don't because I'm not jealous or insecure."

It made you angry that Chan could see right through you.

"that's because you know I won't ever hug him because I respect our relationship and boundaries."

"you're making a huge deal out of nothing."

"no I'm not, you're gaslighting me!"

Chan angrily got up and sped to the door.

"we'll talk when you calm down and think about what you've said." he said and left.

Y/N sat at the table, thinking over the fight. She didn't think she was wrong and didn't understand why Chan wouldn't see the problem.

She stayed home for the next six hours, waiting for Chan to return.

He came home and sat next to her on the couch.

"are you feeling better now?" he asked.

Y/N turned to face him.

"yes. Do you see the problem now?"

"sweetheart, there is no problem. You need to understand that."

"Chris how can we resolve this if we don't see the problem?"

Chan was annoyed and angry beyond belief.

"I don't want to waste my energy over this stupid fight. Do whatever you want." he stated and went to bed.

Y/N felt angry and scared. She went after him and tried talking to him but he didn't give her any answer. He pretended like she wasn't there.

"okay fine, ignore me all you want. At least act normal in front of your family." she reasoned.

But Chan stayed quiet and turned the other way.

[skipps-writes-for-gojo-satoru]

Someone made an incredible animation of the scene in hidden inventory where Gojo gets screamed at by teen girls fawning over him, and it's beautiful ✨

https://youtu.be/5l9_O51-YYs

Also, it highlights my previous point that when Gojo's confronted by women flirting with him, he doesn't really do... Anything. He's just chill about it. And the little °^° face he makes and the little confused "hm?" from the manga panel in the beginning could indicate that Gojo might not be hit on by girls as often as we think- Jujutsu sorcerers are busy and have even their time off interrupted on the regular. Other than being mildly amused, we don't see Gojo actively bask or pursue attention from women (other than Utahime ofc, which could be because she's as straight-laced as Nanami).

The little content smile he gives at the end basically says it all: Gojo enjoys the attention, but most likely isn't interested in pursuing anything more than that, including sexual relations (with more reasons from my previous posts).

I could see Gojo being the type to allow himself to appreciate just a bit of affection from random women he encounters on missions and then casually walking off with a lazy wave of his hand- just like he did with Miwa.

The man's on a mission (literally) with the goal to change the world. Virgin Gojo is very possible seeing how unaffected he is by women throwing themselves at him- or at least, he allows himself a moment to enjoy the attention but is quick to dismiss the thought from his mind to focus on his duty.

Honestly, non virgin Gojo is still possible, but unless we see Gojo actually show interest or actively flirt with someone (which seems unlikely), we may never know. To me, analyzing Gojo with his interactions with other characters (not his antics) makes me think it's more likely Gojo is a virgin than not, simply bc the argument for Gojo being a non virgin is his looks and immaturity (or his act of immaturity, we know Gojo thinks in a much more complex way than he lets on) which I'd argue is not an accurate description of his character, because that's only a part of it, and is in fact only what Gojo shows on the surface. And there's plenty of reasons why his lifestyle would make such getaways difficult. Also, Gojo's lack of enthusiasm for it. Gojo allows girls to fawn over him, but he hardly stokes the fire more than just taking off his glasses when they asked him to.

If Gojo was more like Osamu Dazai from Bungou Stray Dogs who flirts with every women he sees, I would have an easier time believing he would not be a virgin, but his lifestyle, behavior, and even his Six Eyes and his goal makes me think he wouldn't choose to constantly go on small getaways like that. Personally, I'd say Gojo spends more of his time plotting and maximizing his efforts on recreating Jujutsu Society.

Really, when Gege said he couldn't see Gojo being faithful to a woman could be because he's already committed to his job. Not because he's out womanizing, but even because the type of woman he'd commit to is so rare. And even if he did find a woman he'd commit to, being the ENTP he is means he's incapable of immediately recognizing and acting on his emotions- not because he doesn't have them, but because they're not really his forté. He'd rather rationalize his behavior than attempt to understand his own feelings. It'll take time and patience, but Gojo committing is still a possibility.

Honestly, I'd like to hear why people would think Gojo's a cheater/womanizer to begin with? Besides him teasing Utahime, Gojo's been pretty respectful to Shoko and Mei Mei. He even complimented and recognized Mei Mei's strength as a sorcerer. He didn't flirt once with the hoard of girls fawning over him. In fact, he was quick to focus on his mission despite the attention. I don't think Gojo's ever even teased Shoko about anything (other than commenting on her terrible way of explaining things, which is more of a fact than teasing). Though, correct me if I'm wrong.

Also, I haven't mentioned Riko much in previous posts and idrk why lol. But while Gojo is dominated by logical thinking, he's emotionally inept enough to notice Riko's mood. He may seem cold in how he comforted her by saying he'd leave her behind, but it's more of his ENTP personality that has him expressing his emotions in a more objective manner- even if it hurts, it's the truth, and that's fine isn't it? (Typical ENTP way of thinking).

Also slight tangent I read that one long meta about Gojo's interaction with Riko someone linked, and I'm completely appalled that they would think Gojo is only "pretending" to have emotions, "mimicking" them even! That he's incapable of truly feeling when in fact it's inherently characteristic of any ENTP to express themselves in a way that, to others, would be considered "cold" and unempathetic. It just goes to show just how misunderstood ENTPs are. They only make up 3% of the world so are often confused for socios/narcs/psychos which is understandable-

But I wanna make one thing clear: all sociopaths could be considered ENTPs. But not all ENTPs are sociopaths. (Switch Socio with psycho/narc/etc and it still works). Why?

Purpose.

Arrogance, boastfulness, unrefined emotional sensitivity, recklessness, impulsiveness- all of those fall below the importance of Purpose. Regardless of how Gojo "acts," it's been expressed time and time again- Gojo acts for the sake of the next generation. Sociopaths/Antisocial Personality Disorder/Psychopaths have one most common defining starting point: "it all starts with cruelty to animals and lack of response to their own actions, or actions of other people."

Let's make it more simple: regardless of whatever end of the spectrum sociopathy can be- high functioning, low functioning- antisocial personality disorder, in it's most simple terms, along with psychopathy and narcissism, condensed into one common trait is very clear: Their actions, while easily blendible into society, are for the sole purpose of pleasuring themselves.

Why don't people notice those with these disorders? Because their *behavior* is so similar to not just the typical ENTP, but also the ISTP AND ESTP. They can easily be mistaken for common members of society, but again: their sole purpose is the pursuit of pleasure themselves, while acting with complete disregard for the consequences of not just their own actions but others'. Staying in one job for extended periods of time is especially rare for a sociopath in particular, and this is one very clear difference between Gojo and a sociopath.

Gojo is willing to spend the rest of his life as a Jujutsu Sorcerer for the sake of others. This sentence alone defies any inclination that he could be a sociopath regardless of any other symptoms commonly associated with sociopathy, such as emotional insensitivity, hostility, risk taking behavior, lack of restraint, and impulsivity- there's a reason such people blend in with society, and that's because such symptoms are common with *any* person, regardless of personality type. Other than with the higher ups, Gojo hardly shows the anger, irritability, or general discontent that a sociopath is most commonly is associated with as their established mood - and even if he did, would being easily irritatable while in the position of the Strongest, the one who carries the burden of establishing a new future of Jujutsu Society on his shoulders alone be so unrealistic? That is why Purpose is so important.

If Gojo truly was a Sociopath, he would have dipped long before Jujutsu Kaisen had even started.

And I apologize for yet another tangent! Someone said Gojo sees his students as weapons or tools to be used in furthering his agenda. While that is not necessarily untrue, the implication is hardly close to reality. Like someone else commented, Gojo goes far and beyond for his students. While he is undoubtedly lacking in his ability to show affection in the most traditional of ways, it's clear that Gojo cares for his students-and others- deeply, whether that be when he went to see Yuta on his business trip to ensure Yuji would be safely taken care of in his absence, when he goes out of his way to personally supervise his students, when he willingly spends a whole day with Nanami just to ask him to mentor Yuji for him (in the Light Novel) regardless of Nanami's disdain, when he turned his Infinity off to allow Yaga to punish him (Gege made it clear in the manga that Gojo had done so to be a good role model for his students and that he recognizes his behavior deserves punishment), and when Gojo commented that he didn't want to think any of his students would be the traitor. Gojo does not express himself as most people do- he's only one of the most misunderstood personality types (on record, along with a few other personalites if you've researched them) and to say people have misinterpreted his character is much more plausible when even in real life, people who behave like Gojo are statistically reported to be misapprehended more often than more populated personality types. When inspected closely, there are so many ways Gojo himself expresses his care for other people, only hidden thinly behind the surface of his lofty attitude and uncaring demeanor. It only takes a few looks at his behavior, not his mouth, to recognize how much he goes out of his way for his students, doing he things that don't necessarily help further his agenda simply because he wants to, not because he has to. Changing the world isn't even something the average person would strive to do, yet Gojo makes it his life goal to accomplish. How could a heartless, emotion mimicking person possibly endure the strife necessary to accomplish such a task? It's appalling.

Gojo is more charitable than most people on the earth, simply because of the perseverance and diligence he takes to withstand the stress and hardships of Jujutsu Society for others. Remember that he chose to become the Strongest, it didn't happen overnight, and in becoming the Strongest, he carries the heaviest burden.

That's without mentioning that even though Gojo is the Strongest, and while to most he seems to proudly state so, it's clear that despite Gojo's antics, he recognizes his weaknesses as a sorcerer and is able to rely on others to make up for them. He had asked Nanami to mentor Yuji because he acknowledged his own flaws as a teacher and that Nanami would have a better capacity than him in that area (in Light Novel). He travelled to see Yuta to ask him to care for Yuji in case something happened to him- and Gojo knows that it's possible that he could be defeated somehow, someway. He's not so deluded to think he's untouchable, even despite his playfulnesses. He is always thinking ahead, calculating his next move while understanding his own shortcomings, acting prudently to ensure a better future.

He is a much deeper and complex character if one only takes the time to look past his antics and analyze his behavior- Something many people in real life seem to miss, and that is the true reason why Gojo struggles to commit.

Sorry for the long tangent and repetitiveness in the beginning lol! Back to the main issue!

Tl;dr there's more evidence of Gojo being a virgin who's more focused on work than pleasure. There's plenty of handsome men who don't seek out sex for reprieve but seek mental stimulation instead for relief. It's totally normal. Gojo could even spend his free time playing video games. He did admit to spending long hours beating 99 years of Momotarou Dentetsu to Geto. He's a gamer, and we know how gamers are commonly known for being virgins lol. Gojo could even be asexual for all we know. He could even be demisexual- someone who doesn't pursue sexual pleasure unless he's made an emotional connection with then. He doesn't necessarily have to even be straight or bi. Therefore, Gojo is very likely to be 28 year old virgin, and there's nothing wrong or strange about that.

Sources: ENTP articles, statistics on mbti rarity, other mbti articles, some quick Google searches, articles on sociopathy, psychopathy, narcissism, and antisocial disorders, etc, the manga, light novels, other metas in threads I remember reading, the anime, graphic organizers

Thanks for reading! 🙏

- 🤔

AHHHH CAN I JUST SAY THE ANIMATION IS DAMN GOOD 🔥🔥🔥 this scene in the manga is absolutely iconic prepare yourselves for season 2 😤 I literally had to stop the video and stare at him...I think one of the reasons Gojo behaved that way is becuz during childhood he probably didn't go out and be around people hence his confused reaction with the screaming teens. I mean everyone enjoys being complimented and getting attention from time to time and gojo is not an exception to this. Yes I definitely agree that when Gege said that he probably meant he's too busy for a relationship. The way it was translated made alot of people confused hence the player/cheater gojo was born. But then also the remember the comment he made when Gojo won the popularity poll? "Pick Nanami instead" ahhh hilarious

MY GAWD 🤔 ANON CAN I JUST SAY THAT YOU'RE AMAZING?! You explained in a way that easy to understand and you made statements backing it up with evidence. I learned from your ask than I ever did in university 😂 wow its truly fascinating though I never knew much personality types especially ENTPs I DON'T BELIEVE FOR ONE SEC GOJO IS A SOCIOPATH OR PSYCHOPATH fight me if you do. Exactly exactly just as anon said "He is a much deeper and complex character if one only takes the time to look past his antics and analyze his behavior." I COULDN'T AGREE MORE 😤 thank you so much for once again educating the community I'm a fan of you 🤔 anon ❤

[daretosnoop]

Chapter 1: The body in the Entrance

Here is it guys!

So, I changed the order of some event around to fit better with plot pacing. Also, I extended the mystery beyond one night because that gives me nothing to work with. 

I know I said that this is a romance between Henry and Nancy, but it’s not going to really be that because: 1. Who falls in love over the span of 4/5 days? 2. Henry can’t just go from one relationship to another 3. I have a hard time believing in quick love/relationships. I need foundation, and it’s reflected in my writing. 

I plan to continue the series beyond CRY, and build their relationship. So if you don’t ship, don’t worry, you can still read this.  I suggest listening to the soundtrack while you read to enhance the experience!

Had anyone asked Henry Bolet what love was, he would have had no answer. No honest answer, that is. Love was a parent’s devotion to their children. But his parents died when he was young, and their will somehow declared his father’s brother, Bruno Bolet, as a fit guardian. Love then, must be the desire to look after someone. But Bruno tossed him around from boarding school to military school. Summer and winter breaks were the only chance Henry got to see his uncle, but as he grew older he learned to use his sparse vacations more wisely. At twenty-five, he supposed he couldn’t complain much. Bruno never hurt him. He ensured Henry was clothed, fed, educated, and safe.

But surely, Henry thought, a person could expect more than Maslow’s base level of needs?

That was all life seemed to teach him. If you’re able to stay alive and keep moving forward, be thankful and keep your mouth shut. Be good, be quiet. And Henry was good. He performed well in school. And he was quiet. He silently bore the bullies, the snickers, the shunning. It paid off in military school where his silence was applauded as patience and he was promoted to officer at a young age and expected to delegate arguments. The nub of anger in him, an anger that appeared on the night his parents died, screamed at his fragile backbone. Its voice molded with the voice of his superior officers, commanding for attention among other orders. With so many years being called private Bolet, corporal Bolet, sergeant Bolet, and officer Bolet, Henry almost forgot his name. It wasn’t until he met Summer at a random bar that he remembered.

She sat by him while his fellow soldiers mingled with the other soldiers. It was their scheduled night out and the soldiers wanted to go to the bar. Outnumbered, Henry had no choice but to agree. To disagree would lead to a lack to trust and camaraderie, especially with him. So he sat somewhere dark and quiet in the bar, hoping no one saw him till it was time to leave. But like her name, Summer’s warmth crept into his corner.

“Hey there,” she cooed. “What’s your name?”

“Bolet” came the automatic reply.

“Oooh a cold one are you? Don’t worry. I don’t bite”. She nudged him a little and Henry could smell the alcohol oozing off of her.

“Henry,” he muttered after a long pause.

“Hen-ry”. She played with his name, brought it to life. “I’m Summer”.

Henry nodded, waiting for her to continue.

“Why don’t you join the other men? They seem to be having fun?”

“On duty”.

Summer’s eyebrows perked as she took in Henry’s response.

“So you’re not drinking?”

“It’s not my thing”.

“Ooh, a cleanwhistle,” she edged closer towards him. “A proper soldier”.

Henry said nothing. He could feel Summer’s gaze on him and didn’t know what to do.

“Come join us,” she spoke suddenly and got up, pulling him with her towards a group of people. They quietened when he and Summer approached and she introduced him as the “officer in charge”. It got a few chuckles, but Summer’s face showed pride. Henry didn’t say much, didn’t have to. Summer talked for the both of them, and the other members of the group seemed to have no problem with his trepid responses. Excitement, a rare emotion, flowed through him as he listened to the conversations that flowed through the drinks. It didn’t help that twice Summer gave him a peck on the check. She ordered more drinks. Henry paid for the first one, but then cut her off in concern. A chorus of coos went around the drunk group as Summer proudly declared him as “a good soldier”.

“My good soldier,” she whispered to him and Henry let himself fall.

  It was Summer who persuaded him to leave the military.

“What will I do then,” Henry asked.

“Don’t worry,” she placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll tell you”.

She suggested taking up a degree in accounting. It would be a 180 from the military, but the analytical side would be familiar. Henry considered letting his uncle know of the changes he was making to his life, maybe even introduce Summer to him. But Bruno never responded to the letters and emails Henry sent, nor did he pick up the phone. After a while, Henry just stopped calling. And anyway, there was no need to be concerned. Summer’s decisions were always right. She didn’t attend college, but she worked in the local café. Since she couldn’t accompany him, she suggested he stay and work in the café. After all, most freshman were too busy enjoying their youth to offer any real friendship, and since he was older than the others, it would just be too awkward for him. So he spent his free time in the café. He allowed her to crash in his apartment and picked up her slack.

Summer would often complain about her coworkers, her parents, Henry, even herself. The more time Henry spent with her, the more he saw how tired she was. She was often too tired to help out and frequently disappeared for days at a time. Henry was most worried about those days because she never bothered to let him know when she was going or for how long. Whenever he tried to bring it up, she would snap at him, exclaiming her need to discharge from the world. He tried to explain it to her, how his parent’s sudden death made him a little paranoid.

Summer listened to him. She then held his hands and said, “I’m sorry, but I’m not your parents. Get over it”.

So Henry got over it.

Now, two weeks from graduating, he stood in front of the Bolet manor struggling to get over his uncle’s sudden death. Summer had scoffed when Henry informed her of his uncle’s death. She didn’t understand the point of attending the funeral of some estranged relative who barely cared about Henry.

“He took care of me Summer”.

“So?” she exclaimed.

But when she saw that, for once, Henry would not be persuaded, she rolled her eyes and let him go with an aggravated sigh. A permission he thanked with a shopping spree.

“Just come back when you’re done Bolet,” Summer said as she left for her parent’s house.

  It was at the funeral he learned that Bruno had made him executor of his will and also dedicated thirty percent of the estate to him. It was no measly figure. Bruno Bolet’s house was of average size, but his estate encompassed the cemetery plot that belonged to the Bolet family. Even the ten percent that Bruno’s housekeeper was to get landed her a pretty sizable fortune. It was the housekeeper, Renee Amande, who welcomed Henry to the Bolet manor and showed him to his room. The house was very clean, which was all Henry could think of saying as she led him to his room.

