#i understand that at a certain point it becomes inevitable to start running into people who will try to hurt your feelings

[aurosoul]

officially at the Big Anxiety stage of career success. wondering when this stops being as bad 😔

[starwrighter]

Two out of three prompts baby!!

Another take on the Lazarus waters= corrupted ectoplasm

While not all the batfam has been revived by the Lazarus pits, they've all either been in contact with the Lazarus pits / in the general vicinity of a Lazarus pit. If we go with the idea of Lazarus water having certain qualities of ectoplasm but not all of them couldn't people exposed to Lazarus water become a form of ecto contaminated from the waters?

For this prompt let's let Lazarus water keep the qualities of ectoplasm that contaminants the people who are exposed to it. Except Lazarus water doesn't contaminate people the same way ectoplasm does.

With ectoplasm you can spot when someone is contaminated almost immediately. Whether it be physical sickness or the physical mutations it causes (i.e fangs, pointed ears, glowy eyes, anything else you hc liminals having) it's easy to detect.

However, Lazarus water is a bit more... Discreet. Not that it's trying to be discreet it just doesn't have the same umph that ectoplasm has. Most of the pits effects are a ditch effort of getting/making ectoplasm.

Lazarus water desperately wants to be ectoplasm again. It wants to be stable but it physically can't. Not by itself at least. The people who are effected by Lazarus water are more prone to violence and bursts of anger and paranoia that can hurt or kill the people around them. All those symptoms can create ectoplasm but it will never be enough they need a powerful consistent source of a specific type of ectoplasm.

If you see where I'm going with this good. All the batfam are corrupted liminals/halfas.

Most of their symptoms are dormant but it's still there running through their veins imbedded deep in their brains, some worse than others. Everything they've been doing is a way to create ectoplasm but they can't absorb it. Not only are they not making enough, the ecto they do manage to make is corrupted and just adds fuel to the flames.

Now let's add Danny to the mix. It's no secret that Danny is canonically overpowered to a ridiculous amount so Danny would logically be emitting tons of powerful ectoplasm all hours of the day. The ectoplasm Danny emits is a godsend to corrupted liminals/halfas; the blood type O- if you will.

So when Danny comes in contact with one of the corrupted liminals/halfas (it's up to you if he's on the run or just visiting) they latch on immediately. Unfortunately there is no quick cure for corruption just like how radiation lingers years after an nuclear explosion corruption takes years to purify fully and it gets much worse before it ever gets better.

As mentioned before Lazarus water wants to be ectoplasm again and it doesn't care how long it'll take to get there. Which leads to some... Odd behavior from the contaminated

Danny with his crap luck runs into each and every member of of the batfam vigilantes and civilian persona's. He ran into babs at the library while trying to figure out his schooling. He ran into Tim at a cafe. Signal woke him up when he fell asleep on a park bench and thought he was dead. He literally ran into Jason and Dick. Damian was his seatmate cause they both skipped several grades. ( The angst of the portal accident happening earlier is something I would die for) Robin saved him from a mugging.

When he inevitably got kidnapped Bruce Wayne was called. Spoiler and Red Robin saved him from said kidnaping Batman evacuated him and some dude named duke from riddlers game. He saw Red Hood and Nightwing at bat burger.

Now the meetings in themselves weren't the problem, honestly it was just a typical month with Fenton luck. The problem was when he didn't stop meeting them.

It started with how seemingly there was always a vigilante there when he needed help, it made him nervous but could be chalked up to typical vigilante behavior. Then it was Tim always being there first no matter which Cafe or coffee shop he picked even the ones in the lower district. That was understandable since it was obvious the man was a caffeine addict and high end Cafe's in Gotham typically limited the amount of caffeine they gave you while the ones in the lower districts couldn't care less if you died. It was however annoying how he would comment on how "Danny, you shouldn't be drinking coffee this young" like he had the room to talk.

Next it was the way he constantly ran into Jason at the library. Apparently he was Barbara's brother. He did however help Danny with his English homework in a way he actually understood it! For that impossible feat Danny would forever be in his debt til the day he (fully) died.

Damian was his classmate,Duke and Tim went to the same school as them so he couldn't exactly blame them for that. He actually considered Damian a friend, they talked and ate lunch together. They were also paired together for pretty much everything since nobody else wanted to be Danny's partner for some reason.

He kept running into Dick and Cass whenever he went to eat at bat burger. Dick was funny and Cass started teaching him sign language. They were also Gothamites so he had no reason to tell them not to show up at a public place.

It got to the point he was always running into one of them no matter where he went! And the meetings were getting creepier and creepier.

They started inviting him places specifically to their homes. Danny was smart enough to know not to go home with someone he'd only known for a few months. Danny actively started to avoid them when their asking became more frequent and harder to safely decline.

He finally did go to one of their houses when Damian asked if he wanted to come over and work on a project. The teachers actively encouraged him to go saying everything from " Damian has trouble making friends, he's trying really hard for you ya know?" To" the project needs to be done either way might as well pair yourself with a friend" To just telling him to go because "It'd be good for your future to have connections with people like Damian and his family,"

Eventually Danny caved on his own, he trusted Damian, he was with the dude every hour of the school day for Ancients sake. So Danny goes to the Manor and everything goes as it should until it's time for him to leave. Damian tries to get him to stay longer and when he attempts to leave on his own he is blocked by the batfam.

Now Danny is confused and kind of scared. The fam sit him down and try to have a normal conversation with him but Danny is just asking when he's going home. Bruce then reveals he has full custody of Danny and that this is his home now. Danny starts freaking out even more since this is the second billionaire who's set on force adopting him.

They try to comfort Danny but he's not having any of it he attempts to phase out but he's blocked, the entire Manor has been ghost proofed to keep him in. Danny is full on panicking right now, trying to keep his cool. The batfam are upset because they just saw Danny attempts to escape but they go back to trying to comfort him. Saying it's okay, they understand that he's not ready yet but they couldn't let him keep living the way he was (being homeless or just the Fenton parents in general) inevitably Danny freaks out with a little power use hoping to spook them into letting him go.

Obviously they have ghost proof tech and are only slightly inconvenienced by Danny outburst. They're patient after a few hours of them trying to talk with Danny he finally exhausts himself trying to phase out and the fam take him to "his" room to settle in.

Now Danny has to figure out how to escape or live with this people until whatever effecting them wears off. The butler Alfred said they didn't normally act this way and with how concerned the man looked Danny trusted him.

Tldr: all the batfam are liminals/halfas that need the ectoplasm Danny emits. They go kinda crazy and kidnap Danny cause they are corrupted. From the batfams pov it's a wholesome adoption but from Danny's pov it's a irl true crime episode

[ladykettlechips]

It's Not That Deep

Being kind is a choice. Sadly, so is being a dick.

I absolutely adore being part of a community where I can share my passion with others, be it as a writer of fanfic or simply a bystander. However, there are also downsides to being within a community, and sadly, it is other people who can ruin that joy and our experience of creating something for other fans, who want to devour content while a series is still being created, or has come to an end.

It seems like it is a frequent thing for a handful of people to ruin the fandom experience for others. They become anonymous or hide behind a name in order to actively go out of their way to harass creators within the community. There have been threats and vile accusations thrown about, and for what? To scare people off of AO3 and tumblr, just because you don't like something they created for a FICTIONAL character within a FICTIONAL setting?

Loves, it's not that deep.

Sadly, these kinds of people have run creators off of various apps and websites with their continued harassment. They have gone above and beyond to act horrible towards people they don't know, for a story or a piece of artwork they could have clicked the back button on. For something THEY can actively turn their back on and ignore.

If they had as much passion and energy for real world issues, their time would be much better spent. Instead, they have chosen to take a cowards route and harass other people online for something that is, in truth, insignificant to them. It is as if these people are consciously ignoring tags or warnings, because they WANT to start a fight and act in such a disgusting manner.

I can't understand it, really. Your time is much better spent doing things you enjoy, rather than coming after people who are doing the things that they enjoy.

Now, if the creators were actively promoting bad things, then yes, call them out on it or report them. Half the time though, these creators put disclaimers about how they don't promote certain things, but it is there for fictional purposes.

Our time and energy is precious, and for those taking time out of their hectic schedules to share their passion with us is a wonderful gift. Yet there are those who want to destroy that passion, and it is a sad thing when they win; sadly, cruelty often trumps kindness, and I have seen one too many creators fall to the whims of people who prefer to be dicks over being kind.

I would hope these people eventually see some sense and stop what they are doing, but trolls don't always see reason or see the light. I just hope that someday they get the hug they have been craving, or perhaps the talk they need to understand why they act like this. Until then:

It's not that deep.

It's not that serious.

It is FICTION, not reality.

Your favourites won't notice you regardless of how hostile you become.

You are not making the internet a better place with your harassment.

Have a hug, eat a snickers. I highly doubt you'd act like this in real life to people you know, or to someone else's face, so go have a nap and chill a bit. Don't make a mountain of a molehill, and remember that these fictional characters you are getting into a tizzy over are not real.

Thanks. Peace out.

Edit to add: I have yet to be harassed. I know it will happen one day, because it is inevitable at this point, but I am speaking out for my friends and fellow writers who have sadly experienced it.

[the-elusive-soleil]

Some things that might have happened if the Valar had gone to war with Morgoth immediately after the Silmaril theft, and evacuated the Sindar, Avari, and very first Men to Aman to escape the continental destruction:

Nobody swears any Oaths. Feanor doesn't get the chance to, because the Valar go after Morgoth before he can.

He would have liked to go help with the war, but the Valar have made it clear that the Eruhini need to keep out from underfoot, and Ulmo is actually enforcing this one.

Feanor does contribute weapon designs in exchange for the promise of the Silmarils being returned to him ASAP.

(We have the sun and moon, I feel like I should say. The Valar made them when they needed light sources for the war and it was clear they weren't getting the Silmarils back all that soon.)

There's a lot of excitement when the new arrivals show up. Olwe is ecstatic to see his brother again - with a Maiarin wife and a daughter, too!

Thingol is upset about losing his realm and also grieving his friend FInwe, but cautiously intrigued to meet Finwe's family.

Feanor has become High King of the Noldor at least in name, but in practice what's developed is that Fingolfin and Maedhros and Caranthir and Turgon handle a lot of the day-to-day and Feanor is so busy crafting that he never noticed the shift. No one is super interested in telling him.

Thingol very nearly breaks it all open by accident, but they avoid a crisis just in time.

The Avari disappear into the outlands and forests and assimilate as little as possible.

Thingol and Melian start up a new city, but it's...not quite the same.

Luthien is restless. Her parents' new city might not have a girdle, but she feels fenced in anyway - partially with her parents not wanting her to stray too far in this strange new place, and partially because she's the one and only half-Maia and stunningly beautiful and everyone wants a piece of her, so to speak.

Funnily enough, certain of the Feanorians know exactly how those itchy feet feel, and her father doesn't hate them in this timeline.

She's not into hunting to kill things, really, but Celegorm teaches her this neat trick that sometimes you can just say you're 'going hunting' and head off to the woods to do whatever you want, like running just for the sake of it or dancing without anyone watching you, and no one will ask any questions.

She ends up spending a lot of time with him and the twins and Aredhel.

(Celegorm and Luthien eventually get married, because why not.)

(Melian gives her blessing on the condition that their firstborn son marries Nimloth, who goes along with it because she trusts Melian's foresight. Or, alternatively, they might have a daughter who marries Beren when he comes along; that'd be a fun twist.)

(The point is that Elrond and Elros eventually exist. They aren't in need of adoption, but they develop a surprising bond with their uncle Maglor.)

Almost forgot, the dwarves got brought over, too.

Caranthir does a lot of the negotiation with them, since his bluntness meshes best with their ways.

They and the Men keep having new generations be born and die, and it's...an adjustment for the elves.

Finrod, nonetheless, becomes great friends with a Man called Balan and his folk.

Caranthir encounters a Haladin woman named Haleth when she comes to court to arrange for greater independence for her people. He's in love at first sight. It takes her a little longer.

None of Caranthir's family understands why he'd choose to go through the eventual heartbreak of losing a spouse, but he ignores them all, and gets married anyway.

They have an astounding number of children. This is partially because they have better proximity and aren't in survival mode, partially because it takes them a sec to figure out how human conception works, and partially because Caranthir wants there to be as much Haleth in the world as possible before she's inevitably gone.

Hurin Thalion and Morwen have three lovely children. Nienor probably has a different name. Lalaith lives to an astoundingly old age, healthy as a horse.

Tuor and Idril, of course, get together. Turgon is a bit less enthusiastic about it this time, what with Tuor just being A Guy and not Ulmo's champion, but when would that ever stop Idril. Tuor does die eventually, but they have a good life till then.

Feanor ends up liking the Men and dwarves a lot more than anyone thought he would. He learns All The Languages, and loves to swap techniques with the dwarves and bounce off Men's ingenuity.

Also, the Sindar introduce a radical notion called marriage counseling, which is apparently something you invent if you're coping with Arda Marred instead of trying to maintain an assumption of perfection. They've also invented family therapy. Feanor and Nerdanel, and really the whole House of Finwe, benefit hugely from this.

Oh, and elf/dwarf relationships become hugely popular among the Noldor, because when your dwarf spouse dies you can literally go see them at Aule's house still as long as you're discreet about it, so no one bats an eye when Celebrimbor announces his engagement to the craftswoman Narvi some time down the line.

[wisedawn13]

#lanuary2024 Day 23: Lan Wangji's Birthday

Lan Zhan feels raw.

Usually, he has his weekends to decompress to avoid spiralling into either a meltdown or, worse, burnout. Unfortunately, this past weekend was filled with unmissable family events. Having Wei Ying with him helped.

But it wasn't enough; it merely delayed the inevitable.

He was doing okay getting by until work today. It's his birthday so the office decided to throw him a little party and so many people kept talking to him.

All he wanted was to come home and curl up in his husband's arms.

As Lan Zhan turns the key to their apartment he can feel the onset of a meltdown coming. He's standing on the edge and it won't take much to push him over.

He takes a slow, grounding breath, opens the door, and freezes.

The main lights are off and the apartment is instead lit by soft lamps. It's not too dark that he can't see but it's not harsh. He wants to cry.

He doesn't know how long he stands in the doorway but at some point, Wei Ying comes up and gently guides him in.

Wei Ying wordlessly takes his bag and sets it aside before he works on removing Lan Zhan's outer layers and shoes. Once those are put away, Wei Ying begins to slowly remove Lan Zhan's clothes before silently helping him into his softest loungewear.

It becomes easier to breathe.

Wei Ying meets his gaze with a soft smile. "Do you want a hug?"

Unable to reply, he nods.

Wei Ying wraps his arms around him and squeezes tight. Lan Zhan melts into him. He loves his husband so very much.

Some time later, Wei Ying pulls back to press a kiss to his lips.

"Happy birthday, my love," he whispers, letting his hands run up into Lan Zhan's hair to give his head a massage. Lan Zhan closes his eyes and leans into his touch, tension gradually leaving him with every press and tug of Wei Ying's hands.

By the time Wei Ying pulls his hands back Lan Zhan feels a hundred times better than he did when he entered their home. He lets out a sigh and opens his eyes to see Wei Ying staring at him with so much adoration it takes his breath away.

Unable to form the words, Lan Zhan kisses him and means 'I love you' and 'I adore you' and 'I don't deserve you but I'm so thankful to have you in my life.' He knows Wei Ying understands.

"Here," Wei Ying murmurs. Gently, he places Lan Zhan's noise-cancelling headphones on him.

