#if you seek out reassurance and acknowledgement and someone tries to say it's a bad thing

[katsigian]

Personally, I don't subscribe to that "create things only for yourself" and "don't make things for others" ideology. Mainly because it's been co-opted by people who think that asking for acknowledgement and reassurance = you're a whiny attention-seeker. I do not agree with those people who believe that wanting those things are "problematic"

It's okay to seek reassurance and acknowledgement for things you create

You are not a whiny attention-seeker if you want what you create to be seen

Humans are social creatures and when we create things we love, we want to share that love with others. It's normal, it's a good thing, and you're valid to want acknowledgement for your creations

[ananicoleta]

This perfectly describes what i went through during my second and third year of high-school. I don't know what was the source of the thoughts but I think it might've had something to do with the isolation the world went through during the pandemic.

I started having intrusive thoughts, mostly about incest. I know it is a very taboo topic and incredibly disturbing to talk about it, believe me, I know first hand. But that's what OCD does to you. Some obsessions are about those kinds of topics like incest, pedophilia, murder, hurting yourself or others, body mutilation etc. Don't get me wrong, all kinds of obsessions are horrible to have (incest is not the only topic I've had intrusive thoughts about, there are many, MANY others), but when someone with OCD gets an obsession about one or multiple taboo or disgusting topics like the ones I've mentioned, it becomes even harder to come forward.

I remember how ashamed I was during that time, how trapped I felt. It was as if there was no escape from my own mind. Everywhere I went I was followed by those intrusive thoughts. Everything I did was accompanied by disgusting mental images. It got so bad that I couldn't do anything anymore, I couldn't function. If I had an intrusive thought then my mind would accuse me of being a horrible and immoral person for even having it. If I tried to think of something else then my mind would accuse me of trying to hide my "disgusting desires". It was a vicious never-ending circle.

(btw these intrusive thoughts are NOT DESIRES; they are actually your deepest fears and go against your morals; if a person with OCD has thoughts about pedophilia, then they are NOT "secretly a pedo", they are actually the furthest thing from that; they only fear being one because OCD is completely irrational).

I don't know if I had any compulsions during that time, but if I had, they were all mental. I used to "check my sensations" and the way I felt when I was around a family member. I also seeked reassurance and confessed my thoughts when I just couldn't keep them inside anymore and that gave me releif, but only for a short while, before it all started again.

I also had other obsessions. One of them was about my sexual orientation. I had it for about a year in my first year of high-school, then last year it ressurfaced but only for a few months. Again, I thought about my sexuality all the time. I did the same thing with checking my sensations around people to see whether I was or not attracted to them (trust me, it does not work; if you are confused about your sexuality, don't try this; I was so focused on how I should feel, on whether or not I felt something that I forgot to actually feel anything). I also searched a lot for reassurance online, from strangers on those anonymous sites where you ask for advice, and I also read a lot of articles. Again, it provided temporary relief, but no sooner than a few hours or a day at max it would return.

I also had an obsession about OCD itself, when I found out what it was. I spent hours searching articles online and I simply couldn't stop doing it, I kept coming back after everytime. That was also the first time I could put a name on everything that I felt and experienced.

After I found out what OCD was I told my parents and they put me in therapy. I've been going there for over a year and I'm much MUCH better. My therapist told me it didn't look like I had OCD (I still don't know what to say about that; I don't want to contradict a professional but at the same time I relate too much to all this information about OCD, like everything just makes sense). Still, I continued to go to therapy and even if it wasn't specificaly for OCD, it helped me a lot.

Nowadays, I still have intrusive thoughts, they are deffinetly there, especially during my bad days. But they no longer give me anxiety (or as much as they used to anyway). I can finally breathe, I can finally live and be happy. They exist and I acknowledge their existence but I don't panic anymore, I don't feel guilty or ashamed.

I've also realized that it doesn't even matter whether it truly is OCD or not. I am getting better and better every day and that's what matters.

The reason I am sharing this right now is because I want to spread awareness. Even if I don't have OCD, from what I've read, what I've experienced aligns a great deal with what people with OCD usually go through.

If anything, I want the ones that read this to understand 3 things:

1) OCD is NOT a cute little quirk/a personality trait, it's a memtal disorder and it can be a nightmare living with it.

2) OCD can be about ANYTHING, some common topics being taboo things (pedophilia, beastiality, incest, body mutilation, hurting yourself and others, murder etc.), having accidents of any kind, religion, sexuality, loved ones dying, contamination, having an illness no one knows about etc.

3) It is absolutely NOT the person's fault for having these thoughts. OCD is a mental disorder that messes with your brain and it does not in, any way, shape or form, represent a person's "hidden desires" or morals.

Greetings bugs and worms!

This comic is a little different than what I usually do but I worked real hard on it—Maybe I'll make more infographic stuff in the future this ended up being fun. Hope you learned something new :)

If you are still curious and want to learn more about OCD, you can visit the International OCD Foundation's website. I also recommend this amazing TED ED video "Starving The Monster", which was my first introduction to the disorder and this video by John Green about his own experience with OCD.

The IOCDF's website can also help you find support groups, therapy, and has lots of online guides and resources as well if you or a loved one is struggling with the disorder. It is very comprehensive!

Reblog to teach your followers about OCD

(But also not reblogging doesn't make you evil, silly goose)

[generalchelseamayhem]

One thing that occurs to me about dating, that I don't have nearly enough confidence to formulate into a hard and fast rule, is that all the girls I've asked about dating don't seem to understand where the struggle lies for me, a socially awkward man.

Like, to use the example that got me onto this train of thought even before @morlock-holmes just now,

A female friend of mine recently acquired a boyfriend, and so at a house party I asked her how they met, in the hopes that I might glean some understanding of how to meet people, and to maximise my chances of knowing who is interested in me and how to approach them. She told me a tale of how they were orbiting each other at work but too mutually shy to make the first move, so a coworker/supervisor just asked her directly whether she was interested in him. When she said yes, that coworker went out of her way to play matchmaker for them both, basically persuading him to ask her out, and it turned out multiple people in the office may already have been expecting them to get together.

And I thought to myself, Okay, well that would never work for me. Work is a bad environment for me to meet potential partners in because none of them are interested in me, a substantial fraction of them are married and even if one was interested, I could never hope to have someone so invested in my love life as to play matchmaker for us both.

So I turned to the couple across the table who had been listening in, and asked how they met. The lady of that couple told me a tale of how he walked up to her one day and started raving about how impressive her car was, and a few happy accidents later, they started hanging out on a regular basis.

And I thought, Well, leaving aside the fact that I don't own a uniquely impressive car, nor any other talking point that a woman would start randomly fawning over, I don't want to leave it down to luck and happy accidents.

I tried to convince her as much, but her take-home message was "just do your thing [whatever makes you happy] and you will find someone. Don't actually go looking for love, love will find you as long as you're open to it."

And I find this a wholly unsatisfactory answer, in fact it is fundamentally bleak. You no longer wonder how someone can fall for an obvious scam that spruiks Guaranteed Methods To Meet Women That Really Work! How could you not be suckered in by that? The alternative method is:

Don't try to meet women,

Rely on other women becoming interested in you, cultivate a method of putting yourself out there without actually trying to seek out a relationship

Blind stupid luck.

I dunno, it worked for me just fine.

I wish my couple-d friends all the best of course, but I wish they would at least directly acknowledge the part that luck or, in one particular case, a support network who helps you out by playing matchmaker, played in getting them into lasting relationships! I know that it's not particularly comforting or reassuring to say, but at least be honest with me! Tell me that my prospects are bleak, tell me that I need to cultivate at least one or two good (platonic) friends who would play Cupid for me if asked, or tell me that I only have a million-to-one chance of ending up in the exact situation where my ideal match and I even notice each other!

I would take all of that in a heartbeat, over the persistent vague reassurances that I just need to put myself out there and something will turn up, with the implication that it's my fault if nothing turns up. "Just be lucky" is fundamentally not a good plan for life!

[strawbabysimp]

Adult Trio Soulmate Strings AU HCs

Chrollo

No one had told him what the string meant, what was on the other side waiting for him. Children in Meteor City knew how to fight and how to live and how to kill. Not how to love. Or maybe they did and the world simply told them they shouldn't. That they weren't deserving of it. As he got older Chrollo eventually sought out the meaning of this mysterious red string, finding his answer in one of the books he managed to get his hands on in that wretched and beloved place. A soulmate.

There was a person out there just for him, but more importantly, there was a destiny. A plan for him. He knew he had to find them, to secure this irrefutable connection to another. The leader had planned to meet them when he got out of Meteor City, it was part of the reason he formed the Troupe. Though, as the years went on and life took its toll on him, as it did anyone, the desire to find this person faded. By the time The Spiders had managed to become a notorious group, it was a dream within a dream. A soulmate? How tragically philosophical.

That's not to say he wasn't curious, but he lost that drive, running on autopilot as he searched for a passion without the motivation to even want one. Sometimes he did find himself especially enraptured by the red string secured around his finger though, toying with it during meetings or tying small knots that soon came undone while laying in bed.

Guilt wasn't something he felt often, taking lives and valuables without a second thought was a regular occurrence, but with you? He felt utterly in the wrong. To deny you of something even he found beautiful simply because he "didn't care?" That's when he felt like a monster. He found comfort in the title though, embracing the fact of what he was. He was selfish and greedy and somehow still found a way to prevent himself from gaining the one thing that could save him.

One day he had been twisting the string between his fingers, a mannerism that even the others around him had picked up on when there was a tug back. It became a regular occurrence, the two of you pulling on the string lightly back and forth. You tried to beg him through the string to come to find you, pulling him in your direction, but he never did come. You knew it was impossible to tell, but it seemed he had gotten even farther away.

The only connection you'd ever have with him was through those small motions and you'd go on to love someone else. Maybe not in the way you would have loved him, but there's not much to do when you're destined to love someone who was forced to learn how not to.

Hisoka

"I don't have one" he'd respond calmly. This was his and his alone, so what if people thought he was a freak? He wouldn't allow someone to interfere with this in even the most minuscule way. A person who relied on him and only him to fulfill the grandest idea of love? Nothing could hold more power than the blood-soaked string tied around his ring finger.

Heaven's Arena was a well-known spot, a tourist attraction of sorts, so you simply had to stop by when you happened to be near. As you made your way to the stands and gazed on at the stage you found him already looking at you, giving you a quick smirk as your gaze fell to his hand with a shocked expression. At the end of his "performance" he typically met with fans but this time he naturally went straight to you, a single blood-stained rose held out in a tender gesture. You didn't question how he had managed to obtain the flower, too busy processing the fact that this bizarre man was your soulmate.

Every moment with you is too much for him to endure. It's an adrenalin rush that he's become addicted to but whenever he looks at you he gets this urge to tear everything you are apart and cover himself in the pieces he could never think to reach from the outside. Being close to you is never close enough and the only way to satisfy this feeling of need would be to destroy you. He can't bear to do that but it's so tempting.

At rare times something in him seemed to break, going off on tangents about the cruelty of his thoughts and how he longed to turn you into yet another victim of his murderous desires. He had planned to take over your life, wishing to bask in the high your undying love was sure to give him. A man becoming weak through the pursuit of power is a pitiful sight even for one not tied to them by fate. "My love will never complete you. I take and I take and I offer up only the worst parts of myself because that's all I have to offer. That's the tragedy of loving me, my dear. I will not apologize because I do not feel bad, however, I will not allow myself to hurt such a lovely thing."

You always come back to each other, the string acting as a sort of magnet between you two. Eventually, you both come to accept the situation for what it is; deadly but far too tempting to not risk everything for. He was the most beautiful thing you'd ever laid eyes on and if the image of him was the last thing you ever saw you'd consider it a privilege.

Surprisingly enough, the magician never does end up taking your life, finding the unfamiliar task of restraining himself a new sort of challenge to prove his strength. Holding you close to him, pressing your body against his as he watches your auras merge, was a common occurrence. When his bloodlust rose and your fear spiked just a fraction he would plant a gentle kiss on your cheek before pulling away with some excuse, you both knew he did this to protect you but he'd never admit that.

Illumi

Soulmates were a weakness in the eyes of the Zoldycks, hypocritical to say the least as Silva and Kikyo were tied by fate, but that was typical. Despite the harsh words his parents had told him, his curiosity would eventually get the better of him and he would seek you out. Traveling in the direction the string took him without fail. It was an easy task when you had money and power. Locating you was not the issue, deciding what to do with you once found was. Simply approaching you wouldn't do.

He watched you for a long time, disappearing into a crowd or dark corner whenever you felt eyes on you. One day you found yourself doing trivial tasks, walking the streets on your way to pick up a snack, or do some light shopping when an unfamiliar feeling hit you. It wasn't unpleasant so much as it was surprising. You even describe it as lovely.

Despite his best efforts to keep himself hidden from your view, Illumi had never been trained to hide love. Pain, fear, anger, sadness, all these were painstakingly buried deep within him to the point that even he didn't know how to release them. But what he felt when looking at you grew greater with each small action and he didn't notice it slipping through until it was too late.

The second your eyes met he was a goner. It was like a drug to the emotionally-deprived man and while he knew it wouldn't do any good to engage you, the selfishness that was ripped out of him from a young age came flooding back full force. Both of you remained shocked as you approached one another but the small smile you gave him was enough to make him think that maybe this was the one time surrendering himself to feelings was okay.

Marrying you was a plan he wants to put into action as soon as possible, using the piece of paper as a form of protection. "Never kill a family member" read the Zoldyck rules that were engraved into the assassin's mind. This would be one of many forms of rebellion you had influenced Illumi in making, and while it wasn't necessarily against the rules, it was certainly not something he thought his parents would approve of.

When you're hanging out he remains a bit stiff, not sure of how to act around someone casually. You begin to feel off-put by the awkward composure of your soulmate though he picks up on it easily, his ability to read people far more advanced than the average person. Illumi allows a small bit of his aura to shine through the veil to reassure you of his contentment, and while he won't acknowledge it, you're grateful for his efforts. It's during one of these dates, hidden away in a hotel relaxing beside one another, that the usually warm and comforting aura changes. His arm comes to hold you just a bit tighter and the love he allowed to encompass you shut off. This had happened times before but your attempts at reassurance through small touches did no help to soothe the Zoldyck.

Later that night his hand would rest gently against your cheek as the light in your eyes dies, your face is wet with tears but a forgiving smile still rests kindly on your face. You're already gone. He can feel it. Despite this he holds you against him late into the night, only letting go when he can no longer bear to see you in such a state. His eyes stay downcast as he refuses to look up at the state the sky is in, not wanting to face the fact that the wetness of his cheeks could be from anything other than the weather. He sends one message before putting his phone away with shaking hands. Yet another job is done.

[wildernessuntothemselves]

Oppa Knows Best | Part 6

Word Count: 2.3k (short but super sweet) Genre: Angst, minimal smut Summary: How will Jaehyun react when you suggest that the two of you separate? 

Warnings: violence, blood, manipulation, abusive relationship, suicidal thoughts, dub-con

Gif credit “I think… I need some time to think about this.” You say, wrapping your robe tighter around your naked body and warily glancing at Jaehyun who was now dressed in his boxers and pacing around the room. Just as predicted, he stops abruptly at your words and turns to you with barely contained wrath and exasperation. He was at the edge of his rope and you could tell. “You’ve had your time! I’ve waited years for you!” 

You gulp, staring down at the knot tying your robe together, and seeing the thin fabric vibrate over your skin with the power of your erratic heartbeat. “I know but---can’t you wait just a little bit longer.... This is all too much for me and I-- I don’t know what I should do.”

“It’s always been too much for you. You’ve always run away from confronting this and I won’t let you run again. This ends tonight.” The finality of his words suffocates you. He has you trapped, forcing you to make a decision that you don’t even know if you can make. 

“I didn’t know...I never wanted to hurt you, oppa.” You put your head between your hands, but his accusations still cut their way through to you easily.  “You knew. No one is that fucking oblivious. You must’ve seen how you pulled away from me every time I tried to confess to you.” 

Guilt eats away at you as you remember all the times you had inexplicably shied away from him every time you seemed to get close to getting what you’ve always wanted from him. You never understood it. You would just close up--the blood in your veins drawing back to your heart and pooling into your abdomen, leaving your limbs cold and shaky. You’d feel so imperiled, like any utterance of his potential love for you would make you bleed out. It didn’t make any sense but it was just so overpowering, a survival instinct, that you were forced to follow it.  You couldn’t even discuss it with him, because how could you without revealing your true feelings for him? A prospect that terrified you just as much as the other one.

You shake your head, feeling your mind swelling up with confusion. “I can’t think right now, oppa.” 