“Of course it is. I keep very high standards,” She turned and looked straight at him. “Though Mr. Bolet was an eccentric and disorganized man, I always ensured he lived in a clean home and ate regularly. You don’t get to 98 single and alone”.

“He seemed quite content to live alone, from what I know of him,” Henry said. He couldn’t help snapping back. The anger he held had started to ebb out during the funeral and Henry had no outlet for it.

Renee stared at him. Her eyes roved around his figure, taking in this so called nephew of Bruno Bolet. She didn’t trust him. He certainly played the role of a Bolet very well with his eyeliner, painted nails, and what looked like a fishnet glove on his right arm. But what nephew never met or even called his uncle? Renee entered into Bruno’s life when he was in his sixties and he spoke very little of his family. Oh Bruno prided himself in the Bolet family’s eccentric personality and their history with New Orleans’s ghosts, but he always held Renee and most others an arm’s length away. But New Orleans was linked to the Bolet name.  

The Bolets started out as gravediggers and worked their way up to undertakers. Everyone, both living and dead, knew that if you wanted to be taken care of in death and the afterlife, you came to the Bolets. The family owned the largest cemetery in New Orleans and everyone took advantage of that. Taxi drivers who picked up the occasional ghost rider would drop them off at the cemetery. They would usually find a dollar for their trouble, though it never covered the fare. It was an unacknowledged law that the construction of any infrastructure had to have the approval of the Bolet family. Progressive or not, no one wanted to anger the ghosts of New Orleans.

Yet here stood the heir of the largest cemetery. The next Bolet set to inherit the role of his name. Renee knew from Bruno that the Bolets erred on the side of melancholic, but Henry’s aura radiated cynicism. That boy is trouble for you Renee.

He didn’t object to her desire to stay until the will had been properly sorted. He didn’t object to staying in Bruno’s old room, now stripped of life. He didn’t even object to her carrying on as a housekeeper. But something was off with the boy. At first she though it was grief. But the lack of connection between nephew and uncle made her assume greed. The boy kept staring at his phone with a dark frown on his face. At breakfast, he only nibbled on the blueberry cornmeal pancakes. When she showed him Bruno’s study, Henry just grumbled and set to work. Renee always took pride in Bruno’s workplace. It was a perfect blend of Bruno’s eccentricities and the Bolet’s prestige. But seeing Henry sort through the numerous papers that decorated the dark oak desk, Renee couldn’t help but feel disgust.

He doesn’t deserve any of it.

  Summer had been endlessly calling Henry since he landed in New Orleans. Frustrated and stressed, he put the damn cell on silent. But the missed calls piled up until finally, his phone died on him.

Thank god, he thought, then immediately felt guilty. Summer was just concerned about him. He didn’t even notify her that he landed and attended the funeral. He slept fitfully in a bare room and had no appetite for the breakfast Renee kindly made for him. He didn’t even get the chance to thank her for the pancakes when the landline rang and Henry was pulled into conversation after conversation. Everyone swooped in like vultures, desperate for a piece of the Bolet wealth. From last payments for furniture to unfulfilled I.O.U.s. Bruno Bolet had a lot of money and a lot of places he threw his money. Thankfully, it didn’t look like his uncle was in debt, but the mess he made of his finances made Henry nauseous. How could anyone be so careless on the things that mattered?

The first thing Henry did was grab a trashcan and clear out what seemed irrelevant. Advertisements. Confirmations and thank you for attending parties. Some random info on skulls. And an envelope from a research institute. Rubbish. As both executor and inheritor, Henry was caught in making sure Bruno’s will be carried out, but also in ensuring that no one swooped in and took something without permission. He also had to deal with Bruno’s remains.

After the cremation, Bruno wanted Henry to bury him in the Bolet garden. Where exactly, the old coot never specified. After roaming around a bit, Henry saw a red-eyed vulture sitting atop a shrine. Below it, there were four other red-eyed vultures. Suddenly a gust of noises crowded his mind. They whispered words, some of which Henry barely heard. Am I losing it? He should have been terrified, but whether it was a lack of sleep or the start of insanity, Henry found himself at ease with the whispers. They surrounded his presence and grew louder as he approached the vultures. Here…Here…Here, they urged and as Henry looked around the shrine, he saw a pot hole with the name Bruno Bolet on it. But how to open it?

The pot hole was shut and no matter how hard Henry tried to lever the lid up, it remained fastened to the ground. Taking a closer look at the pot hole, Henry noticed a lock design. So, it needs a key? But where was he supposed to find a key in Bruno’s mess? He sighed and gave up. He’d just figure out some other place to bury his uncle. The whispers cried out as he left, but fell silent when he approached the double doors of the study.

 That night, the whispers came into his room. They swarmed around him, chattering. Tittering whenever he sprung up from the bed.

“Go away,” he shouted.

They shivered.

“What do you want?”

Skull… man… skull… find… man… arrives

Henry flopped back onto the bed. He didn’t have time to chase after the adventures of some Skullman. Maybe he really was losing it. Maybe his uncle’s death was affecting him more than he anticipated. He wasn’t unnerved by their presence. They felt like meeting an old friend, not that Henry knew what that felt like. The only person he had was Summer. Speaking of which, Henry reached for his phone and saw that Summer had called again, numerous times. He sighed, then called and prepared for the onslaught.

“Hen-ry!” Summer’s high-pitched voice spoke through the silence of his room. Immediately, the whispers become silent and Henry could feel their presence leave the room.

“Hey Summer. Sorry about not calling you before. It’s been hectic.”

“God, Henry you’re such a jerk. You couldn’t even call me one time to check-in on me? Don’t you care about me?”

“Course, I do. How are you doing Summer?”

“I’m bored. My parents are working and I have nothing to do”.

“Didn’t you mention that you made plans to go to the beach with some friends? That’s why we bought those swimwear outfits”.

“Yaaa, but what can I do if my friend suddenly decided to bring along her boyfriend? Do you know how lame I look saying I have a boyfriend but not bringing him along? See how inconsiderate your uncle’s death is?”

“Sorry about that Summer,” Henry replied weakly. He never really figured out what to say to Summer when she got angry.

“You have to make it up for me,” Summer demanded. She sounded serious and Henry knew that a stubborn Summer was an uncooperative one. Still, he tried.

“Aw, come on Summer”.

“No buts, Bolet!”

“Alright, alright,” Henry said, trying to pacify her.

“How about I get you some CDs? That way you can listen to them until I finish around here?”

Summer was silent for a while and Henry held his breath.

“How long will you be gone for?” she asked.

“I’ll get you enough CDs for two weeks. How’s that? That way, if I finish early, you get extra CDs for another time?”

“You’re really pushing it Bolet”.

“I know. I’m sorry”.

“Just hurry up!”

Saying so, Summer hung up on him and Henry dropped the phone to the ground.

  There was a local antique store in the old French quarters. The owner, Lamont Warrick, didn’t hesitate to introduce himself to Henry at the funeral and procure a business card.

“For anything you deem useless, just toss it over to me”.

Henry didn’t have much on him. It didn’t help that Renee seemed to always keep an eye on him. Between the whispers and her unexpected presence, Henry didn’t know which was worse. Honestly, he was so close to snapping at her to just get it over with if her intent was to kill him. Her badgering presence was something he didn’t want to deal with. He didn’t know from where he was supposed to get the money to by the CDs Summer wanted. He only had a debit card on him and the stores only took credit. He cursed himself for never applying for a credit card. He never really needed it seeing as uncle Bruno and school took care of everything. It wasn’t until he left with Summer that he had to really take care of himself.

He didn’t need much, just enough to get the CDs and pay for shipping to Illinois. He knew it was wrong, illegal even. He could be forfeit from his inheritance. He would be a hypocrite for sure. But if he didn’t do this, Summer would be mad at him, and if Summer was mad at him—he didn’t want to continue that thought. So he grabbed a box and quickly chucked some clutter from Bruno’s room. The faster he did it, the less he would have to think about what he was doing. Giving Renee a quick excuse, Henry shuffled out of the manor and headed towards Zeke’s curiosity shop.

Lamont gave Henry a friendly hello and perked his eyebrows when he saw the box. Lamont felt bad when he saw Henry Bolet for the first time. He knew Bruno Bolet well. The man spent a lot of time at his curio shop, and frequently bought items. His housekeeper, Renee also frequented the place. But Bruno was the one who truly admired Lamont’s collection. In Bruno, Lamont found an appreciator of junk. The discarded bits people didn’t want, or had no place for, all found home in his curio shop. Bruno often invited Lamont over to see the Bolet manor, so Lamont knew that the house was a trove for antiques.

Lamont once asked Bruno who would get the house and the artifacts upon his death. He supposed some people would take the question as insensitive, greedy even, but Bruno understood what he was really asking.

“A relative of mine would inherit the majority”.

Seeing as Bruno was already hitting his 80s, Lamont assumed the relative was older. But when he saw the relative, this Henry Bolet, as a young man, all sympathy burst forth. This Henry was younger than him. Lamont had heard that Henry’s parent’s died when he was only eight. Bolet news spread like wildfire in New Orleans. Bruno would have been his only other relative. To have him die too. Lamont knew it was wrong. The young man didn’t seem to want company, but business was business. If he didn’t want comfort, maybe this Henry would understand business.

“Didn’t take you long to stop over,” Lamont said as he eyed the box. “Didn’t bring much either”.

“This is just a small sample. I’ll bring the rest later”.

Lamont was confused. People didn’t decide to sell a small portion of their junk and save the rest for later. It was usually a full overhaul, especially when death was the cause. Most just wanted to shove off the remains of the dead, as if they were scared of the memories the junk contained. Henry himself looked distressed, as if he was in a hurry.

Lamont perused through the box. Some old photographs. A locked box, and what seemed to be a top hat and skull costume. He’d often see Bruno wearing the top hat. It would sell. The box would also sell. But the rest would be hard to pitch to customers. No one really wanted the photographs of an unknown person, or their letters. Lamont sighed.

“Your uncle died 2 days ago, right?”

“Yes, and?”

“Well, let’s just say that in my experience, people don’t bring in things to sell 2 days after someone dies. Also, they don’t bring a small box”.

Henry became very quiet and Lamont continued.

“Hey man, I’m not judging you, but I’m assuming that you need cash fast”.

Henry gave a stiff nod.

Lamont sighed again. It was common in his business for people to quickly sell off something they assumed was junk when strapped for cash. He never bought anything from them. If they got caught, he could also get into trouble and Lamont had a family to worry about. But this kid, he looked so, so naïve. He clearly had no idea what he was doing.

“Look, I can’t buy this”.

Henry’s face fell.

“But,” Lamont continued. “Here’s what I will do. How much do you need? Hundred bucks?”

“Two hundred,” Henry muttered, then scowled. He couldn’t Lamont in the eyes.

That’s nothing, Lamont thought. But the kid looked so worried about it.

“Okay, so let’s say this. I give you the two hundred. I’ll even take this box and make a receipt for you if it will make you feel better. But, in exchange. When you actually go through your uncle’s possessions, you invite me over and let me have first pick over the artifacts. I take two hundred dollars’ worth with me. Deal?”

Henry nodded and Lamont rang up a bill.

  A couple days later, after dealing with an endless amount of callers, Henry pushed it all away. Slowly Bruno’s estate and finances were sorting themselves out, but Henry needed a break. Feeling perky, he offered to treat Renee out for dinner.

“About time I saw some Southern hospitality in you, young man”.

Their plan of enjoying the May breeze in the French quarters at a local café was ruined by the onslaught of rain. Henry apologized to Renee, but it was clear that the woman blamed Henry for the rain. They ate in silence and returned back to the manor to see the front door open.

“Did we have a break-in?” Henry exclaimed.

“Oh dear. This is highly unusual to happen in New Orleans. Normally it’s so safe, we needn’t lock doors,” Renee wondered.

Henry turned towards her.

“You didn’t lock the door?!”

“No dear. Like I said, it isn’t necessary”.

Henry pointed to the door.

“Yes, I can see how unnecessary it was”.

Renee eyes flashed.

“No need to take that tone with me, young man. I am not speaking nonsense”.

Henry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Why was he bothering to argue with someone who made huff-puff hoodoo powder in her free time? It didn’t help that the whispers came back to him. They followed him to that curio store, screamed more like it, as he ‘sold’ the junk. They were screaming now.

Skull… man… skull… man… fall…

Henry massaged his forehead.

“Let’s just infiltrate and assess damage”.

As both he and Renee stepped into the house, Henry caught the sight of footprints. One wet and small. The other muddy and large. The muddy one indicated that it’s owner had long left the house, but what caused him concern was that the smaller foot prints only went in one direction.

“Be careful Renee. I think our thief is still inside the house,” Henry whispered.

“Understood,” Rene whispered back, eyes watching the floor and mirroring Henry’s thoughts.

They stepped cautiously into the foyer and Renee reached for an umbrella. Smart, Henry thought. The thief might be armed. It would be best for Renee to arm herself. Henry clenched his hands into fists and tensed, ready to throw a punch.

When they stepped into the living room, Renee let out a gasp and dropped her umbrella. In front of them was the award-wining cemetery model Bruno made a long time back. Below the table, and splayed out, unconscious, at the centre of the living room was a young woman.

[villainsblog97]

NCT as Your Boyfriend

This is gonna be the LONGEST BF scenario I’ve ever done!!! O.O

Warnings: Maybe some language? some PG-13 Content 

Scenario: BF, Romance, Angst if you squint -.-....fluffy (TO THE MAX) 

HERE     WE    GO! 

Taeyong

Our Brave leader!

Taeyong might look, tough, scary, and totally sexy and charismatic

BUT

He’s nothing but a big floof

Especially for you...his girl 

Taeyong would be nothing but a sweetheart to you!

He would be the kind of boyfriend to make cookies with you at 2 in the morning because you were hungry and had a sweet tooth. 

I also see him just melting over everything you do! 

EVERYTHING

He loves making you laugh, and you love making him laugh

He is always making sure you’re happy and healthy

Like one day he’ll make you some Ramyun, then the next day he’s making you some detoxing tea and a nice fresh salad

You are his world.

Fights happen, but oh so rarely

But when they do

Our lil Bubu is a mess

He can’t focus, he can’t think straight

All he can think of is how your face looked

He has to make things right with you

And of course he does.

Overall he would be the best Boyfriend ever! 

Kun

Kun is definitely more of your best friend 

But he gets to cuddle and kiss you too 

Kun loves you to no end

And he will let the entire damn dorm know about it

He’s the leader of WayV 

God help him

You’re the only thing that keeps him sane

But you can bet that this boy will hype you up on everything

He’ll stare at his phone, smiling like an idiot 

Lucas: what’s he all smiley for?

WinWin: What else??

He also loves his magic tricks on you

Pulls flowers out of a hat for you

Definitely 

Like Taeyong, fights rarely happen

But if they do

Kun is gonna do something totally hilarious to make up with you

Something you can’t help but laugh at.

I see Lucas and YangYang involved in it too

Once you two have made up, he’s glued to you

He just wants to love you and you alone

Taeil

Taeil is kind of hard to read, because we don’t see a lot of content with him

But I see him being a pretty chill boyfriend 

He supports you in everything 

and he loves to spoil you

Always buying something that reminds him of you 

He also loves taking you out to restaurants 

Like the ones you get all dressed up for

Taeil also loves you in dresses

He just looks like he would like dresses 

He also can do fun dates too

Like the amusement park

He just wants to see you happy

If you have fights 

It’s hella serious 

You guys need some time away from each other

Until about 3 in the morning when he’s calling you and pouring his heart out

You have no choice but to forgive him

Mostly because he hates sleeping without you

Like I said he only wants to see you happy 

Johnny

Our Chicago boy is DEFINITELY a romantic!

You are his girl

And he’ll make sure everyone knows that 

I get the feeling he would love holding your hand

Like everywhere

You are his queen 

He’s always gotta show you off

“Wow... who is that beautiful woman??? Oh right, that’s my girlfriend!”

He loves making you blush too 

Always giving compliments to you

He tells you he loves you 24/7 

Cuddling is his favorite 

and because he’s so tall 

(Yep you guessed it)

Lots of forehead kisses

It’s healing for both of you

I can’t see you guys fighting a lot

It’s more like little bickers and arguments 

He will do whatever it takes to keep that smile 

Your smile is his favorite feature on you

Johnny Suh is a 1,000/10 Boyfriend 

Yuta 

Much like Taeil 

He loves spoiling you 

Dates are mandatory for our Japan boy

He’ll do just about anything with you 

I feel like he would love buying little plushies for you

Don’t ask why

He’ll call and text you every chance he gets 

If he’s on tour

Video calls

Counts down the days til he get’s back to you 

Loves hugging and holding you

You absolutely love his smile

Who doesn’t???

Yuta doesn’t look like he would be too much into PDA 

but when you guys are alone

He’s stuck to you like glue

He can’t fight with you 

It’s just not in his nature

If you guys do

There’s gonna be tears 

From both of you 

He’ll just hold you and tell you how sorry he is 

He love you so much and never wants to lose you

Doyoung

I’m not gonna get into how he looked in this MV

Okay

Doyoung is precious

Doyoung is sassy

and he also has a really strong RBF (resting b*tch face)

So Dating Doyoung would be...... a challenge 

He would be the best boyfriend 

but at the same time you’re questioning it 

not in a bad way of course 

I feel like he would be very blunt with you 

You come out in a long yellow dress

“Doyoung how does this look??”

“You look like a banana” o.O

.....

But then! 

He would suggest his favorite dress that looks absolutely stunning on you

He would even pull it out of your closet 

“This one... you look so beautiful in this one”

He won’t apologize for the insult

but his eyes will make up for the comment

When he’s having a bad day he’ll just want to hold you

Doesn’t matter where 

He loves it when you hold him too

Running your fingers in his hair

Because he’s so savage, fights could be often

But he does make up for them and this time he will apologize 

He also loves slow and long kisses 

He loves to feel you 

He loves you.