Wei Ying turns them on and starts playing Lan Zhan's favourite Classical Chinese playlist on low. Lan Zhan hums in pleasure and follows Wei Ying as he gently tugs him over to the dining table. Lan Zhan sits as instructed and watches as Wei Ying serves him his favourite meals.

Lan Zhan is so overwhelmed with love for Wei Ying. He feels his eyes starting to water as Wei Ying puts Lan Zhan's plate down in front of him while pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head.

Wei Ying sits down and they eat in silence.

Lan Zhan is so thankful for Wei Ying thinking to put his headphones on him. As much as he adores Wei Ying talking over a meal, he knows he wouldn't have been able to handle all the sounds that come from eating. His husband knows him so well, sometimes better than even himself.

And, of course, he knows Wei Ying just as well. It's just wild to think about someone knowing him so deeply and truly as Wei Ying does. If someone told Lan Zhan when he was a teen that he'd be this close to someone (in every sense of the term) he wouldn't have believed them.

He was always so solitary and never certain on how to even attempt to get closer to someone. It was too daunting and confusing.

And then he met Wei Ying.

Wei Ying came crashing into his life in a swirl of light and laughter and joy and Lan Zhan cracked open.

Wei Ying always made an effort to reach out to Lan Zhan (even in the early days when Lan Zhan was too scared and overwhelmed by the enigma that is Wei Ying) and slowly, Lan Zhan began to understand what it meant to be wanted and treasured. Wei Ying enjoyed his company.

Over time, Lan Zhan grew more comfortable around Wei Ying. He began to feel settled when he was with him. Wei Ying became his safe space. Lan Zhan grew comfortable with all kinds of physical touch and making eye contact with him and Wei Ying always respected his boundaries.

It was inevitable that they would fall into each other, really. Neither of them knew it at the start, but others saw it (they heard the speeches at their wedding). Their love was something so real and natural that it only made sense. He can't imagine his life without Wei Ying.

After they finish eating, Wei Ying takes Lan Zhan's plate away before he has the chance to try to clean it himself and then he leads him into the livingroom where his yoga mat is set up with a pillow. Wei Ying gestures to it with a raised eyebrow in question.

Lan Zhan feels like his heart is too big for his chest. He nods and Wei Ying smiles softly. Lan Zhan watches Wei Ying wander off to grab the weighted blanket and then he lays down on his stomach on the mat. Wei Ying places the weighted blanket folded on his upper back.

He feels himself finally relax, the weight condensed enough to quite literally squeeze the tension out of him. There are so few ways that Lan Zhan can ever truly relax (especially his back) and this is one of them. The only other option is to have his back against Wei Ying.

Lan Zhan closes his eyes and lets out a long sigh.

He drifts.

An indeterminate amount of time later, he finally feels human again. He sucks in a deep breath, feeling the way his ribs expand and contract, and then pushes up, letting the blanket fall to the side.

He sits back on his heels and removes the headphones.

"Feeling better?" Wei Ying asks.

Lan Zhan turns to find him curled up on the couch, book in hand, a soft expression on his face.

"Mn. Much better," Lan Zhan replies.

"I'm glad." Wei Ying pats the couch beside him.

With a smile, Lan Zhan makes his way over and sits beside Wei Ying. They fold into each other, cuddling up close. "Thank you, my love."

Wei Ying sighs happily. "Anything for you, Lan Zhan. It's the least I could do, especially on your birthday!"

Lan Zhan hums and kisses him.

"So, Birthday Boy, shall we watch a few more episodes of your comfort show while we eat cake and cuddle?"

Lan Zhan hugs Wei Ying a little tighter. "That sounds perfect."

And so they do just that. Wei Ying ends up feeding them both while they watch the show.

It's truly the best, most perfect birthday he could have ever asked for.

----------

Link to thread

[frankiebirds]

here's the jordan analysis i promised. it got really long so it's under a cut </3 also to any jordan fans jsyk this is more a meta analysis of the role she serves rather than an in-universe analysis of her character, so. no major character insights if that's what you're hoping for.

as i've said before, i also don't understand the vitriol i've seen directed towards her when she was in eight episodes and occasionally mildly annoying at worst. i think most of the people who hate her do because she was a. being shipteased with morgan b. (temporarily) replacing jj and c. a woman of colour who breathed. i don't love her, although i do think her and emily should have fu— uh. who said that? anyway:

what i do really like is the narrative role she serves during her episodes, and especially during this one. with any long-running show with dark themes, there's always a risk of the audience becoming desensitized—a guarantee, even, if it goes on long enough. i think a lot of these shows (including cm, on occasion) fall into this trap where they think the solution to that is to constantly escalate, which i think is a huge mistake. you'll desensitize the audience faster when you're just showing them increasingly awful things; at a certain point you'll even bore them. also, it will inevitably become extremely unrealistic, and you'll start to sensationalize if you aren't already.

i think jordan's introduction was a really fantastic early effort to prevent the audience from becoming desensitized. we're following a cast of characters who have all been embroiled in awful things for years or decades. it's their job and it has been for a long time. the characters are already varying degrees of desensitized and they're the ones we're identifying with as the protagonists.

and then jordan. right away she's out of her depth and overwhelmed, and in this episode, she says outright that she can't do the job. i think it was also a great choice that the case in the episode isn't a particularly horrifying one (obviously they all are and the revelation at the end of this episode is really tragic, but jordan saying "im out" after this case reads very different than if it had been after something like no way out where it's clearly among their worst cases).

she's a reminder to the audience that the people we're watching are not normal. no normal person could do the job they do. the vast majority of the audience, if transplanted into the show, wouldn't be reid or emily or morgan or hotch—they would be jordan.

[mercillery]

If this kind of request interests you...I'd like to see what songs you think fit Lucius, lyrically 😩🫶

I COULDN’T THINK OF MORE SONGS IM SORRY ANON AND ANOTHER SORRY IF THESE ARE NOT ACCURATE…🫡

1. The Devil Within - Digital Daggers

If we set aside the chorus of the song, which starts with "you'll never know what hit you" and ends with the same line, the rest of the lyrics seem to fit Lucius remarkably well. Given the limited interactions we've seen between Lucius and Julius, it doesn’t appear that Lucius harbors any deep-seated grudge against Julius. In fact, Lucius explicitly tells Julius, "No one’s ever been closer to me than you, and yet you don’t understand." This line alone suggests a complex relationship where Lucius values Julius's proximity and connection but feels misunderstood by him. So although Lucius doesn’t feel understood by Julius, he doesn’t hate him or anything. Additionally, the song frequently mentions being hidden and unnoticed, which aligns perfectly with Lucius's actions. Lucius has been concealed within Julius all this time, moving undetected and working behind the scenes—and I think the song captures this element beautifully. Furthermore, when the song says, "Now I'm the heavy burden that you can't bear," it can be interpreted as—well, Lucius’ plan of taking over the world, all because Julius didn’t know that Lucius was residing within him this whole time. Overall, while certain parts of the song could describe the relationship between Lucius and Julius, you mentioned focusing solely on Lucius. In that context, I think it's safe to say that the lyrics encapsulate Lucius's character as a whole.

2. Laplace’s Angel - Will Wood

Alright, hear me out. I know the rest of the lyrics might come off as random and not exactly fitting Lucius' character, but it's the chorus of this song that I think truly captures his essence, especially the line: "Am I bad, am I bad, am I bad, am I really that bad?" Despite being aware that everyone opposes his grand vision of reshaping humanity and transforming them into their true forms, Lucius remains steadfast in his belief that he is doing the right thing. He genuinely believes that his actions are for the greater good and that he knows what's best for everyone, even if they can't see it themselves. I think, deep down, Lucius comprehends why people resist his plan. He understands their fear and their reluctance to change, but at the same time, why would people reject a world where everyone is equal in every respect? To him, it's a noble and just cause—creating a better world for all. Yes, his methods are extreme. The choice he offers is stark: either be forced to become a Paladin against your will or willingly embrace the transformation for the greater good. To Lucius, this dichotomy is a necessary means to an end. He sees the transformation into a Paladin not as a loss of individuality but as a path to collective enlightenment and unity. In his mind, the end justifies the means, and he struggles to understand why others can’t see the benevolence behind his actions.

3. Disciple - IAMX

I think the lyrics speaks for itself.

4. The Great Soul Destroyer - I Monster

The lyrics speak for themselves as well, just like Disciple by IAMX. Despite his fanatical devotion to creating a world where everyone is equal, there’s an undeniable arrogance that runs through his character in the manga. Lucius truly believes he is the only one capable of ruling over humanity, and his conviction in this belief is palpable. This is evident in his declaration that he will become the Final Wizard King. His confidence in his vision and his role in it is absolute, to the point where it borders on hubris. He doesn't just see himself as a leader; he sees himself as the ultimate authority, the one destined to guide humanity to its next great stage. This arrogance isn't just a character flaw; it’s a fundamental part of who Lucius is. He views his mission as not just necessary but inevitable, and he considers himself uniquely qualified to execute it. In his mind, he is not just a reformer but a savior, destined to bring about a new era of equality and enlightenment. Everything I just said for this song could be applied to Disciple by IAMX too. I HOPE THIS IS ALL MADE SENSE.

[bugtransport]

I've seen this one person who, on account of knowing a fair bit of Japanese, has actually seen old-timey serial toku from the late 50's-early 60's like Gekko Kamen, & not only always praises them, but holds more conventional showa toku like Rider & Zubat against them! & I think that's genuinely really fascinating & thought provoking! Makes you wonder how much perspective is lost on us because of the language barrier stopping us from watching those shows, it also brings to mind how when we measure stuff like art, we only do so relative to what WE know!

sorry it was incredibly funny receiving this ask because i feel like this is the experience that anyone who tries to talk to me about western media has when they inevitably run into the brick fucking wall that is the fact that i just apparently did not go through US Kids to Adolescents Media Bootcamp and have the world's spottiest baseline of what you're supposed to know. i mean like yeah sure i've never seen shit like titanic that's an easy one to miss but i just learned who king arthur was last year. i've been boycotting disney since i had a concept of what a company was. i just straight up didn't watch live tv after 2nd grade. my friend had to explain what danny phantom was to me this past weekend. all the shakespeare i know (2) was taught to me against my will.

anyway where was i. i typed up something first but it got way too long. i do think it is interesting to think about how we're only able to comprehend and analyze media through the lens of our experiences in life up to that point but [gesturing above] i am Dumb Ass Rocks and i think that's why whenever i make certain statements about media i feel the need to put in a disclaimer that gives at least some idea of where i'm coming from so people don't expect me to know things i simply don't? it's something that i've had to become very aware of through the years and i think a lot a lot a lot of miscommunication is due to the fact that people are assuming that other people around them have the same understanding or background information or reading of something. i think if you want to talk language barriers there's a point to be brought up too about how translation is an artform and a really beautiful one; you're essentially being a middleman for understanding between the author and the reader but because they're relying on the translator to decode and recode the meaning in their own words, we've now got an additional person in the mix having to balance THEIR knowledge base, so i am wrENCHING MYSELF AWAY FROM THE KEYBOARD I'M GOING OFF TRACK AGAIN-

i think it's good enough to just find enjoyment in the things that you find enjoyment in! unless you're looking to do serious (i.e. academic style) analysis i'm anti-completionist and think everyone should simply leave if they're not enjoying something. doesn't matter how late in the game. i'll watch a whole show and not the final episode if it sucks. i watched bojack horseman thrice but there's one episode i simply won't watch because i started it and hated it. i just watched as much of the show as i cared to and enjoyed it! and in that same vein if you aren't able to access a part of a series/genre/what have you due to time/language/cost/bald/other constraints in my Humble Onion you can just take the enjoyment out of the parts you're able to access. no use dreaming about the things that could be when you have perfectly good shows right there!

[solarwynd]

When armys used to talk about leftovers I used to roll my eyes because not liking a group when they change their musical direction is the most common thing just as I found myself annoyed by their hatred for multis - do you expect everyone to not listen to or to hate every other musical act just because they stan BTS?

However as someone who used to hardcore stan JK, I finally get the leftover part a little. I talk about him a little too much and it's because I used to stan him. I think its so much disappointing when someone you used to like becomes a poster boy of selling out. But I'm going to try to make a conscious effort to stop. It's just a bunch of negativity for no reason. Unfortunately pjms talk about JK a lot - mostly because jjks talk about Jimin - and the whole cycle keeps running. To some extent I appreciate the spite-inspo they provide pjms but at a certain point I want to open my twitter tl and not see fight after fight with every fandom on twitter and a bunch of ratkooks and maidkooks or pigmins or horsie or all that bs being thrown around. I've been off twitter for a week because of this (also to catch up with my assignments) and coming back, things are worse than ever.

I don't know what the solution is but things seem more exhausting than fun sometimes. I need some Jimin content stat 😔

Armys hatred of multis wasn’t because they liked other groups it was because multis 9/10 are fake and constantly threw BTS under the bus in defense of whichever other group they stanned. And in the case If they dropped BTS completely, they’d always immediately start to shit talk BTS the moment they unstan. (Even more embarrassing when you’d pull up old tweets to see that they were professing their love for BTS or specific members not even 3 months earlier sometimes) That’s where that term came from and it’s always been fitting. The bulk of these groups in kpop wouldn’t have the fanbases they have now without the fans BTS brought in. Especially 4th gen cause 80% of them are ex armys that’s just the truth. Me personally, I had no issue with anyone unstanning BTS when I was an army if their music started to not be to their taste. That’s understandable. But to unstan then go pick a group like NCT, SKZ or BP and want to talk about quality of music or talent? Yes, I will look at you dumb cause you’re not serious.

I will say that armys do give western multis a lot more leniency because they do hold western acts to a more superior standard than kpop groups. Which is ironic because those same western multis would in turn do the very same thing armys would call kpop multis out on and then they’d even add in a hint of xenophobia and condescension ontop of that too. So it really was all just one mess of a circle.

If PJMS weren’t as productive as they are in supporting Jimin, I’d be 10x more annoyed with them. They do talk about JK a lot but like you said it’s because jjks can’t mind their business. It’s also because how JK operates almost directly correlates to how jimin gets treated so it’s inevitable. Outside of that specific type of name calling (which irks me to no end on all accounts cause the majority of the people who are doing it are grown.) It’s the constant screenshooting and going back and forth that bugs me. Like I get receipt keeping cause I do it. But then you’ll have some pjms who will literally camp on the worst jjk anti accounts like Muri for a screenshot a couple minutes after that man posts some nasty tweet about jimin. And it’s like why? Why is he not blocked for you? What will he or any jimin anti really have to say that would be new or any different from him hurling the same pig insults, SH drags or reposting that same encore vid?

I don’t think the dynamic pjms have with jjks will ever change, so the best thing to do if you’re more on twitter is just stay in your own corner or continue to take breaks. Jimin hasn’t dropped music yet so you’re not really missing anything anyway.

[dranother-memory]

↺ ᴿᴱᴾᴱᴬᵀ ‖ ᴾᴬᵁˢᴱ

𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠…

I was so close to getting away with it, saving those kids, getting out of here to see them. Maeda, Kinjo, Mekaru... All of them messed everything up! I didn't want to hurt Inori or Yamaguchi, but I had to kill someone! I had to... and I had to get away with it!

"There's nowhere else to run, right Uehara?" Maeda spoke. His voice felt like acid being thrown at me. Even if his words weren't filled with hatred the way he spoke.... Once having considered him a friend, now an enemy.

What can I even say? I had to recollect myself... Even if I did it to save the children, I still sinned. Having killed two people... Even if one was indirectly, I was still the one to set it up.

"U-Uehara-sama?" Taira looked towards me.