“There is nothing to think about. You’ve been running from this for years and look where it led us. You tried going after someone else, and look where it led us. You want me and I want you. We are made for each other. There is nothing else to think about.” 

“But what if we’re not good for each other?” You whisper quietly, fearing the blasphemy your own tongue was speaking.  “What if it’s not healthy…”

“And who told you that, your barista boy?” Jaehyun accuses indignantly, “What the fuck does he know about us? You had no business involving him in our lives. We were doing just fine before he came along.”

“No, we weren’t!” You can’t help your outburst when he’s always refusing to acknowledge the flaws in your relationship. Just because he ignores them, doesn’t mean they’re not there. The least he could give you is to acknowledge your problems and reassure you that he sees them too and wants to solve them. “You were controlling my life and treating me like a slut for sleeping with other guys.”

“You were whoring around. I was protecting you!”

“This is exactly what I’m talking about! You keep hurting me, and you don’t give a shit! You are so obsessed with getting me that you are willing to break me down so I’d only have you to turn to.” You shrill, unable to hold back your emotions.

“And you chased away any woman I could possibly be with so I’d only have you!” He shouts right back at you, not missing a beat. 

The two of you are at a standstill, anticipating the other’s next attack, and you’re tired of it. You can’t keep doing this. So, full of worry and trepidation, you suggest, “Then maybe we should just stay away from each other for a bit. Take some time to look at things from a---”

“Don’t…” He grits out, fury coiling under his skin.

“I just think it might do us good if--”

“Absolutely not.” He barks at you, making you flinch back, and a thought like a parasite springs up into your mind, taking over you and forcing itself out into the world. “If you can’t even handle me stepping away for a bit then maybe we should just...stop.”

He stares at you in shock and betrayal, hardly believing what you were suggesting. “Don’t you dare.” He hisses, eyes red with tears. 

“We can’t keep hurting each other, oppa.” You futility try to explain yourself to him, and perhaps to yourself too.

“No. You can’t do this to me. Not after everything I’ve been through for you. I won’t let you.” He grabs you by the arm, shaking you roughly and jostling the tears out of your eyes.   “I love you so much, oppa, but--”

“No, fuck you!” He throws you on the bed, the veins in his neck bulging out as he screams at you. “You promised. You said you’ll never leave me.” 

Your fingers dig into the blanket under you, trying to find something to tether yourself to as your world spins into chaos around you. “I was a child back then. I didn’t know how bad things would get.” 

“No, you just didn’t have anyone else to latch onto back then, but now that you do, you’re throwing me out like yesterday’s garbage and hiding behind your bullshit excuses. I stayed loyal to you all this time. I never tried to replace you. I dumped Miyeon for you. I never pursued another woman for you. Everything I ever did was for you, and you're abandoning me the minute someone else gives you any attention?" He grabs your face and presses his forehead against yours. "I can't let you go. I won't. You're mine."

"You're hurting me, oppa." You tremble as his fingers dig into your jaw, but he doesn’t let up.  "Maybe you deserve it. You're a selfish fucking bitch. All you do is take, take, take! You made me dedicate my entire life to you and now you want to leave? Fuck that."

“That's not fair! I waited so long for you.” You cry out, reaching out to him, needing him to reassure you that he believes you. You’re not some evil person that was playing with him all this time. You don’t want to leave him just because you have someone else now. No one could ever replace him. 

But he throws you back against the bed before you can touch him and he whirls around the room like a hurricane, grabbing whatever he can get his hands on and chucking it against the wall, breaking anything and everything. “God-fucking-dammit!” 

Soon the entire room is in disarray, but it does nothing to buffer his anger. You gasp in horror as his hand collides with the mirror, his skin breaking along with the glass. Seeing crimson blood gushing down his pale skin, you jump off the bed and run to him, your fear for him overpowering your fear of him. 

But when you get close, he grabs you by the neck and slams you against the wall, the back of your head bouncing back against the concrete and the shock of the impact making your vision go spotty and your ears ring for a few seconds. 

When you come to, you feel the warmth of his hand being replaced by something cool and jagged pressing against your neck, and you stare at him in horror, hardly believing what is happening, but there is no denying the resentment and malice murking up his warm brown eyes. 

“I have no one else but you. You think I’ll just let you leave?” He asks, voice as jagged as the glass he has pressed against your throat

You close your eyes, a small part of you wishing he’d just do what he’s clearly threatening to do. You’d rather die than live in a world where your oppa would ever try to hurt you. You’ve been struggling for too long and you just want it to stop. This will be easier. You won’t have to fight anymore. 

But you feel the glass move away from you and hear a thud as Jaehyun falls to his knees in front of you, sobbing loudly. “I love you so much. Why are you doing this to me?” 

You feel a twinge of disappointment as you open your eyes and look down at the destitute man in front of you. He looks so small, so scared, resembling the little boy you had made that promise to so long ago and it makes you feel wretched. You were telling him you are going to take everything away from him again after promising him that you’d never leave--after telling him for years and years that you love him and that he’s the most important person in your life. You’re abandoning him just like his father did.

You feel the cold shard of glass on your skin again, this time in your palm as Jaehyun places it in your hand and closes your fist around it. “Kill me then. I’m already dead without you.”

You gasp, shaking your head and trying to pull your hand away. “Stop, please.”

But he tightens his hold around your fist, making your hand close tighter around the glass, the edges of it cutting into your palm. “No. I’ve shielded you from the consequences of your actions for so long. It’s time that you face what you’ve done to me.” 

"I never meant to hurt you.” You wail as your own blood seeps between your fingers. “Please, oppa, stop this. I'm scared. I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“You’re killing me.” He insists, poking the skin of his neck with the sharp point of the glass, nicking a small area. “This is just quicker.” 

"I won't leave. I swear I won't leave.” You choke out desperately, panicking at the trail of blood running down his neck. “Just stop it, please!”

He finally loosens his hold on your fist and you immediately drop the glass and pull your hand up to your face, watching the shaking, bloody mess it had become in horror. 

"I love you so much, angel." You hear him say and feel his face nuzzling against your lower belly. You look down at him numbly and see him pulling your robe apart so he can lay kisses directly on your skin.

You can’t feel the warmth from his lips, not when your hand is gushing hot blood still. He doesn’t care though, continuing down your body towards your heat, seeking another warmth all-together. 

You gasp when his tongue slides between your lips and your hand shoots out to clutch at his hair, not caring that you’re messing it up with your blood. Jaehyun’s mouth on you manages to warm you up a bit, and you focus all your attention on how his tongue feels licking around your clit, trying to drown out everything else, trying to pretend that this is just a normal day. 

You almost fool yourself too--if it wasn’t for his quiet sobs that drift up to you every once in a while and the way his hair becomes matted and discolored with your blood, you could almost believe it. But when he stands up, his dick nudging between your legs, you can’t bear to look at him. 

So you turn around and face the wall, feeling more than hearing the strained sound of pain emanating from his chest and flowing into your back.  "I'll make it up to you, angel. I'll make us happy again. I promise you." He grunts, resting his forehead on your shoulder as he pushes inside you. 

“It will be just like before.” He promises lowly, his words are a hiss in your ear, making you shudder. You bite down on your lip to keep down your own cries as he fucks you against the wall like he intends to prove to you just how much he means his words. 

And you stand there and take it. You’re just so tired of fighting back. You don’t want to hurt anymore. 

__________________

You lay in his arms in the bathtub, the hot water running down your bodies and carrying the blood with it making it look like a crime scene. And maybe it was. Here lies all your will to break free and every hope that things could change. They wash away from your body like cheap paint to reveal the scars Jaehyun has permanently etched on you, reminding you that he will never go away. 

When the water stops running red with blood, he carries you out of the tub and into the bedroom where he dresses you up and bandages your wound, pressing a gentle kiss onto your palm once he’s done. With not a single evidence of the night’s violence on the both of you, he kneels down in front of you, and grabs your fidgety hands in his bigger ones, squeezing down on them and prompting you to look at him. When you do, you see the determination strong in his eyes and you wonder how he could possibly have the energy to fuel it when you were all dried up. 

You decide that he must’ve stolen it from you.  

"You will not communicate with that boy again. And it goes without saying that Soojin is out of my life too." He informs you. 

You stay quiet, staring straight at him and he sighs, kissing your hands again before getting up to lay the both of you on the bed under the blankets. Pulling you in his arms, he rubs a hand up and down your side soothingly as he whispers quietly to you and smiles his dimpled smile, just like he always does, but it doesn’t look the same to you anymore.

"I won't let anyone tear us apart… even you."

________________________

A/N: I know this is super short but like there ain’t much else to say :’) I went with the ending that made the most sense so I hope you guys like it

[xiyao-feels]

Hi! May I ask a The Untamed question: Why does Meng Yao return the jade pass? What is it and why is it important? Lan Xichen seemed a bit upset, surprised but also resigned to it simultaneously.

Hi! So—/why/ Jin Guangyao returns the jade pass is an interesting question, and there are various different opinions on the matter. I think it's best if I start with the second part of your question: what is it and why is it important?

The Lan use the jade passes as a security measure; you need one to get in and out of CR. JGY has a pass which previously allowed him access to CR, but LXC changed it; this time, when he came, it didn't allow him in.

I think it's worth taking a fuller look at the jade passes, which in this case means looking at MDZS.

We first see them, I believe, in chapter 11. In MDZS, WWX a) believes LWJ hates him and b) doesn't realize LWJ has recognized him. He pitches a fit outside the gates of CR because he doesn't want to go inside, because without a jade token that allows you in and out, he won't be able to leave:

If he was dragged inside, it would be extremely difficult for him to come outside again. Back then, when he came to study, all of the disciples were given a jade token for passage. Only with the token, would a person be able to enter and leave freely, or else they couldn’t pass through the protective barrier of the Cloud Recesses. After ten years had passed, the security could only have gotten stricter, instead of looser.

After he's inside, he tries to see if he could escape without the token, but no dice:

Lan WangJi went to see his uncle to discuss serious matters, while Wei WuXian was pushed into the room. Right after Lan WangJi left, Wei WuXian also went outside. He strolled around the Cloud Recesses, and found that, as he had expected, without the jade token for passage, even if he climbed up the white walls of a few zhangs’ height, he would be immediately flung off by the barrier, attracting the attentions of the nearby patrolmen at once.

In chapter 65, we see that LWJ is able to detect when someone tried to come through the wards without one:

Wei WuXian slept sometime later. He was asleep until early morning when he suddenly woke up. With a shiver, he crawled forward and looked up. Lan WangJi’s was still dressed, sword was on his back. As he took back the hand that he had put on Wei WuXian’s shoulder, he stared at a white object within his palm, “We have an uninvited guest.”

Wei WuXian squinted to see. The object was the GusuLan Sect’s jade token of passage. He could recall that Lan WangJi’s token was a very high level, able to alert him if others intruded over the barrier of the GusuLan Sect.

This was JGY coming, the very same trip he returns the jade token, because now it's no longer working. WWX concludes that LWJ modified its access at some point in the last couple of days:

Wei WuXian understood now. Since ZeWu-Jun and LianFang-Zun had quite a good relationship, Lan XiChen had given Jin GuangYao a token of passage as well so that he could visit freely. However, it was likely that within the past few days he had either edited the prohibitions of the Cloud Recesses’ barrier or retracted the permission of Jin GuangYao’s token of passage. When Jin GuangYao came to visit, he was refused permission to enter, and thus he voluntarily returned the token.

In chapter 119, LWJ tells WWX that the jade token he gave him can also be used to withdraw money when he needs it:

Wei WuXian, “[…] Oh, right. HanGuang-Jun, I’m out of money. Give me a bit more, won’t you?”

Lan WangJi, “Simply take the jade token to withdraw the money.”

Wei WuXian let out a muffled laugh, “Apart from letting me in and out of the barrier, that jade token you gave me… can also let me draw money?”

“Yes.”

Though I very much doubt that Jin Guangyao ever used it for that.

I can't find reference to anyone other than JGY and WWX being given tokens permanently (like, aside from the visiting disciples), so only Jin Guangyao who didn't live among the Lan. (Although since the damn tokens aren't referred to by a single consistent name, I could be missing something.)

See also this bit in ch 80, from the second siege:

Wei WuXian laughed, “Who said that you have to go inside the Room of Forbidden Books? Wouldn’t it be fine as long as your master can go in at will? The methods of tampering with the sheet music—he was probably also the one who taught you that, right?”

A person of power free to travel in and out of the Cloud Recesses at will. There was no need to say out loud whom Su She’s master was. Everyone knew—it could only be LianFang-Zun!

It's not actually totally clear to me how much of this carries into CQL canon. For example, we don't have the WWX trying to escape from CR plotline in CQL, so from what I remember I don't think we see him testing the wards and being flung off the walls. And more than that: in CQL we don't get the scene where LWJ detects JGY's visit through his own token, meaning Wangxian's presence during the meeting comes across more as something LXC deliberately set up. I think you could read it in if you really wanted, but it's definitely reading against the text.

(Incidentally, to me in CQL LXC doesn't seem surprised when JGY puts the pass on the table, but I think he very much is surprised when JGY says I'm returning it to you; that's not the direction he was expecting this to go. Episode 43, 31:17-31:37, if you want to check yourself.)

Okay, so, now we have all the context. Why does Jin Guangyao return the jade pass? He says that it's because it stopped working, sure, fine—but why did it not working mean he returned it?

To the best of my knowledge—though as ever I could be wrong—we don't get any more information than that in the text, which means it's a matter for meta and speculation. This is where I'd usually tell you what I think and why, except... honestly, I'm not sure. I haven't yet settled on something that feels right to me.

I've seen the ideas that he was distancing himself, or that he was reacting as though it was a complete rejection—it's certainly true that being completely rejected is his usual experience, see NMJ and QS. I can follow the logic, but it doesn't quite work for me? First because it's followed by his reassuring LXC on the subject of LWJ's reputation and the possibility of CR being searched, and then inviting LXC to Carp Tower for a conference about the Burial Mounds, but also...hmmm. Retreating like that is—not really how he usually operates? You see it with NMJ, you see it with QS—he keeps reaching out, he keeps trying to explain himself. In MDZS he stops after the stairs, but at that point he's very thoroughly done with NMJ and I think we can agree he's not there with LXC; in CQL he keeps trying even after he's decided NMJ has to go. Now it's true QS literally just killed herself! so he might not be reacting as usual and all. But...mmm, I don't know. He says it himself (ch 106): “I can’t help it. To seek pity even after doing all the bad things—that’s the kind of person I am.”

Okay, so why the heck /does/ he do it? Welllll...it could be practical considerations—maybe it would be a risk for the Lan if the token got into the hands of an enemy, say, and he's not sure he'll be able to protect it. But honestly that's not very satisfying, and there doesn't seem to be any evidence in the text that I can remember? So I think it makes sense to look elsewhere.

Maybe he actually is trying to respect LXC's boundaries, especially since they don't have time to hash this out. Maybe he figures that—well, we don't know exactly how the second siege would have played out without Wangxian's intervention, but it seems pretty likely that it would have involved damaging the Lan, which is LXC's care and to whom until now JGY has been the staunchest of allies; a way of acknowledging the damage he's doing, even if it won't be understood until later. Maybe he's trying to send a message to LXC: shit is going down, are you in or out? Maybe he's trying to knock LXC off balance; LXC certainly seems off balance for the conversation, reacting rather than acting. Maybe it's to distance LXC from him in like, the potential eyes of the crowd; they've been close and public allies for so long, and now he's trying to help make sure LXC doesn't he pulled down with him if he goes down. Maybe it's a farewell gesture—not so much to LXC, but to the life he's been living, to the precise shape of relationship they had. Maybe it's giving LXC something safe to remember him by—a token, but not something it will look weird if LXC keeps, because he still hopes that LXC will want to remember him. Maybe it's meant as a reminder of the help he has given the Lan. I don't know! I don't know. I do at some point want to sit with the text and seriously work this out, but I also want to get this out for you, anon, so you actually have the information you asked for XP

I think right now I'm leaning towards—some combination of farewell to this part of the life he's been living and the shape of his relationship with LXC (but not saying farewell to /any/ relationship with LXC), and—giving LXC a token of that time. But right now I'm just not sure.

(MDZS quotes all taken from the ER translation)

[bleachbleachbleach]

Fic: Away, Away

This was written for Day 13 of @hitsuhina-week! If you prefer, you can also read this on AO3. Which is my preference, because Tumblr keeps eating my spacing whether I use Rich Text or HTML so it looks absurd on here. >.>

Aftermath / Going on a Trip Together Hinamori Momo + Hitsugaya Toushirou Pre-Series

--

This will be the last time. 

(Whisper it, so he won't hear.)