Ten 

Ten literally bias wrecked himself into my bias list 

Now this boy is more than just a beautiful dancer 

He’s shown that in past couple years now

Ten is a total weirdo too

You love that 

He’ll make you smile and laugh on your worst days 

He loves making you laugh

but he can also be super romantic 

I see him being a flower petal guy 

Getting a hot bath prepared for you 

He’s just a gentleman 

He also loves cracking up jokes with you

Always calls you baby

and always telling you he loves you

if a fight happens 

I can see it going two ways

the first being very emotional 

lots of tears 

The other way

(PG-13)

An aggressive make-out session 

Like you two are so mad at each other that it becomes sexual tension

and you two have to get rid of it

Anywhooo

after your night (hint hint wink wink)

You both lay in each other’s arms, promising to not fight again.

Or maybe fight, if it ends like that

Jaehyun

My bias wrecker! 

Okay Jaehyun is already like the ultimate boyfriend material 

So you know he’s gonna meet all the qualifications 

Why do I see him loving to go shopping with you?

Any kind of shopping

Clothes shopping, grocery shopping, even shoe shopping 

like his hyungs

he too loves to spoil you

with everything

anything he buys you, you treasure it.

He loves taking you out and showing you off to the world 

He makes sure no guy even looks at you wrong.

He gets jealous really easy 

“I don’t like that guy...” *pouty face*

“Well that’s my cousin so you have to like him a little”

“.....”

If you two fight it’s for something serious

maybe he’s working too much

or you feel like you never get to see him.

He can usually stay really calm during the fight 

He tries to listen to you as much as he can.

When you’re standing there yelling at him out of frustration

He’ll just walk up to you and hug you.

“Let’s not fight anymore, let’s just stay like this for a minute” 

WinWin

Like Taeil we don’t get to see much of our boy

but he is still there!

And to you

He’s the only one

I get the feeling that WinWin would be a very shy and cute boyfriend

Like he asks you for everything he wants to do

Asks to hold your hand

He never wants to make you feel uncomfortable 

Always asks you where you want to eat

He takes his time learning all about you

He probably blushes more than you do

And he loooooves hugs

You in his arms is the best feeling ever! ^_^

I feel like it would take A LOT to make him mad 

so your fights would be almost non existent 

When he’s away from you

He’ll send you a ton of snaps!

Miss you so much beautiful

He’ll wait for hours until you reply 

“She’s not answering” *sad eyes* 

“Dude it’s like 3 in morning in Seoul! she’s probably asleep”

Lots of good morning / night texts

He would be an adorable boyfriend!

Jungwoo

Lord help me...

My bean!

Okay so Jungwoo is a literal squish

So being your boyfriend

Is like the biggest UWU fest ever!

He is so whipped for you 

All the members will give him hell for it

You aren’t just the love of his life

You are his EVERYTHING

My heart is gonna hurt

His favorite word to call you is Jagiya 

There it goes >.<

Can you actually pick a fight with this boy??

He probably would get seriously emotional

He is also one who gives you a lot of plushies and flowers 

Bubble Tea dates

Arcade dates

He loves spending time with you 

He pouts when you can’t go to shows with them

Because he wants you to how cool he is on stage.

Jungwoo would be the ultimate squishy boyfriend

Lucas

This little Sh*t... -_-

Okay so this boy takes pride in making you flustered AF

It’s his job

He’s a flirt

He’a tease

You’re constantly yelling at him.

“LUCAS STOP!” 

He just laughs it off

Okay now hear me out

This boy will kiss your neck and growl in your ear

Just to get a squeal out of you

You neck all cringed up 

But he can also treat you like a princess

He loves holding your hand in public areas 

He wants people to know who you belong to

He’s not afraid of PDA 

When you two fight, if can actually get a little scary

Lucas has a deep voice and it gets husky when he’s mad 

You’re not turned on by it at all 

That’s probably where it will end

“You really piss me off sometimes” 

“Yeah and you do too!” 

Boom... making out 

At the end of the night you two still love each other and would do anything for each other. 

Mark

My boy! Loved him since Cherry Bomb! (first MV I saw)

Okay so like Jaehyun

Mark is already boyfriend material

He loves you beyond words 

So Mark is definitely a cuddle bug

He will fall asleep holding onto you

and if you are having a bad day 

He’ll lay you down on his bed, sit beside you and play his guitar

He loves playing with your hair

He’s tried failed to put it in a ponytail 

Mark is always trying to make you laugh 

He loves hearing it

He definitely calls you babe a lot

He likes to show you his parts in his songs (127, dream, U and Super M)

Fights with him would be small

and short 

He would try to end them as fast as they started 

If he can’t he’ll wait til you’ve calmed down a little before coming into your room, playing your favorite song on his guitar

He never sleeps without you

That’s why he always gets a little sad when he has to go on tour 

So you two video call until one of you falls asleep

I need a Make Lee >.<

Xioajun

I’m becoming utterly whipped for this boy

Okay 

Xioajun is also a romantic 

He also looks a really good kisser

So with that said

He will kiss you every chance he gets

This boy will treat you like absolute royalty

He will also call you princess 

I mean Xioajun himself looks like a prince

He also loves back hugs 

Like while you’re in the kitchen and he just comes up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist

Lots of cheek kisses that would trail down to your neck 

(Deep inhale and exhale)

A fight would only happen if you initiate it

If you told him he did something he would run over a hug you before you could walk away

It would be like a scene from a kdrama 

He would hold you for a second before you turned around to return the hug that lead to a kiss and an apology.

Hendery

One of the biggest crackheads in NCT and WAYV 

So obviously 

You’re gonna have a crack head boyfriend

Hendery is more than likely from another planet

Or at least that’s what you feel like

You are his baby

He makes sure you know too

“My baby!!!” (He is so loud XD)

You’re always questioning what he’s doing

He loves making you laugh too

So he’ll be doing something totally weird just to get a giggle out of you

“Aha! you smiled!” 

I think it’s impossible to fight with him 

I think if it were to happen 

It would be weird

Like you two aren’t actually fighting 

and eventually you two would just bust up laughing 

he looks like the kind to always hold your face when he kisses you

like his hand on your face, or lifting your chin to kiss you

he also looks like a good kisser too

Renjun

I feel like Renjun would ultimately be an amazing boyfriend

So you are his first priority 

ALL

THE

TIME

He is so caring of you

and he loves being around you 

He could be practicing and he sees you coming into the room

Everything stops

“Hold up! my girl is here!”

He also loves taking you on dates 

Fancy dates

Movie dates are his favorite though

I can’t see you two fighting a lot but if it does

He is gonna cry

(Please no one hurt him)

He’ll go to his hyungs for advice 

Then he’ll show up in front of you

Face all puffy

Eyes all red 

(My heart is breaking)

He’ll apologize so many times 

You have no choice to hug him and forgive him

He’ll feel relieved when he feels your arms around him

Then he spendss the rest of the day with you

Ultimate boyfriend!

Jeno

Jeno is total baby

so granted

He’s your baby

I feel like is adorably clingy

Like always needs to be touching you

Holding you

Whines when you have to leave your cuddle fest 

Pouts when you won’t kiss him

but then 

He can take charge on you

He was the one that asked you out

He initiated the first kiss

But he just likes being all soft and squishy around you

If the day ever comes that you two argue or yell at each other

Its definitely short

He will return to his baby act and bat those little eyes at you until you give in to him

Much like Hendery, you two kind of just laugh it off

Then you two are back 

Who can resist those eyes

Lets be real

No one can

Haechan

THIS BOY

He’s obviously spent too much time with Doyoung

He’s savage 2.0

But he loves you to no end

You two definitely have video game dates

He gets mad when you win

“Psht! I let you win...”

*Dramatic eye roll* 

He doesn’t let you live any of your embarrassments down

He’ll tease the shit out of you

He is the most extra boyfriend ever

You literally cannot take him anywhere

But no one else gets to mess with you

That’s his job

If someone tries to prank you

It’s on!

“This is my woman, no one else messes with her but me!”

“...”

Now don’t get me wrong

He still takes care of you

If you’ve had a bad day, or a fight with him

He’ll hold you in his arms

Gently rock you back and forth 

Sing sweet ballads in your ear

(Writing this is making my heart ache!!!)

Maybe he’ll mess up the notes just to make you laugh

Start singing off key

“Haha! My baby laughed!” 

You love this dork to the moon and back.

Jaemin

(Lord give me strength)

Okay Jaemin is also the ultimate boyfriend

This boy would treat you like absolute royalty

He is so in love with you

It’s almost sickening 

He can’t go a day without you

If he does

It drives him crazy 

He’ll sends you so many pics and videos 

Telling you how much he misses you or loves you

This boy is a big lover

He will show you it 24/7

Kisses all the time

He can’t help it

He craves your taste, your touch

He craves you 

(This is making crazy O.O )

He loves it when you wear his hoodies

He melts with everything you do

He can’t help it

Jaemin can’t fight with you either 

He’ll just ask you to please stop fighting 

Also hold you in his arms until you’ve calmed down 

He also loves playing with your hair 

Loves the feeling of your soft locks

He will cuddle the hell out of you

I’m not saying I want a Na Jaemin

But that’s exactly what I’m saying.

YangYang

Our boy YangYang would also be a total goofball

He’s such a cutie

And he takes pride in that

Like Jeno

He is your baby

and you love it so much

But he’s more like a baby that flirts with you 

He’ll say little sentences in German too

and won’t tell you what he said

“Please tell me what you said!!”

“That ruins the fun” 

“Babe!”

He will love to tease you 

All the time

He laughs at you for everything too

You just make him giggle

Especially when you want to know what he said in German and he won’t tell you

Like a lot of the members 

I can’t see you two getting into a lot of fights

I just can’t 

If there ever comes a day where he does tell you what he said in German

Let’s be real

It’s probably dirty...

Shotaro

We don’t know much about Shotaro

Except that he’s FREAKING ADORABLE

But I feel like he would be very similar to Renjun

He just spoils you rotten

You are his princess 

He loves to hug you too

Lots of hugs

and cuddles

(Give me strength!!! >.<)

He is also loves shopping with you too

He looks like snackin boy! 

So lots of snacks 

and movie dates

Okay another ultimate boyfriend 

No one better ever hurt this boy

Or I’ll fight you! (ง'̀-'́)ง

So on that note

no fights

Because I can’t imagine his sad face

Please protect him

We must protect him!!!

Sungchan

I get the feeling that Sungchan would also be like a combination of Mark and Jaemin

He loves you like a best friend

but also like a queen 

And again

Because he’s so tall

More fore head kisses

And lots of hugs too

He loves putting his arms around you

He’ll put your arms around his waist and then wrap his arms around you 

Tall people just make you feel secure

He too is very difficult to fight with 

Its also more like bickers or arguements

(Ah Young love)

He loves movie dates too

Just curled up on the couch

Buried in blankets

Snacks all around you

He is just the best.

Chenle

First thing’s first

PREPARE YOUR EAR DRUMS

This boy is so loud

But he’s a giggle box

And he loves it when you make him laugh

He also loves to make you laugh too

He seems like a chill one too

and he’s always singing to you

Chenle looks like a cuddler too

and a tickler

He’ll do whatever it takes to hear your laugh

He is also a sweet heart too

Always buying you food, and snacks

He wants to keep you happy

I can see him loving picnics

But he’s very underrated 

So he needs reassurance a lot from you

You always tell him he’s doing well

No fights from you guys

But you guys can be away from each other 

Only for a little bit though

Then he has to see you

He’s been without you too long

Jisung

Our little baby

Ain’t so much a baby anymore ㅠ.ㅠ

So this boy 

You’re his first love

So he doesn’t want to mess anything up

He wants to only make you happy

But he’s never dated before

So he isn’t sure all the time on what you guys should do.

He’s got 22 hyungs

They’ll help him out

Okay maybe not Haechan...or Hendery...

He really like to hold your hand 

I feel like he wouldn’t be too much into PDA

He likes to be alone with you

If any of the members tease him

He’s gonna get flustered AF

Lots of facepalms when the guys are around giving him a hard time

He’s their baby, they aren’t use to seeing him with his arm around a girl

or giving her kisses

or cuddling her on the couch

If you guys get into a fight 

He’s gotta ask everyone how to make up for it

So there he is

At your door

Flowers and giant teddy bear 

He’s really shy and tripping on his words

So of course you forgive him shortly after he stars stuttering words out to you

He’s growing up too fast!!! >.<  

(WHEW! Made it!! hope you guys enjoyed it! let me know what group I should do next! Please support NCT in their new album and Stream their MVs!)

[popatochisssp]

I’m pretty curious since you explained it with the hs boys but how would the hsf boys make up after the big fight over Pitch going out to his fights? Would it take longer because Pitch is content doing his own thing? Would things stay tense for a while?

It’s different for the Horrorswapfell boys, and it’ll definitely take them longer to sort things out, if just because...

Well...their problem wasn’t really so much ‘not saying enough to each other’ as it became ‘saying too much.’

The big fight they had shortly after Pitch started boxing seriously on the Surface was really just a boil-over of everything the two of them had been pointedly not talking about their entire lives. Pitch taking on everything for the both of them, because Nemo was too weak (read: too soft) to do what needed to be done Underground, protecting him even when it was hard, even when it hurt him, even when Nemo didn’t always want it.

Pitch saw his injury as the end of that dynamic. Nemo stepped up, growing a little harder and a little colder, but more independent by leaps and bounds: he didn’t need Pitch to protect him anymore, and Pitch would get to figure out who he was outside of that protector role, and how the two of them would be brothers going forward.

Nemo saw his brother’s injury as a role reversal of that dynamic, the passing of the baton: it was his turn now to protect his brother who was too weak (read: too hurt) to protect himself. It’s a heavy responsibility, but it’s Pitch, so of course he’ll take it on, even if it’s hard, even if it hurts him, even if Pitch doesn’t seem to want it. 

It’s his turn now to pay back that debt.

So when Pitch starts fighting and Nemo less asks and more tells him that he needs to stop, that’s the catalyst for the blowout--the lit fuse, so to speak, and there’s no stopping it once it starts burning.

Unfortunately...neither of them knows how to communicate very well. They have no talking strategies and their vocabulary for their emotions and perspectives is...lacking.

So what comes out of both of their mouths is a lot of poorly thought out, badly articulated grievances that maybe aren’t without substance, but just ending up hurting the other.

Nemo never seemed to have a problem when Pitch was out fighting Underground every day, when the stakes were actually life and death, it seems odd for him to care now when it’s on the Surface and for fun.

Just because it’s on the Surface doesn’t mean it’s totally safe, Pitch should know that, he was the one who told Nemo that for their whole lives. It seems weird that he should be having a sudden change of heart now, with unknown quantities and variables everywhere out there in the human world.

That’s the point of a fresh start, though, isn’t it? To start fresh? Nemo should be happy, peace on the Surface is everything he ever wanted, isn’t it?

Is that what this is? Because it seems like a lot more of the same--danger--just under the sky instead of a cave roof. Pitch should stay home, where it’s safe.

Like Nemo does? Too scared to even go outside to get the mail? He’ll pass, and you know, it’s starting to sound like maybe Nemo doesn’t approve of Pitch having a hobby for once, doing something for himself that doesn’t directly revolve around his brother.

That’s not true, that’s not it at all, it’s just a bad hobby, it’s dangerous!

Underground was dangerous, and Pitch handled that just fine!

Yeah, but Underground, he could see!

And that’s about the point where Pitch goes quiet...and Nemo keeps going.

Because Underground, things were different, Pitch knew his way around, he could take care of himself, he wasn’t--

“WASN’T WHAT?” Pitch demands to know. “WEAK? HELPLESS? BROKEN?”

“.........”

Nemo doesn’t answer that one, not because he wholly believes it, but because he doesn’t know a sensitive way to point out that...well... Pitch is more vulnerable now than he ever was. He lost a major sense, of course he is--and that’s why he’s supposed to stay home, where Nemo can protect him...

Pitch doesn’t take the silence that way.

The argument is over, right then and there, he’s done with it, and whenever his brother is ready to be reasonable again, he can say so.

He has no intention of setting himself on fire to keep Nemo warm, not this time.

So yes.

There’s the rift.

It’s tense and beyond awkward for a long while, Pitch feeling hurt that his brother thinks he’s too damaged to take care of himself and Nemo feeling guilty that he hurt him, and that he can’t seem to protect him the way his brother protected him all those years.

The onus is on Nemo--because it actually doesn’t take him long to start wanting to apologize, remembering how he’d felt when Pitch had overprotected him and realizing that...maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to just try to flip the script and expect it to work.

But how do you fix that? How do you apologize? How do you make things go back to normal when the old normal is impossible and...probably wasn’t working very well anyway?

Nemo doesn’t know.

Pitch was always the one who came to apologize or fix things when they argued before. This side of things is new to him.

The tension and distance lingers because of this and nothing really changes until Nemo starts working on his own issues.

Chiefly, the agoraphobia.

Because one of the recommendations for treatment is to gradually start spending time outside, to reduce anxiety--and if you can, to bring someone that you feel safe around with you.

There’s only one person that comes to Nemo’s mind, and that’s when he knows he has his olive branch.

As awkward as it is to broach the subject and explain it, the way Pitch seems to instantly go off the defensive makes it worth the pain of embarrassment.

Pitch (correctly) interprets the request for help as an unspoken apology for the things Nemo said, and more than that... if he’s a person that Nemo feels comfortable with, if he’s someone that makes Nemo feel safer when he’s around...

Well.

His brother must not think he’s completely helpless, after all.

And that goes a long way for soothing his hurt feelings ego.

It’s a gradual progression from there, the brothers spending more time together, talking more, learning how to talk to each other and not say the first thing that pops into their head.

The spoken apologies come in bits and pieces, not all at once, but... 

“you’re not broken.”

“NEITHER ARE YOU.”

“you deserve to have your own things.”

“I UNDERSTAND WHY YOU WERE WORRIED ABOUT THIS ONE.”

“i wanted to protect you, but i think i would’ve just dragged you down with me...”

“ISN’T THAT WHAT I WAS DOING TO YOU...?”

It’s still awkward sometimes, especially early on, but eventually the inevitable truth remains: they both have enough love in them to forgive their brother, for everything, and just move forward.