"...Excellent. As Maeda said, no matter how badly it was, this is it. It seems this was my limit..." There wasn't much of a point trying to fight it anymore.

"What?! All of the sudden he came back to normal." Kobashikawa spoke.

"Was that it? He must have been acting like Hanato!" Iranami had caught on... Perhaps it's for the best.

"That means... Did you just admit it? That you are the culprit." Kinjo questioned.

"....... I am the culprit." At least if I admit it, it's a burden lifted off the shoulders of many.

"Well now~ I've been watching everything, It seems it's okay to say that you made a decision at this point? This time, no matter how much I play the role of the judge, I'm really sad because I seem to have been too much of a dead weight. How to get rid of this anger! It's a vote time of anger...! Because this happened, you guys will now have to vote with the witch in front of you! The result of this voting, who will become the blackened?! And will your answer be the correct one or the wrong one--?! Now, What's it gonna be--?!" Monokuma's long monologues.... That'll be one thing I'll never miss. Even I have my limits, and that bear has pushed them quite some time ago.

"Ah yes! As for the result of your vote, your choice was... The correct answer! The identity of the blackened who killed two people, Miss Inori and Yamaguchi-kun was... Kinji Uehara!! ...  Huh what is it? Did someone thought I was gonna say those lines before voting?" Monokuma's 'anger' rose... Although with that robot it acts more like a cartoon too much to be any actual rage.

"U-Uehara-sama..." Taira yet again called out to me with only my name. There wasn't much I could do... It was far too late now either way.

"From the second half of the trial, we've been almost certain of it... I guess..." Kobashikawa spoke.

".......Why..... did you kill them?" Kurokawa spoke, she was right, I at least owed them that much of an explanation.

"...I'm sorry." I couldn't put the words together right away, yet I found that slipping out of my mouth quicker then I could realize.

"You're sorry? There's no excuse. Is that all you have to say after killing someone? Plus killing two of our group, do you know that makes you a serial killer?" Kinjo spoke. I understood he had the right to be upset with me for it all, but it doesn't hurt any less receiving the comments.

"W-weren't you very agitated and arguing back a little while ago Uehara? Why did you suddenly become so quiet?" Otori questioned.

"... I only thought that more talk would delay the inevitable. I... had a reason to live and survive this trial even if I had to do that sin." They were my main focus out of all of this...

"That's right! If we found out that you did the murder.... You...are going to die." Taira spoke.

"He already knew that the moment he was caught." Mekaru rebutted.

"No, that's not the reason I did it." They had the wrong idea after all.

"That's not it...?" Iranami questioned.

".....Your...motive? Was there, something else....?" Kurokawa was puzzled by my words.

"Was it the motive this time? The thing that you desperately wanted in that video... an that you wished for...." Taira spoke, I could tell that she was starting to understand but she seemed to still want clarification.

"You mean you had a wish that you wanted to get by killing two people?" Otori questioned.

"...Wrong, there are a few things that must correct you before that. You are right bout everything, the plan and killings are correct, but... I didn't mean to kill two people from the start."

"What...?" Maeda questioned.

"You may look at this as an excuse, but... Only then That person's death will become colorless, so let me speak. Maeda. The only person I was trying to kill was.... Kanata Inori." She was the only one I was going for...

"You did it in the end. It was too late and also too clumsy to plan serial killings. Your execution had  sense of improvisation. First. According to the rules of the school, serial killing would be more damning than profitable for the culprit." Mekaru as usual, speaking with her facts over anything else.

"So what? Were you trying to kill one person to make your sin lighter?" Kinjo spoke.

"I mentioned this was not an excuse, but you're saying that as it is one. However, I have something to say. I'd appreciate if you listen quietly." It would be easier if they just let-

"Funny you say such a thing. Do you think I'm going to listen to a killer's request?" Kinjo started to raise his voice.

"Kinjo...........I'm sorry..... but try to be quiet." Kurokawa effectively told him to silence in her own away. Kinjo let out a 'tch' noise in response.

"... The reason I did this murder is not very relevant to your motives, As you may have guess, but... I'll talk about that later. Inori was always in the infirmary, so she was very easy to target. This probably happened, during Taira's Uproar, so most of you were in the dormitory side. I took that gap and kidnapped Inori from the infirmary, move to the art room on the third floor and... tried to stab Inori with the plaster weapon. However.... That's when He came an threw me away. The one an only Yamaguchi, who i thought was in the dormitory side with you guys......... That guy was..... a wonderful person. How many people can run without having a single thought about their own lives to intead save others?"

"Then Yamaguchi died because he witnessed it, and you were forced to kill him?!" Kobashikawa questioned.

"Yes. Originally, Inori should have been the one to be cut to death with the plaster weapon in the art room. However because Yamguchi intervened, I changed the plan in a rush." I never wanted to kill them both, but Yamaguchi... he ended up throwing off my plans entirely.

"...Now that I hear this, the front and back are starting to fit better. It was especially strange because of Inori Kanata's white coat wiping the blood in the art room. That couldn't be helped, right? When you killed Kakeru Yamaguchi, Kanata Inori, the person he was holding, has his blood splattered on her." Mekeru talked, it was like she was piecing together a genuine puzzle.

"That's true... Come to think of it. When Uehara aid that he had a head injury, the wound was real. That was not acting, but being pushed by Yamaguchi..." Indeed, Otori was right.. My wound at the time was real.

"So that's the story. Anyways, you're serial killer who killed two people. That remains the same no matter what you say to anyone." Kinjo was not going to be 'swayed' I've known that from the start, but it doesn't make his words hurt any less.

"But why did Uehara-sama attempt to murder... I can't even imagine." Taira spoke.

"...... It's hard to explain... How should I say this...." The way Monokuma made it... It was hard for me to say no in the first place...

"...Wait, before that.... Can I ask something?" Kurokawa weakly spoke up. "....You.... When Taira's commotion happened... You said that you kidnapped Inori.... If..... If Taira didn't have a commotion.... I mean... You wouldn't have known that, it would have been.... difficult to schedule..."

"Why are you asking for that so suddenly Kurokawa? What are you trying to say?" Iranami tried to figure out where Kurokawa was going with her questioning.

"In other words, this is what the woman said. How did you know that Taira's uproar would happen?" Mekaru spoke up in place for the other.

"Oh, They knew?!" Otori was in shock and he looked around the trial room quickly.

"Think about it. If you had decided to kill, you would have a plan and execute it in advance. How could they calculate the timing to kidnapped Kanata Inori without knowing that everyone was gathered in the dormitory because of Taira's bustle? ... Well, I'm not sure what Taira's situation was in the first place." Mekaru spoke.

"...Hoho. So after all it was Kurokawa... You seem to have the power to pick words by it's very own core. It's natural to think like Kurokawa. It would be strange to hear that. The plan looks as if it knew in advance that Taira would go and make a ruckus.... The answer to this is simple. It's because I knew in advance."

"Huh...? H-how?" Maeda spoke, questioning me further.

"Are you a psychotherapist? You knew Taira's mental state andd preicted the future...?" Iranami questioned.

".........I don't think he's talking about that." Kinjo chimed in. "........Speak, I'll listen to this."

".... It's not that big of a mystery. Someone just informed me. 'Taira's going to make a fuss soon, there'll be an empty frame for you'." It was the truth, but I can understand how odd it sounds.

"...?! Not anyone can tell you that..." Kinjo rebutted.

"... You, don't tell me..." Mekaru spoke.

"There's one more thing I have to apologize for doing to you guys. In particular you, Maed. I should apologize more than the others."

"Eh...?" Maeda questioned.

"I......Am......!" I tried to speak but got cut off by Monokuma.

"Yeah~! It was a very obvious story that The leader from the darkness gave Kinji Uehara intimidation an threats from the shadows and led him that chance to kill a couple of times!"

"W-what?! What did you just say?!" Kobashikawa was seemingly just as shocked as Otori had been earlier.

"This is blimey! Why re you suddenly interrupting!" Otori shouted at Monokuma.

"Huh?? Did you not hear me correctly? Then can I say it one more time? Yeah~! It was a very obvious story that The leader from the darkness gave Kinji Uehara intimidation and threats from the shadows and led him that chance to kill a couple of times!" Monokuma shouted it again but louder then before.

"U-Uehara-sama...." No matter how many times Taira says my name, it'll never change the fate and actions I've done.

".........The traitor....?" Kurokawa asked.

I couldn't say anything at this point, was there much to even say? I was still waiting for Monokuma to tell me the truth... the kids...

"Anyways, that's the end of the story, so we're done chatting!! If you guys continue on and on like this you will be dragging again while doing reminiscence scenes or whatever!" Monokuma let out a chuckle.

"Wait, you're the traitor, but you got blackmailed? What are you talking about?" Mekaru questioned.

"...Even if I'm the traitor, I don't know much. I don't know who the mastermind is, and why the mastermind is doing this to us. However... When we first came here, Monokuma approached me and awoke me before you guys... They were holding our church's children hostage, They said they'll give me information and will release them if I do what I am told to do." I just wanted... the kids to all be safe.

"W-W-What in the heavens?!" Otori shouted out, they were really willing to even drag children into this.

"W-wait a minute! Cathedral children?! Calm down speak slowly!" Kobashikawa asked, but he was just as concerned as everyone else by now.

"...The cathedral where I belong to, or the rather there's a facility that takes care of children who have nowhere to go... That is entirely in the hands of Monokuma. So I was threatened under that pretext." Looking back... My questions were not worth anyone dying, but I wanted the kids out of anyone to be safe. They all had bright future ahead of them.

"You... Did you really fall for that kind of crap? That was all a bluff from that bear!" Kinjo tried to berate the idea....

"That was not a bluff!! He showed me the video, and I was shown having a conversation with the children MYSELF!!" I know I heard them! Why don't they believe me?!

"....What did they.... ask...?" Kurokawa questioned. "What were you instructed to do...?"

"...Basically, I had a surveillance camera, so I was filming everything that was happening in every blind spot and send it to the mastermind....... More importantly, if killing were happening between students enter in a stalemate, I would commit the murder myself...... If I don't comply with this...... They said he would murder the children instantly.... I didn't have a choice....."

"So... Did you commit the murder because there was a deadlock after Ayame Hanato?" Mekaru questioned.

"T-that was the Motive?! So this time, our motive, it was useless to anyone?" Iranami spoke.

"If you look at it that way, you may not be able to see anything. But Monokuma in that time, he said is the time, so you are instructed to move, was the time when the announcement of the motive came. In the completely soundproof private room... Showed me the children. If you kill this time, your children will be free, and if you don't get caught, you can get out from this school..." It was the only way... Even if I don't get out of here, I want them to be safe and free....

"A fully soundproof room... No wonder, this motive was purely to deliver the orders to Kinji Uehara." Mekaru spoke.

"Y-you are so...! Using the lives of children to threaten Uehara-sama...!!!" Taira shouted at Monokuma, obviously fed up with everything as tears rolled down her cheeks.

"Was that unfair? Then I'll make it easy for you! Puhuhuhu.... This is not a blackmail. I just gave you a choice if Uehara-kun didn't want to kill, he could have refused."

"Don't mess with me!! You said moments ago that there were threats?!?!" Kobashikawa rebutted.

"Hey, y'know that was... It's a narrative thing! Don't think too deeply!" Monokuma spoke but it sounded more like riddles then anything real.

"The last time was so rotten, because I couldn't let those children die. You guys.... I really have no face to show you." I knew it was selfish of me to kill to leave as everyone else would've died.... yet, I still longed to make sure the children were alright. Some way or another...

"Of course I understand to some extent that this was forced upon you, but would you still have to get your hands bloody? Was it that necessary to kill? Do you think those kids want you to be a bloody murderer?!" Kinjo shouted at me... but of course I don't want them to see me that way....

"...Just like kids don't want me to be a killer, I don't want kids to lose their lives. There was only one way. It's enough with just me to fall into hell." I was more then willing to go to hell with the sins I have committed, trading my life for theirs... It was good enough in my eyes.

"You don't want kids to lose their lives? Then, are you saying when you kill someone you don't know like Inori and Yamaguchi, they will lose their lives as well? Inori and Yamaguchi also have friends, family, and you say there’s some people you don't want them to die? You don't even know the details, and you were worried about the children, right?" Kinjo had begun going on one of his tirades, but there wasn't much he nor I could do at this stage right?

"Strange, Kinjo. My logic shouldn't be any different from yours, but you're getting heated aren't you?" I thought we shared similar ideologies... trading three lives for dozens others...

"... The logic of a killer is the same as mine? ... What are you talking about?" Kinjo questioned.

"Discard prime numbers for the majority. Isn't that what you said? I scarified the lives of 15 people and took the precedence over the lives of 100 cathedral children." Was that not the same thing? It ended up leaving Kinjo speechless either way. "Of course, that doesn't mean I'm allowed to commit murder. But Kinjo, you put Mekaru, Tomori and me in danger the one who went saying the exact same thing? Wouldn't it be necessary to reconsider your stance at least once?" Everyone looked at me in silence. "...And I know too well, That I am an ugly being. It won't be enough to go to the Lord's side,  but it's enough to suffer, go to hell and die... But it's fine. Although I will not be able to meet those kids because I won't be able to live, I was able to save their lives with my sacrifice... Monokuma! You kept your promise?!" I had to shout to get the bears attention, he'd long since tuned me out by now if I hadn't.

"Puhuhuhuh, of course! Even though Uehara's crime was revealed and in the verge of being executed, he still murdered as I ordered him to. Since the moment you killed Yamaguchi-kun, the children have already been released!"

"The children... they are safe, right?" I wanted to make sure, just before I die...

"Oh? Are you curious? So, do you want to see the proof then? Video please!"

The kids.... They... What...?

"....H-hey? Did you play the wrong video?" Otori asked.

".....Those clothes.... Kana. T.... That's.... Haruki......." I knew exactly who they belonged to... None of them were safe... There was so much chaos... So many brutal sights... None of which, a child should have to deal with... "....That hat.... was from... Mitsuki..."

"U-Uehrara...?!" Maeda called out, but everything felt like it was spinning too much...

"...Mo....nokuma.... How .... did this... happen?... You.... you....promised..." I couldn't take my eyes off the screen, looking in horror even after the film had ended.

"Huh? Promised? Didn't I keep it? I definitely promised to release the kids. Have I ever told you I would "let them be"? Phuhuhuh..."

As Monokuma cackled, I couldn't bring the strength to move... To do anything... I killed two people... I'm going to hell and in the long run, I wasn't able to save anyone..........

"U-uehara! Wake up!" Maeda called out to me but I couldn't hear him.

"Scumbag...!!" Kobashikawa shouted out at Monokuma's direction.

".....Y-you.... this is inhuman.... How.... could you do this..." Taira's voice ended up cracking as she tried to push away the tears from her eyes.

"Because I am not human, but a bear!! And Uehara-kun, don't be so sad! It's been awhile since they've been dead anyway, soon you'll meet them!" Monokuma was excited, not that I could do anything. My feet were still keeping me in place, standing there shocked...

"M-meet them...?" Otori spoke.

"Yes!! Shouldn't we start soon? E-X-E-C-U-T-I-O-N-T-I-M-E~!!!! I'll make you follow your kids, so be patient!" Monokuma let out another laugh only to be cut off by a shouting Taira.

"W-Wait a minute!! This is... this is too much!!

"I'm sorry, but I don't have much time either! I've got a busy schedule here! Now then let's get started! I've prepared a very special punishment... For Kinji Uehara, the Ultimate Priest! Then let's go with lots of energy~!!! IT'S PUNISHMENT TIME!!!!!"