--

Every spring, Junrinan finds its way to the western mountains. (The souls of Rukongai wander.) There is no grand procession: They disperse across the vast range, often alone and sometimes in twos. They are always careful not to cause disruption, because while one soul in a forest full of spirits generally isn't worth the effort, seven is a meal.

They are three. 

Soon, they will be two. Hinamori can't stop whispering her new name, hi na mo ri. It's early to be out here, but the snows were mild this year and new growth is already peeking from beneath the thick, rich leaf rot. She feels an affinity with this year's tender saplings, a feeling that grows hotter with every whispered repetition of her name. Her grandmother had given it to her, showed her how to write it. She'd studied her name harder than she had the exam.

Hinamori has an acceptance letter. In April, she is leaving. 

Hinamori nearly walks straight into a nettle spirit--the hair-eating kind--draped across the game path plain as day.

"Do you wanna be bald?" Toushirou grouses as he yanks her back just in time. "I guess it fits. You're acting like a blind old man." 

Hinamori blinks, brushes imagined hair from her face. It's the fifth time she's tried to walk straight through a spirit in as many days. 

"Studying is bad for your eyes," says Toushirou. He doesn't care for moony Hinamori. Momo had paid a lot more attention to what was in front of her. But she's Hinamori now. At least, that's the only name she'll write, dragging her thin stick through the dirt outside the house. So that's what he calls her.

Toushirou squeezes through a bumble of pot-bellied mushroom spirits and Hinamori follows him, stepping carefully into his tracks.

"You'll need to keep reading even when I'm not around. It'll go if you don't practice," she says.

Toushirou makes a noncommittal sound.

"I'll send you letters full of kanji and quiz you on them when I visit." I'll learn how to write them pretty, she promises, just like Baachan does.

"Will you write me back?" she asks.

"Probably not."

This hurts her. But Toushirou plans to go the rest of his life without writing a single thing. It's not personal.

"Why would I need to tell you what happens in Junrinan?" he says. "You already know."

--

And if I forget?

--

Life in Junrinan doesn't change. That's what Toushirou was promised. The winters are quiet and slow, and in spring they go to the mountains. Summers are for farming, and autumns for harvest. Then winters are quiet and slow again.

Spring passes with bracken and angelica in hand. It is counted in the spirals of ferns as their number grows in the baskets. Some are dried; some are steeped. Mostly, they are sold. Many of the men in Junrinan spend springtime waking before dawn to sprint to the mountain, forage the lowlands, and return to the village for evening revelries, but Toushirou and Hinamori and their grandmother have always spent the whole of the season between the trees. The mountains prefer it when you stay. 

This will be true no matter how long Hinamori is gone.

April 12th through July 20th, then our first break, she says, scratching numbers in the dirt. But Junrinan doesn't have dates the way the Academy does. She draws the way the trees will change. The change happens in a long straight line, and beyond July 20th there is an emptiness rather than a repetition. How do you draw an unwritten future?

Hinamori writes her name again.

--

In the spring, everything is full: Toushirou enjoys the wet green of it, the late snows and vernal flooding. The water flows down from the mountains ice cold and the forests are loud and thick with spirits.

The spirits have no names that are written and no faces that have ever stayed the same, unremembered but immemorial. They are loud. Most of them respect the borders of his body. They brush against his legs with thick wet fur or scrape his cheek with leathery wings. They coil around his throat, treating him like a tree or rock. Some of them are trees and rocks. They are the mountains and forest, just like the wandering souls of Junrinan. They all belong here, more or less.

Toushirou can see most of them. When the blurry ones pass through you, it's feverishly unpleasant for the split-second it happens and then is nothing at all. The blurry ones, Toushirou figures, aren't actually in this forest. They are like shadows at sunset, cast long and far from their bodies. Their true bodies roam a different world entirely.

That's what Hinamori wants to do. 

Hinamori used to clamor for shinigami stories any time one of them passed through town. She'd been told one time that all travelers carried stories and now expected it.

The shinigami never expected her. Unless commerce was involved they didn't tend to acknowledge souls, or even look at them. So they always seemed surprised by Hinamori, like it hadn't occurred to them that they'd meet a real, full person out here. Which is fair enough, Toushirou grudgingly allows--there are plenty of souls in Junrinan so old and staid they cannot move, nor speak. (Don't touch them. It's unlucky.)

We don't talk about those.

The shinigami talk story: The story of black dye. The story of a tall bathhouse. The story of grilled meat on sticks. The story of the time they saw a noble. The story of a big fish. The story of a bigger fish. The story of the bullet train. The story of my sister, who isn't very interesting but is the only thing that comes to mind right now sorry. The story of 19th seats should be paid more. The story of the soul who wanted a story. 

Almost none of the stories are about death.

"Little girls shouldn't go into those mountains," one shinigami once said, which is as close as a story ever came to it. "Nasty stuff in there. They're called Hollows, you know. Real bad guys."

The shinigami patted the sword at his hip. He'd just told Hinamori a story about the third son of a lesser noble whom everyone loved and thought deserved better than the shadows of his elder brothers. And how preposterous is it, really, that he should have to prove himself when his brothers never did? Pushed out here into the boonies, seeking honor and fame. He really feels for the guy. Don't you? Don't you?

"You seem to know a lot about 'this guy,'" Toushirou offered.

"I'm a master storyteller," said the shinigami.

I've killed a Hollow before, you know, boasted the master storyteller. He'd led a unit of twelve men into those mountains out there, which were so quiet you could hear your own heart beating. When you can hear your terror--that's when you're on the cusp of valor. His eyes lit up. I was the one who cut the mask, he said.

Twelve is obviously far too many (seven is a meal), and those mountains have never been quiet. Toushirou didn't think he'd really been.

In the spring, though, there's a dark scar where once there'd been a copse of trees. Shattered branches and burned ground. His grandmother says it smells like Hollow. 

"They see things differently," his grandmother half-explains, of the shinigami and their Hollows and the silence of their mountains. Of course this would seem a different place to them.

"They're idiots," says Toushirou, though suddenly he's not sure. The scar is hair-raising, and his stomach roils. Maybe they really shouldn't be out in the woods.

"The shinigami know more than you," says Hinamori, taking his hand in hers. She grips it tightly, reassuring, or maybe annoyed. Both. She has a lot of school spirit for someone who hasn't even been yet.

But she doesn't let go of his hand, even after they've returned to the cover of the live trees, kitsune fire nestled in the brambles at their feet.

Toushirou makes the mistake of noticing a spirit that tends to linger just out of sight. It feeds on your instinct to look, and it grows higher and higher the more you crane your neck, so sure you'll be able to sneak a glimpse of it. By the time you realize the trick, you've always been had. It's very annoying.

--

This will be the last time.

(Scream it.)

--

"It's so dark out here," says Hinamori, in spite of the kitsune and all the rest. Lots of spirits glow. She is still holding his hand.

Toushirou thinks of the small lamp Hinamori had bought to study by, the wild shadows it cast on the interior walls and the way it had made all hours bright. He thinks of all the hours she hadn't slept. All because some shinigami had told her a story about a school. 

Anything would seem dark by comparison. He can't remember the last time she hadn't had her lamp on when he went to bed.

Hinamori is going to snap the bones in his hand. He yelps. Tears prick in his eyes. "What's wrong with you?"

She doesn't let go, and then she doesn't let go.

"It's so quiet," she says faintly. Her free hand wavers over her heart protectively.

It's so dark. It's so quiet. Quiet enough to hear your terror.

Except it's not. It's not dark.

It's not quiet.

The forest is full, air thick with chirrups and buzzing, screeching, hooting, chittering. Bodies clack and bones shudder. Reeds whistle and something large makes a whomping, resonating tone. Foxfire hisses as it makes sparks, throws phosphorous motes that dance high above. A heartbeat glow marches up the ridged spine of a lizard spirit. The forest is as it has always been.

Toushirou's eyes widen. 

"You can't hear them anymore."

To Hinamori, it is all darkness and silence. 

She sinks to the ground, burying her head in her knees as though to hide from the quiet. From the black. She drops his hand.

"Momo--"

She shakes her head. She opens her hands to the sky like she's waiting for a bird to land. For a split second, a small warm flame billows from her palms. 

Then the entire forest catches.

The thought had been innocent enough--to be her own light in the darkness, conquer her fear. But the forest only hears the conquering. It's the kitsune who don't take kindly to Hinamori's light. Their fire screeches up and outward and then all the spirits are in frenzy. A meal! scream some; and others, a threat! A danger to be expunged. A strange thing not of this forest, these mountains.

Outsider! the world around them hisses. Away.

away, away

Hinamori screams as the flames leap forward--the claws, the vines, the terrors and all in between. She throws herself in front of Toushirou. 

Toushirou can't find his voice at all. The wide whites of his eyes feel the propulsive gust of the forest coming down on them. On Hinamori. No! he can't shout, cold fear coiling over his frozen legs and pricking at his shoulder blades. Something serpentine rushes past him and he's on the ground. His head smacks hard against a writhing tree root and he tastes bile, feels nothing. 

Hears everything.

away

When he wakes, snow is falling, wet and sloppy. Kitsune are nibbling at the singed edges of a hanafuda. Hinamori is in her grandmother's arms. She's crying.

--

Before Hinamori started studying, with her bright lamp and her long nights and her feverish poetry scratched into the ground, before the hunger came, she'd woken one morning to a futon streaked with her blood. Her grandmother said that this was womanhood.

"The tea will stop the bleeding," she assured a tearful Hinamori as they scrubbed at her futon, pinking the waters. Toushirou beat at the stain with his feet, splashing everywhere.

"You don't have to touch it," Hinamori had said quietly, her eyes fixed on the water. "It's my mess."

"Baachan said I have to help," Toushirou objected. "Besides, am I supposed to just sit here and watch you bleed?"

--

Just one last time.

--

Hinamori isn't hurt, but she is in pain. The forest doesn't want her anymore. (She is leaving.)

"The forest sees them differently," his grandmother says, the other half of her earlier explanation. "Them," meaning shinigami. "Them," meaning Hinamori, now.

Shinigami see and are seen differently. They belong differently. Toushirou had only ever distinguished them by their black clothes, and sometimes their attitude. But his grandmother talks about reiryoku, about reiatsu, about the realms the shinigami travel through and the spirits they are blind to. The spirits that belong to different worlds than theirs, even when they're side by side. Some worlds are bound to one another, tied by fate and duty; others are repelled.

As Hinamori's reiatsu blossomed with her womanhood, slowly folding outward past her skin, beyond her body, her worlds were chosen for her. Like the bleeding, there's a tea to help this, too, but it's not the same. 

There is no going back.

"What're you looking at," Toushirou scowls at her. He's not sure what to do with her pain. There's nothing he can do for her pain. But she's looking at him differently, a little less like Hinamori and a little more like the rest of Junrinan does, and that scares him.

She asks him if he'd felt anything. Something cold.

She's asked him before. Every day since the incident, she's asked him.

His answer is always the same. No. Just fear.

He should be helping his grandmother. They're here in the forest for a reason, and that hasn't changed; they have foraging to do. But he doesn't want to leave Hinamori alone. 

"Don't be afraid of it, Shiro-chan," says Hinamori. Hinamori, who's now afraid of the dark.

Hinamori, who is leaving.

--

She doesn't have a choice. When her power comes into her she knows there is only one place she can go. It's a place she has always wanted to go. (She has always wanted to go places.) But now she has to.

She smiles. 

If she is going to go, she's going to fly. She will love, and yearn, and cry. She will give all of herself to the future before her, even when it means that precious things can be only memory. If there is something Hinamori leaves in him when she goes, it's flight. 

Someday, Toushirou will remember to remember that.

--

"Will you write me?" she asks.

--

--

(You will be written.)

--

She returns for the summer, then is gone again. Winter, then gone again. But she doesn't come home for the spring. They'll be going to the realm of the living. They will fight Hollows, just like the Gotei 13. She explains the meaning and stroke order of the characters, go tei,  though she doesn't explain what the Gotei 13 actually is. That part must already seem obvious to her. Shinigami stuff. That's all Toushirou will ever need to know. Seems pretentious.

When Junrinan returns to the mountains this year, Toushirou and his grandmother stay behind. "It's dangerous," she says. She squeezes his shoulders.

It's dangerous now. 

There is no going back.

Junrinan may not change, but life does, and by the second summer, Hinamori has mostly forgotten the shapes of the forest spirits. Toushirou is forgetting them, too. 

The difference is, Hinamori has found replacements. She talks about incantations and sword stances, friendships and histories. She has been to the realm of the living. It's only been a year, and already they have nothing in common but their memories, ever-receding. 

Sometimes she wakes up screaming. She doesn't say why.

--

Toushirou dreams of a chill ripping through him. He dreams of a place where there are no mountains as far as the eye can see.

--

He wakes to Hinamori.

[lucifer-is-a-bag-of-dicks]

I actually used my own experiences with grief and loss in this one, I could channel it better writing from Jazz's perspective

so yeah if you thought the last two were sad-

Part 3

Jazz had never gone ghost hunting with her mother before, at least never with just the two of them. It was uncomfortable, unfamiliar, like when her only friend at a party left her alone with someone she barely knew.

Her relationship with her mother had always been intellectual in nature, they would engage in philosophical debates over the ethics and morality of the ghost hunting profession while eating dinner, the discussions became far more intense after Jazz discovered Danny's secret. She was no longer debating simply for the sake of an interesting discussion, she was trying to introduce concepts that would smooth the way for when her brother was ready to reveal his other self to them.

It was a tactic she had used successfully many years before, albeit for a far more mundane reason.

Going ghost hunting with Maddie wasn't just uncomfortable because it was unfamiliar, it wasn't even because of her ethical disagreement with her mother's tactics.

It was because her father was supposed to be here.

Maddie rarely went hunting without Jack, not if she could help it, they had always been a team, they worked perfectly in synch with one another, but Jack wasn't here. Jazz was, and his shoes just didn't fit.

Jazz didn't have to go, technically, she wasn't even trying to help with the ghost hunting part, but... she couldn't let Maddie go alone.

Maddie was coping with Jack's death far worse than anyone.

From the moment they'd returned home from the hospital, after Jack had been declared dead, Maddie had been out every day and night hunting for the Wisconsin Ghost. It didn't matter to her that he hadn't been seen since that night, it didn't matter that he had always been too powerful for anyone to take on alone.

Maddie would drive around for hours, chasing any blip on her radar and ferociously ripping into any unfortunate ghost to cross her path.

Danny had been running damage control, warning the more agreeable ghosts to stay out of Amity, capturing the rest as covertly as possible, doing everything he could to stay away from Maddie while in his ghost form.

Jazz had been the only one left to do everything else. She had turned 18 just a few months before, so thankfully she had been legally able to sign all the documentation, to plan the funeral arrangements, the cremation, the obituary. All of it, by herself.

She was grateful, in a way. It gave her something to do, something to focus on that wasn't grief, that wasn't the cold empty hole in her life. Jack's presence had always been hard to ignore, his absence even more so.

Danny had tried to help with the preparations, when he wasn't in the ghost zone or cleaning up ghosts around town. He appeared to be holding himself together okay, but Jazz knew better, she knew that the guilt was eating him up from the inside. It didn't matter how many times she reassured him that he wasn't responsible for this, that he wasn't to blame, it made no difference.

It was only when Jazz had run out of tasks to do that she let herself cry.

She knew that sitting around was only going to make her feel worse, she couldn't let herself stew in her grief, she needed a purpose to pull her through. So she joined her mother on her feverish hours long hunts.

It was escapism, she knew that, for both of them. To Maddie, the hunting was something else to focus on so she could ignore her grief, it gave her a sense of control and purpose. Jazz was using looking out for her mother as her own distraction, her own grasp for purpose and control.

She knew these things, and she knew they were not entirely healthy, but she didn't know what else to do.

If this were anyone else she would have told them to seek out professional therapy, go to grief counselling, practice radical acceptance, to use visualisation exercises and grounding techniques to manage intrusive thoughts. Vengeance and fury weren't a healthy release, they would only build, they would only lead to more pain.

But her books hadn't prepared her for something like this, how could she seek help from someone she can't tell the whole truth? How could she grieve in peace when the justice system couldn't touch her father's murderer? He was still out there, he was still a threat. It was only a matter of time before he started working his way into Maddie's good graces, shamelessly emboldened by his successful assassination.

Jazz was furious when Danny insisted they keep Vlad's identity a secret. She understood where he was coming from. Her mother was struggling enough as it was, Jazz couldn't imagine what it would do to her to find out that it had been her husband's best friend all this time. That he had murdered Jack because he wanted her, the guilt alone would be soul crushing, and then there was the certainty that Vlad would reveal Danny's identity in return.

She couldn't even imagine...