The first time they can take an extended trip somewhere, Nemo nudges Pitch and says they’ve been doing this whole thing backwards-- it’s the dog that’s supposed to lead the blind guy around. Pitch barks out a laugh and tells Nemo he isn’t a guide dog... guide dogs are well-mannered.

They both laugh about it and it’s a dumb joke, but for the first time in awhile, both brothers are pretty sure that they’re gonna be okay.

[janeyseymour]

Not A Child

Katherine Howard is not a child. She just wants you to know that.

WC: 3035

Katherine Howard was not stupid. She wasn’t a child. Yes, she was young, barely an adult. But her age was just a number. Did she maybe have childlike tendencies sometimes? Absolutely. But who didn’t? It enraged her when people infantilized her. She was nineteen and doing more than most nineteen year olds would even dream of doing at this point in their lives. For heaven’s sake, she was starring in a hit musical, handling press and being in the media’s eye, being an activist and social justice warrior- all on top of being a full time college student with outstanding marks. She barely had time to eat and breathe, much less take time for herself. However, she always made time for her friends. It was known that no matter what Katherine was going through that day, she would absolutely put her worries and problems aside for her friends and the other queens.

So one day when a friend from college was having a tough time, she begged Jane to let her go out on a drive that night with said friend after the show (not that she had to ask her. She just understood that the blonde had worries about her being behind the wheel after a day of work and school). The silver queen hesitated and sighed with an, “Are you sure you’ll be alright? I know you’re tired.” When Kat assured the third monarch she would be fine and promised she would text if she was going to be out past midnight, the older woman conceded her car keys. The fifth queen gave her a shocked look- she didn’t think Jane would hand over her keys so willingly.

“You are an adult Kat. I trust that you know yourself well enough to know that you’ll be okay. If you get too tired, don’t hesitate to ring. You know I’ll make Lina come with me to pick you two up and get you both back home safely.”

“Oh yeah. I am an adult. Thank you M-” The younger woman stopped herself. “-Janey.” She hugged the woman she was quickly forming a mother-daughter bond with. “I love you.”

“Love you too dear.” Jane watched the pink haired girl fondly before closing the door and settling herself on the couch with Catherine.

“What’re we watching tonight?”

“You mean what am I watching tonight?” When the third queen looked at the other, Catalina laughed. “Oh please. We both know you’re going to be in that pretty little head of yours worrying about Kit until she gets home safely tonight.”

Usually, the two in the car would blast music and sing to their hearts’ content. How Katherine was able to sing at the theatre and belt her soul out in the car while still maintaining a healthy voice was beyond everyone- the fifth queen included.

On this night though, Bella was not in the mood to sing. Instead, she spilled her heart out to the pink haired girl, who remained quiet and listened. After the college student was finished venting, Katherine thanked her for letting out her emotions around her- something she had learned from Jane herself. 

“For what?” the emotionally drained student laughed bitterly.

“I just, I know it can be hard to trust someone enough to spill out all of those emotions. It can be really hard.” She smiled softly at her friend, knowing the feeling.

“Hard to trust people in general, or hard to trust you because you bounce around like a five year old on campus?” Bella tried to joke, but the words cut deep into Katherine’s soul. Was that what people really thought of her?

“Oh trust me, I am more than capable of acting like an adult. I mean, I have an entire career in theatre and I’m a full-time college student with outstanding marks,” the pink-haired woman huffed out. The rest of the car ride was silent.

When Kat entered the queens’ house, she wasn’t surprised to see Catalina dozing off with her head on Jane’s shoulder, and the blonde was wide awake.

“You’re home early love,” the blonde noted.

“Yeah.” The teen ruffled a hand through her tresses, a small frown forming on her face. “I’m going to bed.”

“Would you like to spend the night in my room with me?” Jane asked hopefully.

“I’m good. Thanks though.” The youngest queen hurried up the steps.

“Love you,” the silver queen called up the stairs. She didn't get a response.

Over the next few days, the other five noticed a difference in Katherine. She held herself in a different esteem. She walked- no more did she bounce around on her tiptoes. She didn’t ask Jane for help with her hair- instead she simply let her hair cascade down her shoulders. In the mornings, she wouldn’t be found in the light grey room- she would be in her own. And when she came down for breakfast, she would reach for the coffee instead of the orange juice or milk Catherine and Jane had set out. She didn’t call Boleyn “Annie”. She didn’t call Seymour “Janey”. No more was the Katherine Howard who would walk out of her bedroom in the morning in pajamas and no makeup, rubbing her eyes as she made her way over to Jane for a good morning kiss on the forehead. The pink haired queen would emerge from her room with her hair and makeup perfectly in place, dressed for the day, and not immediately rushing for her forehead kiss. Katherine was not as excitable as usual, instead forcing a tight lipped smile when she was expected to before going back to a blank expression. The show just didn’t have the same bite that it had before.

“Hey Anne? Do you want to go grocery shopping with me?” Jane asked out of the blue.

“Wait, really?” the green queen practically shouted with surprise. “B-but I’m never allowed to go grocery shopping with you! Can I pick out some of the food?”

“You can pick what we have for dinner, and one other thing that isn’t on the list,” Jane sighed. Taking Anne grocery shopping had stopped promptly after the time the second queen unknowingly filled the cart with junk food the third queen never intended on buying- the third queen only discovering the additions to the cart as they were already in line to checkout. But, she knew there would only be one way to get her predecessor away from the others long enough to uncover any information Anne might have. The green and silver monarchs made their way out the door and into the car when Jane began to interrogate Anne.

“I’m going to get right to the point,” Jane stated bluntly as she pulled out of the driveway. “What’s going on with your cousin?”

“I figured you had an ulterior motive,” Anne laughed before turning serious. “I honestly don’t know. She hasn’t been herself lately.”

“She hasn’t called me Janey since last Tuesday.”

“She hasn’t called me Annie since last Tuesday either.”

“She doesn’t ask me to help her with her hair anymore.”

“She didn’t ask me to fuck around and help her with her political science homework like she usually does.”

“She hasn’t been coming to my room with me at night.”

“She hasn’t?” Anne asked, shocked. “Since when?”

“Last Tuesday.”

“So, something definitely happened last Tuesday. She was fine before the show and during the show, right?”

“Yeah. But when she got home from her car ride with Bella that night, something was off. She didn’t even tell me she loved me when she went to bed that night.” Jane couldn’t help but feel a little hurt.

“I know she’s my cousin and all, but I think maybe you should talk to her. You and her have this whole mum-daughter dynamic going. Maybe she’ll-”

“We what?” The driver slammed on the brake and threw Anne a bewildered look.

“Oh right Janey,” the woman with space buns laughed. “Like you haven’t noticed that the girl practically follows you around like a duckling. Anyway, I think you should talk to her. She tells you more than she tells me at this point.”

“I’m sorry. I can-”

“It’s not like I care. It’s nice seeing Kat have someone mother her for a change.”

“Hm,” Jane sighed. Pulling into a spot and placing the car in park, she stayed seated for a moment, thinking about what Anne had just said.

“Earth to Jane Seymour? Hello?” The green queen waved a hand in front of her face. 

“Sorry hun.” She moved to get out of the car.

“So, can we have mac n cheese for dinner? But like, your homemade mac n cheese? Not that boxed sh-”

“Language Boleyn. We are out in public.”

“Not that boxed... stuff that Kat likes.” The woman in green smiled.

“I suppose,” Jane sighed.

“And I still get to pick out one thing that isn’t on the list, right?”

“Yes Anne, just as long as it’s not something too expensive. One thing.”

The two made their way out of the store in record time amazingly. After a small argument over whether the bulk box of gummy bears was “one thing” or not, the trip went on without a hitch.

“Hi girls, there are a few more bags out in the car if anyone wouldn’t mind helping and getting them for us.” 

“What the hell Anne?” Catherine mumbled as she passed her successor who was struggling to bring in her bulk box of gummy bears.

“I got it Lina.” Katherine made a beeline for the door as she pushed the first queen into the recliner nearby. The pink haired woman came in with every bag in one go.

“You didn’t have to do that honey. Everyone else could’ve helped,” Jane breathed out.

“It’s fine. I can put everything away too. Only fair since you and Anne went grocery shopping for us.” The other women in the room shared knowing glances with each other. The blonde knew it was only a matter of time before she would have to bite the bullet and have a talk with the youngest in the house.

“I can clean up dinner since you cooked Jane.” Katherine went about clearing off the table before going about washing the pots and pans that were used. The other queens shared a knowing glance with Jane before exiting the vaccinity. 

“Thank you for your help today love,” Jane said warmly. “Is it alright if I help out?”

“But you already made dinner.”

“I really don’t mind helping out.”

“But-”

“You wash, and I’ll just dry. Deal?” Kat shrugged but handed the blonde the towel nonetheless.

“I can make dinner tomorrow if you want,” the fifth queen offered. 

“What’s going on hun?” Jane got straight to the point. “I appreciate you helping out and everything, I really do, but you haven’t been yourself since last Tuesday.”

“What do you mean? I’m just picking up on the things I haven’t been doing. Just trying to be more helpful, you know?”

“It’s more than that hun. What’s going on?”

“Just figured I could be a little bit more of an adult, that’s all,” Kat shrugged as she reached for another pan.

“You’re only nineteen hun. You know you’re allowed to be a kid, right?” In reality, Katherine was the one person everyone thought deserved to indulge in childish behaviors. Having had to grow up so young in her past life, she should be able to have a little fun this time around.

“Well, I don’t know. I just figured...” Kat trailed off.

“You’re allowed to just be you hun.”

“It’s not like anyone likes me anyway,” the fifth queen mumbled.

“What was that love?” Jane feigned not knowing what she had spoken. When the pink haired girl didn’t respond, the third queen stopped her from grabbing another pot, making her look at her. “Listen, we’ve all noticed over the past week something is wrong. I mean, you barely come to me for your morning kiss anymore.”

Kat sighed. “Isn’t it kind of childish that I run over to you for a morning kiss?”

“Are you speculating that it’s childish that Catalina, Anne, Anna, and Cathy do the same thing?”

“Well, no. Of course not.”

“So why is it childish for you to do such a thing?” Jane had a point there.

“And I don’t really help out with any of the chores around the house,” the pink queen tried again.

“I don’t know about you, but I see that Anne doesn’t really help either. Or Cathy for that matter, always locked up in her study trying to write. We should really make her come out of there more often,” the silver queen laughed quietly.

“Isn’t it silly that I bounce around places instead of walking?”

“Anne has wheels in her shoes,” Jane countered. “Now, I’ve pretty much pinpointed when something must’ve happened, so be honest with me please honey. What happened on that drive on Tuesday with Bella that’s making you think this way?”

“I-” Kat thought of what she was going to say so that her housemates didn’t go into overprotective mode. “Just some things were said. That’s all.”

“Like?” The blonde waited.

Kat sighed. “So uh, when we usually go on drives, we just sing and sometimes talk.”

“I still don’t know how your voice is so healthy,” the third queen quipped.

“I don’t know either,” Kat let a small smile wash over her face. “But uh, on Tuesday, she spilled her heart out to me. Just told me about all the different things she’s had to deal with and is dealing with now.”

“That’s wonderful that she trusted you enough with that love,” Jane offered an affirmation.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. So, I thanked her for trusting me with that information, and she asked me why I was thanking her. I told her that I know how hard it can be to trust people enough to talk about the really tough times in life. And of course, we both know I know that to the highest degree. And her response was, ‘Hard to trust people in general or hard to trust you because you bounce around like a five year old on campus?’ And you know, those words cut real deep. I know she was trying to make a joke or whatever, but it hurt.”

“Did you tell her it hurt your feelings?”

“Well, you know I’m related to Anne. I don't quite have the Boleyn temper, but the Howard temper isn’t much better, so no. I bit my tongue because if I said anymore than what I did say, I would’ve gone ape shit.”

“What did you tell her?” The older queen decided to ignore the fact that Katherine had just used the expression, ‘ape shit’.

“I just kinda said, ‘Oh, I’m more than capable of being an adult’.”

“How do you actually feel about this?” Jane treaded lightly.

“Why do people think I’m a child unable to live in this world?” She looked to Jane with tears in her eyes. “I’m fully capable of being an adult, and I’m doing so much with my life right now, and people still think I’m an idiot. I’m not an idiot Jane. I’m not.”

“I know that sweetheart.” Jane wrapped the woman up in her arms.

“Do people not understand how damn hard I work to be where I am? I’ve been going through it and barely sleeping because I’m so busy working my ass off. I mean for god’s sake, I’m at the top of my class while starring in a hit musical. Does that not count for something? Do people not understand that for a nineteen year old, I’m doing so much more with my life than most people my age? I’m so much more than just a silly nineteen year old with bright pink hair that bounces around and acts silly. I do that stuff on purpose if we’re being honest here. When push comes to shove, I can be a god damn adult. And I am. And I get shit done.”

“I know you can honey.” The blonde pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “You’re doing wonderful things, and I am so unbelievably proud of you- as well as all of the other girls.”

“I mean, like I know that.” Kat pulled back a bit to look at the silver queen. “But what is it going to take for people to take me as anything other than a joke? Am I just a joke at this point?”

“Oh love,” Jane pulled the younger queen back into her arms. “You are not and were never a joke.”

“Well, I don’t know what people want from me anymore. People don’t like the silly side of me, but people also don’t like the adult side of me. It’s like it’s never enough no matter what I do.”

“We do Kat. you are enough. Every side of you. The “adult serious” side and the silly goofy side- all of it- is enough. I promise you honey. You’re enough, just the way you are.”

“Thank you.” The fifth queen tightened her hold on the blonde.

“Are you going to talk to Bella about your feelings?”

“I mean, maybe. I don’t know. It happened a week ago. Isn’t it kind of pointless to bring it up now?”

“I don’t think so love. You know what they say: you can’t heal if you keep pretending you’re not hurt,” Jane recited back a quote she had seen on social media the other day.

Katherine thought over the older one’s words before nodding. “I guess. But maybe not tonight. Do you think we could just- I don’t know, have a me and you night?”

“I think that’s a great idea hun. Why don’t we finish up these dishes together, and then we can curl up on the couch and watch a disney movie?” the older monarch smiled before she added on quickly, “And no, liking Disney is not childish. I quite enjoy it too, and you wouldn’t call me childish, now would you?”

“You’re the last person I would call childish... aside from maybe Lina.”

[the-pontiac-bandit]

Tobe + fist (if your still doing that tortall thing) the kalasin thing was AMAZING!!!

i’m SO glad you liked the kalasin story!! here’s one about tobe to thank you for the compliment!

Tobe whistled as he meandered down the long aisle in the center of the pages’ stables, horses perking their ears up or neighing quietly in greeting as he passed. He’d lived at the palace for nearly a month and had found--to the surprise of no one except himself--that it quite suited him. He’d known that Peachblossom, Hoshi, Magewhisper, and the rest were well-bred and well-trained, but even after Lady Kel had described the palace in detail, he still hadn’t been prepared for the sheer number of perfect horses, living stall after stall for what felt like miles of stables. Their coats shone, muscles rippling beneath as they responded to the lightest touch of his knee against their sides. It was like magic.

Stefan and Daine, meanwhile, were teaching him to control his actual magic, spending hours meditating with him and instructing him on the best ways to listen. He marveled for a moment as he walked at how much clearer the voices around him sounded, even compared to only a few weeks before, when he spent most of the ride south translating Peachblossom’s complaints about the mud for Lady Kel’s benefit. He’d spent time admiring and trading wry jokes with Loey’s shaggy ponies in the Riders’ stables and spent most afternoons practicing with his bow on their standing targets while they were busy on horseback, but that was a decision for next year. For now, he was more than content to enjoy the marvel of newly discovered magic and the heady sensation of his newly earned freedom.

He was distracted as he wandered through the stables, making his way towards the hay lofts at the far end, where he’d left some tack that needed mending. He was reveling in the sounds—although really, Daine had explained last week, they weren’t sounds as he understood them—of the horses’ idle gossip. Equine gossip was always so much more interesting than two-legger gossip, Hoshi had insisted time and again when he came to her and Peachblossom with a tidbit about one of his two-legger friends, and Tobe found that he had to agree.

He didn’t notice at first when the tones changed, but suddenly, he was aware that the genial chatter he’d been so enjoying had turned tense and quiet. Some of the more skittish warhorses had backed up to the corners of their stalls, pawing at the floor with hooves the size of the plates in the mess hall while the whites of their eyes shone in the dim light. Similarly, some of the more skittish pages had fled their horses’ stalls, eager to avoid broken toes or bruised ribs.

He knew what his job was now. He was to go find Stefan as fast as his legs could carry him and warn him that a fight was brewing. Then, Stefan would wander through the stables in the casual, quietly purposeful manner he had perfected, silently reminding the pages that they’d best groom their horses properly and pick fights on their own time. He’d witnessed it twice since he’d started as a groom, and he was eager to emulate the walk himself one day.

He’d already turned to go when a sample of the words drifted towards him over the quiet scuffles of pages fleeing the scene, eager to avoid the punishment work that they’d surely earn if they were caught brawling in the stables.

“A stupid trollop…no better than you ought to be…”

Tobe’s blood boiled at the sound of the words, ones he’d heard more times than he could count, from the mouths of new refugees or fellow soldiers at Mastiff, always out of his Lady’s earshot. Before he’d even made a conscious decision to do so, he was spinning on one heel and stalking back down the aisle. As he strode towards the corner stall, where the horses seemed most nervous, he drew himself up to the fullest of his fourteen-year-old height, thanking the gods for his recent growth spurt. He’d put on more muscle, too, as his voice deepened. He spared a moment to warn the horse—a particular favorite of his nicknamed Bonney by her rider—not to intervene, and then shifted his hearing to his ears to better hear the two-leggers, picking up more of the argument as he drew nearer.

“You shouldn’t do this, Halleburn,” Bonney’s rider’s voice was cold, her tone firm. Tobe was sure she must be angry. After all, his own mind was seething with rage. Instead, though, she sounded ice-cold.

“You shouldn’t be doing any of this, my lady,” Brennard of Halleburn replied. Tobe was still new to the manners of the nobility, but even he could tell that lady here was an insult, not an honorific.