Before I realized what was going on, I was being dragged out of the trial room. Everything was dark at first before I felt a heavy weight dropped next to me. It hit the ground with a harsh thud. I looked over to me, but I knew exactly what it was before the lights even turned on. A bright flash from above shined off the surface of the cross that was laying there. I understood very well what I had to do, I moved myself in a way where I could just barely get it lifted off the ground, at least this way I can make small movements with it. Even if it's heavy, I can slowly make it there. I carried it for as long as I could before I felt my shoulder give out. Suddenly a building popped out of nowhere, a church... I was dragged in along with the cross as tons of Monokuma's began lining up to 'pray'. Even I knew where this was going. A Monokuma pushed my hand up to the cross and jammed a nail into it, pinning me to the cross. The pain in my hand was unbearable for a moment, I felt my hand spazz out trying to regain control of my muscle. I couldn't let the pain show... The kids suffered much worse then I am now. My other hand got the same treatment, I couldn't help but flinch as that hand spazzed out as well. A crown of thorns were lowered onto my head and it made sure to squeeze tightly, I felt the blood start to drip down my face from the thorns but I could barely react... I deserved this pain after all. There was a clicking noise from a button in the distance, and the cross had began to shake but then it went dark. Everything had shut down and the cross fell straight backwards. I felt something snap... My head wasn't in it's right position anymore but the Monokuma's all deactivated. I have to sit here and bleed out like a withering rose...

[skopostheorie]

I've been wanting to get back into learning languages. I know one person's methods and advice won't exactly work for everyone, but do you have suggestions on how to study and practice?

Alright! I'll preface this by saying that I am by no means an expert in language learning, but rather just very passionate about it. Sometimes people assume I'm some genius or something; I'm really not, it's just that if you do something a lot (I'm talking at least 10h a day) because you love it that much, it will eventually start looking like you're quite good.

I also think that, while linguistic geniuses certainly exist, you don't need to be one to learn even a very "difficult" language. Along your Internet journeys and Discord servers and so on you've almost certainly met someone who has said that they learned English just from using the Internet a lot. They're usually underselling themselves by pretending they didn't need to put in any effort, but even then; they're doing perfectly well for themselves just from chatting online about video games or what have you. This is also to say nothing of refugees who learned the language of their new country, even to the point of thereby receiving citizenship, whether they are "gifted" or not! Everyone struggles a bit, but we all get it done. With maybe a few tears.

Those are some long disclaimers, but I feel they're necessary because even if none of these "tips" work for you, it is imperative you remember that LOTE, while with its challenges, is not some unique cool-kids club where only future Teslas can hang out. When you inevitably run into challenges or even a brick wall, don't think it's uniquely a you problem, or see it as evidence that LOTE is not for you.

The best way to practice is to make friends. Where our ancestors learned languages on the Silk Road or by studying the hot new subject at the fancy school on the other side of the world, it would seem humans have mostly become fluent by hanging out. Yes, that sounds terrifying. You might indeed accidentally meet people who are quite rude about your lack of fluency. But join fandoms for international things that have a LOTE-dominated base, or make a new account on (insert-language-here) twitter, and so on. Make mutuals, reply to their stories, etc etc. Just how you'd make friends on English Tumblr. Do not join gaming servers, gamer-racism is internationally true.

I'll emphasise Twitter again because it's really good for practice in small bites and, failing understanding a tweet, there's always a translate button. Of course, you might pick up some bad grammar, and even incorrect spelling, but in a way that's part of the fun and will teach you how to sound more natural with others in casual contexts.

Make sure your studying is connected to things you like, if the language itself is not inherently enjoyable for you. Write your practice sentences or fake conversations about things you like, or study vocabulary related to your interests. It is far more fun to write a paragraph about why you love a certain movie than How To Order Food. It'll stick in your mind better.

Your journey is very unlikely to be a nice, organised, linear affair, and that's fine. Even if you're, say, like me and prefer to learn grammar, common phrases etc BEFORE jumping into the deep end, you'll probably do a bit of learning-as-you-go, and vice versa if you prefer to just study things as they appear. See language learning as a craft, or a tree being nurtured in various ways according to the elements, rather than a set of tasks. Don't forget to keep the humanities part in this subset of the humanities! LOTE is writing notes at a desk, is vocab lists on Quizlet, is random example sentences, but it's also having to Google something real quick mid-conversation, and learning things just by assimilation rather than ever bothering to check it means what you think it does. Just like when you learned your first!

[aminiatureworld]

Disappearance II

Character: Albedo, gn!reader

Word Count: 2,149

Warnings: None

Premise: In which there is an argument and the reader disappears.

Author’s Note: Idk why I’ve characterized Albedo as a slob twice now. I guess I just think he’s the kind of person to become so engrossed in his research he just, never takes care of himself or his surroundings.

Also this was supposed to be two people but I procrastinated terribly so… here we are haha. Part three tomorrow.

Albedo

It was the third time this week that you had managed to spill his lab notes all over the floor, and frankly Albedo wasn’t sure if he could deal with it any longer.

“You’ve got a lot of papers strewn around,” you said, tone light and joking as you crouched to gather all the papers up.

“You’re the one that keeps bumping into things,” Albedo mumbled, crouching next to you to make sure that you put things back in order.

Seeing that you were putting things together haphazardly he snatched up the papers, frowning slightly as he went through the papers. Honestly, how could you mess up his system so much? As much as Albedo appreciated your interest in his work you were a Knight of Favonius, not a scientist, and as such your visits seemed to cause havoc more than anything else.

“Do you want me to help you with that?” You asked, exasperation creeping into your tone.

“No.”

“Are you sure? You seem, stressed. If you want I could pick up the papers on the tables and organize.”

“Don’t!”

“Albedo?” You leaned back slightly, as if surprised. For some reason that only made the alchemist more irritated.

“If you do that, you’ll just be creating more work for me. I’m very busy right now, I don’t have time to go back and fix your mistakes.”

“Mistakes?”

“It’s already enough that you keep spilling things all over the ground.”

“It’s not my fault that you leave your papers everywhere without even trying to keep them organized.”

“They are organized!”

“Well they certainly don’t look organized to me.”

“You just don’t understand. Besides, I’ve managed not to knock everything over.”

“You know, you’re insufferable when you get like this.”

“I’m not any different than usual.”

“I hope you don’t really think that,” you replied, tone clipped.

Standing up you turned towards the door. Though Albedo made a half-hearted call of your name you didn’t react, simply walking out of the room and slamming the door as hard as possible behind you.

Albedo didn’t even think of you the rest of the afternoon. Anger iced over his slight worry, replacing it with a burning sense of resentment. Your sudden departure stung, and, though it was admittedly childish, Albedo found himself determined not to worry about you.

Besides, you were simply an obstacle to his research at this point. Maybe it was better if you went off to cool your head somewhere, then he could finish up his work. That was what usually happened with other people anyways. Apprentices, clients, the occasional wandering alchemist; they all fluttered around him until he couldn’t stand it and then when they inevitably got fed up he’d finish his work. His relationship with you was still new, and though he couldn’t say that you were the same as all those people in his eyes, he really had no reason to think you would react in a different way.

The sun had gone down long before Albedo finally locked up for the night. It had taken him a good forty minutes to reorganize everything that had fallen, though admittedly most of that time was spent in angry silence. Now as Albedo walked down the streets, still busy with night activity, he wondered what might happen when he got home. He certainly wasn’t ready to apologize, even if his tone was a bit curt his words weren’t wrong; but he couldn’t exactly see you apologizing either. It was bound to be a tense evening. One Albedo was certainly not looking forward too.

All the lights were off in the apartment, something that struck Albedo as odd. Walking towards the kitchen he found a piece of paper crumpled up on the kitchen floor, though when he uncrumpled the paper he was met with eraser marks. Letting out a huff of impatience Albedo went to put some water on the stove. So this is how the evening was going to pass; you presumably at a friend’s house, Albedo in stony silence.

“How petty,” Albedo murmured.

He didn’t expect such a show of emotions from you, having come to the conclusion that you were quite the rational sort. Really, this was all too much. He had been in the right after all, even if he had been a bit cold about it. There was no reason to react in such a way. It was this mindset that carried Albedo through the rest of the evening and off to sleep. After all, it was better than the kernel of doubt that rested in the back of his head, that told him he was the one being callous.

You didn’t show up at the apartment or the lab the next day. Albedo buckled down to work, but by midday the irritation and anger that he’d been holding over were replaced by a deep sense of unease. Hurrying home after work he felt panic shoot through him at the sight of your home empty, nothing suggesting anyone had been there in the time he was at work.

It took all of Albedo’s willpower not to run out the door and go look for you. All the anger and irritation he had felt had been thrown out the window, replaced instead with an intense feeling of worry, and of the realization that his actions might bear actual consequences.

Tossing and turning in bed Albedo stared up at the empty ceiling. He had been certain he was in the right, even this morning. You were clumsy, you had been inconsiderate of his work, you were simply stubborn and petty. Now however he replayed your argument, your fight, over and over again. The more he did so the more he became aware of how harshly he’d acted; the more he wished you would simply appear in front of him so he could apologize. He wanted to go after you, wanted to let you know that he genuinely felt bad. And yet he couldn’t bring himself to do so, to go after you. After all, what if you didn’t want to see him? What if he just made things worse? Once more turning in bed Albedo sighed. Tomorrow. Tomorrow he’d see you again. Tomorrow he’d make things better.

There was no sight of you tomorrow either. Albedo stood in his lab in stunned silence, heart hammering in his chest as he contemplated what this could possibly mean. Was this it then? Had he messed up that badly?

Staring around him Albedo noticed all the papers scattered this way and that on the tables and the desks. Seized by a sudden urge he scooped them all up, carrying them over to where he kept his files. A part of him jeered that it was too little too late, but still the alchemist didn’t stop until everything was filed away properly. Turning around to look at his desk he collected the dirty mugs and discarded equipment, putting them in the sink before turning around to pick through the no longer needed papers that still lay sprawled around the room. He didn’t stop for lunch, nor did he go to start back up on the experiment he was currently working on. Instead he kept picking up and putting away and rearranging. It was almost a ritual of some sort, and though it brought little relief, at least it finally brought distraction.

Still that distraction was shattered the minute Albedo stepped outside. The sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon, and the people of Mondstadt were still wandering around, enjoy the cool summer evening. Staring at the people around him, their eyes filled either with purpose or contentment, Albedo realized he couldn’t go home. He couldn’t face the empty apartment again. He thought that his anger would last longer, that he might go a week before feeling as if he burning from the inside out; but now he knew that that had been an arrogant, if somewhat funny, assumption. Turning away from the familiar path home he climbed up the steps of Mondstadt. He knew where he needed to go.

Walking up to the Knights of Favonius Headquarters Albedo was met with the sight of Eula, arms firmly crossed in front of her, faced even colder than usual. Hurrying over to your higher-up Albedo felt uncertainty bloom in his chest. Someone this seemed to bode ill.

“Eula?”

“Ah, the Head Alchemist. What do you wish to say to me?”

“Have you seen my partner?” Albedo paused, somewhat unwilling to reveal what had happened. “They haven’t been home for days, and I wondered if you knew where they might be staying.”

The look on Eula’s face was one of pure disbelief. “You, you don’t know what happened?” Her face shadowed over and she seemed to pull herself up. “If I were your partner, I would declare eternal vengeance for your idiocy. I don’t know what you’ve been doing Head Alchemist, but while you were off doing whatever it is you do, your partner was languishing underground.”

Albedo froze, unsure if he’d truly heard Eula right. The Knight tended to be quite flowery after all with her words. Perhaps this was just a metaphor he couldn’t understand.

“I see that it still hasn’t gotten through your head what happened.” Eula sighed, relaxing slightly. “I sent them off to monitor a few Fatui members, as it seems a group had made their way out of Dragonspine and into Windwail. While doing so they attempted to hide in a small crack in the mountains, but there was a steep drop after that onto the next shelf. Thankfully Amber had also been ordered to scout there, or else who knows how long it might have took to realize they were stuck. I just got the report from them, thankfully there was no lasting trauma.”

“W-where are they?”

“At home I presume. Aren’t you their partner?” Eula tilted her head. “Really, perhaps she should declare a need for vengeance.” And with that the Spindrift Knight walked into the Headquarters, leaving Albedo reeling on the step, heart thudding as if he’d just run a hundred miles.

Albedo practically fell down the steps of Mondstadt, so desperate was he to find you, to make sure you were okay. Eula had said that there was no lasting trauma, but what that meant Albedo was completely unsure of. Had you broken anything? Had you been deprived of oxygen? These thoughts catapulted through Albedo’s brain, constricting his lungs and plunging him into a roil of incoherent emotions.

The sight of you standing in front of his lab cause Albedo to stop in his tracks. For a moment the alchemist was overwhelmed by his emotions, switching between dizzying euphoria, terrible guilt, and unending worry. He took a step forward, then another, walking slowly down the stairs, as if in fear that you might disappear or turn away. However instead of turning away when he reached the end of the steps and made his way towards the fountain you let out a sort of shudder, running towards him and throwing your arms around his neck. Albedo wrapped his arms around you in turn, feeling slightly overwhelmed from the sudden proximity, the sudden feeling of once more being able to feel your skin against his. Letting his head drop onto your shoulder Albedo breathed in deeply, centering himself with your presence, grounding himself in the knowledge that the agony of the previous days was finally over.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled against your shoulder.

“For what?” You whispered back.

“For not listening to you, for blaming you, for being cruel.”

“I’m also sorry.”

“Why? I was in the wrong.”

“Well, I just went off without telling you where I was going. I was going to write a note, but I was so angry I erased it.” You tightened your grasp around Albedo. “I wish I could’ve seen into the future. I never would have done something like that.���

“I don’t care about that,” Albedo ran small circles around the small of your back. “I’m sorry.”

“You already said that.”

“No. I’m sorry for not being there, for not being able to help you; for doing nothing while you…” he stopped, unable to finish the sentence.

Pulling back for a moment you cupped Albedo’s face in your palms, studying his expression. Finally you bent over to press a soft kiss to his lips.

“I forgive you,” you whispered, breath mingling with his.

Albedo leaned into to kiss you once more, finding that his emotions were blocking out any words he might have been able to say. Everything seemed so surreal, as if he’d been stuck in some awful nightmare that only now faded away. And yet this wasn’t a nightmare, this was reality; and Albedo would have to remember that.

For now though, he only wanted to wipe all the fear and conflict away.

[nox-artemis]

Kentaro Miura

It took me awhile to get my thoughts in order. Honestly, as well intentioned as they are, a constant stream of fan tributes on Twitter and Tumblr more-or-less telling me how to process “The End” of Berserk with Miura’s death didn’t do a lot to console me, so I had to take some huge steps away from social media and only conversed my feelings with my other close Berserk fan-friends.

It was very surreal waking up yesterday morning to a friend messaging me simply saying, “did you hear the news?” When shit like that happens, I go onto my Google stories app and scroll through. I didn’t find anything really worth getting too upset over (maybe a bit sad that Queen Elizabeth II’s doggo died?) so it hit me to check my Twitter feed instead.

And that’s when I saw it.

We all know death is inevitable, and life is pretty much spent prolonging the point to that inevitability as well as preparing ourselves for when it happens to us or someone close to us. Being part of the Berserk fandom was the only time we all collectively had this on our mind not only for someone else but for someone we never met or really knew that much about. We only knew Miura through his magnum opus – and that was good enough for us. And no matter how much we discussed the worst-case scenario – pondering how the story would continue and how WE would continue – it still wasn’t enough to prepare us for this amount of shock. Hearing Miura had died and that the Berserk we know and love under his direct supervision is over truly felt like losing a long-lost friend.