Jazz was still angry, angry that Danny had to be the one to say it, angry that he was right, angry that he could be so rational while inside she was falling to pieces. She knew better, she knew how much he was hurting on the inside too, she knew that he was just good at hiding it, much better than she was.

She was still angry, but they both knew she wasn't angry at him.

When she got up that morning, her mother had been in the lab, her weaponry was getting more dangerous, less capture oriented and more destructive. Jazz wasn't sure if working down there was better than the hunting or worse, but at least no unsuspecting ghosts were getting torn to pieces.

Jazz had witnessed a few first-hand, it was bad enough seeing it happen to the formless, barely sentient poltergeists, she didn't want to know what a true spirit would look like, being eviscerated with such malice. She imagined a ghost like Johnny, laying on the ground with chunks ripped from his-

No, no that wasn't helpful, that was an intrusive thought, she needed to acknowledge its presence and move on, it didn't help her, let it go, like leaves on a string, let it go...

It would be back later, she knew.

Her breakfast was suddenly incredibly unappealing, not that that was anything new. She wouldn't be surprised if she'd lost weight over the last week, her clothes already felt just a little too loose.

A sudden and intense pang of longing hit her fast and hard, she missed him. It had only been a week and she already missed him so much. She just wanted him to wrap his big arms around her and hold her close and dig his chin into her hair in that way that annoyed her and tell her everything was okay Jazzypants and... and he was the only one who ever called her that. She hated it. She'd never hear it again...

She pushed her bowl of cereal away and stood, her eyes burning. She had to find something else to do, to keep her mind busy.

She went around the living room, clearing the coffee table and fluffing the pillows, there was a stain on the lounge, probably from a bit of fudge-

The curtains were looking dusty, they could probably use a clean, would they fit in the washing machine or would they need to be hand washed?

She'd started trying to unhook them from the curtain rod when the lab door banged open loudly, Jazz jumped, startled. She ran to the kitchen to find her mother in tears, hand over her mouth like she was trying to hold it all back. Jazz wrapped her arms around her and Maddie grasped onto her tight, like she was afraid she would be snatched away at a moment's notice.

Jazz rocked slightly and ran a hand up and down her mother's back comfortingly as they each cried into the other's shoulder. Maddie hadn't cried like this since the first night, Jazz recognised it as a good sign, she was letting herself feel again.

"Where is he?" Maddie stammered, "W-where'd he go, where'd he go?"

Jazz just squeezed tighter, it was a difficult question for someone who studied the dead for a living, to wonder what happened after. They were never a religious family, being raised by scientists there was never talk of a heaven or hell, just the ghost zone, what lay beyond that was a mystery to them all, even the ghosts.

She sniffed, she could feel tears clinging to her eyelashes, and an odd itch to her scalp.

"Jazz?" Danny's voice echoed down the stairs.

She heard Danny come into the room behind her, he made an odd sound, a quick and quiet intake of breath. Was he trying not to cry? Jazz hadn't seen him cry once, not since he was dragged off of Vlad that night, bruised knuckles dripping red. They were tears of fury then, she would never forget the sound of Danny's ragged screams as he pummelled Vlad into the ground, despite all the hands trying to pull him off the man.

Vlad had simply taken the beating, he'd use it later, she knew. He would forgive Danny, say it that he deserved it for failing to fight off that terrible awful Wisconsin Ghost when it overshadowed him. He would say it was all his fault, that he deserved all that pain and more, he was oh so sorry.

And Maddie would forgive him, because it wasn't his fault, it was that awful awful ghost. Vlad could never do something so terrible to his best friend. Vlad would always be welcome in their home, and welcome he would make himself. Jazz could see it all, and she could do nothing about it.

Danny placed a hand on his mother's shoulder. "Maybe you should do another lap around town, you might find something today." he pressed his head close to hers and spoke softly into her frazzled hair.

Jazz glanced at Danny with narrow eyes, annoyed and confused, their mother was finally making progress, and Danny was going to send her right back to her fruitless obsessive search for vengeance? He had to know it wasn't helpful, he had to.

He looked at her, wide eyed and thin lipped as he gave a quick jerk of the head and flick of the eyes to the front door. He wanted Maddie out of the house, for what reason Jazz didn't know and obviously couldn't ask, but she trusted her brother and did as she was told. Something was going on, but she would have to ask Danny about it later.

The day was warm and only a little humid, they drove with the windows down. Jazz enjoyed the wind on her face, she did not enjoy the silence.

It stretched on, unbroken by the radar as Danny's patrol earlier in the dawn had swept the town clean of ghost activity. It looked like Jazz wouldn't be watching another massacre today, she couldn't be more relieved.

"It's been quiet." Maddie said, out of the blue.

"Huh? Oh, yeah. Guess it has," Jazz paused, "maybe you scared them all off?"

"They should be scared." Maddie's tone was low, threatening. If Jazz were a ghost she would be terrified.

There was more quiet, they passed the local park, the sound of kids playing and birds singing were loud for a few moments, until the trees disappeared into the distance behind them and the quiet returned.

"Haven't seen much of Phantom either." Maddie spat. "I'm surprised he hasn't shown up to gloat."

Pain shot through Jazz like an arrow, she would have to warn Danny to make extra sure to stay out of their mother's way, she was very clearly ready to shift a whole lot of misplaced aggression directly onto him.

She considered challenging her mother's assumption, but thought it best not to provoke her right now. Instead she merely hummed an acknowledgment.

They drove past the school, empty for the summer. Jazz's final exams had only just ended before her father's birthday, but she had missed graduation. She didn't want to go without him there, she was supposed to give a speech, she was too busy writing a eulogy.

They passed a group of people she knew from school, they gave her a little wave. Despite Jack's notoriety, everyone had been sad to hear the news, they'd sent a giant card around the school and everyone she knew had signed it, including the teachers, and everyone in Danny's year too. Mr Lancer brought it to the house with an enormous bouquet, he couldn't convince the school to pay for one so he bought it out of his own pocket.

Jazz had gotten texts and private messages, all saying they were here for her if she ever needed to talk. She responded to most of them, but sometimes she just sent a heart emoji. It was easier than writing the same thank you message over and over. She didn't take any of them up on the offer.

The drive wasn't too bad honestly, without any ghosts showing up it was almost relaxing. Maddie hadn't said much else other than a few observations about the traffic or the weather. When Jazz suggested getting some lunch Maddie had opted to use the Nasty Burger drive through so they could eat in the van. Jazz was grateful, she didn't want to run into anyone else from school.

Her phone buzzed, it was Danny sending her a thumbs up, they were safe to go home.

"We should probably head home." Jazz suggested, slurping the last of her drink. "We've been all over town, there's nothing here."

Maddie grit her teeth but revved up the van and turned toward FentonWorks.

As soon as they were through the door Maddie headed to the lab, presumably to drown herself in more work. Jazz headed up the stairs where Danny waited for her.

"What's going on?" she asked.

Danny shushed her looking over her shoulder down the stairs.

"It's fine she's in the lab," Jazz reassured him, "what's going on?"

He didn't answer, just grabbed her wrist and pulled her toward his room, closing the door behind them and locking it.

"I'm going to try something," he said, crossing the room to stand before her, "But I think you should sit down first."

Jazz frowned but she sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Is this about Vlad? Did he come here?" A rush of heat spilled over her face, "If that son of a bitch tried anything I'll-"

"Jazz it's fine, it's not Vlad, it's fine." Danny breathed, running a hand through his hair nervously. "It's just, I'm trying something but I need you here to tell me if it works, okay?"

He nibbled his lip anxiously but he also seemed... almost excited about something. Had he developed a new power?

Jazz nodded and paid close attention as Danny took a few steps back and put a hand up, palm facing to the side and away from himself, his fingers curled slightly as if grabbing for something.

He took a deep breath and the heat of the summer air chilled, a trail of green mist flowed over his hand and began to form a shape in the air beside him.

Almost immediately as it began to form Jazz knew.

She leapt to her feet to stand before the large figure revealing itself gradually before her, when the mist crept over a square jaw and close cropped haircut she threw her hands over her mouth to stifle her gasping breaths.

"Dad." she breathed, she reached for him but didn't dare touch, afraid that she would ruin the illusion. Was he here? Was he real? She looked to Danny but his eyes were closed, face scrunched in concentration. He peeked at her for a moment, his grimace lifting into a strained smile.

"It's him." said Danny, through gritted teeth, "Say hi."

Jazz cried as Jack lifted a hand toward her face, he was still a translucent shimmering green, but she was certain she could see tears on his face. He mouthed words that she couldn't hear, but she knew them all the same.

Hey Jazzypants.

She was sobbing hard as she grasped the hand cupping her face, her fingers went right through it, but she could feel it, like she could feel his palm against her cheek. It was cold, and so light it almost tickled, but she could feel it.

She tried again, very gently feeling for that slight resistance to the air and holding her hand against it, she couldn't touch him for real, she couldn't hold him, but she could feel him. That was enough.

"I missed you dad." She smiled through her tears, "I missed you so much."

His features were still hard to make out, but it was clear he was smiling, he mouthed more words.

"Sorry, I can't hear you." said Jazz, sadly.

"He says he liked the obituary." Danny grunted, eyes still squeezed shut. "He knew you wrote it, he could tell."

Jazz laughed, it was only a little hysterical. Danny's hand trembled against Jack's arm. Jazz wanted to tell him he could stop now, but she didn't want her dad to go, not yet.

She raised her hands to cup his face, only just feeling the whisper of a few bristles on his chin. She didn't know what to say, what could she say?

"I'm so glad you're here," she said quietly with as much feeling as she could, "but, why are you here? You said you'd never... you'd never..."

Jack said nothing, but glanced over to Danny, whose hair had started streaking with white and glinting with crystalline shards of ice.

"Don't get to choose." He growled, his voice sounded distorted, his jaw clenched so hard Jazz could hear his teeth grinding, "Happens or it doesn't."

Danny's lips were pulled back in a pained snarl and were turning blue, his canines were sharpening as blinding flashes of green slipped from beneath his eyelids. A large puff of opaque mist rolled from his mouth upon each laboured exhale.

Jazz gave her father a careful hug, trying to lean into him without falling through.

"We're gonna figure this out dad I promise we're gonna figure it out."

She could feel his arms around her, the slight pressure reminding her of being buffeted by a strong gust of wind.

Danny took that as his cue, he pulled his hand back with a ragged cry and Jack's misty green form dissipated like smoke in a breeze.

Jazz stared into the empty space her dad's face had only just filled moments ago.

"Is he still here?" She asked, voice trembling.

"Yuh- yeah," Danny huffed, he was bent over, catching his breath. "I can suh- still see him, and hear him."

He stood straight as he pulled in a deep lungful of air. Then he laughed, a rough, exhausted laugh, but a laugh nonetheless.

"I'm so glad that worked, oh Ancients. I'm gonna need a minute." he crashed onto the bed face down.

"What exactly did you do?" Jazz asked, eyes still locked on the space where Jack had been, and presumably was still, standing.

"Dad only just formed a consciousness this morning," Danny grumbled into his bedding. "He's still warm, hasn't manifested a core yet. I just loaned him some energy."

"Still warm?" Jazz turned her nose up at the phrase.

"Yeah, it's uh, ghost slang. Means freshly dead, y'know like the body's still-"

"Yeah yeah I get it," Jazz waved a hand dismissively. "Gross."

"That's what dad said."

"Yeah! Because it's gross!"

Danny laughed, but it was barely more than a breathy huff. Jazz eyed him carefully, he was a little more pale than usual, there were bags beneath his eyes, his cheeks were a little hollow and his lips were still tinged with blue. All his usual signs of overexertion, but other than that he looked relatively okay.

"Why was it so exhausting?" Jazz asked. "I would've thought you'd have more than enough energy to share, especially for something as simple as visibility."

"Amount isn't the issue." Danny raised a finger pointedly, "Simple is the issue, imagine trying to fill a water balloon with a fire hose."

Jazz balked.

"Wait, that sounds unbelievably dangerous!" Jazz glared at Danny and then back at the empty room, "What happens to dad if you lose control?"

Danny groaned and flipped himself over onto his back, an arm flung over his eyes.

"Don't get mad at me it was his idea." Danny glared at the empty space for a beat before barking, "Was too!"

Jazz rolled her eyes, "Oh my god you are both children." She turned to Danny and pointed a thumb over her shoulder, "I can't hear him so you're going to have to tell me, what would happen to him if you lost control?"

Danny pressed his lips together and muttered guiltily, "He... could'a destabilised."

"He WHAT?!"

"I told you it was his idea!"

"I don't care whose idea it was!" Jazz alternated between glaring at Danny and at the space behind her. "You're both idiots for trying something so risky! There wasn't some way to practice?!"

"What do think we were doing while you were gone!" Danny exclaimed, "Also he's standing over there now, he moved so he wouldn't feel like you were yelling at him."

Jazz planted a hand over her face, and shook her head in disbelief, she didn't know whether to laugh or cry, her dad had been back for not even ten minutes and she was already yelling at him.

She spluttered a choked up giggle, wiping her eyes and sniffling.

"God I missed you dad." Jazz said, before she started bawling.

[accio-draco]

twist of fate | two

in which Y/N is in the same situation as Draco

Summary: Like Draco, Y/N is forced to become a Death-Eater and the Dark Lord has given her a job to do. Sixth year, slow burn, kinda enemies to lovers

Word count: <1k

Warnings: sexual themes (barely)

The next day in Slughorn's potions class, it was as though the previous night's conversation had never taken place. Draco didn't say a word to Y/N, but his eyes sought her out any chance they got.

He watched her paying attention to Slughorn's instructions. Occasionally, Y/N's eyes would seek out Draco, but whenever she glanced at him, he looked away hurriedly. It seemed as though she wanted to say something to him, but she didn't know what to say.

Once Slughorn had set the class a task, Y/N got to work and pushed all thoughts of Draco. He, on the other hand, barely made a start on his project as he got distracted watching Y/N. He found himself watching the way she interacted with other students, how she would talk and laugh with them.

When Dean Thomas, who was on Y/N's table, put his hand up to Y/N's ear and whispered into it, Draco felt a surge of resentment towards him. He didn't like other people sharing secrets with her. That was something they did.

Whatever he had whispered in Y/N's ear had made her laugh considerably. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he tried to focus on his project. Not that he cared how well he did in Potions. But then he noticed how much her thighs were visible between the hem of her skirt and knee socks.

He was jealous of those who could be openly close with her. If people thought Y/N and Draco were close, they would think she was being led astray. They'd never think perhaps she was the one leading him astray from the path his father set for him.

When the class was finally over, Draco stalked out of the room without another glance at Y/N, making sure to barge past Dean Thomas on the way out.

-

At the end of an exceptionally busy day of staring at Y/N and her thighs any chance he got, Draco wanted to be alone. He was making his way back to the Slytherin common room, he passed the boys' bathroom. Since the bathroom rarely gets used due to Moaning Myrtle, he was surprised to hear voices from inside. He listened in.

"I didn't even do it. He was flirting with me, not the other way around." It was Y/N. She sounded as though she had been crying.

"It's alright, Y/N. I believe you." Myrtle comforted her.

Draco, deciding this was a good excuse to start a conversation with Y/N, headed into the bathroom. Y/N was leaning against the wall of a cubicle, Myrtle floating just beside her. The two girls looked at Draco as he walked in.

"Hi, Draco." Myrtle crooned.

"Myrtle." Draco acknowledged although he was looking at Y/N.

Y/N's eyes were red and her face flustered, proving she had definitely been crying. Draco felt sudden indignation. Y/N gave him a gentle smile.

"I'm alright, Draco," she reassured him. "Don't worry."

"What happened?" He asked.

Now felt like a very inappropriate time to look at her thighs, so he willed himself to keep eye contact.

Y/N shook her head and laughed weakly. "Just boys being boys." She dismissed.

"You can tell me anything." Draco insisted.

Something about Y/N made him feel a desire to be different. To be good, kind. No one had made him feel that way. She made him realise he wasn't all bad, that there was some good in him.

"Just some boy flirting with me and then telling everyone we got off in a broom closet when we absolutely didn't." Y/N laughed meekly.

Draco moved closer to Y/N. "Who?"

"It doesn't even matter, nothing even happened." Y/N shook her head.

"Dean Thomas," Myrtle told Draco. "Naughty boy."

Draco was furious. He should've known it was Dean, he had been flirting with Y/N in Potions. Whispering in her ear, telling her jokes, walking out of class with her.

Y/N was just as livid. "Myrtle!" She hissed waspishly. She had known the type of reaction Draco would have. He would get involved, making the drama even bigger than it was. Y/N had wanted to leave it, knowing it'll blow over in a few days.

Draco stormed out of the bathroom to find Dean Thomas.

"Draco!" Y/N called, chasing after him. "Please don't."