“You’re just embarrassed that I beat you. If you spent as much time practicing as you do whining when you lose, you might have more luck next time.” Tobe was tempted to whistle quietly at her bold retort, but he was distracted by the sound of a scuffle, and by Bonney’s insistent Hurry in his head.

He rounded the gate into the open stall, his fist already drawn back like Lady Kel had taught him years ago in the town square of New Hope. Before he’d had time to consider attempting to resolve the situation peacefully, he was feeling the surprisingly satisfying crack of breaking bone beneath his fingers.

Both pages’ jaws dropped, blood dripping into Halleburn’s open mouth as he sputtered indignantly. He spared not a word for Tobe, instead spitting blood in his general direction as he sprinted out of the stall and down the aisle. Tobe was sure he was bound for Lord Padraig’s rooms, but he could hardly bring himself to care. His blood was pounding in his ears, his heart racing in his chest, as he seethed over the page’s words.

He took one deep breath, then another, fighting to control his emotions and his shaking hands. It was as the anger cleared that he recalled he was not alone in Bonney’s stall. The female page was staring at him, mouth still open in shock. Belatedly, he remembered his manners, bowing deeply in the manner Stefan had drilled him on as he stuttered.

“I apologize—I’m so sorry—I didn’t mean to disrespect—Page…” and then he trailed off. While he was intimately familiar with the details of the page’s riding skills—well beyond her fourteen years, according to Bonney—Bonney had never thought to mention her rider’s name—or how pretty she was.

“Marinie,” she replied. She finally closed her still-open mouth, but her eyes were still flashing with anger. “Marinie of Shaila.”

“Page Marinie,” Tobe filled in, finding words as he calmed. “I do apologize for my outburst. It was not my place. I hope you can forgive my rudeness.”

She brushed past his formal apology with an impatient shake of her dark braid. He noticed her hair—longer than both Lady Kel’s and the Lioness’ but braided tight against her head. After a day’s worth of hard work, shorter pieces in the front had fallen out, some framing her face while others curled out from her head. One lock fell in her eyes with the shake of her head, but she brushed it away absentmindedly as she replied, “He’s going for the Training Master, you know.”

Tobe shrugged. “Stefan’ll be disappointed, but Daine’ll think it’s funny.” He’d discovered quickly that Daine always thought such misbehavior was worth a laugh. Numair said it was because she lacked discipline, but there was laughter in his eyes as she elbowed him in response.

Marinie smiled quickly at that, her demeanor shifting from frustrated to friendly in a breath. “She probably will. In one of our lessons on horse care, she told Carlin of Irenroha his horse would bite his nose if he kept sitting like a lazy sack of flour at the trot. When Carlin tried to complain to Lord Padraig, m’lord just told him Daine was right.”

“That sounds like her,” Tobe replied. He wasn’t sure if he should go before Lord Padraig returned to chastise him or stay to clean the blood off the floor of Bonney’s stall. Now that the adrenaline was leaving his body, he could feel his fist hurting where it had made contact with Brennard of Halleburn’s face. He shook it out as he turned to leave the stall for the tack room, where sponges and brushes for scrubbing could be found.  

“Why’d you do it?” Marinie asked. She was surprisingly direct, for a noble, and he found the corners of his mouth twitching at her lack of inhibition.  

He stopped, one foot out the gate of the stall, to answer. “I worked four years for the Lady Knight Keladry, and—”

He’d meant to continue to explain, about all of the muttered insults and unfair accusations and his disappointment that such things were said even in King Jonathan’s palace, but Marinie had already cut him off.

“You know Lady Knight Keladry?” Her face lit up at the information, a smile breaking across her freckled cheeks. “What’s she like? Is she as good with her glaive as they say? What about the lance? I didn’t get to see her joust on Progress—my mother said I was too young, even though I wasn’t, and—”

She cut herself off, her cheeks reddening slightly as she scraped a well-worn boot against the stable floor. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to say.”

Tobe grinned properly at that. “She’s even better. You should see her joust against Lord Raoul—that’s a real match. She hasn’t beat him yet, but she sits in the saddle all firm, and her horse is all muscle and speed. She rides him like something out of legend, and he can bite something fierce. He’s too big for pretty much everyone, but they manage well, and he’s got a beautiful strawberry coat—”

“You’re talking about her horse,” she interrupted him again.

“Right,” he caught himself. He rubbed his hand again. It was properly throbbing by then, his first two knuckles already beginning to swell. Lady Kel hadn’t mentioned how much punching someone hurt—he’d have to tell her when he next wrote.

Page Marinie eyed his fist, a knowing look in her dark eyes. “You should come to my rooms. I have bruise balm that’ll help loads with that. You won’t be able to use that hand tomorrow otherwise.”

“I shouldn’t,” he replied, a bit uncertain. “I really should be cleaning this mess. That’s what’ll get me with Stefan later, if Bonney here tells him she’s been smelling blood all evening.”

She shrugged. “Meet me back here at the second bell after supper, and I’ll help. I finished my punishment work in the armory two days ago, so I have the time.” His heart skipped a beat at the invitation, and he could feel his cheeks redden just a bit.

He started to protest, but she was already interrupting him again. “If you hadn’t done it, I probably would’ve. He deserved it. And if you really want to thank me, you can tell me stories about Lady Kel—not her horse—on the way.”

[ruffboijuliaburnsides]

viper jaskier AU teaser

Did you want to read a bit of the setup for my Viper!Jaskier AU? well how about a lovely chunk of the first chapter to tide you over! That sounds like fun, right?

It is not out of edits yet technically, and it is not the entire chapter and I have cut out significant chunks of content so it remains new when I put it on AO3, but I am very proud of it. Please let me know what you think?

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Jaskier had, perhaps, been a bit too rash in storming down the mountain after the dragon hunt, effectively removing himself from Geralt’s life. Geralt from his life. Whichever way you cut it, they aren’t going to be travelling together anymore and… and good riddance, frankly.

Jaskier spent two decades as a stand-in for someone else, and he had borne it for the love of that fucking man, despite what little good sense he had. And in return he gets told off for having the audacity to try to cheer Geralt up after whatever happened with Yen that left him in such a foul and hateful temper? Oh yes, how dare he care about his friend – certainly that deserves sharp words about knowing when to shut up.

It was better than being alone, with the gaping ache in his chest as he tried to find his way to something that would fill the empty loneliness, that he'd felt every time he was without Geralt. But he’s done. He’s washed his hands of Geralt of fucking Rivia, and he’s glad of it.

Except that he’s not. Not really. Jaskier is in the next town down a random road, out of the town Roach had been stabled in at the bottom of the mountain, and his chest aches and aches and aches, the way it did before he met Geralt, the way it did every time they were apart. When he met Geralt it was a revelation how well he could fill that emptiness, and he stayed with the man for twenty years. Twenty. Years. Despite the harsh words. Despite the way he sometimes heard Jaskier and looked as if he’d just eaten a lemon. Despite the fact that Jaskier knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the witcher tolerated Jaskier because of someone he'd already fucking lost.. And then after Jaskier finally lost his patience with it and told Geralt as much, he had the audacity to try to claim that he’d let Jaskier stay for his own sake.

Which, frankly, was bullshit, and Jaskier knows it.

Which is why he is here, two weeks later, in this shit town, spending the last of his coin on another bottle of some sort of local liquor. It tastes like shit, but it gets you completely drunk, which is a good state to be in for the shit songs he’s writing and will never perform.

He says

It’s you and always you

I say

You never really saw me

Jaskier hums a bit, tucked into a table in the far corner of the tavern after having been booed into ending his attempted performance, trying to fit the scrawled (nearly illegible) lyrics to some kind of melody, and takes another swig of the bottle next to his journal. “Nah, that’s shit,” he mutters to himself, and scribbles it out loosely.

Maybe it should be a song that blames himself. He’s the one that turned it into a goddamn argument, after all. Geralt had snapped at him how many times, and he’d never taken it personally, but this time somehow was too much? Especially when Geralt was… already upset. He’s not sure what happened between Geralt and Yennefer, but he knows something happened, something not good, and yet he still pushed, and took it personally when Geralt didn’t respond well. Of course Geralt didn’t respond well.

Honestly, Jaskier only had himself to blame for being alone, after all that.

It’s been two weeks. Two weeks he’s been drunk off his ass and written a complete load of maudlin and frankly idiotic shite. He passes out at the table eventually, face planted into his journal and liquor bottle emptied down to the dregs.

The tavern owner apparently thought it best to let him sleep it off, because it's not until morning that Jaskier's roughly shaken awake and told in no uncertain terms to get out, and that his bardic services won't be needed again. Jaskier doesn't blame him; can’t keep a bard on hand if he largely sings depressing songs, he supposes. 

He starts walking out of town, hoping he actually has all his things, and decides to take stock, even if he's still a bit wobbly. He has his lute, his bedroll, a silver dagger Geralt gave him once "for emergencies", and his bag that mostly just has a change of clothes that probably needs washing pretty badly. A quick subtle smell test (which frankly, Jaskier realizes didn't need to be subtle, as there's no one on the road with him, but old habits and all) verifies that he does absolutely need a bath before he does anything else.

Right.

Geralt is gone. Jaskier has left Geralt. Geralt and Jaskier are no longer... whatever they were. Friends? It seems shallow to call them friends, but they weren't anything else. And maybe the leaving was his fault - Geralt was angry, and upset, and Jaskier knows probably better than anyone how much Geralt doesn't know how to handle strong emotions. Maybe Jaskier shouldn't have left. But he did leave.

They're done.

Geralt is gone.

Jaskier is alone.

It's an awful feeling, being alone, but Jaskier spent twenty years imperfectly filling a role someone else had filled before Geralt ever met him. Trying to fill a hole in Geralt's heart the way Geralt filled a hole in his. The problem is the shape of it: Jaskier's loneliness is broad and overwhelming and he's dealt with it as long as he can remember. Geralt's is shaped like a specific person.

And Jaskier is forty-two. He's too old to trail after a man with no interest in him like a lost puppy. He's too old to keep trying to wedge himself into a place he doesn't fit into, just so he won't feel lonely. He's too old to sit around for weeks crying over a broken heart he saw coming almost two decades ago; too old to be drinking himself to oblivion, and playing nothing but heartbreaking songs. He has the rest of his life to live.

So, metaphorically at any rate, he picks himself out of the dirt, dusts himself off, and keeps moving. He's still living, even if the life he'd built is in ruins, so now he rebuilds it.

[...]

It's been almost two years since leaving Geralt when he runs into the mage in Temeria.

He's played quiet inns and taverns before, and the key to those is generally to work at various familiar and relatively low-key songs until the audience responds, and work from there. But in this town, they seem to not want to engage, and he only plays for about an hour before he gives up, and asks for a meal and some ale.

"I wish you'd played longer," a man says, sitting down across from Jaskier. "You have a beautiful voice."

Jaskier glanced up at him, and considered what might be happening. The man was a bit older than him by all accounts, greying black hair and moderately attractive; his clothes weren't fancy silks or anything, but they looked finely-woven and well-fitted. And there was something about his eyes that set Jaskier on edge.

"Mmm," he said, something clenching nervously in his stomach. "No offence," he says lightly, with effort, "but I have a policy not to fuck mages. Professional courtesy and personal preference. You understand."

"I'm a bit disappointed on principle," the man says, with a hesitant smile. "But no, that's not why I wished to speak to you, Jaskier." 

Jaskier is almost more terrified by that than by the compliment. "I don't know where Geralt of Rivia is, either," he says, trying not to let any panic into his voice and failing miserably. "Haven't seen him in years, actually."

"My name is Doran," the man says gently. "I am a mage, though I'm mostly removed from the politics of the Brotherhood. And I'm not here to hurt you or ply you for information."

"Really?" Jaskier asks, dubious and still rather terrified, if he's being honest. "Not to be rude, but given my experience with magical personages, that seems highly unlikely."

Doran doesn't seem phased, though, and just leans forward. "You've a curse on you, bard. It seems rather nasty, and I... wanted to make sure you knew, I suppose."

Well. That certainly got Jaskier's attention quickly, and he freezes for a moment, his heart clenched. "A curse?"

"A curse," Doran verifies, nodding. "A strong one, too, as far as I can tell. Did you anger a wizard recently?"

Jaskier's pretty sure he hasn't, but he wracks his brain anyway, thinking back and trying to think of any magic users other than Yennefer that he might've pissed off enough to have a strong curse on him that he somehow doesn't know about.

"I... mildly irritated a sorceress nearly two years ago," he offers. "But I'm relatively certain she was much angrier at someone else. We have history, the irritation was mutual. Actually, I was off my game; I was probably more irritated than she was." He's starting to get jittery, turning moments over in his mind, turning himself over in his mind. 

"I doubt that would've been the source then, even for a touchy mage," Doran says thoughtfully. "Casting this curse would've taken a fair amount of effort." Jaskier's food and drink arrive, and he stares blankly down at his stew, his stomach souring. No, definitely not in the mood to eat anymore, and he pushes the bowl to the side.

[...]

"I should put this up in my room, if that's all right?" Doran nods his agreement, and Jaskier heads upstairs to stash his lute safely in his locked room. He pauses before going back downstairs, rests his forehead against the door, and takes a moment to breathe.

He's cursed, with a powerful and unknown curse, that could take effect at any moment, that he'd received at some unknown point in time, and if anything happens to him, Geralt will almost certainly never find out. Jaskier can't even be melodramatic and leave a letter for Geralt, because there isn't anywhere to send it. And it doesn't escape his notice that even now, with the spectre of something awful hanging over him, two years after he'd walked away, the only person he can think of is Geralt.

"Fuck," he whispers into the empty room. "Geralt, I swear to Melitele if this kills me, you'd better find out and grieve me like you were grieving your damn ghost for twenty years."

Then he takes a deep breath, straightens his back, and exits the room.

[...]

Jaskier sits on the cot and folds his hands in his lap to keep himself from fidgeting absently with any of the bottles or dried herbs within reach, like he would when he was six and fifteen and twenty-seven and now forty-four, and he waits.

"I'm making a tea that helps keep my magic focused," Doran says as he uses a small bit of magic to heat the water and herbal mixture he'd made. "Not something I need assistance with, generally speaking, but it will lessen the effort it takes to do, so I can focus my efforts on finding the shape of your curse and how to unwind it."

"That's fair," Jaskier says, jiggling his leg. Now that they were here and talking about magic and curses again, the calm he'd felt from the familiar movements and attitude has melted away entirely, like a chunk of snow on a burning log. "I can't imagine it's particularly easy. Seeing as how it's made of chaos and everything. Does that mean it's against its nature to be focused? I rather imagine it's a bit like my mind most days," he's trailed off into talking to himself, but Doran's standing in front of him holding an empty cup and smiling faintly. 

"I don't doubt it's similar, you seem to be rather chaotic yourself," Doran says, and puts the cup down, pulling a stool over so they're sitting facing each other. "Now, this shouldn't hurt, or feel like much of anything. I'm just looking for the magic of the curse, to try to see when it will activate and what it will do. All right?"

Jaskier lets out an anxious breath and squeezes his hands together tighter, then nods jerkily. It will be fine. And if it isn't, then he'll consider trying to find Yennefer. Doran reaches out and puts his fingers on either side of Jaskier's head. 

And nothing happens. Or, at least, nothing happens from Jaskier's point of view. He can feel this... flutter, almost, at the edge of his thoughts, that he's pretty sure must be Doran's magic, but other than that it's rather uneventful and anticlimactic. So he keeps still for a few excruciatingly long minutes before Doran opens his eyes and lowers his hands, looking solemn.

"Well, that can't be good," Jaskier says, trying weakly for levity and not managing it.

"It's some sort of transformation curse," Doran explains, sitting back on the stool for a moment. Jaskier's fingers flutter against the backs of his hands as he keeps them folded in his lap. "A very strong one. And it was set in place long enough ago that I can't see any part of you that isn't touched by it."

Jaskier's fidgeting stills, and his eyes narrow. "Wait. You mean it's a curse that's been waiting to take effect since I was a child?" 

"It's a curse that's already taken effect since you were a child, by all appearances," Doran corrects. "Whatever the transformation is, you've been living it since before you can remember."

Well. That was more upsetting and complicated than he'd expected.

[...]

He stumbles a few steps away from the door and bends over, hands on his knees, breathing deeply. Faintly he can hear the door close, and a small part of him is grateful that Doran is, if nothing else, polite enough to give him a moment of privacy to try to deal with this.

"Fuck!" he doesn't quite shout, and pushes himself upright, still trying to breathe evenly, so he can pace. "Fuck. Shitting tits, I..." Okay. He needs to not just curse. He needs to think this out, the best way he's ever known how.

"Right, Geralt," he says to no one, to the memory of his best friend for two decades who could barely stand him most of the time. "It seems that I've run into a bigger spot of bother than I thought, and I've been cursed since infancy. A transformation curse, no less, and no idea how it's changed me!"

Hmm, says the voice in the back of his mind, that he's so glad isn't here and wishes were here so badly he aches. It's thoughtful and concerned and definitely paying actual attention, rather than grunting assent while not hearing a word he says. Jaskier can— could tell the difference. Can imagine it.

"I suppose it could be something lovely," he says. "Secret heir to a throne somewhere. Or it could be worse, it's probably worse. Probably had some sort of horrible deformity and my parents were so mortified they cursed me to make me look normal enough for their perfectionistic standards." Maybe it's childish to let that much bitterness seep out in his tone, even if he's not talking to anyone but himself.

Could be, his imaginary Geralt says in this imaginary conversation he's having, and Melitele's tits, he can't even have an imaginary Geralt that is more conversational? But no, he can't, because he knows Geralt too damn well for a chattier Geralt to feel at all realistic. Damn the man.

"Whatever it is, it will change the way I exist," Jaskier continues, to the night air and a memory. "If it's from before I can remember, then it's..." his frantic pacing slows to a stop and his heart stutters. "What if I can't play anymore, Geralt?" he whispers. "What if I can't sing?"

His imaginary Geralt is silent.