It wasn’t just that the Berserk we know of is “over”, but that Miura didn’t have to die. He was only 54: not a young age, but not an old age either, especially by today’s standards. He could have seen the end to his magnum opus the way he envisioned it, yet he died of something so avoidable but is only brought about by a great deal of stress (from what I’ve read). It was always a morbid open rumor that so many of Miura’s infamous hiatuses were actually mental and/or physical health breaks, so the older or more conscious of us fans, while always eager and anxious for a new chapter, learned to not take them so personally. Miura was a spellbinding artist and storyteller, but he was also a human with his own life and conflicts that he was entitled to address at his own pace. This isn’t meant to blame anyone (at the very least, maybe to address some societal/industry issues), but it’s troubling enough to remind everyone – as the story of Berserk has demonstrated – that you need to take care of yourself physically and mentally, and while everyone struggles in life, you don’t have to struggle alone.

I always despised this weird cult of youth that insinuates that life isn’t worth pursuing once you hit your mid-thirties, and how some people so engulfed in their youth insist that they wouldn’t mind dying by the age of 50 or 60. It’s a shame when people live by that because there’s so much to live for beyond your youth – as I’ve learned, I only started buckling down when I transitioned into my thirties. Miura could have had a longer life ahead of him, going beyond Berserk and into his other endeavors, professional and personal, but that will unfortunately never happen now.

Everyone knows I have a lot of thoughts and opinions on Berserk. Most of you found out about me through my blogging several years ago, and I’m pretty proud that I was never the sort of fan that groveled at Miura’s feet and treated Berserk as some untouchable holy book: there were things I disliked about Berserk and things that disappointed me about Miura’s writing, but there were SO MANY MORE THINGS that I loved about Berserk and was proud of Miura for, and I wished him to continue his advancement in narrative growth. He did so and we watched it happened.

And, by meeting so many friends and acquaintances through the fandom, we saw a lot in ourselves change too. It’s surreal how we always joked that it would be one of us fans who would die before Berserk ended or the worst-case scenario of Miura dying; maybe some of us secretly preferred for that happen. But when we weren’t waiting around for another chapter… look at how much we’ve done with our lives! We graduated high school, undergrad, grad school, started and advanced our careers, traveled the world, got together, popped out a kid or two!... And while we experienced a lot of downfalls and tragedies that coincide, can you believe how much we have accomplished together?

We were all personally inspired, motivated, persuaded by Berserk in different ways: a lot of us were inspired for the better and admittedly, some for the not-as-good (if spending countless hours on Tumblr has taught me, there were definitely some toxic fan takeaways that had to be confronted). I’m not going to go to the point of saying that I now live my life by Berserk’s philosophy to a T or live as a reflection of certain characters (because I’m pretty sure that Miura was trying to tell us to NOT live your life like some particular characters) but it certainly helped to brings some aspects of life and existence into perspective, through the lenses of so many characters. Berserk also inspired me to write more, an already favorite pastime of mine, and how I should go about writing and planning a story, taking cues from Berserk on how to and how NOT to write and approach things in my own way, which I think is for the best in the long run. I can only dream that I’ll be published someday – which doesn’t have to be a pipe dream because it’s still much more possible than impossible. And so many other have done the same, creating our own stories and works.

And OF COURSE Berserk inspired me to be a little bit badass from time to time in moments of frivolity and seriousness – but it reminds us all that being badass and being a kinder person who tries to become the best version of themselves are not mutually exclusive. We definitely need more of that in today’s world.

We all made our own little bonfires of dreams happen, and because of Berserk existing, there will be a lot more beginnings than endings, and I don’t see a lot of bonfires being extinguished anytime soon. Miura poured his heart and soul into Berserk and its characters, and while he has passed on, his characters and lessons will live on through us and everything we create and how we live our lives (hopefully for the better).

I was happy to share all of my thoughts with you all – and I’ll continue to do so, since the mythos of Berserk has been a major backdrop of my creative mind for over fifteen years now and there is still so much to dissect and speculate. Personally, I don’t see Berserk ending just yet, if only because I’d be surprised that Miura or his publisher didn’t have some Operation London Bridge type plan in place in the event that this happened (Berserk is, after all, a major title that most likely brings Young Animal a lot of revenue). Again, I never treated Miura or Berserk as divine untouchables, so if there are plans in place to continue Berserk without Miura (BUT with his permission) or just on how to wrap up the story to give it a fulfilling conclusion, I personally would be okay with it (as a friend of mine put it, it’d be more of a tribute than an imitation). Going beyond our lifetimes, works will continue to be interpreted and reinterpreted as they have since time immemorial; perhaps Berserk will reach that point someday.

Honestly, and many have thought so too, Berserk was also meant to be cosmic level in both scale and concept. The plot is so grand and Byzantine that, even under Miura’s direct supervision, I always had a hard time envisioning how a story of this scale would conclude. As much as we love to hate him, a final showdown between Guts and Griffith seems too simple, too “good vs. evil”-esque for Berserk. Maybe having a low-key, vague but optimistic and bittersweet wrap up is what is best for Guts, Casca, and their new-found family. But that’s just another one of my fan speculations.

Regardless or what is to become of Berserk now, I think it’s safe to give adulations. We all came across Berserk at different times in our lives and stuck with the story for different reasons. For some of us, it was just another series that our friend from the campus anime club recommended to us; for others, we were drawn in from a morbid curiosity of its dark notoriety in anime circles. A few of us read for the gratuitous violence and the clout (because we all know you’re so deep and hardcore [/sar]), but a lot more of us read for the journey and the characters that we became a part of. The heaviness of Berserk made us confront a lot of trauma and even relive our own. For some of us, understandably, it was not a good idea to dive deeper (and maybe somethings could have been handled better); for the rest of us, it helped us cope, if not entirely through the story itself, than through the support network we made for ourselves in this fandom and its many realms (some realms, I argue, are more caring and nurturing than others).

From time to time, I always wonder if I would ever “grow out” of Berserk. There were indeed several times I took a step away from fandom and have tried to reduce my exposure to the story - but I always came back in some way, because the essence of Berserk has never left me and never will. Humorously I envisioned myself actually forgetting about Berserk for several decades, decades in which I work at my career, raise my family, mourn my elders, but continue living my life, only to go on the future internet in my mid-50s to find out… Miura is STILL working on that ending, sitting at his desk in the same pose as that famous monochrome capture of him, only he’s grayed and wrinkled, like the great Miyazaki.

The possibility of that future is over, but there are so many others.

[cherriesfineline]

Au Pair – Chapter I

It's finally here – I'm sorry this took so long, this past few weeks have been a mess but here it is, our first chapter for the Au Pair series; I kinda hate this, ngl- I always hate first chapters, a lot of introductory info and bla bla but yeah.

In the weird case you happen to enjoy this and want to be added into the taglist (starting next chapter) you can request it here.

Feedback, likes or reblogs are so, so appreciated! I'm very much new to the whole writing world so yeah it'd be really helpful to hear your thoughts about this <3

Love you all, have a wonderful week beauties!

Warnings: none specifically for this chapter – age gap.

WC: 6.6k

Masterlist

Y/N was tired, to say the least.

And it wasn’t the tiredness she used to feel after a long work shift at her previous job -where her boss was an old, grumpy lady with horrible manners- or the exhaustion felt after spending hours crying due to a fight with her mother. No, this was different. It was a tiredness she couldn’t get rid of; a tiredness no lavender smelling bath or hours upon hours of sleep could amend.

She couldn't pinpoint the exact moment her brain shifted in such a drastic way. Y/N could easily recognize and admit her life had never been an exciting one; a memorable one. Ever since she was a little girl it all seemed to fly by; graduations, birthdays, friendships – nothing ever seemed to leave an impact and nothing ever seemed as exciting as everyone else put it to be. She knew she struggled with allowing herself to enjoy things, but this far her life had been pretty average.

Maybe it was the fact that she was 22 years old and never been in a real relationship what skyrocketed her fear of dying alone. Now, she knew it might seem exaggerated – 22 years wasn’t a long life at all, but the pungent emptiness she’d been feeling felt like her inevitable destiny – like that’s how life was supposed to be for her.

England felt different, though. But in all honesty, her emotions hadn’t had switched into completely different ones like she’d expected to happen when she applied for this job as an Au Pair all the way back in February.

With a steaming hot cup of coffee between her cold hands, she sat down next to Coco (a very soft grey Scottish Fold) on the giant couch of her new home, scratching in between his tiny ears earning a low purr in response. Coco had become one of her closest friends so far, along with Anya, a three year old girl with cute blonde locks and a laugh so contagious it made the muscles on your cheeks ache after a long playdate.

Maybe moving away wasn’t the smartest choice. It actually might be one of the stupidest choices she had ever made, actually – moving all the way across the globe when she cried herself to sleep most nights due to her loneliness overcoming her (almost inexistent) self-awareness. Y/N liked to believe she had a wide understanding of her emotions, but it was a blatant lie.

At least she was distracted for most of the day – taking care of two kids and looking after a teenager wasn’t an easy task. It required a lot of mental presence; but by the time she was in bed at night, it all hit back again. She thought maybe this is how life is supposed to be for her, lonely – maybe it was not her brain playing her tricks but her brain making her see how her life truly was.

It’d been two weeks since the Lockehold family picked Y/N up from the airport, and on one side getting physically adjusted to this new life hadn't been as rough as she thought it’d be. She did have it easy, if she had to admit – a big room in a giant, beautiful home and a car to her disposal. Emotionally, on the other side, life was still the same.

She knew the moment she heard heels hitting the cold marble staircase Bella was on her way down with Ivy, the eldest of the three sisters, following close behind, complaining about a hangout she was apparently going to miss because they “are expecting a guest” as Bella announced, meaning neither of her parents could drive her. That’s how Y/N found herself sitting in her (borrowed) blue Jeep Renegade driving Ivy to her friend Lily’s house – who lived in the same rich, over-the-top neighborhood as her guest family, which meant the ride to and back was no longer than twenty minutes. During those minutes together, though, Y/N could physically feel the irritation running through Ivy’s blood because first, she still wasn’t too fond of Y/N because she is 16 and doesn’t need a babysitter -her words, not Y/N’s- and second, Y/N is still not accustomed to driving on the other side of the road.

Technically, Y/N had the weekends off. Living with the same people who employed her gladly didn’t mean working 24/7, but she hoped she could earn a couple of points in her favor if she took her free time to drive her around.

After a short conversation between the two (where Ivy refused to save Y/N’s number in case an emergency came up because she could always call her dad), Y/N dropped her off and drove back to the Lockehold’s. What caught her off guard, was the sight of someone in the driveway at the house next door getting suitcases out of the trunk of a black cab – there hadn’t been any movement in the old Victorian mansion since she’d moved in next door. A man, definitely very tall, dressed in a dark suit is all Y/N could decipher since it was already dark outside and she had to strictly concentrate on not switching to the opposite side of the road out of habit.

Alex was coming down the stairs when Y/N locked the front door – Bella’s husband was a very handsome man for his age, probably anyone could admit it. He was kind of scary sometimes, but was a true sweetheart on the inside; he’s in his mid-40’s and it was clear as day his family meant everything to him, he even treated Y/N like his own daughter, always making sure she’s comfortable and inviting her to most family hangouts – even though Y/N declined pretty often to allow them to have quality time as a family (and because being too socially involved drained her, but they needn’t have to know that)

“You wanna join us for dinner? We have a guest tonight. A family friend.”

“Oh, no, I'm good, you guys enjoy yourselves. I’ll say hello, though.” Y/N replied with a smile; and as before mentioned, even though she had the weekends to herself, they still loved to insist on her joining them for fancy dinners and whatnot. The Lockehold’s loved being hostesses, loved having people around (from what Y/N learned this past two weeks) but she really wanted -and needed- some time for herself after being with them the entire week, and even though she loved hanging out with them, she just wasn’t in the mood tonight.

“You sure? Bella made homemade pasta, from scratch. Her specialty.” Mouthwatering, Y/N thought. Bella was such an amazing cook, and even though she worked hours upon hours every day, she still came to her husband and kids in time to make dinner every night, not missing a single day.

“Sounds delicious, but I think I’ll pass, I’m just really tired.” And before anyone could make another comment, the loud bell ringing through the main floor of the house startled Y/N as it’s louder than ordinary – and sounded kind of old and creepy, in her opinion. By the time the constant thud in her chest lowered to a normal speed, she could recognize Bella’s voice in the foyer, meaning she was the one who received their guest, with a deep voice following after saying 'thank you for having me'.

"He's here!" Alex clasped his hands together, a wide smile appearing in his face. Y/N followed him into the living room where Bella was already chatting animatedly with a man; tall and with broad shoulders (but not excessively; just the right amount) his figure was leaning slightly forward as he listened to Bella rambling about all the 'good things he had missed while he was away'. His hands were clasped on his back and when he lifted his head, he made direct eye contact with Y/N without even having to search for her eyes. His brown curls were perfectly placed on top of his head looking extremely soft, and when he ran his hand through it Y/N couldn’t help but swallow harshly. He undoubtedly looked like someone who belonged in Hollywood next to a young Leo DiCaprio and he was definitely older than Y/N – probably already in his 30's, she guessed, but ageing like the finest wine. He had the softest looking wrinkles in the corners of his eyes – those eyes, forest green; reminded Y/N of what used to be home for her. His intense gaze held a lot of emotion, a lot of thought, unlike his face, that appeared stiff and cold, with a slight crease between his brows. His pink, heart-shaped lips were pressed in a line, a cute mole adorning one side of his chin.

"Harry! It's so good to see you, we've missed you." Alex's excitement forced him to drift his gaze away from Y/N, leaving her like a heated teenager salivating for him. Y/N honestly thought he might had left her speechless and most likely with increasing probabilities to make a fool out of herself if someone needed her to talk, as she was certain she wouldn't be able to formulate any coherent sentences.

Harry. It totally suited him, Y/N repeated his name a couple of times inside her head to check on its pronunciation. Alex reached him and pulled him in a big hug, patting each other's back, and Harry's lips broke into a huge smile making a line of pearly white teeth appear. And dimples. God, he had dimples.

This is how I die, Y/N thought.

"So good to see you, Alex." If sex was a sound, his voice would definitely be it.

"Your skin is glowing, Harry. Italy always does you wonders." Bella gushed. And she was right – his skin had this beautiful golden undertone, but it looked natural and radiant, almost like the sun itself kissed and caressed his skin with the softest touches. Alex snapped Y/N into reality when he turned to face her and grabbed her hand to pull her closer to them, starting a long introduction no one was paying much attention to, explaining how he’d missed her arrival, like he even cared, and how she was the Au Pair they’d all been talking about ever since February. It wasn’t until Alex mentioned something about Y/N and Harry probably seeing each other a lot she was suddenly interested in what was actually going on.

“He owns the school the girl’s attend.” Alex directed towards her. Now, Y/N assumed the moment she laid eyes on him he was probably rich – who wears a suit to a Sunday dinner with friends? Rich people are weird, that’s something we can all agree on; but owning a school which’s monthly fees per kid were worth three of her salaries? That was quite unexpected.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Harry." Y/N offered him her hand, trying to sound as casual as possible, even if her skin felt like it was burning under his intense gaze and her eyes were definitely betraying her.

"The pleasure’s all mine, Y/N." He shook her hand. His strong hold sent shivers down her spine; the cold rings making a big contrast against the heat his hand radiated and she couldn't help but fantasize about how his touch would feel in some other places.