Ignoring her pleas, Draco continued to stalk down the corridor as Y/N called out from behind him.

"Draco, please! I'm asking you not to do this." Y/N begged.

Mid-stride, Draco stopped and turned to face Y/N. "Why?" He asked angrily. "Why not?"

"Because," Y/N explained, out of breath from chasing after him. "It'll make it worse. Everything will blow over in a few days. Okay? Promise me you'll leave it."

Draco still felt irate. He hated the thought of someone hurting Y/N. Or maybe he just hated the idea of Y/N sleeping with someone. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself down.

"I promise."

TAGLIST:

@detroitobsessed​ @justcallmesams​

[ericamzdm]

S1E1 and Emotional Abuse

Apparently my feelings do expand beyond five screenshots.

So! I’m going to take the Catra/Adora segments from the first ten minutes of SheRa apart, with a focus on Adora. It’s going to be dry, and it’s going to be talking about emotional manipulation and abuse at length, so please feel free to stop reading if that’s not something you want to deal with.

Frankly, the Adora/Catra content in S1E1 makes my skin crawl on a re-watch. It’s not that I don’t like the characters - I’m actually quite fond of both of them! But this episode is extremely on the nose about what it’s means to be raised in an abusive environment, and how easy it is to perpetrate abuse when it permeates your sense of what is normal and how things work.

Before we get into the episode itself, a definition. (I did say this was going to be dry)

Abuse is:

Intentional - Accidents aren’t abuse. (although abusers will lie about intent)

Harmful/Controlling (to/of the victim) - harm/control is the primary mechanism abusers use to obtain their goal, rather than an incidental effect.

Beneficial (to the abuser) - Abuse is perpetrated to get the abuser something, even if just a ‘thrill of power’.

If it doesn’t hit all three, it may be bad, and it may make the perpetrator a jackass, but it’s almost certainly not abuse.

The first relevant scene is where Catra is late to class (sorry, “evaluation”). Adora’s “Where’s Catra/*scoffs* Not again/She’ll be here, I promise” is, in itself, fairly benign, but already shows that Adora’s concern for Catra veers into controlling territory. Who is she, to make promises on Catra’s behalf?

Catra eventually does show up, and we get a lengthy ‘playful banter’ sequence that almost reassures you that their relationship is reasonably normal and healthy. They have in-jokes! And laugh! And give/take jabs in good faith!

And then Shadow Weaver shows up. And this happens.

Just to be very clear here. Adora physically dragged a visibly uncomfortable Catra into an encounter with someone who we shortly learn (and Adora is fully aware) is her abuser.

BREAKING FOR A PSA: The above ALONE makes her a fundamentally unsafe person for an abuse victim/survivor to be around. I have cut people from my life for this kind of thing. DON’T FORCE PEOPLE INTO UNWANTED INTERACTIONS. IT IS SUPER UNCOOL.[/PSA]

*coughs* We now return you to an overwrought analysis of a Y7 cartoon...

Let’s review that definition of abuse!

Is Shadow Weaver acting with intent to cause harm as a way to benefit herself?

It sure seems like it! The intent and harm are self-evident. The benefit is a little harder to grasp - but ‘thrill of power’/intimidation would cover it.

Conclusion: Shadow Weaver is abusive. Also, the sky is blue!

Now, the more interesting question: Is Adora acting with intent to cause harm as a way to benefit herself?

...and (While the PSA holds) the answer is probably no. While the interaction wasn’t an accident, it’s pretty clear that the way it played out, and the harm caused, were not Adora’s intent. This wasn’t, strictly speaking, abusive.

It was, however, negligence and intentional ignorance that borders on abuse. Catra clearly knew how this was going to roll. Adora doesn’t exactly seem shocked by Shadow Weaver’s actions. So what the heck did she think she was doing?

The bright, happy explanation: Adora wanted her friend to be rewarded for her good work! She was being kind and selfless! She believes that Shadow Weaver is ultimately fair and rewards merit, because she’s just too intrinsically good to imagine a world that works any other way!

The ...less bright and happy explanation: Adora wants/needs Catra to be fairly rewarded, not for Catra’s benefit (“I thought you didn’t care about that!” is a refrain that will come up), but for her own. Adora needs to believe that the Horde/SW are as meritocratic as they claim to be, because if they are not, then her own accomplishments are meaningless favouritism; and to accept that would be an unrecoverable blow to her ego. So, into the line of fire Catra goes!

Catra rolls over, Shadow Weaver turns to exit and we get ...ugh, this.

A visibly distressed throughout Catra pulls herself together enough to manage a half-hearted ‘It’s Fine’ shrug at Adora’s Questioning Look. Adora blithely accepts the shrug with that smile (”Oh good, everything is okay!”).

This time, the disregard for Catra’s emotional state does slip over that border into abusive/manipulative territory. Adora is seeking (intent) reassurance/absolution (benefit) that requires Catra to bury/sublimate her own distress(Harm). The smile is the clincher - it’s what makes it clear that, from Adora’s perspective, this was the desired/expected response. Now Adora can run after Shadow Weaver guilt-free, looking for her Good Girl Cookies!

Not going to cover the hallway sequence in depth; will just note that it is itself a laundry list of abuse and abuse flags. Shadow Weaver is just all around awful, really.

A friendly reminder that this next Catra/Adora scene starts with Catra being happy for Adora! Tickled pink! Adora is going up in the world! They need to celebrate!

The upset comes when Catra is informed that, not only is she not getting an equitable reward to Adora, despite equal performance (It’s fine. She doesn’t care. she does She knows that was never going to happen.), but that she’s not getting any reward at all. And yeah, that’s upsetting! It’s grossly unfair, even by Shadow Weaver standards (we are led to infer). “What is her problem with [Catra]?”

(Unsurprisingly, neither of them recognize ‘separate the victim from their support structure’  as the blatant abuse tactic that it is, rather than anything they could have had a hope of influencing.)

And Adora comes up with this. This right here.

This is well over the line into manipulative/abusive - Adora is blaming Catra (harm) with the implicit goal (intent) of  avoiding addressing the fundamentally unfair nature of the situation (benefit).

As above - Adora’s self-worth hinges on the rewards she receives being ‘valid’. If she accepts that they aren’t - that her success is a product of favouritism (or, you know, victim grooming) - it would shatter her.

But this defence mechanisms is actively harmful to Catra; it prevents Adora from acknowledging Catra’s treatment as unfair/abusive. Rewards in the Horde must be fair; if Catra is not being rewarded, it must be because of something that Catra has chosen to do/not do, just like Shadow Weaver said.

(The Just World hypothesis is a heck of a thing.)

Oh, hey, we’ve got the first instance of Catra being genuinely mean. It just took Adora victim blaming her.

So, is this abuse? Let’s see.

The harm is easy - Adora is upset at being called a people pleaser.

The intent - Well. Catra is clearly aware that this will upset Adora, but is upsetting Adora her goal? And...I don’t think it is, really. Catra’s intent - her desire - is to have Adora admit she enjoys and seeks validation. That she is, in fact, a people pleaser.

And this is basic Hierarchy of Needs stuff? It’s like wanting someone to admit that they enjoy food and shelter. Of course she does! Everyone does! Adora’s denial here is low-key bonkers, and speaks to her dysfunctions around love and validation.

So what we have is: “Catra wants (intent) Adora to admit she benefits from the validation she receives, and thus acknowledge Catra’s lack of validation as hurtful (benefit)”. This isn’t abuse, because the harm is incidental. The upset Adora experiences isn’t necessary (and is in fact interfering with the goal).

All Adora had to do to defuse this was say “Yes, I do like being rewarded. It sucks and is unfair that you weren’t.”

Instead. Well.

We get this. A classic sorry-not-sorry.

Adora wants (intent) Catra to stop being upset and forgive her (benefit), so implies that Catra’s upset is invalid(harm) [she can’t be angry over not getting something she didn’t want].

Adora tries(intent) to guilt-trip(harm) Catra for having had other emotions, so that she will go back to being happy for Adora(benefit).

And it’s only when that doesn’t work that she breaks out the skiff key.

Getting someone an extravagant gift (”love-bombing”) isn’t abusive in itself, but it can absolutely be part of an abusive cycle. Adora has decided that, instead of assessing her own behaviour to identify and address the valid reasons Catra is angry, she’s just going to do something reckless and extravagant to temporarily please her. It’s selfish and manipulative, and doesn’t solve anything. All those hurts are still there, and are inevitably going to boil over again, even if Plot didn’t interfere.

And, just. All of this. All of this stuff coming from Adora is super, super unhealthy. A lot of it is textbook emotional abuse. And I know where she gets it from! Shadow Weaver is her model for a Reasonable Authority Figure! It’s a wonder she’s not worse.

But, I find it ... not a little distressing that people can apparently go back and watch this episode and go (depending on anti status) either “LOL Catra so terrible.” or “Oh boy, what a beautiful, romantic relationship.” Because. Yergh.

You want to know one of the things that makes emotional abuse so awful? No one sees it. Adora isn’t yelling or hitting or being angry, so it’s not possible that she’s hurting Catra every time she trivializes her feelings with a smile, or smirks and blames Catra for her own hurt. Why, Adora is sad when she demands Catra’s preformative joy! Clearly Adora needs that validation more than Catra deserves ownership over her own feelings!

No, it’s clearly Catra who’s at fault, because she’s the ANGRY one. She’s the one hissing and yelling and running away and pushing back about all this hurt that clearly never happened, because hasn’t Adora always been so wonderful and calm? If Catra was right, why can’t she be ~rational~ about it? She’s must be just crazy, bad, selfish, abusive.

And...can we just not? Can we just, for once, take a miss on looking at a fictional character who is being explicitly emotionally abused and blaming them because they aren’t reacting like a perfect pristine angel, and are at fault for not Calmly Discussing their way out of an abusive situation? Please? Just for this ten minute segment?

[ancient-day]

On the Third Semester and PT Awareness

Over the year, I’ve seen various interpretations concerning the third semester and how “guilty” the Phantom Thieves are in falling prey to Maruki’s reality, and I wanted to throw out my own take and observation on the group. And this observation is based under the assumption that Akira has reached Confidant Rank 10 with every single party member, including Akechi and Sumire.

This isn’t to argue with anyone, and I’m not looking to make any sort of “I’m right; therefore, you’re wrong if you don’t agree” arguments here because at the end of the day, responses to media will always vary, and these characters are all human enough to have a multitude of interpretations. That does not make them badly written, it simply means that we as the audience may have different understandings based on our own personal experiences that impact how we view the characters.

With all that being said, I’ll get right into it. Do I think the PT were “bad friends” to Akira in the third semester? Short answer: It’s complicated, and different friends fulfill different needs. Long answer, below.

Starting with Akechi.

I’m gonna get this out of the way, but worry not, this isn’t an elaborate excuse to gush about their bond even if they’re my favorite characters. Bias aside,  Akira and Akechi have a solid bond where they’ve finally come to rely on each other, and we finally get to see that come into play in this final arc of the game.

In Rank 8, Akechi expresses admiration for Akira’s strength and admits that he’d be relying on him in a pinch.

And this is exactly what he does when he seeks out Akira as soon as he’s let out of police custody. He notices things are odd and immediately goes to the person he knows he can rely on so that they can figure it out together. It’s painted as a deal, and obviously that appears strictly transactional, but that’s exactly how Akira has operated in his own relationships. He makes deals with his confidants; this is nothing new.

He even admits that he’d have snapped Akira out of the delusion, just like Akira does for all his other friends (albeit in a much less gentle way, but in his defense, he’s not exactly equipped for gently talking someone out of their happiness).

So for better or for worse, Akechi’s here with all the straightforwardness and sharp edges you could expect from someone dragged back from death’s door to deal with yet another manipulative adult trying to control his and his friend’s lives. He isn’t without his sympathetic moments, but for the most part, he’s clearly trying to be the consistent voice of reason when anyone may falter.

One of the most incredible displays of this is 2/2. By this point, all of the PT have been broken out of their trance, and they’re well aware that Maruki is going to confront Akira, especially because Akechi basically goes out of his way to point out that it’s the most likely scenario in their group chat.

Even though they all know this, they trust Akira to be able to handle this as their leader and to reach out if he needs anything. The problem here is that... Akira isn’t exactly known to do this. By now, they’ve all known him for a year, and they know that he handles most of his shit alone (mostly due to the Protagonist ProblemTM where the protag has to be mostly self-reliant to give the player something to do, but there are also instances of Akira deliberately hiding his pain and trauma from others to ease their minds [his headaches and responses to Shido]).

So why are they making him do it alone? Why isn’t anyone on stand-by? It’s possible they consider Morgana as enough support, so perhaps the thought never crosses their mind. Even Morgana is apprehensive about the whole thing, but doesn’t advise him to contact anyone else.

So who does give him back-up? Akechi. He doesn’t invite himself in, he doesn’t text Akira to let him know he’s just outside in case he needs him, and he doesn’t draw attention to it until Maruki calls him out.

He could be here for any number of reasons, and it doesn’t even have to be just one reason. But let’s assume he’s here because he wants to make sure Akira won’t be swayed by Maruki’s words or the temptation of his life without him being present to speak for himself. In both cases, he’s emotionally backing Akira up and going out of his way to help in his own way.

This speaks volumes for his strength of resolve and how far he’s come.

I don’t need to discuss the rest of this interaction because the primary focus is that Akechi demonstrates his friendship by being there for Akira even when his year-long friends weren’t (physically).

But are they bad friends for not doing this?

Not necessarily. Not everyone has this kind of strength and awareness to understand their friends on this level. Akira and Akechi understand each other well because they’re very similar at their core. This isn’t necessarily bias because the game goes out of its way to show and tell us this (hell, Arsene’s and Loki’s silhouettes are strikingly similar!). It makes them inconsiderate perhaps, but it doesn’t mean that they’re overall bad friends.

It’s not completely their fault that they buy Akira’s stoic leader personality. He doesn’t really give them much to work with, and as much as we all want to believe that we’d do better as friends, sometimes you really do think people can handle the problems they say they can and just hope that they’ll come to you when they need you. It’s human.

So rewinding now that I’m done focusing on what Akechi offered as a friend this semester and going back to the PT being under Maruki’s influence.

Each of the thieves offers Akira an apology during their third awakening, and I’m sure many people found this highly unnecessary because as far as we know, they were completely brainwashed by Maruki’s control on the world around them. However, if this were the case, then why would they feel so deeply apologetic? I have a couple theories about this.

One. This would be the second time Akira has to push them out of their own wallowing (the first time in the Velvet Room just before fighting Yaldabaoth), and their resolves back then would appear flimsy to them now having fallen under yet another form of manipulation. Where before they were ready to submit to the hopelessness and sloth, here they’re falling under Maruki’s spell because a strong enough part of them desired things to be different regardless of how far they’d come and how much they’d grown.

Two. Because they were at least partially aware things were odd and willingly chose to ignore it because they didn’t want to confront the truth.

This is said before the third awakenings, right after the group comes to rescue Akira and Akechi and help defeat berserk!Cendrillon. While the group had a conversation about vaguely remembering events that contradict their happy reality prior to this, this confirms that at least Futaba was aware things were odd even before Akira tried to snap her out of it. Whether this is due to her navigation abilities or her awakening having been linked to her desire to never again turn her eyes away from the truth, it’s hard to say. But this is important to note that while they were tempted by Maruki, at least one person in the group was aware that things were odd and willingly chose not to question it.

Can we blame her? Of course not. But it’s still worth pointing out that this situation isn’t so clear as “the PT had absolutely zero idea that they were in an odd situation until Akira tried to wake them from it.”

So what about everyone else? What do they really have to be sorry for?

Morgana apologizes for not holding true to his resolve, and he feels as though he’s let both himself and Akira down in doing so. He also acknowledges that he’s responsible for shoving all his own problems onto Akira and vows to change this.

While he doesn’t seem to admit to any awareness that things were odd before Akira put the idea in his head, it seems like he still holds himself responsible for having had doubts in his resolve that he’d reached with Akira in their rank 10. And these doubts caused him to rely on that false happiness and turn his back on Akira, even if he didn’t mean to.

I think it’s great that he brings attention to this and wants to be more independent. Of course Akira will still be there for him, but it’s not healthy for either of them for Morgana to have put him in this position, and now they can continue growing in their friendship. And so when he promises to protect Akira from here on out, it’s a vow that rings true because he had the strength to confront his own weaknesses, admit to them, and apologize for how they hurt someone he cares deeply about. Sometimes we hurt people we love without meaning to or when we’re caught up in ourselves.

And these characters are teenagers. They’re inherently pretty selfish, which isn’t an evil or bad thing so much as it’s a stage of life that makes it difficult to look outside yourself. Makoto even admits to this in her own apology.