But his own mind is not, it never ever is. If he can't play and he can't sing and he has more of his heart torn out of him... he will find a way to dust himself off and keep moving. He always has. He always will. If he stops, he'll drown himself, or find a dangerous lover, or try to help someone he has no business helping. And then he'll burn out the way part of him has been trying to do since he left Oxenfurt that first time at eighteen.

He's Julian Pankratz. He's Jaskier, the greatest bard the continent's ever known. He will survive and thrive after whatever this curse can throw at him.

"Right," he says, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. "Okay."

[...]

:3 (I believe @brothebro, @wingedquill, and @storyinmypocket​ at the least will be interested in this!)

[moondustaeil]

𝐫𝐞:𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐞.

↳ Ambrosia's not-so-happy life update.

trigger warning, this post includes: weight loss, food, calorie counting, disordered eating habits, suicide, insecurities, fears.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏: 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐭, 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐭?

As I contemplate whether I should make an earnest post look as aesthetic as possible, my eyes are tearing up to Lee Chansub's "Gone". Therefore, this chapter gets named after his lyrics.

Since when was it? It's a question that crosses my mind after deciding on the chapter name, even though I'm well aware of the number of days that have passed. Each day I write that significant number in my journal, but there must be more than the pen can write. Beyond my awareness: there must have been a certain amount of time spent on a prologue to pen down the event that ultimately led to this chapter.

Since where was it? There could be multiple meanings behind the question, but I can only formulate a limited answer despite the openness. As far as I'm in charge of this story, there is no why or where. Yes, I quite literally woke up one day and decided to go on a diet, simple as that. Before that day, dieting never crossed my mind: I never saw my body as too much or myself as too little compared to others. Can you understand now why I think a prologue was written for me and not by me?

Anyhow, let's have a look at how I think I experienced my life before the diet. Sometimes I think I don't even remember how I experienced the last moments of it, but that doesn't mean I don't know how it went. My life before the diet was pretty plain: I didn't engage in any social or physical activities and spent most of my time behind my laptop to write or lurk around on YouTube. Eating-habit-wise, I never ate much: three meals a day with occasional snacks, those snacks probably covering more calories than my meals did. Despite eating calorie-covering snacks, I would have given my all for fruit and vegetables, especially frozen fruit. Back then, I already had significant eating habits: I'd eat nuts when I was stressed, drink smoothies while studying for exams, eat sour sweets when I was bored. My body before the diet wasn't that noteworthy: I maintained the same weight for around three years and only ditched my tight jeans because covid had me feeling too lazy to wear them. A youth like this might sound boring to you, but I gladly lived my life like this and, I don't regret the way I spent it.

I can still recall up to two days before it began: I can tell the contents of those days like I was the supporting cast instead of the main character, simply because I can't remember the emotions. The two last days were spent behind my laptop, waiting for the exam results while eating spicy nuts (to keep the stress level low). When the exam results came, and I realised I passed them all, I must have felt relieved. But in my memory, I didn't and don't feel anything at all concerning my exams. And that's where it stops. I don't even know where it starts again.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐: 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐮𝐩 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐧𝐨 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐲

It quite literally feels like I woke up with no memories of the first days of the diet: I can recall what I ate, but not what I did or felt.

On the first day, I drank a strawberry oat smoothie for breakfast. It was my first self-made smoothie which was convincingly delicious compared to the bought smoothies I used to have. That same day, I stopped eating snacks: unknowingly, I restricted them and wouldn't allow them for the months after.

That paragraph is all I remember from the first day, and if I were to write one about every day of that week, it would be less each day. Maybe those days just weren't memory-worthy enough as I don't want to search for a reason behind every single thing.

For approximately twenty-eight days after the first one, I have no recollections. The only way I can reflect on those days is by checking my calorie intake and physical activity. Though, it doesn't feel like I was the one who tracked it.

The first proper recollection I have is of a day I ate 180 calories for the first time: a number I can only wonder about now. Though it was my first time having such a low intake, it wasn't the last or lowest. The number 180 seemed to attract me as in the days that followed, 180 would be the maximum amount of calories I'd consume. Back then, I had no idea what TDEE or BMR (of any of the other terms) were, so I can't tell you what my deficit was. But I would burn around 1200 calories a day by exercising, and that should be enough to raise red flags.

From that point on, even though I was probably slowly killing myself, I felt alive. A growing obsession with food, weight loss and exercise was fueling my mind. While my body was left behind, trying to catch up with the pace. If I didn't lose more than 1 gram overnight, I'd starve myself the next day. If I felt too lazy to exercise, I'd punish myself for being lazy by doing more. My weight dropped a lot, up to the point where the scale sometimes seemed to skip numbers.

Then a parent swap came: I would be staying with my dad for two weeks. In advance, I had already figured out everything I thought I needed to know: how I would skip meals without him finding out, at what times I could exercise without him knowing, where I could throw away the food he thought I would eat. The day I packed my bag and left for his house, my plans turned into action.

The two weeks there went as smooth as I planned them to go. Even with bonuses: he worked up to three days a week and did not question it when I didn't eat. In those two weeks, I would replace kpop videos with programs I used to despise: supersize versus superskinny and mukbangs. The videos would satisfy my hunger in some way, even though they caused me to start nailbiting. I wouldn't eat: I would only watch as others fed themselves.

Since I lost the initial subject I wanted to discuss in this chapter (I'm so sorry), I shall be moving on to the next chapter.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟑: 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨? 𝐃𝐢𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐚𝐭?

It was at this point that people were starting to notice things that I hadn't. Sometimes those things were appearance-related and, other times it was personality-related or even habit-related.

It started with a compliment from my aunt, and I felt like I was glowing when she mentioned my visible jawline and thin face. Maybe I was slightly disappointed that she noticed the facial changes before my body but, at the same time, she noticed a difference!

After her, people started commenting on my body, and I worked more to achieve those comments. I saw them as comments rather than compliments: I didn't tire myself out starting from 5:20 am every day just to receive a meaningless compliment. I wanted people to take notice.

And, they did. People that directly surrounded me were starting to notice things that I failed to see. Mostly stuff that changed about my personality while my body was changing. My mother told me that I became the opposite of easy-going and friendly when others were around. My sister told me that my facial expressions had gone even further than my usual resting bitch face. My nephew said that all I would do was try to end up in arguments with others and that he didn't like being around me anymore. It hurt to have all of those things said, but at the same time, I was too in denial to care. The only thing I cared about was food, exercise and losing weight.

On rare occasions, I became aware of the person I became. Mostly when others would try to reach me by calling or coming over but I was too busy to talk to them, and if I did, I would talk about food-related things only. So, I shut everyone out.

I no longer talked to my friends daily, wouldn't reply to my parents sending me messages, didn't go on social media unless it was to look at food or triggering images.

The world consisted of me and was ruled by my obsession.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟒: 𝐈 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞

There is an unknown amount of time that settles itself between the previous chapter and this chapter. During this time, I once again feel like I'm just a supporting character: my habits develop and my obsession rules over everything I do.

Many of the things I did (which already wasn't a lot, to begin with), were based on stuff I said already. Though even more refined and obsessive.

When I closed my eyes, sleep would take me to dreams about food and weight loss. Approximately three times a night, I would open my eyes, assume it was morning and get ready for another day of exhaustion and starvation. Those nightly hours are still engraved in my mind and current habits: 12:00 am, 3:20 am, 5:28 am.

It is in this chapter that a slow awareness creeps up on me. The side effects are what wakens me when everything else consumes me: constant thoughts about food, the inability to sleep, not being able to think or focus, drifting from reality, always feeling cold, tingling headaches, not leaving the house for days unless it's for shopping (because I would look at food I couldn't eat).

"I need to stop," I told myself while I wrote in my journal how much better I would be if I lost some more weight because the scale is tempting me.

I didn't want to stop. I just wanted it to stop.

Though in reality, I had no control to stop myself or it. I had lost control long ago, and to this day, I still have no idea at which chapter I left it behind. Some days I thought of how to stop, but the exit sign was more like a full-stop as it led me to think of killing myself: it would make my family stop commenting on my condition and could give me a sense of freedom even though I would be dead.

It surely wasn't the first time I passed that exit sign in life, but it was the first time I felt determined to pass it by. All I wanted was to be able to sleep peacefully without thinking of food. *Snort*, such high standards.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟓: 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬

Unexpectedly, a good dream did cloud over my bedroom. Even though it was simple, it's one of the dreams that I hope to keep in my memory forever. And for laughs, I'll share it.

TO1-member Donggeon was standing near my garage but, my mother's car wasn't in the driveway because she wasn't home. I was standing outside with him while he talked with Wei's Donghan (who was invisible to me). They were having a casual conversation in Korean. Then, he wanted to lean against the car that wasn't in the driveway, causing him to fall on all fours. He laughed at his stupidity and, at the same time, his ears were getting red from embarrassment.

That pretty much sums up the first not-food-related dream I had during my entire journey. And I still remember waking up at 3:20 am, laughing: it was stupid and silly but left such a big impression on me. And that's when I told myself: "I need to recover".

It sounds silly but I still, to this day, think that this dream set me off into recovery mode. Even though I felt like I had no control, I tried to take control: calculated a number of calories that I surely had to eat each day, planned Thursday to be my active rest-day, found less intense workouts to do in the morning, tried to replace the mukbangs in my watch later list by relaxing videos or recovery videos, scheduled to journal every day. Though I told myself I would do those things, it wasn't easy to put my words into action.

Yet, I fucking did it.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟔: 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐲 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧

Not going to lie: I spent all night wondering how I was going to write this and all morning putting it into proper words. Hence, the reason why I'm feeling exhausted: too exhausted to continue writing it even though the blooming period is so close. So instead of giving a lecture on recovery: I will try to give my opinion on recovering and how I'm doing these days.

Each day, I still question whether I'm truly in a recovery of something. I never went to see a professional or verbally admitted to my problems, so I never learned whether I'm recovering from something or just making progress after a downfall. I might be familiar with the use of DSM-4 and DSM-5 but, that doesn't mean I'm qualified to judge on whether I had/have a disorder or not. Yet, I opt to use the terms disordered eating and recovery until I'm sure of what it was that I went through.

Some days it feels like I was faking all of it, but then I realise, how was I faking it while I was going through it and experiencing it? Perhaps some of you reading even think I am faking all of the above, but that's your opinion. I don't need to defend myself for feeling things.

Now, I'll update you on where I'm standing today because I guess I wrote six chapters in order to get to this point. We all know I like to write more than necessary.

⋅ My disordered eating habits and calorie intake: I have made quite some progress (even if I say so myself). Each week, I challenge myself to increase my calorie intake by 100 until I reach my maintenance calories. It isn't as easy as it sounds because by the time I actually dared to increase by ten calories, the week is over, and I have to adjust my goal because I wasn't even able to reach close to where I planned to be. This week my goal is to eat 800 calories a day: a number that unexpectedly is paired with a lot of guilt and fear, so I haven't been able to eat that amount yet. The maximum I've eaten is 641 calories a day. Together with that, I also promised myself to eat one fear food or not-eaten food a week: that way, I hope to stop restricting myself and learn to enjoy them again. Some lasting habits I developed: I fear eating too early and will try to push back eating as late as I can because it gives me the feeling that I can enjoy it for longer but I do have strict hours, I cut everything into mini pieces because it gives me the feeling that I have more to nibble on and more to enjoy, I read every single nutrition label multiple times (in the store and at home) because I fear that it might include too many calories or fat, I don't eat anything that I didn't plan and nothing that I can't track calorie-wise, I eat the same thing for breakfast every day because I feel like it's the only food I can trust. The urge to skip meals or lie about them is getting smaller, but the thought always remains in the back of my mind.

⋅ My weight: I'm at a weight that is still considered healthy according to whoever feels qualified to judge. However, I fear gaining weight every single day, which stops me from eating my weekly allowance. Despite eating more than at the start of this: I still lose weight. The weight loss fuels the bad habits once more, but I try to tell myself that my weight is only to indicate whether I'm close to my maintenance calories or not.

⋅ My body: my body kept most of its side effects inside until I started to recover aside from the ones that I've stated before. Yesterday was the first day that I didn't feel cold despite wearing a shirt only, so that was a win for my body. However, I do have constant headaches, get blackouts often and, I easily feel my energy draining whenever I do a little bit too much (which I didn't always feel when I was actively doing it). That being said, my abilities have definitely decreased: you can read what kind of exercise I do in the next paragraph, but it has decreased a lot because I will feel weak sooner than before.

⋅ Exercise: I am between struggling and not struggling with it. The reason why I started to exercise was to burn more calories than I ate. But back then, I had no knowledge of BMR and whatnot. These days I do a lot less impactful exercise than I did before, but I still exercise each day: I do 96 minutes of stationary cycling a day, go on daily walks and have the obsession to take steps whenever I'm standing still. As you might be able to tell, I feel like I'm on the line of having control here.

⋅ My personality/social life/hobbies: even though I was in denial about my changing personality for a long while, I eventually realised that people were right when they said I changed. The realisation came during recovery, mostly because I noticed how I was in a better mood than when I was at my lowest point. My social life is building up slowly and doesn't always include me having to talk about my weight loss or food, though people always mention it so, I do always end up having to talk about it without wanting to. As for hobbies, I found my interest in kpop and writing again but, it's still at a somewhat moderate level. I still find myself lurking at food-related posts or triggering things, but I can control myself better and watch some positive videos instead. Aside from that, I journal every day: I write down what I ate, my physical activity, what I saw as memorable in my day, and more.

𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞

That's pretty much all for the life update. I still left out a lot that I failed to remember while writing or felt too tired to write about, and I bet not a lot of you are interested in any of this anyway. I just felt like I owed everyone an explanation of where I've been and why I haven't been reblogging much or writing.

As I've stated a few times before, I don't know yet when I will get back into writing or posting content. And the past months made me realise that it might be good for myself if I take some time away from Tumblr: I won't be able to look for triggering content, won't be able to trigger anyone else on accident and can focus on working towards my goals.

I hate the word hiatus but I think this means that I will be going on semi-hiatus. On good days, I might still come here to talk to my mutuals or reblog some kpop content that I enjoy. But other times, I probably won't respond or interact much as I'm logged out.

For now, my semi-hiatus will continue until mid to end September. This might be shortened or extended depending on my progress and my personal needs.

Have a lovely day, moonflowers! 💌

[land-under-wave]

As promised, here’s the complete draft of the weird Scott Pilgrim Red/Green fic in its current state. For information about what’s going on with this fic, please see this post. If you’d only like to read completed sections, please start here and keep following the links.

This is very much a rough draft. Aside from simply incomplete sections, there were a lot of things that needed to be revised, such as: awkward tone shift, two sections being too similar to others, a lot of transitions I didn’t like, a really just inadequate Misty section, bad wording choices, etc. I would estimate it was about 85% done. 

Content warnings: some amount of creepy old man behavior which I did my best to mitigate but was somewhat unavoidable given the premise. For section-specific warnings, in the first part, Green gets close to panic attack territory, and the ending contains physical slapstick comedy and a few references to Officer Jenny I was trying to edit out. A more detailed warning (which touches on ending spoilers and explains how I tried to handle the creepy behavior) can be found here, and the full spoilers with all the details can be found in this post (also linked above).

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.

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A year after Red finally comes down from Mt. Silver, Green gets his head out of his ass long enough to ask Red out on a date. 

Surprisingly, Red agrees. Even more surprisingly, the first date is actually a resounding success. Sure, Green panics for half an hour about what to wear, and it gets off to an incredibly awkward start — Red’s mother is hovering anxiously in a corner because he insisted that it be at his mother’s diner, the douchebag, so they spend twenty minutes in stilted conversation while Green makes attempts at small talk and Red gives monosyllabic answers — has he mentioned that Red is a total douchebag? But then Green loses his temper and starts shouting, which gets Red fired up at last, so they start bickering over training regimens, Green’s childhood dickishness, and that time Red vanished up a mountain for four years, and by the end of the meal, they’ve hashed out most of their issues. 

On impulse, he grabs Red’s hand on the way out, and Red lets him. His fingers curl around Green’s in response, and it sends a jolt of electricity right up to his spine.

This is . . . good. It’s new and unfamiliar and a little terrifying, and sometimes Green just wants to bury his head into a pillow and scream angrily to deal with the confused tornado raging in his chest, because what the hell are emotions, but it’s good.  

A month after they make it official, Green brings Red to a gym leader meeting. Red gets a couple of surprised looks when he walks in, but it fades quickly, and Misty waves him over to the usual corner where she, Brock, and Green sit. If anyone asks, Green is prepared to point out that Red’s still technically champion, but no one does. Everyone must like him enough that it doesn’t matter. 

They wait till after the meeting, when everyone’s milling about and talking to each other, in order to announce that they’re dating. That’s when all hell breaks loose.

“What? Green?” Misty shrieks, while Sabrina looks at him with silently judging disapproval. 

“Oh my,” Erika says delicately, bringing her hand up to cover her mouth.

“Red, no!” Brock wails.

Green is pretty sure he should be offended. These are his colleagues, after all. He’s been working with them for half a decade — when’s the last time Red even talked to any of these people? Why are they all on his side?

Surge snorts, arms folded. Just when Green thinks he might restore some sanity to the proceedings, he declares, “Think again, boy. You’re not tough enough to make the cut.” 

Green bristles immediately. He and Surge have always had a slightly contentious relationship, because Surge is all hard-nosed discipline and Green is — well, he can admit that he’s a cocky bastard. “And why do I need your approval to date Red anyways?” he sneers, with the full disdainful force of all his teenage attitude. The contempt is not hard to muster up. Nobody here is related to them, and even if they were, he and Red are both adults who can make their own decisions. 

As expected, Surge stiffens at the implicit taunt in his voice, but just as the tension is about to boil over into an argument, Erika steps in with a raised hand and a warning glare to silence him. “Surge,” she says, and that one word is all she needs to restore order. 

Before Green can feel grateful for their calm, sensible supervisor, she turns to him and resumes the thread of conversation. “We have a league,” Erika informs him, serene. “You may not date Red until you defeat all of us.”

Green’s jaw drops open. “Are you serious,” he says, and looks to Red, who just shrugs. 

Great. Big load of help he is. 

“I’m afraid not, my boy. And I’m afraid you’re no match for me,” Blaine says, before laughing at his own stupid pun.