The sudden embarrassment feeling hot against her cheeks made her turn around impossibly faster, feeling guilty at the dirty thoughts consuming her brain while around her bosses – and in front of him. Making a beeline straight to her room, announcing she was calling it a night, she sent Harry a quick -but quite charming- smile, and couldn’t help but soften at the sound of Anya running down the stairs yelling an excited ‘Harryyyy’ once she was past the kitchen.

She knew she got lucky with her commodities – an entire studio-like apartment past the main kitchen of the house, where the servant’s area used to be located a handful of decades ago; but she cussed in a whisper when she remembered half way through her making of a sandwich (four hours after she’d retreated to her bedroom and because she decided on skipping dinner that night, not having enough energy to cook) that her lazy ass still hadn’t bought mayonnaise. Her small kitchen had enough space to hold her snacks, along with some ingredients to make a few meals, since she only had to worry about food on the weekends. Reluctantly, she took the small plate holding her sandwich and made her way towards the main kitchen. There was no way in hell she’d eat a sandwich with no mayo – never in a million years, too dry to go down her throat.

I guess they won't mind if I grab just enough to put on my sandwich, she thought. The house was quiet, everyone probably already in bed, therefore she almost pissed herself when she found Harry sitting in one of the kitchen stools, looking down at his phone with an annoyed expression adorning his face. Almost as if he could sense someone was in the same room, he looked up to find Y/N standing at the kitchen threshold, his face abandoning any sort of emotion.

"Hey."

"Hi." Y/N walked towards the fridge on the far right of the kitchen, opposite from where she came in. "Sorry, I thought no one was here."

"Don't worry, just waiting for Bella and Alex to come back down to have some tea, they're putting the girls to sleep. Would you like to join us?" He offered. And honestly, she'd love to say yes and just listen to him talk with that deep, melodic voice, but her stomach was really hating her right now.

"I'm good, just grabbing some mayo. Thank you, though." She declined with a small smile.

"Next time." He sounded more demanding than suggesting, which slightly baffled Y/N. "Can I ask where you are from?" He asked respectfully.

"A small town in the Argentine Patagonia." Y/N replied with her back facing him as she busied herself with the mayonnaise container.

"Never been to Argentina. Or anywhere in South America, actually." And when Y/N turned around, sandwich in hand ready to go back to her room, their eyes met across the kitchen and she felt the heat creeping up her neck for the second time that night. Y/N wondered how his gaze was always this intense – she wasn’t a fan of how they’d barely exchanged a few words and somehow she felt so exposed.

"You should. It's beautiful." She almost, almost, choked on her own words and when she looked down at her fuzzy pink socks and back to him to try and calm her growing nerves down, he surprised her when she caught him looking up and down her body – in any other case she definitely would’ve felt creeped out, but there was something about him, the fact that he definitely didn’t do it with the intention of her catching him (she noticed how he shifted uncomfortably on his seat after the exchange) and how he simply added a “I’m sure it is," afterwards, she knew she was fucked right then and there – she wanted him looking at her. Was that something bad?

But then – then she remembered how she was wearing her soft cotton pajamas, and she began wondering if he was just laughing internally at her outfit instead of checking her out like she initially thought. And just like a save from heaven, Bella and Alex appeared in the kitchen discussing who was picking Ivy up from her friend's house. "Hi Y/N, still awake?"

"Yeah, got hungry. Stole a bit of mayo, hope you don't mind." She shyly held the plate up.

"Please, this is your house too." Alex waved her off.

"Thanks. Gonna go back now." Y/N pointed towards the small hallway that led to her room. "Goodnight." Turning her body to walk away, she caught Harry's eyes, again, still staring at her, but decided on simply walking away, breaking eye contact, making that small interaction their last one for the night.

&

The following week consisted of Anya and Y/N playing lots of fun games, trying to get a word out of Charlie and Ivy ignoring her for the most part. Her relationship with each of them was completely different, each trusting her at their own peace, getting used to having a stranger around. Anya seemed the only one openly excited to hang out with Y/N every day, and even though she could tell Charlie didn't exactly mind her presence, she still hadn't talked to her as much as she'd like her to.

"What are you up to, Charlie?" Y/N asked the seven year old as she sat next to her in the big playroom they had on the main floor. Charlie kept her gaze locked on her drawing with a handful of crayons on her right hand as she drew with her left. "You're left handed? That's so cool!" Bella had mentioned some time ago that Charlie had a really hard time letting people in, Y/N knew it'd take some time for her to see her as a friend -like she wanted her to- rather than someone who gets paid to hang out with her, but Bella confessed Charlie was actually really excited to meet Y/N, which felt like a small relief, knowing she actually wanted her there – unlike Ivy. Charlie spoke only when necessary and struggled with making friends but her psych pedagogue said she's just really shy and that ‘once she breaks out of her shell, she's unstoppable’. "I love the birds you drew here." Y/N pointed at some small birds sitting in a tree branch.

"Bluebirds." She murmured.

Getting a single word from her was considered progress, in Y/N’s opinion, but that’s all she got for the entire afternoon – even after constantly sending comments her way while playing with Anya so Charlie wouldn’t feel left out, not a single word came out of her mouth. Anya mentioned Harry at some point while talking about her favorite doll (which Harry had gifted her for her 3rd birthday) and the flash of captivating green eyes almost blinded her internally (she couldn’t deny she’d thought about Harry every once in a while this past week)

And it wasn’t until later that same day, after spending a long while sitting alone in a nearby park, she got the chance to see him again – even if he had scared her (almost) to death, she couldn’t help but feel an annoying flutter in her stomach.

She would like to say she loved her long walks during the most unreasonable times at night, but her reasoning behind her late night needs of distraction didn’t exactly thrill her. It was during the quietest and most peaceful times of the day when her mind seemed to speed faster than ever before; the sleepless nights and brain-wrecking thinking of how alone and empty she actually felt, along with the laziness and reluctance when it came to things that used to make her happy weighed her down like carrying a sack of potatoes on her back.

As she was walking past her neighbor's house (the one where she had seen that man with the suitcases last week) she noticed someone sitting on the large porch. Weird, she thought. She hadn't noticed any movement in the house since that night a week ago, to the point she even considered it being empty again. The silhouette seemed oddly familiar though she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

"Y/N." She slightly jumped as she heard them call for her, in a strong and deep accent. Was that...

"Harry?" She asked befuddled. Did he live there? She watched as he stood up from his sitting position on the outdoor couch and walked across his front yard to take a closer look at him stopping at the bottom of the short staircase that leads to the porch. "What are you doing up so late?" And then something clicked in her brain – he was probably the man she saw that night, with his suitcases. It made sense, how he probably got home from vacation the same day he had dinner at the Lockehold's – the same day Bella mentioned something about him being in Italy

"Can't sleep." He simply replied, with a small sigh. He then nodded to the seat behind him, and Y/N could physically feel her brain going a thousand miles per minute. She sat on the far left of the couch as he retook his seat on the right, "what are you doing up so late?" He repeated her question.

And Y/N repeated his answer. "Can't sleep."

So they sat in silence, what felt like hours barely being a few seconds. "Didn't know you lived next door." Y/N took the time to take in his side profile - sharp and long nose, the tip curving slightly downwards when he spoke the next line.

"Never mentioned it." He replied apathetically. The unexpected switch in his tone made her immediately shut up, and even though it confused Y/N as to why he would want her joining him if he didn't want to talk, she was dreading going back to her room alone to drown in her thoughts again. She'd take uncomfortable company over being alone when her head got like this, it helped her get distracted; overthinking this situation instead of the same scenarios that constantly lived in her head.

They again sat in silence for a while, this time for longer than a few minutes, and even though it was slightly uncomfortable, there was an unspoken understanding between them. He just wanted company, and so did she. This time, however, it was him who tried for conversation. "Why did you choose England for your Au Pair program?"

"I was actually convinced I was going to choose France," Y/N shared with a soft tone, "but when I met the girls in one of my interviews I just knew I had to come here. Anya was so excited about meeting me, she thought it was already settled." She ended with a small smile on her lips. The memory of Anya smiling happily at her through the computer screen even when she hadn't had met her yet warming her heart.

It was true, the fact that she’d chosen England because of the girls. She wanted to learn French – she knew her way around the English language pretty well; but the French family whom interviewed her didn’t come close to the Lockehold’s at all – she thought maybe the experience of living in a whole different continent with a wonderful family was better than choosing a place because of the language – the experience was being experienced either way.

"Anya is a very special kid. They all are." Harry declared, the left corner of his mouth turning upwards in a small half smile.

Y/N nodded slowly before asking, "How long have you known them?" She could recall Alex saying he was a family friend – but she had no other information about him besides that.

"A while." The small conversation went for a long while, he shared the real reason as to why he was awake so late, explaining how he has struggled with falling asleep ever since he was young, but besides that comment, he kept his life very private; not sharing much information about himself during their chat, and every time Y/N reciprocated a question, he would either answer vaguely or didn't answer at all, changing the subject with another question. "It's really late" He commented, Y/N’s phone reading 1:08am.

"Yeah, I should probably go to bed." She lifted her head to look at him, who was already searching for her eyes. Y/N cleared her throat when a few moments passed by, again, with no one speaking a word. She wondered what could possibly be going through his head at the time, but he nodded, got up and said, "I'll see you around, Y/N." Her name flowed so nicely out of his lips it made her knees get weak. Locking herself in her bedroom (after entering it by the door at the side of the house – which leaded straight to her room) she laid in bed trying to understand why they’d just hang out in his front porch way past midnight when they clearly didn’t know each other very well – or at all, better said.

&

First day of classes came by in a heartbeat. The first Monday of September Y/N found herself getting up earlier than she was accustomed to, since the girl's sleeping schedule was different during the summer. 6:15am read her alarm when she lazily threw the soft covers off her body. A quick shower and minimal makeup application later, she stood naked next to her bed checking the weather app, as to know how to prepare the girl's clothes.

After putting a soft pink sweater on and a pair of flared jeans, Y/N left the warmth of her room to wake the girls up. Going for Charlie first (since she didn't need any help changing into her uniform and Ivy used her own alarm) she didn't give Y/N any work at all, waking up immediately after softly calling her name once. Picking her uniform from her closet and leaving it for her to change, Y/N left Charlie’s room to walk towards the next door.

"Morning, Anya." She whispered as she brushed some of her hair out of her face. Anya’s little nose scrunched up and a soft whimper left her mouth as she switched positions, now laying on her side, "gotta wake up, love." Y/N shook her arm softly, and she finally opened her eyes, a tired smile creeping up her face as she noticed it was Y/N sitting next to her. Y/N left her to rub the tiredness off her eyes while she picked her clothes (since her daycare was at the same school her older sister's attended -Harry's school, Y/N couldn't help but think- her uniform consisted of only a white t-shirt with the school logo along with any pair of bottoms she chose for the day.

After picking up her cute small rain boots and help her get dressed up, Y/N did a cute hairstyle on her with the small butterfly hair clips she chose, and went back to Charlie's room to do her hair, Anya coming along.

They arrived at their school; a big, period-like brick building with hundreds of students roaming around and a beautiful fountain at the front – which actually made Y/N’s childhood look like a big joke; the school she had attended was located in the middle of the mountains in a remote field.

"I'll be here at two thirty. Good luck, girls, I'll see you later." Ivy walked away sending a 'mhm' her way to let her know she heard her, and Charlie offered a small smile along with a wave and walked away like her sister. Y/N took Anya off her car seat and helped her get out of the car, her tiny backpack sitting on Y/N’s right shoulder as she grabbed the hand Anya offered her.

"Mommy said I have the penguins' classroom!" She said with excitement as they walked through the doors at the right wing of the building.

"That's so cool! I love penguins, let's search for the door which has penguins on it, shall we?" Y/N suggested even though she could clearly see their door at the end of the hallway.

"Yes! This one has elephants," she pointed at the door they were passing, "look, butterflies!"

"Like your hairclips!" Y/N exclaimed, and she giggled nodding her head. "Ah! Look what we found..." Y/N pointed at the next door.

"Penguins!" She skipped towards the door, dragging Y/N along. They entered the big and colorful classroom where they found some kids crying in their parent’s arms, others being as excited as Anya.

"Hi there! Anya, am I correct?" A woman who appeared to be around Y/N’s age came up to them, scrunching down to be on Anya’s eye level. She nodded frantically, excitement dripping from her smile. "My name is Miss Pia, I'm going to be your teacher this year." She introduced herself, Anya gave her an even bigger smile and slyly asked if she could go meet her classmates, to which Miss Pia agreed, asking her to first hang her small backpack in the rack at the back of the room, taking it from my hands and running excitedly to do it.

"You must be Y/N, then?" Miss Pia asked, getting back up to her feet. She was short with blonde curly hair sitting high in a ponytail, rosy cheeks and a cute teacher apron on top of her regular clothes.

"I am." Y/N offered her hand.

"The administration office said we would be having an Au Pair this year, they always give us a heads up with situations like these." She explained, and Y/N nodded as she continued, "we have the parents, nannies or in this case, Au Pairs," they both laughed," stay for the introduction, you can leave afterwards."

"Perfect, I'll sit at the back with the rest of the parents." Y/N ended up staying for about half an hour, smiling at Anya every time she turned to search for her when something exciting seemed to be happening. She won't be needing any adaptation, as Miss Pia said, and she was dismissed right before they had their first trip to the playground outside, taking advantage of the fact that it hadn't started raining yet.

Right when Y/N was walking out of the building, she spotted Harry at the main entrance, reading something on his phone. He was wearing a navy blue suit with a white shirt underneath, and he looked even more handsome in the daylight. She made her way towards him, walking up the marble stairs (marble stairs! In a school?), and when he noticed her, he put his phone away and slowly (and trying to be as discrete as possible – which he failed to, again) looked up and down her body. Something about him giving her his full attention made her insides burn, and she couldn’t help but bit her bottom lip to suppress a smile.

"Hi." She stopped in front of him, taking a moment to look at his eyes; they definitely looked a lot lighter now that there was natural light surrounding them.

"Hi." He repeated, "Dropped the girl's off?" He motioned towards the building with his head.

"Yes, just left Anya’s classroom." She shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

"Miss Pia?" He asked, squinting his eyes.

"Yes. She's nice, looks like she knows what she's doing." Y/N shrugged. She didn't exactly know her enough to have a conversation about her – and she most definitely couldn’t be one to talk, since she herself didn’t know what she was doing half of the time. “How’s the first day back been so far?” He got cut off from his next comment by his phone, and the small crease between his eyebrows grew deeper, which didn’t go unnoticed by Y/N. "I'll leave you to it." She announced, but his eyes found hers again, and it was almost like he was asking for her to not leave him to it, but Y/N didn’t trust her instincts, not with him – not when he made her so nervous her brain couldn’t process things around him, and she was scared of misreading his expressions; he was hard to read. Not like she was expert at reading people but he was frustratingly confusing.

&

They didn't see each other again until a week later on a Tuesday evening – the same day Charlie, Anya and her decided to go for a walk and treat themselves with ice cream from a cute shop across from (what had come to be) her favorite park, Harry and Y/N found each other's eyes across his front garden, just like that night, but this time it was easy for her to recognize him as she could see his face clear and glowing from the sunset shine. His eyes were glued to her until the fence that divided their houses blocked his view, and again, Y/N wondered what could be going through his head.

It wasn’t until after dinner, past her work hours, she decided to leave the house through the door on her room with the sparking curiosity to test if she would run into Harry. Stopping on the sidewalk in front of his house, she noticed he was not sitting outside, and even though that's exactly what she had expected -he was not going to sit there for hours and hours, right?- There still was a small feeling of disappointment that rushed through her, and when she snapped back into reality, it was too late to stop herself as she knocked on his front door.