When we’re fans of these characters, our instinct is to say you didn’t do anything wrong; you have nothing to apologize for, but these apologies aren’t coming out of no where, and they’re allowed to reflect and regret what they’ve done even if they didn’t mean to.

And I know I already touched on Futaba’s situation here, but there’s something else in her third awakening that shows her bond with Akira and adds to her guilt. She specifically fears that she’s betrayed him and hurt him greatly, even though he reassures her she hasn’t. Why does this stand out to me? Because all throughout Royal, one of Akira’s consistent fears is the fear of betrayal.

And this shows that Futaba knows him well enough to know this is something that hurts him personally, and she’s worried she did that to him. While the hurt isn’t as severe as she fears, it’s a fair assumption for her to come to after having admitted that she willingly turned away from the truth.

I’m going to cut the awakenings here because I don’t have much else to add about the entirety of the PT because it could end up redundant, but these were specific examples that show that they do have things to apologize to Akira for, and it’s not a matter of them blaming themselves for being “brainwashed” so much as them apologizing for once again putting Akira in a position where he has to snap them out of their weaknesses after they’ve promised to be there for him.

The overall impression I get from their responsibility in the matter is that to an extent, all of them probably experienced something similar to what Futaba described about having felt something was off initially but ignored/denied it until Akira came to them and really made them confront it out loud. Her sense of it may have been the strongest, but I still think there has to be some degree in each of them, even if faint.

This makes them human, flawed yet sympathetic. They’re allowed to mess up in their friendships, especially since a majority of them have close to no experience with friendship as is. Akechi isn’t the better support here due to his own skills in friendship; he and Akira have a special understanding of one another because they’re extremely similar and aren’t convinced by masks and appearances. And Akechi has been severely manipulated, so he knows damn well that Akira’s gonna need back-up against another manipulative person even if he thinks he can handle it alone. Akechi’s been there and he knows how that goes.

So it’s not necessarily a matter of him being the better friend overall so much as they’re all Akira’s close friends and support him in various ways. And ideally, Akira should have that in his friend group. There are things that the PT can offer that Akechi can’t, and vice versa. But I think it’s more than fair to acknowledge when the PT slip up and have a messy handling of their relationships.

They’re all growing and learning.

[al-perthe]

The Arcana - MC with Epilepsy Headcanons (LIs & Courtiers)

I know we're most of the way through November, but it's National Epilepsy Awareness Month, and as someone with seizures, I thought I'd do a headcanon post for the Main 6 & Courtiers with an apprentice who has epilepsy - can be interpreted as platonic or romantic if you so choose. The Courtier ones are more about prevention or very specific scenarios so theymaynotbeasgood

Note that epilepsy manifests differently for everyone, so I may not have had the same experiences as someone else; I did my best to research outside of my own experiences but it may come across as rather general or vague. That being said, feel free to add on if you'd like to contribute (especially for the Courtiers... pls help).

EDIT: Under a read more because I didn’t realize how big this was, sorry!

ASRA:

Getting you to take your medication, and remember when to do so, was one of the challenges he faced when you awakened without any memories three years ago.It really took him a while to feel safe travelling out of the city, constantly worrying about what if you forgot a dose, what if you had a really bad seizure and got hurt, or even the thought of you just having a smaller one and feeling alone and afraid... As someone who enjoys naps, he's probably the best at making sure you get a good night of rest to help prevent seizures.

Safe. Peaceful. No danger.

Naturally, Faust is going to help comfort you after a seizure, especially if she can tell that you're experiencing fear and/or confusion as a result of it.

NADIA:

When you first started the investigation, you made sure she was aware of your condition. You assured her you'd be okay to take it on, just be a little patient if you were ever 'out of it' for a few minutes.

Oh, it's no trouble at all - she'll make sure that a specialist is brought in to ensure your treatment is the best it can be.

But a few moments later, she clarifies - this isn't being done for the sake of the investigation, and she apologizes if she gave off that impression. She does genuinely care about your well-being, and if she needs to take a step back or if there's more she can do, just let her know.

Her room is definitely the go-to spot if you need a quiet spot to wind down after a seizure.

Also good at making sure you're comfortable and can sleep well.

JULIAN:

Part of you wondered 'what if...?' when you found out about Julian's healing mark, but you dismissed it quickly - there's a chance it wouldn't work, and with the whole murder investigation going on, dealing with seizures (even if temporarily in theory) would just be another thing weighing on him. You couldn't do it. You wouldn't do it. It was selfish.As a doctor, he's the best at recognizing your symptoms as a result - he can tell right away if you're having an aura and need to move to a quieter spot or at least sit down. He does worry about it each time it happens, but puts on a calm face for your sake.Even Malak seems a little bit quieter when you're having a rough time with your epilepsy.Need a distraction afterwards ? Count on him to have a story from his travels to get your mind off it!Of course, let him know if your symptoms change, or if your medication doesn't seem to be having the same effect - he'll look into finding a more effective treatment.

MURIEL:

Inanna's the best at picking up when you're about to have a seizure, and lets Muriel know immediately.Since she can't always accompany him, he's done his best to learn to recognize when a seizure's on the way, or when it's happening. As someone who prefers peace and quiet, he knows the go-to places for some privacy if you're in the presence of other people.The most calming presence you could ask for once the seizure has passed. If you're experiencing confusion afterward, he asks you simple questions and makes simplified statements to help ground you in reality. So ironically, he's the best at helping you remember what happened.He may not be the best at striking up a conversation, but will offer you some words of comfort and reassurance afterwards.

PORTIA:

After your first seizure around her, she acknowledges that 'something just didn't feel right' moments before.

No guilty feelings though - once you've settled down, she asks what she can do to help in the future. She'll support you the best she can.

She's actually the one who brings you to Mazelinka, to see if she knows about any home remedies that could somehow help. At the very least, her soup will give you a good night's sleep to help prevent them!

Naturally, she also seeks guidance from Julian on how to help you with your condition.

If you're feeling anxious after a seizure, she's actually the one who's best at rationalizing you through those fears. The dread that there's someone just outside the cottage, the shop, etc that could hurt you? She checks out the windows and doors first, confirms with you that there's nobody out there, and reassures you that even if there was someone out there after you, they'll have to go through her first!

Expect to find notes from time to time with compliments or general positivity that also remind you to take your medication!

LUCIO:

If you've spaced out due to a seizure, you might need something repeated. He's not normally one for patience... but you're the exception. If anyone gives you a hard time for it, he's bound to round on them with a death glare.

As the Count, he's got access to all kinds of resources. He spares no expense at making sure there's specialists who can get you the best medication as possible, as quickly as possible, when you're in need of a new supply.

Mercedes and Melchior spend more time around you too - they aren't as quick to pick up on an oncoming seizure, but when they do, they make a great team. One of them stays with you, and the other goes off to find Lucio.

Need to get your mind off it? Did you know that he had a saltwater crocodile as a companion during his travels near the Sea of Persephia in his early mercenary days? When he first met the crocodile, it was clearly starving, so he had to wrestle it off... and as he goes on his heroic tirade, it's not so much the adventures themselves but the clearly exaggerated parts that entertain and distract you.

Sometimes you just need something or someone to hold onto, to keep you at peace and keep you feeling real after a seizure. Okay... so... patience, peace, and quiet aren't exactly his strong points. But - with a firm yet comforting hand on your shoulder - he's got your back, and you'll get through this.

VALDEMAR:

Epilepsy? It's actually more common than you think. They've naturally seen it plenty of times over the years.

Some types of epilepsy are limited to specific regions of the brain. Theoretically, it could be possible through surgery to alter or even remove the areas where your seizures generate... you leave it at a "I'll get back to you on it" and stick with your medication for now.

Then it finally happens. You've had a seizure in their presence. You're feeling confused and uneasy, but Valdemar doesn't seem bothered at all. "Seems like you're starting to come back. You might feel unwell for a few minutes, but that's typical in the postictal stage." More confusion. "... Right, simplified terms. You had a seizure. Now you're recovering. What you're feeling will pass. You need only wait a few minutes."

The explanations are nonchalant, blunt, and brief. But that just makes it easier to understand. It's... surprisingly calming, too. You scoot a little closer to them. They don't move away.

Will share interesting accounts of historical figures who also dealt with epilepsy, and reviews their own records of past patients with symptoms similar to yours to study potential triggers and effective treatments or preventions. After a while, you start talking beyond that, about how your day went and other chitchat. It seems that as a result of the time spent around you, they have grown... rather fond of your presence.

VALERIUS:

Obviously, for safety reasons, you're not going to drink heavily. But while some people have to avoid alcohol entirely due to their seizures, you're part of the typical group that can handle some alcohol, a drink or two depending on the strength.

If you're out with Valerius at some sort of soiree, he'll make sure that the one drink you get is the best one suited to your palate. Similarly, he points out the best food to pair with it so that way you're also eating to neutralize the alcohol.

Sometimes, you decide to pass on the drinking, and have fruit juice or even just straight up water served in a wine glass. He'll frown at you, but you KNOW you saw the briefest hint of amusement in his eyes.

To be frank, he usually attends these sort of gatherings for the wine and/or meeting with important figures. So he is ready to get you out of there if you need a quiet spot away from others.

He's not very good with reassurance. Sure, just a simple 'it's going to be okay' can help, but is it really enough? You can't just expect him to repeat it like a mantra or something. He's absolutely making that flustered face as he tries to figure out other things to say, but that's comforting on its own - he's trying for your sake.

VLASTOMIL:

Maybe there was a sudden flash of lightning, maybe there was some 'grand finale' of a fireworks show, but your photosensitivity stirred up a seizure in you.

He's not really sure what to do, but a cautious approach is a best approach.

He draws you aside later to ask about what happened - now admittedly, he's not very familiar with epilepsy. But photosensitivity? Absolutely! There are certain species of worm that are actually quite sensitive to lighting, such as... oh, right. The point is, for some enclosures, he's used a special type of tinted glass to reduce the effects of sunlight and nights when the moon is brighter, and perhaps something similar might be useful for you?

A week later, he brings you a pair of spectacles with darker lenses. They actually do the job pretty well? And he even had them designed to go along with your aesthetic? Whether he had them commissioned or if he just crafted them himself, this is... surprisingly nice.

Oh, and you can't forget the tea. Filling you in on the latest gossip and the occasional Worm Fact once you're feeling calmer is his way of taking your mind off any lingering anxiety. Also, he recommends a variety of herbal teas that calm nerves or even help you fall asleep.

VOLTA:

The first time it happened, oh, Volta did not know what to do! She was so distraught that someone else had to step in and help you collect yourself.

But now that she's aware of your condition, she will offer you words of comfort and kindness to help you after your seizure has passed. Volta's a sweetheart, of course she'd be good at that!

She has a highly developed sense of smell thanks to all the food she exposes herself to. It seems as though, when you were having stronger or more frequent seizures, there was something in your diet you had been eating more often.

In other words, she helped you determine that certain foods were contributing to your seizures. Grapefruit seemed to be the only thing you needed to avoid - come to think of it, you recall that it doesn't react well with certain components used in preparing your medicine - and other foods just needed to be consumed less.

She'll eat those foods at any gatherings, since you're trying to avoid them... oh, but save some of the other dishes for Volta, too!

VULGORA:

Tonic-clonic or grand mal seizures... call them what you will, but point is, if you collapse and lose consciousness in a seizure, they will get everyone to STAND. BACK.

"It's a seizure, just give it a minute or two, it'll pass! I SAID, STAND. BACK!! IF you're so much as THINKING about trying to hold them down, DON'T. NO! Swallowing the tongue IS NOT A THING!! Not unless you CUT IT OFF and FORCE IT IN SOMEONE'S MOUTH! Which I am CLEARLY NOT DOING!!"

... Okay, so getting other people to stay calm while you're having a seizure is not their strong suit. But they're certainly good at getting people to keep their distance, at least.

They're talkative and energetic! Of course being calm and quiet is hard for them! ... But maybe that's just another challenge for them to conquer? The first time they tried they basically just held their breath as long as they could.

Someone actually had the audacity to make a rude remark about your condition. But unfortunately for them, they somehow missed the bright red figure of Pontifex Vulgora in the vicinity.

That person was never seen in Vesuvia again. Because they moved out, after receiving a rather persuasive argument to move to... some other place. Oh, okay, you were worried there was some other reason they disappeared.

[sagemcmae]

SessKag DDN January 2021 Theme: Space

Vast | Cold | Air | Black | Pull | Distant | Matter | Light | Radiant | Gravitate

Vast

The sea of grass sways in the summer breeze. Under the sun’s light, the blades change from green to gold. Sesshomaru watches the hypnotizing transition of the colors, his mind drifting far from his position.

Distraction plagues him often these days. His thoughts are an endless stream of questions. Like the strands of grass before him, his thoughts bounce back and forth, dancing along the line between reason and impulse. 

It is a narrow ledge. He has never been this close to falling over. 

Throughout his entire life, Sesshomaru has followed the path set before him. He has only deterred from his course once. The choice to restore Rin’s life was the will of Tenseiga, not his own. The blade chose her. He could blame his detour on the sword. When it comes to his current predicament, there is only one whom he can hold responsible.

Himself.

Sesshomaru tilts his head to the sky, contemplating what will become of him. If he allows himself to continue along this path of shameful musings, he will become a sentimental fool— weak and incompetent.

This he cannot allow.

He tells himself to ignore temptation, to avoid the one who has put all these ridiculous notions in his head. He guards his heart with the same ferocity as his ward.

“Sesshomaru!”

He turns.

She appears on the hillside with a warm smile and a wave.

Perhaps he has it wrong. Maybe he is already the fool.

But with her he feels invincible.

With Kagome, the possibilities are vast.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Cold

If Sesshomaru were to compare her to something, he would liken her to the sun. She is full of warmth. Her aura is bright and vibrant. Those in her life flock to her, a constant rotation of friends, family, and acquaintances.

The miko delights in the company she keeps. She showers them with praise, lavishes them with gifts, and embraces them tightly. He never has to guess what she is thinking. Her emotions are written on her face. Rarely, has he seen her guarded or closed off.

Though there are times when she is ashamed of her feelings— usually because of something his half-wit brother has said —the miko remains happy. She shares her smiles with everyone.

Even him.

By comparison, his mother is cold. She may love him— in her own way —but she does not express it through physical touch or words. His mother has always placed propriety over all else. Sesshomaru can only imagine how she would react if she saw the miko’s horrendous manners.

He smirks at the visual.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Air

The first time he encountered her alone was by that forsaken lake. What happened to her companions remains a mystery. All he knows is that he blames them for her plight. 

When he arrived at the water’s edge, the last thing he intended to do was enter. Then he saw her head crest the surface. Her arms flailed wildly and he went to her. 

Sometimes, he can still hear her frantic gasps for air. The sound haunts him even now. 

It is what makes him reach for her in the evening, seeking reassurance that she is safe. The way his fingers gently card through her hair is nothing like the desperate way she clung to him that day. Drenched and shivering, she had clamped onto him with more strength then he realized one so small could possess.

He had lent her mokomoko made and gone in search of wood to build a fire. Sesshomaru intended to warm her body and dry her clothes but when he had returned, she was gone.

The scent of his brother polluted the air— his only clue to what had happened to her.

And the only reason why he did not follow.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Black

The endless darkness terrifies her. Each and every time Kagome tries to enter the well, the memory of that day stops her. She stands there, frozen as the nightmare takes hold. Her crippling fear has already caused her to miss two exams and her little brother’s birthday. 

Kagome tells herself she won’t let one bad day ruin her. She flings herself over the side, dropping through the shaft with a scream. 

The portal opens. 

Kagome descends through the continuous void.

When her feet land in the dirt, she glances up, relieved to find herself not at the bottom of a deep lake but back at the shrine. 

But as she climbs out, Kagome finds herself remembering something else from that day.

The strong arms of the one who saved her.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Pull

His constant indecision is akin to the push and pull of the sea. It wears him down, slowly taking over his sense of purpose bit by bit until he can no longer see reason.

Sesshomaru bypasses all protocol. He does not announce his intentions. He does not request permission. He does not wait.

In battle, if one remains still for too long, they will be discarded. The same can be said for courting. Sesshomaru can not afford to be stagnant. If he wishes to have the miko, he needs to act.

Now.

He slips away from his vassal’s prying eyes, dodges a run-in with the half-breed, and manages to scare off the wolf prince.

His efforts are not in vain.

When he finds her, she is alone in the hot springs.

He makes his move.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Distant

It is strange how far from someone you can feel even when they are walking right beside you. The realization has bothered Kagome all day. With each step the group takes toward defeating Naraku, she feels herself drifting further away from Inuyasha.