“Why the hell are you so concerned about Red’s love life anyways? What are you, his possessive loser exes?” Green demands. 

He’s expecting a response like, “Don’t be ridiculous,” but instead, to his horror, Erika merely smiles. “What do you think?” she says.

Silence.

Green stares at his colleagues, the seven elite trainers who have been charged with safeguarding all of Kanto, and wonders if he’s losing his mind. Has his hearing gone? He doesn’t think he’s that old, but maybe it’s hereditary. God knows how many times Gramps has misheard his name.

He knows Misty had a crush on Red at one point, but all of them? How the hell did that happen? Red’s never exactly been Kid Casanova here — some days, Green can barely believe Red seduced him — and when did he even have the time for that? He’s spent most of the years since he’s met them alone on a mountain! And hold on a second, Blaine is at least four decades older than him! For that matter, how old is Surge? 

Green is about to have an aneurysm.

He holds his head in both hands as he struggles to wrap his mind around the concept. “Okay. So you’re saying all of you have dated Red, and now I need to defeat you to date him,” he says slowly, hoping that saying it out loud will make things sound more reasonable. It doesn’t. It just makes his head hurt even more. 

What’s worse, Erika doesn’t correct anything he said. She just smiles and nods. “That’s right,” she says, and as if that’s a cue, the others fall in line behind her in a perfect V formation, sliding into battle-ready stances with smiles just shading into predatory. All traces of friendliness have evaporated, turning them into consummate professionals. Even Brock has dropped the doofy attitude for something serious. Surge’s grin is a little too maniacal for comfort, exposing both gums and teeth, and combined with the glint in his eyes, it’s downright feral. 

Green takes a step back, almost involuntarily, and sees Surge’s smile widen in response. Out of spite, Green squares his shoulders and moves back in place, pretending he’s not as uneasy as he actually feels. He scans the seven faces before him, hoping to see a sign of their normal collegial acceptance, but their faces are as solid as stone.

He can’t say he really expected anything else from them. This pose is familiar and well-rehearsed, and they’re all beyond the point where they let the mask slip during official business. Still, Green was hoping that there would be some sign that things would be different for him. After all, this isn’t official business, and in any other situation, Green would be there too, flashing one of his trademark smirks while staring down whatever poor schmuck who Erika decided had earned their ire. But this time, it’s not some hapless criminal or an interfering bureaucrat. He’s the schmuck, and for once in his life, he’s feeling the part. 

Green knows he shouldn’t feel this rattled by a battle stance. As a fellow gym leader, it’s easy to notice all the work that went into constructing it, and the flash of eyes and tilt of head that Erika used as a signal is all too familiar. But it gnaws at his stomach anyways, and it’s not even because all his colleagues have turned against him at the drop of a hat. It’s the space. Or the lack of it. Because the spot where he would be standing has already been taken up. Misty and Brock closed the gap without so much as an exchanged look, and in doing so, they’ve erased his years as Viridian Gym Leader like it was nothing. 

He didn’t think it would be so easy to replace him. 

Green looks at the inch-wide gap between them and swallows, hoping he can swallow down the uncomfortable lump at the bottom of his chest along with it. He’s always tried to ignore it, but sometimes, he gets this sneaking suspicion that they haven’t fully accepted him as one of their own. They’re civil, of course, and sometimes even kind. But kind is different from warm, and that’s what he thinks they lack.

He can’t nail down exactly what it is that separates him from the rest — in terms of join date, Janine’s less than a year his senior, and he doesn’t think any of them except Surge would hold his old, immature attitude against him, since he was mostly grown out of his bratty stage by the time he took over Viridian. But none of that has banished the [sinking feeling] that he’s on the outside, just a little.

So he’s kept his head down like an animal exposing its belly, and every time the doubt rears its ugly head, he redoubles his efforts to earn his way in. He had a hard road from the start, with the stain of Giovanni’s legacy seeped into his gym’s very foundations, but over the years, he’s earned fantastic evaluations, the loyalty of a cohort of talented trainers, and an official commendation here and there. He’s even got a sickeningly gushy page in the Viridian guidebook that made Red laugh at him for twenty minutes straight after one of his challengers showed it to him. When you’re on a mountain with bad reception, those twenty minutes count for a lot.

Green carries all his accomplishments with him, close to his chest, but they don’t do much to dispel the doubts that hang like ghosts in the back of his head. And he thinks that if he stays quiet and still for too long, they might eat him away until he’s nothing.   

He sucks in a breath, but his lungs don’t feel like they’re absorbing air. He presses his hands against his thighs, but that doesn’t do anything to ease the trembling. He tries to count in his head. One. Two. 

“Wow,” says Red’s voice from behind him. “I didn’t know that all it took to defeat the great Green Oak was dramatic posing.”

The sound of that innocent tone sends Green whirling around on instinct. “Oh, shut up, like you can talk!” he shouts, and it comes out as easy as breathing, so easy that he doesn’t notice how much lighter he feels at first. “All it took to defeat you was realizing Mt. Silver would never return your love!” 

“The mountain and I have something special. You’ll never understand, Green,” Red says, very seriously. If it were anyone but Green, they might’ve believed he meant it, but you don’t grow up with someone and not know when they’re just yanking your chain. 

“You know, the only thing I got out of being your childhood friend is the ability to tell when you’re being a dick,” Green tells him sourly.

“Love you too,” Red croons, and okay, he’s definitely doing that on purpose. But if he’s doing it to be a distraction, it’s working. 

He brushes his hand against Red’s. “Thanks,” he says, low enough so that only Red can hear it. Red curls his fingers around the palm of his hand and looks him in the eye, unspoken question burning in his gaze. 

In response, Green draws a breath, takes one final glance at his erstwhile colleagues, and nods.

He can do this. 

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What he might not be able to do, Green reflects as he starts his first match, is endure any more of Brock’s stupid rock references. 

“My Pokemon and I are all rock-hard,” Brock declares proudly. He’s always been cheesy and goofy — probably because of all those younger siblings — but his horrible battle introductions have always taken the cake. And does he realize that by doing this, he’s also teaching his siblings about innuendo? Maybe that’s why they giggle at him all the time.

In all honesty, once you get past all the quirks, Brock is kind of an admirable person. You don’t raise nine kids without earning some respect from Green Oak, and he knows all too well about growing up with absent father figures. But unlike Green, Brock didn’t let that hurt define him growing up. Instead, Brock took on that responsibility without reserve and without complaint, and he grew with it to become a good man. A lot of kind, loving people would’ve broken with it. In comparison, really awful puns and a tendency to hit on every girl in the room aren’t that bad. At least he’s sincere about it instead of just being a sleaze. 

But Brock makes it really goddamn hard to get past those quirks. And when he starts urging Onix to use Harden, that only proves his point.

Things go downhill from there.

With the proximity of their gyms, it’s convenient for Green and Brock to have practice matches together, and he uses the knowledge he’s gleaned from those to plow him down in their fastest match yet, one eye twitching the entire time. There’s no way Brock could be making that many hardness references by accident. “I took you for granted, and so I lost,” Brock says glumly. Then he looks in Red’s direction and cries, “Red, my love, I have failed you!” throwing an arm across his face theatrically. Geez, get a grip. Or a life. Or both.

But instead of treating him with the contempt Brock deserves for this patheticness, his traitor boyfriend pats him on the back sympathetically. Ugh, why is he even dating this jerk? 

At any rate, at least this catastrophe is over. “Loser,” Green scoffs, and heads out to schedule his next match. He catches Red giving Brock a shrug before following after him.  

He never thought he’d say this, but thank god Misty is the Water type Gym Leader. After rocks, they have the most potential for innuendo, but Misty has too much angry dignity to be caught dead like that. If someone tried, steam would come out of her ears and she’d probably yell something about disrespecting the beauty of water types. This shouldn’t be an issue again until Blaine. 

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Misty might not be a fan of innuendo, but she makes up for it with determination and skill. There’s something different about her this time, a strength in her stance that didn’t used to be there, and it centers Misty too much for him to rattle her. 

The first time they fought, she was fourteen years old to Green’s thirteen, a skinny kid who bristled with her inferiority complex and hated anything to do with flowers. Provoking her was a piece of cake, and any suggestion of her inadequacy could send her into a spiral of rage or just as easily send her collapsing in tears. 

In hindsight, it is funny how Misty rejected her famous family while Green embraced his too much, opposite ends of the same spectrum. Green dealt with his issues with his cockiness, Misty with her anger.

This Misty is fully in control. She holds the reins to her anger and reels it in, harnessing it as fuel instead of distraction. She’s ruling her emotions instead of letting them rule her, and in doing so, she’s taken on a bright, focused zeal he’s never seen from her before.

She’s growing into herself, he thinks, and out of her sisters’ shadows.

He’d be proud of her if she wasn’t giving him such a hard time right now.

“You definitely weren’t this hard to beat the first time around!” Green growls, sending out his Scizor.

“Oh, that was just business,” Misty says, rather cheerfully, enough so that Green wants to wring her neck. Her smile widens to just this side of menacing. “This is personal.”

Green gets out of it with his dignity intact, but it’s a close one. Not for the first time, he rues having taken over an Earth-based gym, because it means he has to keep at least a respectable amount of Ground types in his regular training rota and he’s a far less flexible trainer now.

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“About time you showed up,” Surge says, arms folded, boots planted shoulder width apart. Green looks at the severe military cut and the stern expression and wonders what Red ever saw in him. It can’t be a thing for older men, everyone but Surge and Blaine are within a few years of Red. It can’t even be a thing for men. The league is half women, after all.

“Why did you date him anyways?” he hisses to his boyfriend, low enough that Surge won’t hear.

Red shrugs. “We both like Pikachu,” he said. 

The utter loser. 

“I can’t believe you,” Green mutters in disgust. “And people think I’m shallow.” 

“It was only once or twice,” Red says, in what sounds suspiciously like a consoling tone. He pats Green on the shoulder a few times.

He stares at him in confusion until the dots connect. “What the — I’m not jealous!” Green cries indignantly. He’s just perplexed, and that’s a very different thing. Green Oak is above such petty things as jealousy. 

Red just pats him on the shoulder some more. 

Green Oak also does not need such things as consoling, so before his boyfriend can be even more of a passive aggressive dick, he turns to Surge. “Let’s just get this over with.” And maybe it’s sheer frustration or his natural tendency to be a brat to Surge, or maybe it’s just type advantage finally being on his side for once, but for some reason, this time the victory comes easier than all the previous.

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“Are you sure you want to do this, Green?” Erika asks. She cocks her head to the side, and for the first time since he accepted this stupid challenge, Green feels a sense of trepidation. Erika is, after all, kind of his boss, and she’s also one of the most terrifying people he’s ever met. 

You wouldn’t think it to look at her. Most of the people in Kanto never get the chance to see anything more than a sweet woman who likes gardening and flower arrangements. Her colleagues, on the other hand, experience a whole different side of her, with all the talents that got her appointed as Kanto supervisor. Things like her ability to calmly reason with anyone, her backbone of steel, and a carefully hidden serial killer crazy that can outstrip Surge at his worst.

He breaks out into a cold sweat. Is he ready for this? Sure, he’s beaten her before, but the first time he battled her, he was still stupid enough to think Erika was soft and beating her would be easy, and weirdly enough, that stupidity gave him the reckless brilliance he needed to take her down instead of causing his downfall. He might’ve become a better battler in the meantime, but now he’s too cautious to use those same crazy strategies and he also knows that she was taking it easy on him — all gym leaders adjust their level to their opponent’s in official matches.  

More than ever, Green is acutely aware of the differences between him and his thirteen year old self. There was a kind of fearlessness that came with being young and feeling like the world was at your fingertips. He spent pretty much his entire Pokemon journey swaggering around like being thirteen meant he was now a real adult and the world would just fall at his feet, and even losing the championship to Red didn’t quite jolt him out of it. Green’s only eighteen now, but he feels unbearably older, more off balance, uncertain of everything he needs to do. It’s funny how he couldn’t wait to get older when he first set out from Pallet Town, but now he just wants the carefree bravado of thirteen again. Why did he decide to grow up? Who told him it was a good idea? 

“Backing out now, Green?” says a dry, challenging voice, and all the air goes out of his lungs. But in a good way. 

He didn’t have this at thirteen.

Now that he’s back in reality, Green pulls up his disdain like a barrier against his fear. “As if,” he sneers.

“Good. After all, you still have to win me,” Red says. He bats his eyelashes, and the sight is so horrifying that it wipes all thoughts of Erika from his head immediately. “Your princess awaits inside the castle.” 

“Princess? Yeah, right. You’d never be able to pull off the dress,” he shoots back automatically. He feels himself ease, the seas inside him settling down as he sinks into the rhythm of the familiar. He even lifts his chin and smirks as he says, “You know what, I think I change my mind. Let’s call the whole thing off, I need someone who’s better-looking than you.”

“Aw, but nothing’s as ugly as your personality,” Red says, and that tone would sound sweet if it weren’t coming from someone who’s halfway allergic to sincerity. But at the same time, he covers Green’s hand with his and gives him a smile like a secret. “You can do it,” he says, with an iron, quiet faith. 

Green breathes out, long and slow. “You’re right, I can,” he says, turning back to Erika. He flashes her a smirk full of confidence that he’s actually starting to feel and declares, “I won’t back down.” It comes out as an oath, and he’s not sure if it’s to himself or to Red, but he knows he won’t lose. 

She shrugs elegantly, but it doesn’t feel like as much of a threat this time. She’s just an ordinary woman now. “Very well,” she says, and sends out Tangela. 

Throughout the battle, Red doesn’t let go of his hand.

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Sabrina’s waiting at the door of her gym when Green and Red walk up to the entrance. “You’ve arrived, as I predicted,” she says.

“Uh, yeah, we scheduled the match in advance,” Green points out. Beside him, he can hear Red muffling already-quiet laughter. Why does he enjoy Green’s discomfort? Is he just a sadist?

“We did not arrange that you would arrive twenty minutes early,” Sabrina responds, and turns around to lead him inside before Green can get the last word.

Green fights the urge to make a rude gesture at her back out of sheer spite. He and Sabrina have never been that close. They have a shared interest in freaking people out for fun and games, but Sabrina does it by being sinister and cryptic, while Green prefers sheer power with a dash of douchebaggery instead of mind screws. Even though he knows he’s still a total dick, being around Sabrina makes him feel weirdly benevolent in comparison. 

In that regard, she’s a little more like Red—they’re both closed-mouthed and hold their cards close to their chest until something makes them give them away. But it’s weird to think that Sabrina is anything like his boyfriend, so Green shuts off that train of thought as fast as he can. He can’t really explain why he likes Red so much more than Sabrina. It’s not just shared history, there’s something deeper there between them that he can’t quantify. Maybe it’s just that the things Red holds to his chest align with Green’s own brand of awfulness, maybe it’s just that Sabrina somehow manages to be even weirder than Red. 

Whatever the case, Sabrina’s tactics might have a point. This battle feels like the worst one yet, not because of the difficulty, but because of the tense, hard air in the gym, Sabrina’s ever-present smile like another ghost skulking in the background. This battle doesn’t excite him, it just exhausts him. He just wants it to be over, and in his haste, he makes mistakes. Sloppy ones, like trying to use Tackle against Gengar even though he’s grown up knowing Normal type moves don’t work on Ghost types. It doesn’t help that the mere presence of Gengar in the Psychic gym had thrown him off to begin with.

Sabrina seems to be sensing his discomfort, because the funny little grin on her face widens with his growing unease. For the first time, he truly sees what a formidable opponent she is, wielding both psychic powers and psychology against her challengers to damage them physically and mentally. It was another thing that his complete and utter self-confidence had made him immune to the first time. 

Idly, he wonders if that was the point of this, one big scheme to make him appreciate his colleagues more as trainers. If so, it worked. But was he really that bad before? Maybe he’d ask Erika once this awful quest was over.

If that is the case, though, ironically, it’s also her undoing, because as the match goes on, Green also starts to see the woman he knows inside the mysterious figure at the other end of the gym, and focusing on that familiarity helps combat the unease. In the end, Green can’t really say that it’s his skill that wins the day. It feels more like luck, just a game of who can outlast the other and he happened to draw the winning card. But when Alakazam falls, it seems to break the spell over the room. The lingering tension dissipates, just as ghostly as the atmosphere that had created it, and the world comes back into focus.

Sabrina looks at her fallen Pokemon and, bizarrely, smiles as she recalls it back into its Pokeball. “Your love for Red overwhelmed my psychic power . . . The power of love, I think, is also a kind of psychic power . . .” Sabrina intones.

“Okay?” Green says. Even ignoring the psychic powers, Sabrina has always been a weirdo. 

Sabrina says something else, but he’s not really paying attention. Instead, he grabs his boyfriend’s wrist.  “Red, let’s get out of here,” he says. He’s ready to blow this joint, and if he has to be in this creepy gym much longer, he’s going to make that literal. 

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Out of all the other Gym Leaders, Green thinks Janine might be his polar opposite. Sure, they’re around the same age and their names kind of rhyme, but Green is brash and confident and walks like he owns the place, while Janine . . . well, Janine is naive and enthusiastic to the point where she’s pretty much tripping over her own feet. She seems too young for her authority, while Green wields his so easily that people are startled when they find out his actual age.

It’s weird to think that Red could date two such different people. Heck, it’s weird to think that he could get two such different people to date him. Maybe he realized he didn’t like that type and that’s why he’s dating Green now, he muses.  

That still doesn’t explain why both Janine and Green agreed to date him. Insanity? That must be it, because it also explains why he’s fighting all of his colleagues over his dick of a childhood friend.

But the biggest difference between them, Green thinks, is that Janine has never gotten over her yearning for her absent father. She still desperately wants to make Koga proud. Even now, he sees in the way she forms her stance that she’s trying to follow his teachings.

Still, in spite of their [different] reactions, struggling to cope with the fame of their family line and its looming shadow over their entire lives is something they have in common. Someday, she’ll have to figure out how she wants to be a gym leader, separate from her father’s legacy. Someday, she’ll have to make a name for herself as Janine, Gym Leader of Fuschia City and not Janine, daughter of Koga. No one will ever respect her if she doesn’t — Green’s learned that the hard way.