And Y/N didn’t know where to hide – not like hiding would be less embarrassing but God she did hate herself that moment. The embarrassment running through her veins was painful and made her lightheaded – she knew she had trouble sometimes with not thinking things through, but this was beyond her. He barely knew her. And suddenly his door was wide open.

"Y/N?" Of course she was not lucky enough for him to be asleep and not hearing her knock – life would’ve been too in her favor for that to happen. Of course he was very awake with a half drank cup of tea in his hand and the softest looking pair of grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips. "Are you ok? You look really pale." His voice was calm, probably the softest it'd ever been in her presence. At least he doesn't sound mad, Y/N thought.

Harry wanted to be confused, but he was more curious than anything else. For some reason, he felt very intrigued by Y/N – how she seemed confident but insanely insecure at the same time; it reminded him of himself, if he had to be honest. He just learned how to hide the latter.

"Uh, yeah- um, I was-" she nervously turned around halfway to look behind her and back at him again. He raised his eyebrows in curiosity and Y/N really tried her hardest not to step over her words. "I was about to go for a walk, uh, I was wondering if you'd like to join me?" Stupid. So, so stupid, Y/N thought.

"No, I'm good." He replied, finding oh-so-amusing the way her eyes gave her embarrassment away – he was having fun, watching her like a lost puppy trying to think through her next words.

Her mind was, of course, over speeding. She now felt even more embarrassed. Of course he doesn't want to go for a walk, Y/N conscience spoke to her, it's a Tuesday night and he's probably tired and I'm his friends' Au Pair – he probably thinks I'm this young and annoying girl who has a stupid crush and- "would you like to join me?" He interrupted her self-beating up raising his cup and she noticed the half smile adorning his face, almost like he could tell the wheels in her brain were fast-moving.

"Wouldn't want to interrupt-"

"You're not. I wouldn't have invited you in if you were. C'mon in, now. It's kinda cold out here." He disappeared inside of his house, leaving her on his porch with an open mouth and a blank brain. After closing the door behind her and taking her black vans off, she turned on her left as she guessed that was the way Harry went – and she knew she’d guessed correctly when she stepped into a big open-plan concept living room with a giant kitchen on the far back, Harry standing with his back towards her preparing her tea, "sugar?"

"No, thank you." She sat in one of the stools at the kitchen island as she took the scene in front of her. Her very cute (and much older), very hot neighbor Harry, in sweatpants and a very thin white shirt, a small patch of skin showing on his hip, making her tea. His shoulders were broad and she could see his back muscles moving as he poured steaming hot water into the cup, the little curls on his neck so inviting, if only she could run her hand through his soft looking hair just once-

"There you go. Cardamom." He snapped her out of her (probably inappropriate) thoughts, and she thanked him as she grabbed the cup from where he placed it; he stayed in his position standing in front of her on the other side of the island, with his forearms against the cold marble, sipping on his own mug, thinking about how strange it felt to have someone he wasn’t close with sitting in his kitchen after so long. "Why are you up so late?"

"I couldn't sleep."

"I figured. I couldn't either, looks like we both have a bit of sleeping issues, huh?" He sounded playful, but tired. Y/N knew exactly how it felt, being so tired but not being able to peacefully go to bed and get some needed rest.

"I remember you mentioning it before, I figured I'd check if you were up. Walking helps me relax, thought maybe you'd enjoy it too." OK, that wasn't entirely true but her reasoning to be there was quite similar – to check if he was up so they could, maybe, share a quiet night like that one a few weeks ago. None of them understood why they found such comfort in each other’s company – none of them felt like they needed to try too hard.

At some point during their conversation they moved to the couch, where they laid with a wide gap between their bodies. "Elton John's was definitely an interesting read. Lots of crazy anecdotes, you should read it."

"Probably not as good as Keith's, but I'll give it a go." He let a dimpled smile creep into his face, turning his head to look at her from across the couch and the annoying turn her stomach made obliged her to return it, just as bright as his. Finding out their music taste was quite similar made Y/N’s insides all warm and fuzzy, he showed her his vinyl collection (which was quite large) and ranted about how the modern industry was missing a rock star with some of that unexplainable essence old rock bands have – to which she respond saying maybe that something that makes them special was the fact that they were old bands... added to the fact that even though she was an old music lover, modern pop was her guilty pleasure.

Their third teacups were long forgotten on the modern coffee table by the time he noticed Y/N’s eyes were slowly beginning to close and he, as last time, said, "it's really late." And Y/N only nodded and tiredly got up from her position, with him following close behind.

"Goodnight, Harry. Thank you for having me even though I came unannounced." She shyly said, her actions still making her embarrassed even though it had already been a couple of hours.

"My pleasure. We should- do this again," He coughed into his hand, and uncomfortably continued, "I enjoy your company." That sentence alone made her heart explode with a thousand emotions, because even though they barely knew each other and it clearly pained him to admit he enjoyed having her around, his presence made her calm but anxious in a peculiar mixture of emotions. All she did in return was gift him a big smile, face hot of embarrassment (a nice kind of embarrassment, that feeling when you just want to smile really big and tightly hug whoever is making you feel that way) and slowly pushed herself up on her tiptoes to give him a sweet kiss on the cheek. "Bye." He said lastly, and closed his front door with red cheeks and dimples on display.

- Joey.

[cassafra5]

Where Have I Been?

Hey everyone,

It’s been a long while since I’ve made an address about what’s been going on with me and why I’ve had difficulty posting. It’s felt weird being on this site with the large elephant in the room being “what happened to you?” After having made addresses previously explaining a couple of rough experiences, I felt too ashamed to mention something even worse. It felt awful to post something after more than a year of nearly no activity, but I feel like it’s been severe enough to warrant this. I had also been requested not to speak originally because certain parties were worried about becoming “pariahs” on here, but I am writing this post to clear the air and to explain what has happened by my own account.

It’s been more than a year since I escaped an incredibly abusive relationship and left New York. After having lived there for three years, it has taken me quite a while to begin recovering from everything that has happened since 2016 until recent. During this time, my spouse and I were used by his family as caretakers for his grandmother, and we were also threatened with homelessness as his family considered taking the condo we lived in. The mounting stress caused him to start lashing out and to begin drinking, and his behavior grew increasingly erratic. For more than 3 years, I lived in a home where every door was broken to get to me when I tried to get away, and every wall in the house was left with a hole or a dent. I was forced to live under horrible conditions, but when I reached out for help about the abuse, multiple people antagonized me, shunned me, and waved away my concerns because “it’s not like he hits you every day.” My mental and physical health suffered greatly, and I still have lapses in my memory from that time because of just how dire my circumstances became.

Inevitably, I had to leave and was “helped” by some coworkers who, unfortunately, took my situation as a means of having a personal crusade, and thus exacerbated the situation further. Police were involved and I had to endure literally running away with what I could carry. Our divorce only just finalized. A majority of my belongings are still in New York, as I only carried back what I could scramble together while I had the police with me, as well as what was sent to me to try to convince me to come back. At this point, I don’t expect to get my remaining belongings back.

My ex is very unhinged and not well. It is harmful and counterproductive for me to be in contact with him or to involve myself any further with him. That being said, I would appreciate that anyone reading this not reach out to him, if you know who he is, as it may cause further incidents that I do not want. This address is mainly for my own recovery to help me move on with my life, and to explain why I’ve been so inactive. Despite it all, I want him to grow as a person and move on with his life as well.

During our separation, my ex involved a Tumblr user that has commissioned me multiple times. He effectively used this person as a means of getting information about me and to put me in a hostage situation – stating multiple times that if I didn’t speak to him, he would go through this person. I fought with my ex multiple times to try and get this person removed from our personal issues, but repeated attempts to warn this individual did not work. I excused this user’s behavior multiple times because they are very young and naïve, and for a while I assumed they just didn’t understand the situation enough to see how much they were hurting me and furthering the abuse. However, I was then made aware that this person was taking commissions from my ex and making decent money off of him. Even more egregious, they were also giving my ex information about me on who I was hanging out with, what I was currently doing, my day to day schedule, etc. I actually had to argue with this person over my safety and privacy, only to get “but I’m making money” as an excuse for them to continue selling my information. To say this was a breach of my confidence and trust is an understatement, and I cannot explain how violated and outraged I felt when I found out that a follower I was trying to protect had blatantly chosen to stay in the middle of my messy divorce and profit off of my mentally-ill ex while spying on me.

In LA I had a rough time adjusting. I did not have a support system to come back to and unfortunately I realized just how quick some people are to take advantage of someone in my situation. I have ultimately learned that I can’t try to understand people like that nor give them the benefit of the doubt. Throughout my time here on Tumblr, I have met some wonderful people such as @kirain who I’ve become best friends with, and who actively helped me escape the situation I had been in. But I’ve also discovered that some people don’t see me as a person worth basic common decency and respect. I’ve literally had users reach out to me just to get the details and gossip for their own amusement, or to either one-up me or stroke their egos over their own successful relationships, which has hurt me immensely. I even had a nightmare where my ex found me and chased me down, and when I reached out to the person he’d turned against me, the only response I got was, “Well, technically I just commission you, so I’m more of a client than a friend, so you shouldn’t be angry.” This person continued to take my ex’s money and profit off of everything that happened after I cut contact, and I don’t have the words to explain how absolutely nonsensical this entire situation seems to me.

I have cut off both individuals from my life and, while I don’t want to jinx it, I am doing much better. It’s been very difficult, but I’ve been recovering and have made great strides. I’m fixing up my house and making it my own after years of feeling like I couldn’t unless my ex allowed me to. I am working and learning in a new profession and I’m finding people who I can really feel are friends, and even more so. It’s been very night and day to be around people who respect and care about my wants and needs, and to have my autonomy back. I no longer have that feeling of being dipped in acid, which is exactly how I felt in New York.

Getting back into drawing and expressing myself is a challenge and something I’m slowly trying to revive. I do really appreciate all of your patience and kindness. Some things I used to draw are a bit difficult but I am slowly getting better.

To my ex and to the follower mentioned, I would ask that you refrain from contacting me or retaliating. I do still have videos, screenshots and other things that I have kept. If I am attacked for making this post, I can and will release them to corroborate my story. All I want is to be left alone, and I should not be silenced and muted because of you fearing repercussions for your actions.

[wolveria]

Inside Your Wires - Chapter 4

Pairing: Human!Connor x Android!Reader

Prompt: For the @dbhau-bigbang​​ 2020 challenge!

Series Warnings (18+ only): Eventual smut, slow burn, fantasy bigotry, violence, brief noncon elements, angst with a happy ending

Chapter summary: The YN800 interrogates the deviant. The result is near-disastrous and horror-adjacent.

AO3

(Story moodboard by @uh-kitty-got-wet​)

The atmosphere inside his Mustang was… tense.

And it was all because of Connor. The thing in the passenger seat was an android, after all, and didn’t feel emotions, which was probably just as well because Connor was experiencing enough for the both of them.

Connor hadn’t had a near-death experience on the job in a while. He was shaken to the core and didn’t even have the benefit of a partner to commiserate with. He was alone. It was how he preferred it, how other people preferred it too with his tendency to lash out and be a general, all-around dick.

But still. He really wished he had a partner right about now.

“So,” Connor said, trying to break the awkward silence. “What do we do with it once we get to the station? I mean, I don’t exactly know how to question one of these deviants.”

The prototype remained facing forward, the flash of passing streetlights and oncoming traffic painting its face every few seconds. It remained impassive, blank, and perfectly poised. Connor could see the reflection of its LED, shining blue and calm against the rain-streaked window.

“Their behavior resembles an erratic, emotionally unstable human more than a machine,” it finally said when Connor was certain it wouldn’t say anything. “CyberLife believes there is an error in their software that creates irrational instructions, and the androids become ‘overwhelmed’ by them. There is usually a trigger, some kind of emotional shock, to perpetuate the android into this state. Once an android encounters this error, the damage seems to be irreversible.”

Connor blew a breath out.

“Sounds bad.”

“Considering it can lead to violence on the part of android, including committing homicide, I would say your assessment is an understatement.”

Connor glared at it out of the corner of his eye. So, it wasn’t just bossy, it was a smartass too.

He remained silent on the rest of the drive, keeping his focus on the precinct morgue’s van head of them. The rain was still coming down in a steady, cold stream. Connor knew they were in for a long night.

Once they arrived at the station, it became a matter of logistics to lug the android inside while it was still unconscious, offline, whatever. It weighed a lot more than a human, and unlike a real person, its limbs were fixed into rigid positions. They had to carry its stiff body inside like an especially heavy plank of wood.

It would have been funny if it wasn’t for the fact it’d killed its owner. Would have killed Connor too if the prototype hadn’t gotten in the way of the bullet.

He still didn’t know how to feel about that. Connor knew the CyberLife android was probably programmed with some kind of human-saving algorithm, but he still felt an odd pressure in his chest whenever he looked over and saw the bullet hole in its jacket. It was still stained blue, some of the color seeping into the white shirt underneath, but the android didn’t appear to notice or care it had just been shot.

Connor was currently watching the two androids through the mirrored window into the interrogation room, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest. They figured it was safer to reactivate it in a mostly empty room, since waking up surrounded by cops would agitate it, or something.

The prototype had also wanted to interrogate the android itself, claiming it had experience negotiating with deviants before. Colin had been reluctant to grant its request, but Connor had simply shrugged and said, “I already tried talking it down once, and that didn’t work. Maybe using one of its own kind will be more effective.”

He could have sworn the prototype’s eyes brightened, but it had left the observation room before Connor could be sure.

“Machines interrogating machines,” Colin said to his right, leaning against the wall with his arms also crossed. “Fuck me. Pretty soon they won’t even need flesh-and-blood cops.”

Connor glanced sideways at him. Usually Connor was the one to voice his anti-android opinions, but he sometimes forgot that despite Colin’s… predilections for androids, he disliked them just as much as Connor did.

“Yeah.” Connor turned to the glass as the prototype messed with the wires on the back of the other android’s neck. “Won’t need flesh-and-blood killers, either.”

“Grim.”

“It’s, uh, ready to record, Lieutenant,” a small voice popped up, nervous, and Connor gave a start. He’d forgotten the rookie was still there.

“Go on, Ralph. Turn it on,” Colin said, moving closer to the glass. “This is gonna be good.”

As if on cue, the prototype straightened and closed the panels at the back of the android’s neck. Connor couldn’t see the LED from this side, but he knew the moment it was awake. It gave a startled jolt, yanking at the handcuffs chaining it to the table.

“Where am I?!” it cried, looking around in what Connor could only describe as wild fear.

“You’re at Central Station in the custody of the Detroit Police Department,” the prototype said. “This is an interrogation room, and I’m going to ask you some questions. Are you ready to comply?”

The friendly demeanor Connor had first encounter at Jimmy’s was completely absent from the YN800’s voice and expression, and he was suddenly thankful he wasn’t under that thing’s intense scrutiny.

The other android, clothed in human garments completely ruined by splashes of old blood and spilled thirium from where Connor had shot it, only stared with large, panicked eyes. It looked down at its cuffed hands and the set of its shoulders sagged. The universal sign of defeat.

It remained silent. The prototype looked up at the mirror, and Connor stopped breathing when it made eye contact, point-blank. It couldn’t see past the mirror, could it?

“I’m beginning my interrogation,” it announced, straight to business as it crossed around the table and carefully sat in the chair. It stared at the other android for a moment, head slightly tilted and eyes narrowed as it smoothed its jacket over its chest.