At first, Kagome figures it is because of Kikyo. Inuyasha doesn’t seem bothered by the fact that his ex-girlfriend is a clay doll. To him, Kikyo is still the perfect priestess she was in life. He doesn’t acknowledge the fact she relies on her soul scavengers to keep her standing upright or her disregard for others. 

Kagome isn’t sure how to feel about that. Sango tells Kagome to hate Kikyo but all Kagome feels toward the other woman is pity— pity for the life that has been stolen from her and pity for her lost chance with Inuyasha. It is cruel, unfair.

Once Kagome recognizes that she feels sorry for them, it is easier to let go. Pity isn’t love. Maybe she can love Inuyasha as a friend or even as a brother but Kagome will never feel for him the way he feels for Kikyo— the way they feel for each other.

She sinks into the hot spring, wondering where that leaves her. In truth, she has been considering a life here in the Feudal Era. It is easier to manage than entrance exams and job hunting. Kagome would rather face off against a demon than a math test any day.

“I’m ridiculous,” she mutters to herself.

“I disagree,” a deep voice replies.

Kagome’s eyes go wide as Sesshomaru steps into the springs.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Matter

She does not scream for her companions to come to her aid, nor does she make a move for her bow. Sesshomaru takes this as a sign that he can stay. He settles into a rock across from the miko, keeping his gaze upon her.

Droplets crash into the pool, falling from her wet bangs and sending ripples across the water’s surface. Her cheeks are painted scarlet and her eyes look at everything but him.

“You are unusually quiet this evening,” he remarks.

Her throat bobs slightly. Sesshomaru watches her lips part as if she means to speak to him. Then, she shakes her head and closes her mouth as quickly as she opened it.

“If you are concerned about my brother, you needn’t worry. He is preoccupied with that abomination he calls a lover,” Sesshomaru tells her.

Still, she says nothing.

Her head is angled down. Under the veil of steam, he can barely make out the color of her eyes. He wishes to be closer but he doesn’t dare move for fear is scaring her off.

“Are you frightened of me?”

The miko shakes her head.

“Then what is the matter?”

“Seriously?” she scoffs. She raises her face, glaring at him. “You’re naked!”

He blinks. “I fail to see the issue.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Light

Kagome covers her face with her hand. “I— uh, I’m going to go,” she announces. She reaches around behind her, trying to locate her towel.

Full moon was last week which means there is barely enough light to see anything. Well, anything except for Sesshomaru’s extremely defined chest.

Don’t go there, girl, she warns herself.

Her fingers close around soft fabric. Sighing with relief, Kagome slips out of the hot springs, making sure to hold the towel up to maintain her modesty.

As if there’s any of that left, she thinks ruefully remembering all the times Inuyasha and Miroku have spied on her and Sango. Perverts!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Radiant

Sesshomaru has never denied himself anything. What he wants he takes. He has the title, the strength, and the power to obtain what lever he desires.

Yet, when it comes to the miko, he restrains himself.

His eyes linger on the slender slopes of her shoulders, the gentle line of her spine, and supple curves of her breasts. She is radiant.

He does not stop her from leaving the spring. Nor does he call after her. She may not know how she affects him but he is acutely aware of how he affects her.

The air is thick with arousal. The taste of it hangs heavy on his tongue, a sampling of what is to come.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Gravitate

Kagome nearly trips over her own feet as she hurries away from the springs. The only thing she can hear is her pulse ringing in her ears. The noise drowns out everything else and makes her feel a bit light-headed.

She stumbles into the clearing, earning her a curious look from her friends.

“Is everything alright, Kagome?” Sango asks.

“Yeah, yeah, everything is fine,” she answers, waving her friend off. “Just going to grab my stuff and get dressed.”

“Do you need any help?” Miroku inquires.

A smack echoes through the forest, causing Kagome to laugh. You think he’d have learned by now, she thinks, shaking her head.

With her pajamas in hand, she finds a quiet spot several paces away from the group. The branches overhead have blocked out almost all of the light, making it difficult to see.

Kagome fumbles and curses as she attempts to stick her foot through the leg of her pajama bottoms. It snags on the seam. She loses her balance and falls to the ground.

Groaning, she rubs her backside. That will leave a bruise.

With a sigh, Kagome hastily dressed before anyone comes over to see what all the commotion is about.

Just as she finishes slipping her top overhead, a voice whispers in her ear. “If you require assistance, all you need to do is ask.”

Kagome gasps. “Sesshomaru!”

He takes her hand and places a chaste kiss upon it. “Until next time.”

Then, he is gone.

But Kagome knows he’ll be back.

She wears a smile to sleep that night, dreaming of dancing in the dark.

[magic-fluffie-boyes]

Hello! I’m not sure if your asks are open still (please disregard this or disregard this if this would not be healthy for you to write currently!) but your fic with Mammon and Beel’s responses to an MC who has anorexia was really therapeutic to read, and I was wondering if you could do a few more reactions (with any character you feel like)?

It’s been a while since I’ve even looked at my ask box on any account, but I saw the notification for this one, and… I dunno, some cord inside of me was hit just right. It’s more than likely that my own condition has gotten worse and I need the therapeutic comfort too… whatever it is I need to thank you for giving me a chance to allow myself to enjoy doing this again. As for my other nonnie who initially requested Luci and Asmo, (whose ask will be answered after this), thank you too, I’m glad that I can be sort of help and comfort for a condition that isn’t really acknowledged enough.

⚠️TW: Annorexia; Mentions of body image issues; Bad grammar⚠️

Lucifer

⭐️ Lucifer prides himself on knowing much about the human condition, despite not fully understanding it; and he prides himself on knowing his darling exchange student very well… but this...

⭐️ He doesn’t notice it at first, mostly because he doesn’t care to notice at first. Themskipping out on a few meals is a bit annoying, but nothing too concerning to him as they seemed healthy -- happy even.

⭐️ He does acknowledge it is… a bit unnatural… not what they should be doing, but so long as they are healthy there should be no issues.

⭐️ However, it gets to the point where they’re skipping multiple meals in a day, and they look pale and tired all the time. They hardly have the energy to do much anymore, and they’re most definitely falling behind in their classes from how distracted they are.

⭐️ He tried to step in then, but they just told him that they were fine, and began a semi-normal eating routine again… his pride wouldn’t allow him to press any further when there wasn’t much reason to.

⭐️ It wasn’t until Satan walked into his office one day, clearly riled up and very upset with him that he realized the gravity of the situation.

⭐️ Satan explained to him what they were doing was seriously harming their body and health, and that it needed to be dealt with unless he wanted to see his darling human fade away before his very eyes.

⭐️ That is when he decided to step in because he may not know many things about humans -- not that he would admit that -- but if Satan was seeking out his help in such a fashion it must be serious.

⭐️ So he takes them aside and asks them to explain it to him, because how could they neglect such an essential part of their health? Why would they do this to themselves? There had to be a logical explanation...

⭐️ When they do explain, he’s left a bit confused, and a bit upset at himself. He could’ve done something about this from the beginning, or at least stopped it from developing so severely… but of course, he didn’t, and there’s nothing he can do but help them get better now.

⭐️ He starts by reintroducing them to food via having his brothers and himself cook up food that he knows they like, staying at the dinner table with them until they finish their plate entirely.

⭐️ He also begins taking time out of his work to listen to them and better understand their situation, while also quietly assuring them that they are not alone, he is there and he always will be.

⭐️ He takes everything on himself because it’s, in his eyes at least, the best way to deal with such an issue. If he can watch over everything, he can be sure that they are taking great care of themselves.

⭐️ And, of course, he assures them that their body is only a small fraction of what makes them his human. No matter if they were underweight, overweight, anorexic, or not he loves them and he always will.

⭐️ His pride may get in his way sometimes, but when his human is involved he will always find a way to overcome it and care for them as they need.

Asmodeus

🌸 Asmo is more than likely one of the first brothers to notice -- or acknowledge he notices -- just after Mammon and Satan, who notice near immediately.

🌸 However, they seem to at least be eating a bit, and their personality and beauty still shone brightly to all of them, so there really shouldn’t be any reason to worry… right? Right?

🌸 He doesn’t want to bother them if nothing is wrong, because as long as they’re a healthy weight they’re doing fine, so he doesn’t have to worry at all!

🌸 No, the truth of the matter is Asmo is worried, seriously worried about them. Eating too much wasn’t good for the body, but eating too little was even worse in his opinion. The physical effects were so much more damming to them, and it was so scary to watch it happen.

🌸 He notices that they’re a few sizes smaller than they usually would be, their complexion is sickly and pale, and their eye bags and little marks that would normally be unnoticeable seemed to stand out on their skin.

🌸 They weren’t looking good, needless to say, and it made him panic a bit. He didn’t want to see his adorable human rot away from something that could be helped.

🌸 As someone who, in the past, had struggled to find a balanced way to keep up healthy body weight and shape that satisfied his perfectionist mindset, he understood what they were going through better than any of his brothers.

🌸 Which is why he doesn’t let it go further than skipping a few meals before he decided to step in. He doesn’t want them to suffer through this kind of thing any longer than they already have, he just wants them to be happy and feel loved.

🌸 So, of course, he has a spa night. Just the two of them talking and having fun together where no one could bother them, and that’s when he asks them what’s been going on. And he listens intensively to every word they have to say, wanting to understand what they’re going through more than anything.

🌸 After they’re done, Asmo wordlessly brings them into a hug, allowing them to cry or calm down or just think for a moment about what they just admitted before Asmo said anything to them. He just wanted them to know that this feeling was okay and that they shouldn’t be ashamed to feel.

🌸 He spends the rest of the night making them feel loved -- no not like that -- telling them how beautiful they are, how much he loves them, and how much he thinks they deserve from the world.

🌸 After that he wakes them up early so they can devise an eating plan that they think would work well for them because they shouldn’t be starving their body of the essential nutrients that it needs. And they work for a very long time on this plan because they deserve nothing but the best, and Asmo is damn determined to give that to them.

🌸 With him its constant affection and reassurance that they’re doing great, even if they skipped a meal or messed up a bit Asmo is right there to figure out what went wrong and assure them that they can do better next time

🌸 Overall he’s surprisingly gentle and caring with the situation, wanting more than anything to make them know that they’re loved and they can get through this by themselves, if not with a little encouragement from him and his brothers.

Belphegor

🐄 He is absolutely the last of the brothers to notice and the last one to take action, partly because he genuinely didn’t notice a change in behavior and partly because he thinks that someone else will deal with it so he doesn’t have to.

🐄 Of course things don’t go in his favor, none of his brothers know how to deal with this kind of situation, or they all think since they’re his human he should be the one to deal with it… and… yeah fair, but it seemed like a bother.

🐄 Yeah, Belphegor isn’t the most… sensitive to this issue… he’s actually pretty damn rude about it for a long time. He doesn’t get it, “If you need to eat then eat, don’t starve yourself for no reason, you stupid human.”

🐄 He only gets worried when he notices that their physical appearance has changed because if even he is noticing then it’s getting to a point where things need to change and they need to change fast.

🐄 Only problem? Belphie doesn’t really know what to do about it, he’s never really dealt with things like this. He and Beel had never had issues with their appearances or their eating habits -- well Beel was a special case in that regard.

🐄 So, surprise, Belphie takes time away from napping to do some research on this stuff, because while he thinks it’s dumb he does want his stupid little human to take care of themselves, or else he wouldn’t have a stupid little human to love.

🐄 With a bare minimum understanding of the disorder and a genuine want to help, Belphie decided to ask them about what was bothering them so much that they weren’t eating the nice food everyone was making for them.

🐄 Well, to say he was annoyed with their answer would be an understatement, he was angry. How could they think so little of themselves, he wouldn’t be so infatuated with them if he thought so little of them.

🐄 He assures them that their body size shouldn’t matter at all, because that’s not why he likes them in the first place, albeit a bit rudely.

🐄 His approach to it is aggressive but loving and a bit annoyed at the thought of them not taking care of themselves. He just wants them to be happy and healthy that’s all, he just doesn’t know how to express that in normal ways.

🐄 He asks his brothers for help, especially Satan and Beel, since he trusts that they would have a better understanding for such a topic than he ever could.

🐄 Beel helps by setting up a workout and sort of introducing them to foods slowly again, he’s by far more gentle than Belphegor with this kind of stuff and has a much better way of reassuring them.

🐄 As for Satan, he’s just more educated on this and Belphegor goes to him for advice on how to help more. What’s the best types of foods, what kinds of ways can i reassure them? stuff like that.

🐄 Overall the approach is lazy, sloppy, and a bit harsh, but it’s clear that he’s doing his best and just wants them to be happy in the end all.

Thank you. Hope you enjoyed.

[mementomori-demimonde]

Hidden Scars

I - II - III - IV - V - VI

Chapter 7

It’s early in the morning when you hear familiar noises coming from the other side of your door.

Miranda usually wakes up before you, gets something down in her room - some exercises, you presume, or you like to imagine her opening her laptop to check her email, given that killers do receive emails in the first place - then ventures in the bathroom for her morning shower. When she comes out, it’s usually your time to wake up, claiming the bathroom for yourself before joining her for breakfast.

Miranda is very strict when it comes down to her daily routine and you easily caught up, fitting in pretty well too. Knowing exactly what you are going to eat depending on which day it is, is reassuring on one level and psychotic on the other. It’s Miranda, you don’t ask - you just do and go with the flow.

Since you know what she usually does every morning, you try to ignore the noises and go back to sleep. You know it won’t be hard since you haven’t even fully woken up in the first place.

You roll on your side, curling deeper into the quilt seeking comfort and warmth.

All her words tend to swirl inside your head constantly, harsh and hopeless, adding to the physical loneliness getting worse every day. At first, you thought it would’ve been bearable, with her, but now she’s just distant, keeping you at arms’ length, more than ever before. It’s been days since the last time she decided to touch you - for one reason or the other. You genuinely fear she’s grown tired of you and one day, one very close day, she’ll simply get rid of you. It’s been a few nights that you’ve cried yourself to sleep, feeling desolate and helpless, only to act completely cool during the day, fulfilling her every whim of hers, pretending nothing is bothering you; you refuse to cry yourself to sleep in the mornings as well.

Positive thoughts, and maybe, just maybe, you will dream something again, something quiet for a change, after dreamless nights or nightmares that you could hardly remember.

You’ve just fallen back to half-slumber when the noises get closer, distant noises of even steps marching in the corridor, and you vaguely acknowledge them, maybe imagine, in your head, to open your eyes and sit up in your bed to wait for Miranda flinging the door open, teeth bare and that feral twitch in her eyes as she explains her plans for the day with uncalled excitement.

You realize it has only happened in your head when you feel yourself being turned harshly on your front, and you open your mouth and eyes to protest, but your face is pressed into the pillows.

You try to complain, but your voice comes out muffled.

Around you, there’s only blackness.

It’s been long enough for you to be able to recognize Miranda’s touch - harsh and unforgiving as they come - and, despite the surprise, you manage to keep the panic at bay. You try to push yourself away by propping your hands into the mattress if only to breathe, but all your body tenses when you feel something knotted and strong being planted in the small of your back to keep you still.  It takes a few instants to acknowledge her weight as she presses her knees in your tailbone.

A strangled yelp leaves you at the unexpected pain, but it’s nothing compared to the surprise of feeling your clothes being quickly tugged away and the cold thickness probing at the apex of your thighs. You regret perching yourself on your elbows and knees when you tried to scramble away because now you’re helplessly exposed and at her mercy.

Whatever it is, before you can even register what’s happening, Miranda presses in. A scalding, unpleasant burning blooming from the invaded depths of you and webbing into your body like electric sparks of pain. Unwillingly your muscles clench on their own volition, a mere reflex to the uncalled invasion that only enhances your discomfort.

Among all the unexpected things she’d come up with until now, this is one of the few you’re still not used to. Usually, it’s just her playing, you can feel it every time, and even if she has decided to attack you, there’s always a few moments in which she lets you get aware of what’s going to happen and lets you get accustomed to the idea - a few instants, but it’s enough. This is different. It’s not a playful assault but something painfully close to a punishment.

You don’t know if she’s shifted in her movements or some desperate strength possessed you, but after various attempts, you manage to push yourself up a bit, still pinned under her, you drew in a shaky breath, your face scrunched with the effort.

“Fuck, Miranda, I’m not ready!” You try to reason, a part of you still hoping it’s one of her sick games and she’s simply gotten carried off and heedlessly crossed the line. Though another part of you knows it’s impossible.

Miranda stills, the pain lessens but the soreness remains. In the silence of the room, you can only hear your own ragged breaths and the small whimper you’re not able to swallow when she slumps on your back, impaling you still, her hot breath fanning the back of your neck.