Someday, she will have to walk her own path. But that day is not today.

“Are you ready, Green? Cause I’m not going to wait for you to catch up!” Janine calls, sounding very un-ninja-like. Green briefly mourns the loss of the mystique. He used to think ninjas were cool.

“It’s my duty to defeat you on the behalf of all evil exes everywhere!”

“You can’t be serious,” Green says.

“Sure, I am!” Janine says. She pulls out a small, colorful rectangle from somewhere with her magical ninja arts and waves it around. “After all, I’m a card-carrying member of Red’s League of Evil Exes!”

There are cards now. Green looks at his boyfriend and says, “Red, what did you do to them?”

Red just looks at them and shrugs, looking mildly confused himself. But not confused enough that he’ll actually do something about it, Green notes sourly. 

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Cinnabar’s volcanoes are as fascinating as always, but Green is too busy stewing to enjoy it. He marches past all the ads for hot spring resorts and into the Gym, braced for what lies ahead of him. Blaine is waiting for him inside. “You’ve made it, my boy,” he said, and the expression on his face is almost like a proud parent.

Green scowls. He used to respect Blaine. He is, after all, one of the finest scientific minds in all of Kanto, and while Green isn’t a scientist, Gramps has instilled him with a healthy respect for their work. Even the punning had been bearable. He had earned the right for a quirk. 

But this? This was going too far.

Blaine at least has the decency to wait until they’re all set up for battle before he springs the next part of his awful sense of humor on him. “And now, a quiz! What makes you worthy to date Red?” Blaine asks.

“What made you worthy? You’re an old man! Red was a teenager!” Green shoots back. He’s pretty fuzzy on the timeline of Red’s awful lovelife, but there’s no way Red was any older than fifteen whenever the hell they dated. He’s pretty sure Red wasn’t in some demented long distance relationship while still on that goddamn mountain. 

Blaine gives him a creaky shrug. “What can I say? Red really lights a fire in my heart,” he chuckles. 

“I’m reporting you to Officer Jenny when this is over,” Green informs him. Gym leader or not, perverted old creeps shouldn’t be allowed in society. Especially not the punning ones.

But reporting him to the officer and letting her punish him for his sins would be cheating if Green does it before he beats Blaine fair and square. He doubts the rest of this stupid league would accept that as defeating Blaine and their ridiculous challenge, so he sends out Rhydon and prepares for a fight.

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After an excruciating moment, Arcanine falls.

“Oh,” says Red’s voice. Green looks over his shoulder to see him standing along the wall of the gym, near the entrance. It’s completely like the sneaky bastard to come in secret and Green can’t even be mad at him as he looks at the battlefield and asks, “Is it over?”

For a moment, Green doesn’t know how to answer him. He doesn’t even know how to speak. He just breathes, as the adrenaline drains out of his lungs and euphoria replaces it. His shoulders slump. He looks at the ceiling. It’s over. This ridiculous journey is finally over. He can now date Red in peace. 

And then the applause starts.

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Erika is the first one to emerge, from behind one of the outcroppings of rock near the back of the gym. Brock is next, followed by Misty, while Surge, Janine, and Sabrina come out from the other side. They form a line at the head of the gym, and bizarrely, every single one of them is clapping, even Surge, though he looks like he’s been forced into it. While Green looks at them, too stunned to react, Blaine moves back to take a spot next to Sabrina.  

“Congratulations, Green,” Erika says, smiling. She looks genuinely happy for him, as does Janine, but Surge still looks vaguely murderous and Brock looks like he might cry with happiness. 

“What’s going on?” Green demands. On closer inspection, Brock’s “about to cry” face is more like a father watching his child leaving on a Pokemon journey, so proud that it’s spilled over to sad. It worsens the distinct feeling that something’s been going on in the background that he doesn’t know about.

Erika coughs delicately. “I’m afraid we must admit to a deception,” she says, serene as ever. “We are not actually a league of Red’s exes.”

If Green gets any more revelations in the next week, he’s going to have a stroke.

After a beat of frozen silence, he splutters out, “You’re not?” in a tone that’s half confusion, half demand for an explanation. He looks all around him and then waves his hand at the entire gym, a gesture which turns sharp and wild with his anger. “Then what was all of this for?”  

“Well, we’re not a league of Red’s exes, but we are all members of ‘Red’s League of Allies Against His Evil Ex-Best Friend Who Broke His Heart,’” Misty explains. She frowns at him. “He was pretty torn up over you during his Pokemon journey, you know.”

Dumbfounded, all Green can manage is, “You can’t be serious.” 

“But we are,” Janine says earnestly. She produces her card out of nowhere again and hands it over to Green, who’s now close enough to read the letters embossed on the front. It does, as she’s claimed, state Gym Leader Janine of Fuschia City to be a member of Red’s League of Allies Against His Evil Ex-Best Friend Who Broke His Heart. It’s even made out of red plastic.

Well. One part of him is touched to know that Red had valued their friendship so deeply. You wouldn’t know it to look at him, with his stoic man of mystery act. 

The other part is just plain indignant. “That was over five years ago!” Green screeches. They started their journeys when they were thirteen, for God’s sake!  

A new thought occurs to him. “And if this was all fake, why was Brock going on about his love and hardening?”

“Did he? Oh, that scenery-chewing ham! I knew he would get carried away!” Misty says in disgust. 

“I was trying to go for realism!” Brock protests 

“That’s only realism for you, you sleazy flirt!” she snaps, and yanks at his ear. 

“Ow, ow, ow!” he yelps.

While Misty’s handling that headache, Green tries to replay the conversation where this all started. “I was the one who first brought up the idea that you were exes,” he mumbles, a little horrified. 

“Once you made the assumption, I thought it might work to our advantage,” Erika explains calmly. “A test of your reaction to his supposedly storied history, so to speak.”

“So you just made it up on the spot?” Green says, nearly speechless. How on earth had he fallen for a hastily thrown together scheme? What had it even been centered around, seeing if he was the kind of douchebag who’d storm off and call Red a slut? He’s Green Oak. You don’t get to be one of the top trainers in Kanto by the time you’re fifteen without being a good strategist.

Then again, clearly, all of his colleagues are absolutely insane. No one ever taught Green how to anticipate that. 

Erika smiles apologetically. “Please do forgive us, Green, but we had to make sure you two were serious about this. Your friendship ended so badly, and we didn’t want this to end the same way. After all, the poor boy was so heartbroken that he went up a mountain to get away from you.”

Green’s jaw drops. “Okay, that one was not my fault!” He’s willing to accept the blame for being a dick, for being generally unhelpful with Team Rocket, and a lot of other things, but he draws the line at the goddamn mountain.

“Sabrina?” asks Janine curiously.

The psychic in question is studying her nails, looking bored. “My powers aren’t meant to be used for answering this sort of nonsense,” she says. “Ask him yourself.” 

“Hold up!” Green shouts, before they can get too off topic. “How was this supposed to make sure I was serious about him?”

“You can be a fickle, capricious sort of person, Green,” Erika explains. “So we thought that, with a series of challenges in your way, if this was some kind of idle whim, you would abandon your quest.” 

Green tries to wrap his head around that logic and fails. “How was that supposed to work?” he demands. “What if I was just in it for the challenge of beating the entire Kanto League again and not for Red?” 

Erika just smiles. “You don’t have enough of a death wish for that,” she says, like she’s sentencing someone to execution. 

Green freezes and feels his spine go rigidly straight at the sound of her tone. That smile looks sweet at first glance, but it’s just a little too perfect, a little too gentle, carefully controlled in a way that says she could easily let that control snap at a moment’s notice. It’s the kind of smile that might be the last thing you see before you die. 

Holy Arceus, there are no words in the universe to describe how terrifying Erika is. 

Green breaks eye contact as soon as he can and shakes his head a few times, just to get out the lingering feeling of dread. He quickly turns his mind to another topic. “Okay, so who really has dated Red?” he asks, just to get everything straightened out once and for all.

“None of us. Particularly not me,” Blaine answers. “You young whippersnappers are practically infants.”

“Misty did ask him out once, but he turned her down,” Brock chips in. 

“Hey! That was years ago, and I’m over him anyways!” Misty splutters, cheeks bright red. She shoulders him hard in the chest and snarls, “Stop bringing that up!” still blushing furiously.

“Ow, that hurts!” Brock yelps.

“You deserve it!” Misty hollers back, and the two of them start arguing again.

You know what, maybe Green doesn’t need to get revenge for all the innuendo after all. Misty’s been doing a pretty good job of enacting it for the both of them. 

Misty stomps on Brook’s foot, and Blaine winces. “Please don’t call Officer Jenny,” he says. 

.

.

.

In the chaos, Green realizes there’s one party they’ve forgotten about entirely. “And you!” He whirls around and points at his erstwhile boyfriend, whose expression is blankly nonchalant. To a stranger, he might’ve even looked innocent. “There’s no way they could’ve gotten away with it unless you played along! But you haven’t dated any of them!” 

“Nope,” he confirms, wearing a funny little smile on his face. He’s clearly enjoying himself, and the smugness of his expression only increases as he coos out, “You’re my one and only.”

That tone he’s using is the stuff of nightmares, and Green blanches, reeling back on instinct. He can hear Red laughing at him inside his head. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he demands, refusing to let that deter him.

“It was funny,” Red says, and then, in a perfect deadpan, “Besides, it was a nice revenge. You drove me up a mountain, after all.” 

Green is at least seventy-five percent certain that isn’t true and Red’s just playing along to be a douchebag. “Why, you—!” he growls, and instinct born of ten years of childhood games takes over. He tackles him to the ground, fisting his hands into his shirt so he can drag him up by the collar. He hears someone shout behind him, and it’s probably because they’re a little too old for roughhousing, but Red, Red understands him. Red doesn’t panic or protest. Red just lifts his head to meet his glare with a smirk, and then leans up, grabs his head, and kisses him.

There’s still noise in the background, but it fades away as the world becomes nothing but Red. 

.

.

.

Later, while they’re falling asleep, Green asks, “You didn’t really go up the mountain because I broke your heart, did you?”

“No,” Red answers, but before Green can let out a breath of relief, he says, “I went up there cause you were so annoying that I wanted a break from you.”

In a display of supreme maturity, Green kicks Red in the shins. Some things never change.

[sml8180]

CiN Behind the Scenes ~ Ch 3: Infiltration

Original Upload Date: 9 September, 2020

Length on Google Docs: ~11 pages

Docs Word Count: 3,651

Reference Tally: 3

NOTICE: This chapter contained content featuring Janus’ father, who is Homophobic and Transphobic. As such, he misgenders and dead-names Janus throughout their conversation, and things do get physical between them at the end of their argument. I’ll be putting bold notices by any sections talking about this content, so that you can skip those sections if you so choose.

1) This was, obviously, a pretty long chapter. I think the average chapter length for this story was around 8 or so pages, with a few breaking 10 pages, and at least one hitting 12+.

        A) Fun Fact: This entire universe was originally going to be a 10-chapter idea and end at that. Obviously, I got really into it, considering Chaos is Normal on its own ended up 22 chapters.

2) You do not wanna know how much I looked into different types of hidden/wear-able cameras for this chapter. You really don’t. I did learn some really interesting stuff, though.

        A) The cameras Remy and Remus wear in this chapter are based on some stuff I found. Technically speaking, neither camera (nor any of the others I feature later in the story) are really out of the realm of possibility in the real world. Maybe a bit advanced, but they could be possible.

3) The team trying to get cameras going and clear, along with audio stuff is honestly fun to write. Similar segments pop up in other chapters, and it’s always amusing to me, for some reason.

4) “I was born first and you know it, Remus” is a line I forgot I wrote, but adore, honestly.

        A) My older brother and I have a 10-year gap in age, so I was literally winging every single sibling moment that goes down between the twins. Hopefully they mostly came out okay.

5) Apparently there’s still a typo in the original Doc that I managed to correct immediately before posing. Uh....

Dunno how I didn’t catch that going through before I got it into the Ao3 editor, but I did catch it before actually hitting Post on the chapter. So... At least there’s that?

6) I love writing Janus and Virgil being good friends/caring about one another. It’s just something I love.

7) Having Virgil and Janus get spotted by Remy and Remus (as well as by Logan, and Roman, via the camera feeds) is honestly something I originally didn’t really intend to put in. But, I felt like having these passing glimpses of the teens made things feel a little more connected when I went through and added it as an experiment, so I kept it in.

8) Giving Remy and Remus their various nicknames and codenames in this chapter was too fun.

        A) Calling Remy “Sandman” was something I really wanted to do at some point in the story, and the opportunity seamlessly presented itself here, so I couldn’t resist.

        B) Later in the chapter, Remus claims that members of the Venom Order (who all use a sort of codename, to protect their identities; hence why Virgil goes by Spider and Janus goes by Deceit) call him “Beetlejuice” literally came from the fact that while writing this chapter, I was listening to the “Beetlejuice” musical soundtrack a lot, and uh... Yeah, it kinda just happened from there. Opened up the perfect opportunity for a joke in a later chapter, too.

9) Logan having to divide their attention between the cameras, Remy and Remus’ audio, and having to listen to make sure Patton and Emile are alright is something I planned from the start of the story. I wanted this to happen at least once. Logan has been protective and even at times a bit paranoid over Patton’s safety for most of the boy’s life, and this is an example of them doing their best to make sure he’s safe, despite the fact they’re doing something extremely dangerous just upstairs.

10) I can’t help but headcanon that Janus almost always wears layers not just to help with dysphoria, but also because he fidgets with the top layer of his clothes when he gets nervous. As such, he has a lot of hoodies, jackets, and vests in his wardrobe.

        A) He also wears layers because he just likes how it looks. Yes, this is me projecting. I like layered looks, okay?

NOTICE: This is where I’m covering the conversation between Janus and his father. This section does describe Transphobia, abuse, and emotionally-distant “parenting” (if you can call anything Janus’ father does parenting at all). There will be a second notice once we are beyond that particular section, so simply scroll to that point if you don’t wish to read these next few points.

11) I wrote Janus’ father as being a very cold sort of parent. If he weren’t a Homophobic, Transphobic, all-around piece of shit, he’d still be a bad parent. He hardly gives a damn when his son does well, and only ever really responds if he feels Janus has done something wrong (like, y’know, existing, since Janus is trans, and Joseph refuses to see him as his son).

12) Joseph repeatedly misgenders and dead-names Janus throughout the conversation, and it was really hard to write. I had to check my work several times to make sure things were “correct”, and I didn’t have any slips that Joseph wouldn’t make.

        A) If any of you hated Joseph immediately once he opened his mouth, then I did my job. I wanted everyone to hate this asshole. I hated this asshole, and I created him. So, yeah, fuck Joseph “Viper” Prescott.

        B) Luckily, I didn’t need to write a ton of Joseph in this story (and likely won’t need to in future stories), because I really hated him from the start, in the “I created you to be awful, and god damn, you are awful” way.

13) Janus telling Joseph off by saying “I am your son! If you can’t see that, then you’re fucking blind, old man!” was a line I wanted to include some form of from the start of the chapter, and it went through a few different iterations before I finally decided I liked this one best.

        A) Also, Janus immediately realizing he went too far with that statement is intended to be a relatable moment (as we’ve probably all had that moment of, “I shouldn’t have said that”), but also intended to show that Janus knows how his father reacts to that kind of thing, and the resulting “Anxiety vs Might as well go all in” sort of conflict Janus has is there to hint that things really aren’t good at home, and it really has changed the way Janus tends to think and approach some situations.

14) Depicting the very quick emotional shifts with Joseph was another thing I had trouble with, but for a very different reason. I have ADHD (I don’t keep this secret, I’ve posted about it and make an effort to be open about the various ups and downs I deal with as a result), and it has a big impact on my writing style. It’s why I try to be descriptive (especially when it comes to places and character body language, expression, emotion, and clothing), since the details help me keep track of tone, location, and the like.

With Joseph, though, I had to throw some of that out the window. I try to keep emotional shifts for characters consistent, and at least hint to them coming up, to make it easier for myself (and other readers who might also have a hard time with sudden shifts and cues like that) to keep track of things. I couldn’t do that with Joseph. Because of how I wanted to portray him in this story (especially this chapter), I had to make things sudden. Hence the sudden and quick way he lashed out (though the inciting force is “clear”; he was angry concerning Janus’ comments), and the rapid shift to him once again being cold and stoic once he’d struck Janus and the teen was on the ground. It was hard to keep it draft-level quick, rather than going through and “refining” it.

NOTICE: We’re done talking about all the really bad stuff. There’s some talk of the aftermath, but all the really explicit things are out of the way, so it should be safe to continue.

15) Virgil is basically me at any gathering. Just, stick to the edges, people-watch, and silently panic if anyone approaches.

16) I think this is the closest Virgil gets to really flying off the handle in this story. I don’t think I ever have him get this close to going and physically fighting someone at any other point, and damn do I wish I had, honestly. Virgil is really protective of Janus, and seeing his friend (read: crush) in his current state sets him off. He’s still fuming when Janus gets his attention again and is clearly desperate to just get out of there, but he pulls himself together and helps Janus out, because he knows that going after Joseph won’t be the helpful thing in this situation.

17) Logan flexing their fingers before starting to really get to work once Remy patches them into the Order system is honestly something I have a habit of doing when I start writing, especially if it’s cold, since the joints in my hands tend to get stiff and lock up a little. Also, I really couldn’t resist the really obvious spy/hacker bit. The opportunity was right in front of me, and you all know by now I take the opportunities when they come.

18) I originally didn’t want to leave the chapter where it ended, since it was a pretty decent cliff-hanger and felt like an awkward stopping point at the time. That being said, I’m glad I did it. This and most of Chapter 4 were going to be one entity, but that would’ve ended up way longer (Chapter 4 ended up roughly 8 pages on its own), and it would’ve been a lot of fairly heavy content all in one go, so it was better broken up. It made me very glad for the little POV shifts throughout, because it gave me a clean place to cut the chapter apart and made it a little less awkward.

And, I think that’s about it for this one! This was a really long chapter (probably the longest I’d ever written as of when I wrote it), and it was full of stuff to help kick off future interactions in the story.