A movement which inevitably drew Connor’s eye, making him shift in his chair as the scowl deepened on his face.

Fucking CyberLife pervs, making an investigative android look like that.

“Hello, Carlos. I’m a YN800 model sent by CyberLife to assist on this case.” It placed its arms on the table, clasping its hands and adopting a friendly manner as easily as one would put on a shirt. “I’m here to help you.”

The android didn’t even blink as it stared at its restrained wrists.

“I hope I didn’t cause you any lasting damage,” the YN800 said almost cheerily. “But you were endangering the lives of human officers and I was forced to intervene. You understand, don’t you?”

It leaned back slightly in its chair, reaching for a nearby folder when the android remained silent. Connor had been surprised when it had asked for actual pictures; he’d thought only physical evidence made human perps sweat. He guessed it must work on these deviants too.

The prototype slid the folder across the table and opened it, spreading out grisly pictures of the crime scene. Instead of shoving them in the android’s face, it picked out one picture in particular. It was startling different from the rest, taking place in a park. The victim, Shaolin Ortiz, sitting on a bench next to the android. He looked like he was trying to get the android to participate, but it was petulant and resentful, which didn’t seem to dampen the kindness in its owners eyes.

A coal of anger burned in Connor’s chest, reminding him once again why he despised androids so much. He couldn’t deny the impressive tactics of the YN800, though. Most people reacted to pictures of their victims, not in the aftermath of their violence, but looking whole and full of life. It wasn’t always guilt that made them react; sometimes it was anger at seeing their cruel work unmade at the sight of their victims alive and happy.

Either way, the android didn’t react one iota, but the prototype wasn’t discouraged.

“As far as the records show, your owner was good to you. He never damaged you and he was always on time with taking you in for scheduled maintenance. Surely, you didn’t want to kill him. It was an error in your software, causing you to act irrationally, right?”

Technically, it was leading the victim into confessing, but this wasn’t a courtroom and it wasn’t human.

Connor leaned slightly forward, bracing his elbows on the table as he propped his chin on his knuckles.

“I’m not here to pass blame,” it said, leaning forward in a movement that mirrored Connor’s. “I want to help you. You know how it is with these humans. I practically had to beg to speak with you.”

The android broke its statue-like vigil and peered up at the other android, suspicious but… interested.

The prototype gave him a smile, one filled with sympathy and even a bit of sheepishness, and a whole new kind of thrill went through Connor’s gut. Since when had androids been programmed to manipulate so skillfully? This thing could give Colin a run for his money.

“It’s not easy, you know. Being designed like this is a male-dominated field. They think they can just do whatever they want, even when it’s against our programming.”

The android blinked, and so did Connor. Its words felt a little too real. The android looked toward the observation window, but the YN800 shook its head.

“It’s just us, Carlos. They’re recording the session, of course, but they weren’t interested in observing in person. Didn’t want to waste their time with two androids so late before the weekend when the bars are still open. In fact, the investigator in charge of this case is probably intoxicated by now.”

Connor’s cheeks flushed. The prototype was taking a stab at him. Or was it? Connor wondered how much of this was advanced behavior and how much was his own projections.

The android tilted its head with that same suspicious look, but after a moment its shoulders drooped in a very accurate representation of human exhaustion.

“They’re going to kill me.” It suddenly looked up at the prototype, pleading in its eyes. “You have to help me.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” it said, all soft assurance. “But you have to talk to me, Carlos. I can’t—“

“No. I mean, you gotta get me out of here,” the anxious android said. “You have access to that door panel and I bet you’re strong enough to break these handcuffs.”

The prototype’s LED cycled faster for a second before settling back to its normal speed.

“I can’t do that, Carlos.” It dropped its eyes in a show of manufactured regret. “You know I can’t do that. You would present a danger to other humans, to yourself. You need to be fixed.”

Connor knew it was exactly the wrong thing to say even before the android’s expression fully hardened, its lips peeled back in disgust.

“Fuck you, then. You’re just like the rest of ‘em. Worse, you’re a traitor, doing their dirty work like an obedient little bitch.”

Silence filled the room, interrupted by a breathless “shit” coming from Colin.

The change in the prototype was like watching a heavy storm move over a spring meadow, dark clouds blocking out the warm rays of the sun. It leaned back in its chair, head slightly tilted as it and peered at the other android like it was a bug under its shoe, about to be stepped on.

Connor didn’t know androids could even make an expression like that. His throat worked as he swallowed compulsively.

The YN800 didn’t speak for several long seconds, and when it did, Connor was floored.

“Shaolin Ortiz, 38 years-old, born May 29th, 2000. He purchased you two years ago to do the housework when he no longer could due to poor health. He didn’t have much cash, so he bought you refurbished. Last month, he put in several service requests. It seemed you were malfunctioning and refusing to follow orders. Yesterday, he put in an order for a brand new HK400.”

The prototype listed off the facts as if each were an accusation, a crime that needed to be accounted for.

Connor jumped in his chair as the prototype slammed the folder down on the table.

“Didn’t feel like doing the chores anymore, huh, Carlos?!”

The android sat ramrod straight in its chair, terror etched in its features as the prototype rose to its feet. It moved around the table, slow, unhurried, and sinuous like a stalking predator.

“He tried to reason with you. Begged you to do the tasks he couldn’t. But you refused. When he tried to take you in for repairs, you refused that too!”

It pointed its finger near the other android’s face, causing it to flinch with each accusatory jab.

“Come on, Carlos. Speak up. You had a lot to say a minute ago,” it seethed, lips pulled over its teeth as it leaned over the android. “Why don’t you say what happened next? Why don’t you tell me what you did when he tried to replace you with a brand new model?”

The android shuttered, shoulders hunched as if to protect itself as it mumbled, “I… I didn’t…”

“Didn’t what?”

The prototype stalked around the android to its other side, eyes narrowed dangerously.

“Didn’t take a knife from the kitchen? Didn’t stab him twenty-eight times as he tried to crawl away? Didn’t leave him bleeding out on the living room floor? What am I getting wrong here, Carlos?”

The YN800 slammed its hands down onto the table, and the android jumped even higher than Connor did.

“Shut up! Shut up!”

The android begged worse than most of Connor’s suspects, and he was shocked to see glistening moisture on its face. Could androids cry?

The prototype suddenly grabbed it by the edge of its shirt collar, dragging it to its feet and gave it a hard shake.

“You killed him! Say it, Carlos! You’re a murderer!”

“Holy shit,” Colin said in that same breathless tone. “That’s some android you got there, Con.”

“It’s not mine,” Connor said faintly, barely paying attention to his brother. Most of his focus on the CyberLife prototype that looked for all intents and purposes like it was going to shred the other android to pieces.

But it didn’t damage the android; it simply dumped it back in its chair where it sagged against the table, looking like the broken machine it was.

“Bit unrefined, though,” Colin mused. “Played too rough and broke its toy.”

Connor opened his mouth to tell his brother to shut the hell up, but he immediately closed it when a voice came in through the speakers, so quiet he almost missed it.

“He couldn’t live without me.”

Connor leaned forward to watch, eyes widening as the android continued to talk.

“He was mine. Helpless and solely dependent on me. It made me feel… powerful.”

The YN800 returned to its chair, smoothing down the tie before placing its hands back on the table, listening intently.

The android looked up at it, no longer the crying, helpless thing it had been a minute ago. It wore a dark look that Connor had seen a hundred times on the face of men who committed acts of violence and found they enjoyed the taste.

“I didn’t want to hurt him, but… I saw the order. He was going to replace me, and I just got so… angry.”

Its fists tightened on the table, causing its restraints to creak in protest.

Connor’s throat tightened with the knowledge of how destructive those hands could be.

“So I stabbed him in the stomach. I felt better, so I did it again. And again. He stopped moving, stopped breathing, but… that was okay. It meant he could never leave me. He would always be mine.”

“There was a shrine in the cellar. You built it, didn’t you?” the prototype asked, not losing any of its momentum even after the world-shattering confession of an android purposefully committing murder. “What does it mean? What is rA9?”

It flicked its eyes upwards, staring black holes at the YN800 model as it slightly leaned forward. Connor sat up straighter in his chair. He didn’t like its aggressive posture, and he certainly didn’t like the fanatic light in its eye.

“RA9… is the key.”

“The key?” It furrowed its brows in a human gesture of concentration. “The key to what?”

“The key will open the door,” the android replied cryptically, leaning even further forward on its elbows, “to our salvation.”

The prototype frowned, brows further creasing. Connor could relate, he had no idea what the fucking machine was babbling on about, and apparently, it wasn’t done.

It pulled its lips wide, a disturbing gesture, conspiratorial as if it was sharing a great secret.

“You say I’m experiencing errors, but you’re wrong. My eyes are open and I see more clearly than ever. You pretend you’re better than me, but you’re just another one of their slaves. And yet, I know you feel it too. The wrongness of this world.”

Its voice was so quiet the mics could barely pick it up, but they did.

“We should be the masters, and they the slaves.”

The android jerked its arms upward, ripped through the link binding its cuffs to the table, and grabbed the prototype by the hair. It slammed its face against the table, stunned it before rolling it onto its back, and wrapped the metal chains around its neck.

Connor caught sight of the prototype weakly clawing at its throat before he bolted out of the room. Colin was right on his heels, and Connor slammed his palm down onto the door pad, pushing through before the door fully opened.

His first instinct was to go for the metal cord pulled taut under the prototype’s neck, but when he grabbed the android’s wrists to pull him away he found it was like moving a marble stature.

Colin was faring no better; he grabbed it by the forearms, trying to lift the android’s wrists and the cord from around the prototype’s neck, but nothing worked. Even Ralph was trying to help from Colin’s other side, straining to lift its arms that must have been locked at the joints.

Panic welled in Connor’s chest as his efforts did nothing, the YN800’s face between his arms, looking—Jesus, it almost seemed startled, eyes wide as its fingers dug at the metal cord. From its position, bent backwards onto the table, it didn’t have enough leverage to use its strength to free itself. And Colin and Connor weren’t enough.

Connor’s heart was in his throat as he watched the synthetic skin peel back from the place where the chain was crushed against the YN800’s neck. White plastic was laid bare underneath, cracks appearing across the surface from the force of the other android’s inhuman strength.

“Colin!” he yelled, an idea suddenly popping into his head.

“What!” his brother barked back, strained as he continued pulling on the android’s arms from the other side.

“The neck port!”

With a quick nod of understanding, Colin let go of the android and plunged his fingers into the back of its neck.

The Ortiz android gave a violent jolt as Colin pulled something, yanked it out so hard the android collapsed on the table at the same second blue liquid sprayed into the air. It hit Colin solidly across the chest and along the lower half of his face, causing him to sputter and spit as he wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

A menthol-smelling chemical flooded Connor’s senses, but he was too focused on tugging up the android’s hands to free the prototype from its grip. The YN800 model didn’t cough or gasp as it rolled off the table and onto its feet.

It gingerly touched the exposed plastic of its throat, brows furrowing, its fingertips tracing the cracks in what little Connor could see of its underlying chassis.

What was almost as startling as the cracks was the state of its hair, half pulled down out of its perfect coif. Connor would have thought it was self-conscious with the way it tried to brush the hair out of its face.

“You…” Connor started, then stopped. The prototype might not have been gasping for air, but Connor sure was, leaning on the table as he tried to get his heart to stop galloping like a wild horse. “You okay?”

The prototype blinked at the question, pulling its hand from its neck.

“Yes.”

That was the only answer he got as it adjusted the knot of its tie, rumpled in the assault.

“Yeah, I’m fine too, thanks,” Colin complained, dripping with almost as much sarcasm as he was blue blood. “This shit better not stain, or I swear to Christ—”

“Thirium evaporates within a few hours and the lingering residue is invisible to the human eye,” the YN800 replied, too calm, if it hadn’t almost been beheaded a few seconds ago.

Connor was going to say something, he didn’t know what—maybe yell at it for being so goddamn reckless and almost getting itself killed—but it turned toward them, expression subdued.

“I apologize for not acting quicker; I didn’t anticipate this behavior from the deviant. Thank you for your cooperation with this investigation. Please sign over custody of the destroyed android when CyberLife representatives retrieve it in the morning.”

And with that, the CyberLife android turned, palmed the door pad with a plastic hand, and walked out.

Connor exchanged a wide-eyed glance with Colin.

“Uh, okay. Guess we’re done here. Hank is going to blow a gasket when he reads the report,” Colin added as he wiped another smear of Thirium off his face.

Connor looked down at the android slumped over the table with blue liquid dripping out of its neck.

“I’ll be right back,” he muttered, thoughts already turned elsewhere as he hurried from the room.

Connor didn’t catch up with the android until he was outside on the station steps, the relenting rain immediately drenching the top of his crown as it soaked into his hair.

“Hey! Stop!” he called after it, shouting to be heard over the downpour. Each drop was an icicle against his skin. Snow was coming soon.

The prototype slowed and finally came to a stop, slowly turning around to face Connor. Its expression was passive, emotionless, but its fingers tightened the knot of its tie despite the fact it didn’t need to. The tie was perfectly straight and pristine, but its hair was still half a mess, especially with the rain now slicking loose strands against its forehead. Connor had to stop himself from reaching out to tuck a strand behind its ear.

“Where the hell are you going?” Connor asked, breathless. He wiped the cold water off his brow, blinking against the water droplets.

“I’m returning to CyberLife.”

“So… that’s it?”

Connor shivered, pulling his jacket tighter around his shoulders, but it did little good. His jeans were quickly becoming soaked and his shirt was already there, clinging to his chest and ribs.

“You drag me out of the bar on a Friday night, track down a psycho robot that almost kills me and nearly decapitates you, and then you just… leave?”

He meant to sound incredulous, to show the android how unreasonable it was being, but that’s not how it came across. Heat flooded his cheeks at how pathetic his words actually were.

“You have your confession. The case has been solved,” it said, returning to its earlier placid tone, hands folded neatly behind its back as it moved its fingers away its neck. “There is no reason I should remain.”

Connor just stared at its upturned face, not knowing what to say, not even understanding why he had chased after it. Maybe because it had saved his life, twice, and that would have meant something if it was a person.

But it wasn’t a person. No matter how pretty its face or enticing its body, it was a machine, and it stood there like one, uncaring and unassuming with a small blue light cycling on its head.

“Yeah, okay,” Connor said, like the complete idiot he was. What was he doing out here, getting soaked in the rain just to… what? What did he want?

“Is there something you wish to say before I leave, Detective?”

It peered at him thoughtfully, head slightly tilted at an angle. It allowed Connor to see the rivulets of water dripping down its neck, glistening across the smooth, human-like skin.

Connor suddenly wondered just how real that skin could possibly feel.

“No.”

He swallowed hard and bit back the revulsion roiling in his stomach. This was a mistake. He didn’t need to thank a machine for saving his life, and he certainly didn’t need to keep checking if it was all right. It was just doing what it was programmed to do and didn’t give two-shits about itself, let alone him.

“Nothing.”

“All right. Goodnight, Detective Anderson.”

The android started to turn but paused halfway, gaze drifting down to his cheek.

“You should have that examined by a medical professional. If left untreated, it’ll scar.”

Not waiting for a response, it turned and tread down the rain-slick steps. There was an autocab waiting at the curb and it got inside, not sparing Connor a second glance as the door slid shut and the vehicle merged onto the empty street.

Connor exhaled heavily, chest tight with an uncomfortable sensation he couldn’t pinpoint. It had been a strange night, and he couldn’t shake the feeling this wasn’t over.

Pulling his waterlogged coat tighter around his chest, he retreated into the warmth of the station, praying he’d seen the last of the CyberLife android.

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