“Are we seriously still on this?” She snarls, and by the way her voice comes out, you know she has her jaw clenched. “You think the people I deal with are going to wait for you to be ready? I already told you once: men won’t waste the chance to prove their power and do their worst.”

This is one of her games as much as it is a punishment: none of those. You know, in her mind, she’s simply keeping her promise of letting you have a taste of all the bad things that might happen if you don’t listen. She's not playing, she's not punishing you.

She threatens to move again, the rocking of her hips just enough to remind you about the scalding pain, and you grunt.

“Okay, okay, you’ve made your point.” You beg, struggling to keep still and silently praying for Miranda to just withdraw. But the ache is too much to let you ask politely, completely unbothered by the possible outcome; the slight hesitation from her serves only as a spur. “Christ, get off.”

She does, not unhurriedly, but she does, and you can’t even decide if it’s a mercy from her or a way to prolong that unforeseen agony.

You roll back on your side, and a dull thud of an object thrown away somewhere on the floor meets your ears; you barely register it and don’t even bother to check what it is.

Swallowing thickly, your eyes fluttering close as a string of curses leaves your mouth, you curl on yourself, reaching between your legs in a pointless attempt to lessen the soreness there.

Through hooded eyes, you search for Miranda. You thought she would leave now, only to come back in a while with one of her morals or with the task of the day like nothing happened; instead, she just sits there against the footboard, legs crossed, in her tank top and shorts she usually sleeps in, the nail of her forefinger gripped causally between her teeth, blue eyes boring into you, shimmering at the daylight.

“You’re a fucking psycho.” You mumble, drawing a few deeper breaths now that she seems calmer, at least, the brutality in her securely locked somewhere within for another occasion.

Miranda sighs sharply, tugs away a hangnail, and shrugs.

“Tell me something I don’t know.” She says, her tone is utterly bored. Miranda clicks her tongue, you feel her gaze raking at you, but there’s neither violence nor guilt - actually, there is nothing at all, nothing you can discern anyway; nothing that agrees with her, that is. She scrunches her nose a little, her brow pinched as she ventures into unknown territory. “You’re okay?”

You scoff, chuff out a disbelief laugh. Despite everything, that woman never ceases to amaze you, for the better or the worse.

“You really got some nerve.”

Miranda’s face flattens, every shadow of emotion gone in a blink. She shrugs.

“Are you?” She asks again, head cocked to the side, studying you with startling disinterest.

You draw a shaky breath, pull yourself up, and prop your back against the headboard, tucking the quilt on your lap. Without looking, you nod, the distance between the two of you too great and, at the same time, not enough.

Despite being early morning, despite the sleep you just got, you feel tired. There’s a familiar heaviness in your head, much like it’s the end of the day when, in reality, it hasn’t even begun yet. You’re tired of waiting for her to strike, you’re tired of waiting for her to betray you with a harsh slap after a sweet gesture - no matter how phony it is -, you’re tired of waiting in general.

If she’s not the one who got tired of you in the first place, you’re stuck with Miranda just as much as Miranda is stuck with you. There’s no need to make it any more difficult than it already is since you’ve started to convince yourself there’s nothing more to hope for but a domestic partnership with benefits - mostly on her part.

“Miranda, I’ll do it.” You sigh deeply, folding your arms on your chest, only barely peeking up in her direction. “I’ll do whatever you ask of me, if it makes you feel better.”

“It’s not-” Miranda whips her head up, suddenly alert. She stares at you, mouth ajar and you can just feel there’s something she’s about to say as much as you can see she’s trying to hold herself back. Of course, her tough part prevails, but only partially. “It’s all I ask.” She says, but her voice is low, pleading, almost; if you didn’t know any better you’d say she’s asking you to believe she’s only doing this for your own good, that she doesn’t really want to be so feral and unpredictable all the time.

Her face only confuses you more.

“Did someone do the same to you in the past?” You frown, instinctively tucking your legs underneath you in a faux attempt of self-defense.

Miranda scoffs, a crooked smirk on her mouth.

“No.” She snarls.

“Did they hurt you?” You try again, your voice barely above a whisper.

Miranda pauses. Again, her mouth hangs slightly open, her breath comes out shallow and uneven. She shakes her head, but it’s not convincing, and at that, your heart clenches a bit.

“Similar things, different modus operandi.” She sighs. “Doesn’t matter now.”

You know it’s as far as you’ll get for now, but it’s enough. You don’t think she’s ever shared that much about her life before, never about herself. There will be time to pull something out of her - you’ve got all the time in the world.

“Fine.” You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I’ll do it, but know that you don’t have to be a bitch when things don’t go your way.”

Miranda blinks and you feel lighter when you see the ghost of a genuine smile tugging at her lips. The mirth skilfully concealed, and yet, after all that time you’ve spent together, you know it’s there, somewhere.

“Old habits die hard.”

“But I don’t.” You counter. It’s not a lament, it’s not a complaint, you’re not trying to make her feel sorry, nor you’re trying to make her pity you. You just want her to know. “I die on the inside pretty easily every time you push me away.” You shrug, wincing when you realize how it might sound.

Miranda, on her part, seems amused. Of course, she would find her vulnerability delightful. She pushes herself forward, rests on her haunches, inches away from you. Her teeth are bare now, her blue eyes glimmering with renewed excitement. She’s back, but she looks peaceful, in a way.

“Fragile little thing, always so dramatic.” She comments. “We’ll work on that too.” She declares, swats your thigh from above the quilt, and gingerly jumps off the bed.

Confused, you blink at her, watching her marching out the door, surely headed to the bathroom for her daily morning shower. You stretch her neck, raise your voice enough to be heard in the corridor.

“On me being fragile or you not pushing me away?”

You know she’s heard. You wait, ask her again. Miranda hums relaxedly to herself on the way to the bathroom. The door clicks close; she doesn’t answer.

[sulkybbarnes]

Read it on Ao3

Other arms reach out to me Other eyes smile tenderly Still in peaceful dreams I see The road leads back to you

Georgia on My Mind - Ray Charles 

It was only a week into Chris being away at summer camp, but Buck could clearly see the toll it was taking on Eddie. Despite his best friend trying to put on a brave face, Buck could see the cracks starting to show when their days off came around and their usual movie night was missing one sunny nine year old’s smile. Buck offered his apartment for movie night, thinking that it might make things easier for Eddie, but whether or not it helped was anyone’s guess.

“For the hundredth time, Buck, I’m fine,” Eddie’s tone was an endlessly patient thing. His eyes held both fondness and exasperation as they traced Buck’s movements around the kitchen.

“You’ve been quiet all day, you barely said ten words at the station today,” Buck countered, playing up his tone a little in hopes of amusing Eddie. “You’re inconsolable!”

“Inconsolable.” Eddie snorted, the clouds finally parting with his amused smile. “Been watching period dramas again, Buck?”

Buck grinned at him then sobered back up, “All I’m saying is that you’re moping. Admit it.” 

“And then what?”

“And then we talk about it,” Buck offered, “acknowledge that Chris will be back in a week, and plan something fun to do when he’s home.”

“Got it all figured out, huh?” Eddie said, voice going soft. Buck busied himself filling up both their plates with food and finding cutlery to avoid looking at Eddie. Sometimes when he sounded like this, Buck found it difficult to look him in the eye and not spill out every last desperate plea his heart makes for Eddie. 

“Fine, I may be feeling a bit down that I have two days off and I don’t know what to do with them.” Eddie sighed. “Usually, I plan these around Chris’s needs. What he wants to do. Where he wants to go. It’s strange not having him around. House is too empty, and it feels all wrong.”

“It’s fine to miss him, Eddie,” Buck’s tone was gentle. The food he was plating momentarily forgotten as he looked at Eddie and prayed the gentleness in his tone came across as mere concern for a friend. “It’s fine to worry. This is the longest he’s been away from you in years.”

Eddie nodded, running a hand over his face even as he smiled. “It sounded like he was having a lot of fun from our phone call earlier. Said he misses us but that he’d stay there for ages. His words.”

“God, I miss that kid,” Buck laughed, feeling his eyes misting a little. “Can’t wait to have him here for next movie night. He’s the more fun Diaz.”

That had the intended effect of making Eddie shake his head with laughter. “Won’t argue with that. Though I’ll admit it’s nice that we get to watch something not animated for once.”

“I forgot they made movies with real people!” Buck exclaimed, finally handing Eddie his plate and walking them both to the couch. 

“Alright,” Eddie made himself comfortable then gestured towards the TV. “Let’s see what you got.”

-------

“So what will you be doing for your days off?” Buck asked once credits on their movie had rolled but neither of them made a move to get up.

“Not sure. Clean up the house? Get some sleep?” Eddie offered. 

“Man, you’re making my heart ache.” Buck dramatically placed a hand to his chest, relishing the look Eddie gave him in response.

“Okay. What do you suggest I do?”

“Go out, have a drink? Grab dinner with someone?” Buck suggested.

“Could do the dinner,” Eddie shrugged, finally moving to gather his and Buck’s plates. “What are you doing tomorrow night? There’s a recipe Bobby has been trying to teach me. We can work on it to surprise Chris when he’s back.”

“That you finally learned to cook?” Buck teased weakly. He felt warmth pooling in his chest at being instantly included in Eddie’s plans. His heart gave a painful beat against his rib cage.  

“That I learned a new dish,” Eddie narrowed his eyes at Buck in an effort to look stern. The look dissolved into a small smile. “We can make it together next time we have a movie night. Chris said they’re teaching them how to cook the vegetables they’re growing. Seemed like he’s enjoying it.”

“Sounds great,” Buck nudged Eddie out of the way until he was at the sink to wash the dishes. Eddie assumed the role of drying them without asking, his shoulder pressing into Buck’s where he stood. “Count me in.”

Eddie threw him a grateful smile, nudged his shoulder against Buck’s in a silent thank you. Buck’s heart beat an excited rhythm even as they continued talking quietly. Buck resigned himself to another night of pining over Eddie Diaz.

-----

Eddie’s kitchen was bathed in golden light from the sun starting its slow descent outside. There was slow music coming from the living room, from a playlist Buck set up. And there was flour everywhere.

So the good news was that Buck thought Eddie looked absolutely adorable with flour all over his face. The bad news was that there was more flour on Eddie’s face than there was in the bowl in front of him.

“I think I poured it wrong” Eddie said, and the combination of his dejected tone and the puzzled look on his face sent Buck into peals of helpless laughter. 

“Oh, you think?” Buck managed to get out then broke down again at Eddie’s weak glare.

“Buck, I have flour on my face and you’re not being helpful.” Eddie chided, though he was obviously holding back laughter too.

“Shit. Sorry. On it.” Buck grinned, and went to retrieve a hand towel as the person whose hands weren’t currently drowning in flour. “Here, just close your eyes.”

Eddie complied, closing his eyes as Buck gently dusted off the flour then patted away the remnants of it from Eddie’s cheeks with a wet towel. 

“Hair too.” Eddie ordered, causing Buck to cheerfully roll his eyes. He ran his hand over Eddie’s hair, effectively getting most of the flour off on first try, then ran his fingers through Eddie’s hair again for good measures. His hand only slightly shaking.

Buck looked down to find Eddie’s eyes fixed on him, the look on them unreadable but as warm as the setting sun. 

“There. Good as new.” Buck smiled, feeling shaky all over then took a step back.

“Thanks, Buck,” Eddie returned, eyes fixed on Buck for a little eternity, unreadable look and all, before he finally looked away. “Well, this is going great.”

“Little flour mishap,” Buck shrugged, “Happens to the best of us. I’ll clean up and start cutting vegetables. You keep going with the dough?”

Eddie grimaced down at the bowl then back up at Buck, his expression endearing and hilarious all at once. God, Buck loved him and he had his every heart beat to prove it.

“Switch places?” Eddie asked hopefully, his tone similar to the one Chris used when he wanted an extra hour before his bedtime. 

“Or I can show you how to make the dough, it’s easy,” Buck tried for a reassuring smile. Tried to get his expression under control; lovesick fool to helpful friend. “Let’s just clean up a bit first then do both together, no rush.” 

Eddie smiled at him, warm and inviting, until Buck had to look away. 

They wiped the counter, washed their hands, and went back to their task with renewed vigor. From the living room, the music switched to something slow and heartfelt, the lyrics greeting Buck with painful familiarity. Georgia on My Mind by Ray Charles.

“I love this song,” Buck murmured as he worked besides Eddie, gently pouring flour, pointing out the other ingredients for Eddie to add. “I saw an old couple dancing to it at a diner once. Middle of the floor, as everyone had their cheap dinner and bad coffee. They put it on this old jukebox and just slow danced between the tables. Didn’t pay attention to anyone but each other.”

Eddie made a questioning noise, asking Buck to continue. His hands had stilled where they worked as he looked at Buck expectantly. Eddie with his steady presence and endless understanding made Buck want to share his every thought.

“I always wanted to do that. Be like them, I mean,” Buck’s smile was a small sad thing. “Find someone and love them enough to dance anytime, anywhere, and not care who’s watching. Always wanted it to be to that song too.”

“And have you found them, Buck?” Eddie asked with a thoughtful tilt to his head. His eyes were a warm brown and had a determined look to them. It struck Buck in that moment that Eddie knew, or at least had an inkling of how Buck felt about him. His tone wasn’t judgmental or seeking, it just was. He would take whatever answer Buck gave and wouldn’t push for more.

The music crooned in the background. Buck stared at their flour covered hands nearly touching. His heartbeat was sure and steady, he felt so calm for someone about to take a plunge. 

“I think I have,” Buck answered with a steady voice. His fingers twitched next to Eddie’s. “But we’re close friends, which complicates things.”

Eddie hummed thoughtfully, seeming to contemplate Buck’s words before speaking.

“I think the couple you saw must have been best friends, too. You only do something that embarrassing with your best friend.” Eddie nudged his shoulder against Buck’s then smiled when Buck finally, finally, turned to look at him. 

“It was romantic, Eddie,” Buck argued weakly. His gaze caught Eddie’s and held.

“I’m sure it was,” Eddie nodded, “So are you telling your person that you want to dance with them?”

“What if it doesn’t go well? What if I tell them and it hurts our friendship?” Buck was once again being painfully honest, the way he is with only a handful of people in his life. Namely his sister and his best friend, the people he trusted most in the world.

This was a different type of dancing, one where they both knew what they were talking about but neither outright said it.

“Well, if they’re a good enough friend for you to be this scared of losing them,” Eddie reasoned, “Then the friendship has to be strong enough to withstand you telling them how you feel. Either they feel the same and you figure it out from there, or they don’t and. Well. You figure it out from there. But I don’t see a scenario where anyone sane can turn you down, Buck.”

“You have to say that because you’re my best friend.” Buck muttered but he was starting to smile. Eddie was starting to smile too. “You know I’m talking about you, right?”

Eddie let out a short burst of laughter, his expression fond but exasperated. “Thanks for the heads up, bud. You were being way too subtle there.”

“Oh, shut up,” Buck grinned then surged forward to taste Eddie’s smile. 

Buck kissed Eddie and kissed him and kissed him. On his lips and his jaw and the side of his mouth, and Eddie kissed him back each time. He was vaguely aware that his hands were in Eddie’s hair, on the back of his neck, then his jaw and his cheeks, effectively getting flour everywhere again. Eddie seemed to make the same realization as he pulled back and laughed. 

“Nice going, Buck, we’re never finishing this damn recipe now,” Eddie spoke close to Buck’s ear. His arms went around Buck’s shoulders, his temple pressed to the side of Buck’s face as he swayed gently and Buck followed suit. 

Buck realized with a bang of elation that they were technically slow dancing.

“We’ll get back to it, if not now then next week with Chris” Buck murmured, “I bet he’ll be better at it than you are.”

“Not arguing with that,” Eddie said, and then as he pulled back to look at Buck, “We need to talk more about this.”

Eddie punctuated the statement with a hand cradling Buck’s jaw and a kiss that went on for long blissful moments. 

“Yeah, we do, but I have it on good authority that we’ll be good no matter what,” Buck stared back at Eddie, his heart beating a grateful dance in his chest.

“Yeah, I think I agree with you there,” Eddie gave him one more chaste kiss then disentangled himself to turn back to their forgotten dough. “We can talk while working. We still have vegetables to cut and soup to make.”

“Sure thing,” Buck moved closer to Eddie again, ducking his head to kiss Eddie’s cheek before setting back to work. 

“Then we have dinner,” Eddie continued with a smile dancing at his lips, “and then we listen to your song again.”

Buck looked at the two of them working side by side. Buck and Eddie. Flour on their hands, their hands on their hands, fingers touching even when they didn’t necessarily need to and occasionally interlacing. He couldn’t hide the warmth in his smile this time or the love itched onto his features, and thankfully he no longer needed to. Besides him Eddie smiled back and nudged their shoulders together.